Red Planet (5 page)

'Sure.’

For a long time nothing was said. Jim's thoughts drifted away, to school and what he would do there, to his family, to things in the past. He came back presently to personal self-awareness and realized that he was happier than he had been in a long time, with no particular reason that he could place. It was a quiet happiness; he felt no desire to laugh nor even to smile, but he was perfectly relaxed and content.

He was acutely aware of the presence of the Martians, of each individual Martian, and was becoming even more aware of them with each drifting minute. He had never noticed before how beautiful they were. ‘Ugly as a native’ was a common phrase with the colonials; Jim recalled with surprise that he had even used it himself, and wondered why he ever had done so.

He was aware, too, of Frank beside him and thought about how much he liked him. Staunch—that was the word for Frank, a good man to have at your back. He wondered why he had never told Frank that he liked him.

Mildly he missed Willis, but he was not worried about him. This sort of a party was not Willis's dish; Willis liked things noisy, boisterous, and unrefined. Jim put aside the thought of Willis, lay back, and soaked in the joy of living. He noted with delight that the unknown artist who had designed this room had arranged for the miniature sun to move across the ceiling just as the true Sun moved across the sky. He watched it travel to the west and presently begin to drop toward the pictured horizon.

There came a gentle booming behind him—he could not catch the words—and another Martian answered. One of them unfolded himself from his resting stand and ambled out of the room. Frank sat up and said, ‘I must have been dreaming.’

'Did you go to sleep?’ asked Jim. ‘I didn't.

'The heck you didn't. You snored like Doc MacRae.’

'Why, I wasn't even asleep.’

'Says you!’

The Martian who had left the room returned. Jim was sure it was the same one; they no longer looked alike to him. He was carrying a drinking vase. Frank's eyes bulged out. ‘Do you suppose they are going to serve us
water?'

'Looks like,’ Jim answered in an awed voice.

Frank shook his head. ‘We might as well keep this to ourselves; nobody'll ever believe us.’

'You're right.’

The ceremony began. The Martian with the vase announced his own name, barely touched the stem of the vase and passed it on. The next Martian gave his name and also simulated drinking. Around the circle it came. The Martian who had brought them in, Jim learned, was named ‘Gekko'; it seemed a pretty name to Jim and fitting. At last the vase came around to Jim; a Martian handed it to him with the wish, ‘May you never suffer thirst.’ The words were quite clear to him.

There was an answering chorus around him: ‘May you drink deep whenever you wish!’

Jim took the vase and reflected that Doc said that the Martians didn't have anything that was catching for humans. ‘Jim Marlowe!’ he announced, placed the stem in his mouth and took a sip.

As he handed it back he dug into his imperfect knowledge of the dominant language, concentrated on his accent and managed to say, ‘May water ever be pure and plentiful for you.’ There was an approving murmur that warmed him. The Martian handed the vase to Frank.

With the ceremony over the party broke up in noisy, almost human chatter. Jim was trying vainly to follow what was being said to him by a Martian nearly three times his height when Frank said, ‘Jim! You see that sun? We're going to miss the scooter!’

'Huh? That's not the real Sun; that's a toy.’

'No, but it matches the real Sun. My watch says the same thing.’

'Oh, for Pete's sake! Where's Willis? Gekko—where's Gekko?’

Gekko, on hearing his name, came over; he clucked inquiringly at Jim. Jim tried very hard to explain their trouble, tripped over syntax, used the wrong directive symbols, lost his accent entirely. Frank shoved him aside and took over. Presently Frank said, ‘They'll get us there before sunset, but Willis stays here.’

'Huh? They can't do that!’

'That's what the man says.’

Jim thought. ‘Tell them to bring Willis here and ask
him.'

Gekko was willing to do that. Willis was carried in, placed upon the floor. He waddled up to Jim and said, ‘Hi, Jim boy! Hi, Frank boy!’

'Willis,’ said Jim earnestly, ‘Jim is going away. Willis come with Jim?’

Willis seemed puzzled. ‘Stay here. Jim stay here. Willis stay here. Good.’

'Willis,’ Jim said frantically, ‘Jim has
got
to go away. Willis come with Jim?’

'Jim go?’

'Jim go.’

Willis almost seemed to shrug. ‘Willis go with Jim,’ he said sadly.

'Tell Gekko.’ Willis did so. The Martian seemed surprised, but there was no further argument. He gathered up both boys and the bouncer and started for the door. Another larger Martian—tagged ‘G'kuro’ Jim recalled—relieved Gekko of Frank and tailed along behind. As they climbed the tunnel Jim found suddenly that he needed his mask; Frank put his on, too.

The withdrawn Martian was still cluttering the passageway; both their porters stepped over him without comment.

The sun was very low when they got to the surface. Although a Martian cannot be hastened, his normal pace makes very good time; the long-legged pair made nothing of the three miles back to Cynia Station. The sun had just reached the horizon and the air was already bitter when the boys and Willis were dumped on the dock. The two Martians left at once, hurrying back to the warmth of their city.

'Good-bye, Gekko!’ Jim shouted. ‘Good-bye, G'kuro!’

The driver and the station master were standing on the dock; it was evident that the driver was ready to start and had been missing his passengers. ‘What in the world?’ said the station master.

'We're ready to go,’ said Jim.

'So I see,’ said the driver. He stared at the retreating figures. He blinked and turned to the agent. ‘We should have left that stuff alone, George. I'm seeing things.’ He added to the boys, ‘Well, get aboard.’

They did so and climbed up to the dome. The car clumped down off the ramp to the surface of the ice, turned left onto Oeroe canal and picked up speed. The Sun dropped behind the horizon; the landscape was briefly illuminated by the short Martian sunset. On each bank the boys could see the plants withdrawing for the night. In a few minutes the ground, so lush with vegetation a half hour before, was bare as the true desert.

The stars were out, sharp and dazzling. Soft curtains of aurora hung over the skyline. In the west a tiny steady light rose and fought its way upwards against the motion of the stars. ‘There's Phobos,’ said Frank. ‘Look!’

'I see it,’ Jim answered. ‘It's cold. Let's turn in.’

'Okay. I'm hungry.’

'I've got some sandwiches left.’ They munched one each, then went down into the lower compartment and crawled into bunks. In time the car passed the city Hesperidum and turned west-northwest onto the canal Erymanthus, but Jim was unaware of it; Jim was dreaming that Willis and he were singing a duet for the benefit of amazed Martians.

'All out! End of the line!’ The driver was prodding them.

'Huh?’

'Up you come, shipmate. This is it—Syrtis Minor.’

Dear Mother and Dad,
The reason I didn't phone you when we got in Wednesday night was that we didn't get in until Thursday morning. When I tried to phone on Thursday the operator told me that Deimos had set for South Colony and then I knew it would be about three days until I could relay a call through Deimos and a letter would get there sooner and save you four and a half credits on a collect phone call. Now I realize that I didn't get this letter off to you right away and maybe you're not going to get it until after I would have been able to make a phone call if I had made it but what you probably don't realize is how busy they keep you at school and how many demands there are on a fellow's time and anyhow you probably heard from Frank's mother that we had gotten here all right and anyway you look at it I still saved you four and one half credits by not making that phone call.
I can just hear Phyllis saying that I am just hinting that the half-and-four I saved should be turned over to me but I am not doing anything of the sort because I wouldn't do anything like that and besides I've still got some of the money left that you gave me before I left as well as part of my birthday money and with careful management I will not need any more until you all come through here at Migration even though everything costs more here than it does at home. Frank says it's because they always jack up the prices for the tourist trade but there aren't any tourists around now and won't be until the
Albert Einstein
gets in next week. Anyway if you simply split the difference with me you would still be a clear two and a quarter credits ahead.
The reason we didn't get here Wednesday night was because the driver decided the ice might not hold so we laid over at Cynia Station and Frank and I just fooled around and killed time until sunset.
Frank and I have been allowed to room together and we've got a dandy room. It was meant for just one boy and only has one study desk but we're mostly taking the same subjects and lots of times we can use the projector together. I am talking this letter into the study desk recorder because tonight is Frank's night to help out in the kitchen and all I've got left to study is a little bit of history and I'm saving that to do it with Frank when he comes back. Professor Steuben says that he does not know what they are going to do if they keep getting more students here with no more room, hang them on hooks maybe but he is just joking. He jokes a lot and everybody likes him and will be sorry when he leaves on the
Albert Einstein
and the new headmaster takes over.
Well that's all for now because Frank just got back and we had better get to work because tomorrow we have a quiz on system history.
Your loving son,
James Madison Marlowe, Jr.
PS. Frank just told me that he didn't write his folks either and he wonders if you would mind phoning his mother and telling her that he is all right and would she please send his camera right away, he forgot it.
PPS. Willis sends his love. I just asked him.
PPPS. Tell Phyllis that the girls here are dyeing their hair in stripes. I think it looks silly.
JIM

If Professor Otto Steuben, MA, LLD, had not retired, Jim's life at Lowell Academy would have been different. But retire he did and went back to San Fernando Valley for a well-earned rest. The entire school went to Marsport to see him off. He shook hands all around and wept a little and commended them to the care of Marquis Howe, recently arrived from Earth and now taking over.

When Jim and Frank got back from the space port they found the first arrivals gathered around the bulletin board. They crowded in and read the item that was drawing the crowd:

'Well, for crying out loud!’ Frank burst out. ‘What d'you think of that, Jim?’

Jim stared at it darkly. ‘I think that today is the sixth of Ceres.’

'Yeah, but what's the idea? He must think that this is a school of correction.’ Frank turned to an older student, who had, until now, been monitor of their corridor. ‘Anderson, what do you think about it?’

'I really don't know. I thought we were doing all right the way we were.’

'What do you intend to do about it?’

'Me?’ The young man thought a while before replying. ‘I've got just one more semester to my degree, then I'm out of here. I think I'll just sit tight, keep my mouth shut, and sweat it out.’

'Huh? That's easy enough for you to say but I've got twelve semesters staring me in the face. What am I? A criminal?’

'That's your problem, fellow.’ The older student left.

One of the boys in the crowd seemed undisturbed by the notice. He was Herbert Beecher, son of the Company's Resident Agent General and a newcomer both to Mars and to the school. One of the other boys noticed his smirk. ‘What are you looking smug about, tourist?’ he demanded. ‘Did you know about this ahead of time?’

'Certainly I did.’

'I'll bet you thought it up.’

'No, but my old man says you guys have been getting away with it for a long time. My old man says that Stoobie was too soft to put any discipline into this school. My old man says that —’

'Nobody cares what your old man says. Beat it!’

'You better not talk about my old man that way. I'll —’

'Beat it I said!’

Young Beecher eyed his antagonist—a red-headed lad named Kelly—and decided that he meant it. He faded out of sight.

'He can afford to grin,’ Kelly said bitterly, ‘he lives in his old man's quarters. This thing only gets at those of us who have to live in the school. It's rank discrimination, that's what it is!’ About a third of boys were day students, mostly sons of Company employees who were stationed at Syrtis Minor. Another third were migratory colonials and the balance were the children of terrestrials at the outlying stations, especially those employed on the atmosphere project. Most of these last were Bolivians and Tibetans, plus a few Eskimos. Kelly turned to one of them. ‘How about it, Chen? Are we going to put up with this?’

The Asiatic's broad face showed no expression. ‘It is not worth getting excited about.’ He started to turn away.

'Huh? You mean you won't stand up for your rights?’

'These things pass.’

Jim and Frank went back to their room but continued to discuss it. ‘Frank,’ asked Jim, ‘what's behind this? Do you suppose they're pulling the same stunt over in the girl's school?’

'I could call up Dolores Montez and find out.’

'Mmm ... don't bother. I don't suppose it matters. The question is: what are we going to do about it?’

'What can we do about it?’