Robert Heinlein - Between Planets

He woke up in darkness with a feeling of oppression. For a terrified moment he thought someone was holding him down and trying to rob him. As he came wider awake he realized where he was and what was causing the oppressed feeling-move-overs. There were two of them in bed with him; one was snuggled up to his back and was holding onto his shoulders; the other was cradled in his lap, spoon-fashion. Both were snoring gently. Someone had undoubtedly left a door open for a moment and they had sneaked in.

Don chuckled to himself. It was impossible to be angry with the affectionate little creatures. He scratched the one in front of him between its horns and said, "Look, kids, this is my bed. Now get out of here before I get tough."

They both bleated and snuggled closer. Don got up, got each of them by an ear and evicted them through the curtain. "Now stay out!"

They were back in bed before he was.

Don thought about it and gave up. The back room had no door that could be closed. As for chucking them outside the building, the place was dark and still strange to him and he was not sure of the locations of light switches. Nor did he want to wake Charlie. After all there was no harm in bedding down with a move-over; they were cleanly little things, no worse than having a dog curl up against one-better, for dogs harbor fleas. "Move over," he ordered, unintentionally renaming them, "and give me some room."

He did not go at once to sleep; the dream that had awakened -him still troubled him. He sat up, fumbled in the dark, and found his money, which he tucked under him. He then remembered the ring, and, feeling somewhat foolish, he pulled on a sock and stuffed the ring far down into the sock.

Presently all three of them were snoring.

He was awakened by a frightened bleating in his ear. The next few moments were quite confused. He sat up, whispered, "Pipe down!" and started to smack his bedmate, when he felt his wrist grasped by a hand-not the thumbless little paw of a move-over, but a human hand.

He kicked out and connected with something. There was a grunt, more anguished bleating, and the click-click-click of little hooves on bare floor. He kicked again and almost broke his toe; the hand let go.

He backed away while getting to his feet. There were sounds of struggle near him and loud bleating. The sounds died down while he was still trying to peer through the darkness to find out what was happening. Then a light came on blindingly and he saw Charlie standing in the door, dressed in a wrap-around and a big, shiny cleaver. "What's the matter with you?" Charlie demanded.

Don did his best to explain but move-overs, dreams, and clutching hands in the dark were badly mixed together. "You eat too much late at night," Charlie decided. Nevertheless he checked the place, with Don trailing after.

When he came to a window with a broken catch he did not say anything but went at once to the cash register and the lock box. Neither seemed to have been disturbed. Charlie nailed up the broken catch, shoved the moveovers back into the night, and said, "Go to sleep," to Don. He returned to his own room.

Don tried to do so but it was some time before he could quiet down. Both his money and the ring were still at hand. He put the ring back on his finger and went to sleep with his fist clenched.

Next morning Don had plenty of time to think as he coped with an unending stack of dirty dishes. The ring was on his mind. He was not wearing it; not only did he wish to avoid plunging it repeatedly into hot water but also was now reluctant to display it.

Could it be possible that the thief was after the ring rather than his money? It seemed impossible-a half-credit piece of souvenir counter junk! Or perhaps five credits, he corrected himself, here on Venus where every important item was expensive. Ten at the outside.

But he was beginning to wonder; too many people had taken an interest in it. He reviewed in his mind how he had come by it. On the face of it, Dr. Jefferson had risked death-had died-to make sure that the ring went to Mars. But that was preposterous and because it was he had concluded by what seemed to be strict logic that it must have been the paper in which the ring was wrapped that must reach his parents on Mars. That conclusion had been confirmed when the I.B.I. had searched him and confiscated the wrapping paper.

Suppose he did assume the wild possibility that it was the ring itself that was important? Even so, how could anyone here on Venus be looking for that ring? He had just landed; he had not even known that he was coming to Venus.

He might have thought of several ways that that news could have gone on before him, but he did not. Moreover, he found it difficult to imagine why anyone would take any special pains on his account.

But he had one quality in a high degree; he was stubborn. He swore a mighty oath into the dishwater that he and the ring, together, would travel to Mars and that lie would deliver it to his father as Dr. Jefferson had asked him to.

Business slacked off a little in the middle of the afternoon; Don got caught up. He dried his hands and said to Charlie, "I want to go uptown for a while."

"What's a matter? You lazy?"

"We work tonight, don't we?"

"Sure we do. You think this is a tea room?"

"Okay, I work mornings and evenings-so I take a little time off in the afternoon. You've got enough clean dishes to last you for hours."

Charlie shrugged and turned his hack. Don left.

He picked his way through the mud and the crowd back up the street to the I. T. & T. Building. The outer room held several customers but most of them were using the automatic phones or waiting outside the booths for a chance to do so. Isobel Costello was back of the desk and did not seem too busy, although she was chatting with a soldier. Don went to the far end of the desk and waited for her to he free.

Presently she brushed off the enterprising soldier and came to him. "Well, if it isn't my problem child! How are you making out, son? Get your money changed?"

"No, the bank wouldn't take it. I guess you had better give me back my 'gram."

"No hurry; Mars is still in conjunction. Maybe you'll strike it rich."

Don laughed ruefully. "Not likely!" He told her what he was doing and where.

She nodded. "You could do worse. Old Charlie is all right. But that's a rough part of town, Don. Be careful, especially after dark."

"I will be. Isobel, would you do me a favor?"

"If it's not impossible, illegal, or scandalous-yes."

Don fished the ring out of his pocket. "Would you take care of this for me? Keep it safe until I want it back?"

She took it, held it up to look at it. "Careful!" Don urged. "Keep it out of sight."

"Huh?"

"I don't want anyone to know you have it. Get it out of sight."

"Well-" She turned away; when she turned back the ring was gone. "What's the mystery, Don?"

"I wish I knew."

"Huh?"

"I can't tell you any more than that. I just want to keep that ring safe. Somebody is trying to get it away from me."

"But- Look, does it belong to you?"

"Yes. That's all I can tell you."

She searched his face. "All right, Don. I'll take care of it."

"Thanks."

"No trouble-I hope. Look-stop in again soon. I want you to meet the manager."

"Okay, I will."

She turned away to take care of a customer. Don waited around until a phone booth was free, then reported his address to the security office at the space port. That done, he returned to his dishes.

Around midnight, hundreds of dishes later, Charlie turned away the last customer and locked the front door. Together they ate a meal there had been no time for earlier, one with chopsticks, one with fork. Don found himself almost too tired to eat. "Charlie," he asked, "how did you run this place with no help?"