Robert Heinlein - Red Planet

Jim shook off the hand. "I should have burned him," he muttered. "I should have burned him down where he stood."

"Suppose you did? Want to spend the rest of your life in an asylum? Don't let him get your goat, fellow; if he gets you angry, you'll do something silly and then he's got you."

"I'm already angry."

"I know you are and I don't blame you. But you've got to get over it and use your head. He was laying for you-you saw that. No matter what he does or says you've got to keep cool and outsmart him-or he gets you in wrong."

"I suppose you're right."

"I know I'm right. That's what Doc would say. Now come to bed."

Neither one of them got much sleep that night. Toward morning Jim had a nightmare that Howe was a withdrawn Martian whom he was trying to unroll-against his better judgment.

There was a brand-new notice on the bulletin board at breakfast time. It read:

IMPORTANT NOTICE

All students possessing personal weapons will turn them in at the main office for safekeeping. Weapons will be returned on request whenever the student concerned is leaving the limits of the school and the adjoining settlement. The practice of wearing sideanns in areas where there is no actual danger from Martian/cMna will cease. (signed) M. Howe, Headmaster

Jim and Frank read it together. "This is the worst one yet," said Jim. "The right to bear arms is guaranteed. Doc says it's the basis of all freedom."

Frank studied it. "Do you know what I think?"

"No. What?"

"I think he's afraid of you personally."

"Me? Why?"

"Because of what happened last night. There was murder in your eye and he saw it. I think he wants to pull your teeth. I don't think he gives a hoot about the rest of us hanging on to our heaters."

"You really think so?"

"I do. The question is: what are you going to do about it?"

Jim thought about it. "I'm not going to give up my gun. Dad wouldn't want me to. I'm sure of that. Anyhow, I'm licensed and I don't have to."

"Neither will I. But we had better mink up a wrinkle before you have to go see him this morning."

The wrinkle showed up at breakfast-the student named Smythe. Frank spoke to Jim about it in a low voice; together they accosted the student after breakfast and brought him to their room. "Look, Smitty," began Jim, "you're a man with lots of angles, aren't you?"

"Mmm... could be. What's up?"

"You saw that notice this morning?"

"Sure. Who didn't? Everybody is grousing about it."

"Are you going to turn in your gun?"

"I did before breakfast. What do I need a gun for around here? I've got a brain."

"In that case you won't be called in about it. Now just supposing that you were handed two packages to take care of. You won't open them and you won't know what's in them. Do you think you could find a safe, a really safe place to keep them and still be able to give them back on short notice?"

"I don't suppose you want me to tell anybody about these, uh, packages?"

"Nope. Nobody."

"Hmm... this sort of service comes high."

"How high?"

"Well, now, I couldn't afford to do it for less than two credits a week."

"That's too much," Frank put in sharply.

"Well-you're friends of mine. I'll make you a flat rate of eight credits for the rest of the year."

"Too much."

"Six credits then, and I won't go lower. You've got to pay for the risk."

"It's a deal," Jim said before Frank could bargain further.

Smythe left with a bundle before Jim reported to the Headmaster's office.

Little Pitchers Have Big Ears

HEADMASTER HOWE KEPT Jim waiting thirty minutes before admitting him. When he was finally let in, Jim saw that Howe seemed to be quite pleased with himself. He glanced up. "Yes? You asked to see me?"

"You told me to see you, sir."

"I did? Let me see now, what is your name?"

He dam well knows my name, Jim said savagely to himself; he's trying to get my goat. He recalled Frank's solemn warning not to lose his temper. "James Marlowe, sir," he answered evenly.

"Oh, yes." The headmaster picked up a list from his desk.

"I suppose you have come in to surrender your gun. Turn it over."

Jim shook his head. "I didn't come in for that."

"You didn't? Well, mat's beside the point. You've seen the order; give me your gun."

Jim shook his head again. "I don't have a gun."

"Why did you come here without it? Go back to your room and fetch it. Quickly-I give you three minutes."

"No," said Jim slowly, "I've already told you that I haven't got a gun."

"You mean you haven't one in your room?"

"That's what I said."

"You're lying."

Jim counted slowly to twenty, then answered, "You know that I have no gun, or you wouldn't dare say that."

Howe stared at him for what seemed a long time, then stepped into his outer office. He returned shortly and appeared to have regained his cockiness. "Now, Marlowe, you said you wanted to see me about something else?"

"You told me to see you. About Willis."

"Willis? Oh, yes, the Martian roundhead." Howe smiled with his lips. "An interesting scientific specimen."

Howe added nothing more. The silence kept up so long that Jim began to realize that the Headmaster intended to force him to make any moves. Jim had already resigned himself to the idea that it would be impossible to keep Willis at the school any longer. He said, "I've come to get him. I'm going to take him out in town and arrange to send him home."

Howe smiled more broadly. "Oh, you are? And pray tell me how you are going to do that when you are restricted to the school for the next thirty days?"

Frank was still warning him; Jim could almost hear him. He answered, "All right, sir, I'll get somebody to do it for me-today. Now, please, can I have Willis?"

Howe leaned back and crossed his fingers over his stomach. "You bring up a most interesting point, Marlowe. You said last night that this creature is not a pet."

Jim was puzzled. "Yes?"

"You were quite emphatic about it. You said that he wasn't your property, but your friend. That's right, isn't it?"

Jim hesitated. He could feel that a trap was being built for him, but he was not sure what sort. "What if I did?"

"Did you say that, or didn't you? Answer me!"

"Well-yes."

Howe leaned forward. "In that case, what are you doing in here demanding that I turn this creature over to you? You have no claim on him."

"Butbut-" Jim stopped, at a loss for words. He had been tricked with words, slippery words; he did not know how to answer them. "You can't do that!" he blurted out. "You don't own him, either! You have no right to keep him locked up."

Howe carefully fitted his finger dps together. "That is a matter still to be determined. Although you have waived all claim to him, it may be that the creature is property nevertheless-in which case he was found on the school grounds and I may take title to him on behalf of the school, as a scientific specimen."

"ButYou can't do that; that's not fair! If he belongs to anybody, he belongs to me! You've got no right to-"

"Silence!" Jim shut up; Howe went on more quietly, "Don't tell me what I can or cannot do. You forget that I am in loco parentis to you. Any rights that you may have are vested in me, just as if I were your own father. As to the disposition of this creature, I am looking into it; I expect to see the Agent General this afternoon. In due course you will be informed of the outcome."

The Latin phrase confused Jim, as it was intended to; but he did catch one point in Howe's statement and snatched at it. "I'm going to tell my father about this. You can't get away with it."

"Threats, eh?" Howe smiled sourly. "Don't bother to ask for the key to the communications booth; I don't propose to have students phoning their parents every time I tell them to wipe their noses. Send your father a letter-but let me hear it before you send it." He stood up. "That is all. You may go. No-wait." He went again to his outer office, to return almost immediately. He seemed quite angry. "Where did you hide that gun?" he demanded.