Robert Heinlein - Red Planet

Jim had had time to regain some portion of calm. He said nothing. "Answer me!" insisted the Headmaster.

Jim answered slowly, "You've already called me a liar once on that subject; I won't say anything."

Howe looked at him. "Get to your room!" Jim got out.

Frank was waiting, "I don't see any blood," he announced, looking Jim over. "How did it go?"

"Oh, that so-and-so! That filthy, filthy so-and-so!"

"Bad, eh?"

"Frank, he won't let me have Willis."

"He's going to make you send him home? But you expected that."

"No, not that. He won't let me have him at all. He used a lot of double-talk but all it meant was that he had him and meant to keep him." Jim seemed about to break down and blubber. "Poor little Willis-you know how timid he is. Frank, what'll I do?"

"I don't get it," Frank answered slowly. "He can't keep Willis, not for keeps. Willis belongs to you."

"I told you he used a lot of double-talk-but that's what he means to do just the same. How am I going to get him back? Frank, I've just got to get him back."

Frank did not answer; Jim looked around disconsolately and noticed the room for the first time. "What happened here?" he asked. "The place looks like you had tried to wreck it."

"Oh, that. I started to tell you. While you were gone, a couple of Howie's stooges searched the joint."

"Huh?"

'Trying to find our guns. I just played dumb."

"They did, did they?" Jim appeared to make up his mind.

"I've got to find Smythe." He headed for the door.

"Hey, wait-what d'you want to find Smitty for?"

Jim looked back and his face was very old. "I'm going to get my gun and go back there and get Willis."

"Jim! You're crazy!"

Jim did not answer but continued toward the door.

Frank stuck out a foot, tripped him and landed on his back as he went down. He grabbed Jim's right arm and twisted it behind his back. "Now you just rest there," he told Jim, "until you quiet down."

"Let me up."

"You got some sense in your head?" No answer. "Okay," Frank went on, "I can sit here just as long as you want to. Let me know when you've quieted down." Jim started to struggle; Frank twisted his arm until he yelped and relaxed.

"That's better," said Frank. "Now listen to me: you're a nice guy, Jim, but you go off half-cocked. Suppose you do get your gun and suppose you manage to scare old Howie into coughing up Willis. How long are you going to keep him? You know how long? Just long enough for him to call in some Company police. Then they lock you up and take Willis away from you again. And you'll never see Willis again, not to mention the trouble and grief you'll cause your folks."

There followed a considerable silence. Finally Jim said, "Okay, let me up."

"You've given up the idea of waving your gun around?"

"Yeah."

"On your honor? Solemn promise?"

"Yes, I promise."

Frank let him up and brushed him off. Jim rubbed his arm and said, "You needn't have twisted it so hard."

"You're a fine one to complain; you ought to thank me. Now grab your notebook; we're going to be late to chemistry lab."

"I'm not going."

"Don't be silly, Jim. No use to pile up a bunch of cuts and maybe flunk just because you're sore at the Head."

"That's not the idea. I'm quitting, Frank. I won't stay in this school."

"What? Don't be hasty, Jim. I know how you feel, but it's here or nowhere. Your folks can't afford to send you back to Earth for school."

"Then it's nowhere. I won't stay here. I'm going to hang around just long enough to find some way to get my hands on Willis, then I'm going home."

"Well..." Frank stopped to scratch his head. "It's your problem. But see here-you might as well come on to chem lab. It won't hurt you any and you don't intend to leave this minute anyhow."

"No."

Frank looked worried. "Will you promise me to stay right here and not do anything rash till I get back?"

"Why should you worry?"

"Promise me, Jim, or I cut lab, too."

"Oh, all right, all right! Go ahead." "Right!" Frank dashed away.

When Frank got back he found Jim sprawled on his bunk.

"Asleep?"

"No."

"Figured out what you are going to do?"

"No."

"Anything you want?"

"No."

"Your conversation is brilliant," Frank commented and sat down at the study desk.

"Sorry." Nothing was heard from Howe the rest of that day. Frank managed to persuade Jim to attend classes the next day by pointing out that he did not want to invite attention to himself while he was waiting for an opportunity to grab Willis.

Tuesday also passed without word from Howe. Tuesday night, perhaps two hours after lights-out, Frank suddenly woke up. Someone was stirring in the room. "Jim!" he called out softly.

Dead silence. Keeping quiet himself Frank reached out and switched on the light. Jim was standing near the door. "Jim," complained Frank, "why didn't you answer me? You trying to scare me to death?"

"Sony."

"What's up? What are you doing out of bed?"

"Never mind. You go on back to sleep."

Frank climbed out of bed. "Oh, no! Not while you've got that wild look in your eye. Now tell papa."

Jim waved him away. "I don't want to mix you up in this. Goon back to bed."

"Think you're big enough to make me? Now cut out the foolishness and give. What are your plans?"

Reluctantly Jim explained. It seemed likely to him that Headmaster Howe had Willis locked up somewhere in his office. Jim planned to break in and attempt a rescue. "Now you go back to bed," he finished. "If they question you, you don't know anything; you slept all night."

"Let you tackle it alone? Not likely! Anyhow you/need somebody to jigger for you." Frank started fumbling around in their locker.

"I don't want any help. What are you looking for?"

"Laboratory gloves," answered Frank. "You're going to get help whether you want it or not, you thumb-fingered idiot. I don't want you caught."

"What do you want gloves for?"

"Ever hear of fingerprints?"

"Sure, but he'll know who did it-and I don't care; I'll be gone."

"Sure, he'll know, but he may not be able to prove it.

.Here, put these on." Jim accepted the gloves and with them he tacitly accepted Frank's help in the adventure.

Burglary is not common on Mars and locks are unusual items. As for night watchmen, manpower is not transported through millions of miles of space simply to be used to watch the silent corridors of a boys' school. The principal hazard that Jim and Frank faced in getting to the school's offices was the chance of running into some restless student going to the washroom after hours.

They moved as silently as possible and scouted each stretch of corridor before entering it. In a few minutes they were at the outer door of the offices without-they hoped-having been seen. Jim tried the door; it was locked. "Why do they bother to lock this?" he whispered.

"On account of guys like you and me," Frank told him.

"Go back to the comer and keep your eyes peeled." He attacked the latch with his knife.

"Okay." Jim went to the passageway intersection and kept lookout. Five minutes later Frank hissed at him; he went back

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter. Come on." Frank had the outer door open.

They tiptoed through the outer office, past recording desks and high stacked spool files to an inner door marked: Marquis Howe-HEADMASTER-Private.

The lettering on the door was new-and so was the lock. The lock was no mere gesture, capable of being picked or sprung with a knife; it was a combination type, of titanium steel, and would have looked more at home on a safe.

"Think you can open it?" Jim asked anxiously.

Frank whistled softly. "Don't be silly. The party is over, Jim. Let's see if we can get back to bed without getting caught."