Robert Heinlein - Red Planet

"You are no worse off than if you had stopped at Hesperidum."

"And no better."

A man came out of one of the row of warehouses ringing the basin and approached them. "What's all this?" he inquired, staring at the parked scooters. "A circus?"

"It's the seasonal migration."

"Wondered when you folks were coming through. Hadn't heard anyting about it."

"Where are all the boats?"

"Still spread out here and there, at the Project camps mostly, I suppose. Not my responsibility. Better call the traffic office."

Marlowe frowned again. "At least you can tell me where the temporary quarters are." To take care of the relays of colonists a warehouse was always set aside at each migration and fitted up as a barracks; the one Company hostelry. Hotel Marsopolis, had only twenty beds.

The man looked puzzled. "Now that you mention it, I don't know of any such preparations being made. Looks like the schedule was kind of fouled up, doesn't it?"

Marlowe swore, realizing his question had been foolish. Beecher, of course, had made no preparations for a migration he did not intend to permit. "Is there a phone around here?"

"Inside, in my office-I'm the warehouse storekeeper. Help yourself."

"Thanks," said Marlowe and started off. MacRae followed him.

"What's your plan, son?"

"I'm going to call Beecher."

"Do you think that's wise?"

"Confound it, I've got to get those people out of those cars. There are young babies in there-and women."

"They're safe."

"Look, Doc, Beecher has got to do something about it, now that we're here."

MacRae shrugged. "You're the cook."

Marlowe argued bis way past several secretaries and finally got Beecher on the screen. The Agent General looked out at him without recognition. "Yes? Speak up, my good man, what is this urgent business?"

"My name is Marlowe. I'm executive chairman of the colonists from South Colony. I want to know-"

"Oh, yes! The famous Mr. Marlowe. We saw your tattered army coming through." Beecher turned away and said something in an aside. Kruger's voice answered him.

"Well, now that we are here, what are you going to do about us?"

"Do? Isn't that obvious? As soon as the ice forms tonight you can all turn around and go back where you came from. All except you-you stay here for trial. And your son, if I recall correctly."

Marlowe held his temper. "That isn't what I mean. I want living space, with cooking and toilet accommodations, for five hundred people."

Beecber waved the problem away. "Let them stay where they are. A day won't hurt them. Teach them a lesson."

Marlowe started to answer, thought better of it and switched off. "You were right. Doc. There was no point in talking with him."

"Well-no harm done, either."

They went outside, there to find that Kelly had strung a line of his deputies around the scooters. "After you went inside, Boss, I got uneasy, so I stationed some of the boys around."

"You're a better general than I am," Marlowe told him.

"Any trouble?"

"One of Beecher's cops showed up, but he went away

again."

"Why didn't you grab him?" asked MacRae.

"Well, I wanted to," Kelly answered, "but he kept going when I yelled at him. I couldn't stop him without shooting, so I let him go."

"Should have winged him," said MacRae.

"Should I have?" Kelly said to Marlowe. "I was tempted to, but I didn't know where we stood. Is this a shooting war, or is it just a row with the Company?"

"You did right," Marlowe assured him. "There will be no shooting unless Beecher starts it." MacRae snorted. Marlowe turned to him. "You disagree?"

"Jamie, you put me in mind of a case I ran into in the American West. A respected citizen shot a professional gunthrower in the back. When asked why he didn't give the other chap a chance to draw, the survivor said, 'Well, he's dead and I'm alive and that's how I wanted it to be.' Jamie, if you use sportsmanship on a known scamp, you put yourself at a terrible disadvantage."

"Doctor, this is no time to swap stories. I've got to get these people safely housed and at once."

"That's my point," persisted MacRae. "Finding housing isn't the first thing to do."

"What is is, then?"

"Set up a task force of your best shots and send them over to grab Beecher and the Company offices. I volunteer to lead it."

Marlowe gestured angrily. "Out of the question. At present we are a group of citizens going about our lawful occasions. One move like that and we're outlaws."

MacRae shook his head. "You don't see the logic of the actions you've already taken. You know that water runs downhill, but you think-praise God!-it'll never reach the bottom. In Beecher's books you are an outlaw now. All of us."

"Nonsense, we're just enforcing our contract. If Beecher behaves, we'll behave."

"I'm telling you, son-the way to grasp a nettle is firmly."

"Doctor MacRae, if you are so sure how this matter should be conducted, why did you refuse to accept leadership?"

MacRae turned red. "I beg your pardon, sir. What are your orders?"

"You know Syrtis better than I do. Where is a building we can commandeer as a barracks?"

Jim decided that this was a good time to come out of hiding. "Dad," he said, coming around in front of him, "I know where we are and the school is-"

"Jim, I've no time to chat. Get in me car."

"But, Dad, it's only about ten minutes' walk!"

"I think he's got something," put in the doctor. "The school will have real beds for the kids, and a kitchen."

"Hmmm... very well. Possibly we should use both schools and put the women and small children in the girls' school."

"Jamie," advised the doctor, "at the risk of getting my ears batted down again, I say 'no.' Don't divide your forces."

"I didn't really want to. Kelly!"

"Yes, sir."

"Get them all out and put a deputy in charge of each car party to keep them together. Ws're moving out."

"Right."

There is very little foot traffic in the streets of the Earth settlement at Syrtis Minor; pedestrians prefer to go by tunnel. The few they did meet seemed startled but no one bothered diem.

The pressure lock at the school's front door could hold about twenty people at a time. As the outer door opened after the second load, Howe stepped out. Even with his mask on it could be seen that he was angry. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

Willis took one look at him and closed up. Jim got behind his father. Marlowe stepped forward. "We're sorry but we've got to use the school as an emergency shelter."

"You can't do that. Who are you, anyway?"

"My name is Marlowe. I'm in charge of the migration."

"But-" Howe turned suddenly, pushed his way through the crowd and went inside.

Nearly thirty minutes later Marlowe, MacRae, and Kelly went inside with the last party. Marlowe directed Kelly to station guards on the inside at each door, MacRae considered suggesting a string of armed guards around the outside of the building, but he held his tongue.

Mr. Sutton was waiting for Marlowe in the entrance hall. "A news flash from Mrs. Palmer, Chief-she says to tell you that chow will be ready in about twenty minutes."

"Good! I could use a bite myself."

"And the school's regular cook is sulking in the dining room. She wants to talk to you."

"You deal with her. Where is Howe?"

"Derned if I know. He went through here like a destroying angel."

A man pressed forward through the crowd-the entrance hall was jammed, not only with colonists but with students, each of whom wanted to see the excitement. Reunions were going on all around, between parents and sons. Kelly was pounding a slightly smaller replica of himself on the back, and was himself being pounded. The babble was deafening. The man who had forced his way forward put his mouth to Marlowe's ear and said, "Mr. Howe is in his office. He's locked himself in; I've just come from trying to see him."