Tunnel in the Sky

by Robert A. Heinlein

“That’s right.”

  “Okay, okay,” Cowper said sourly. “Any other remarks? Don’t yell, just stick up your hands.”

  “I’m not through,” insisted Rod.

  “Well?”

  “I not only did not know, I’m not for it. Shorty, I want you to withdraw your motion.”

  “No!”

  “I think you should. Grant has only had a week; you can’t expect miracles in that time—I know; I’ve had grief enough with this bunch of wild men. You may not like the things he’s done—I don’t myself, a lot of them. That’s to be expected. But if you let that be an excuse to run him out of office, then sure as daylight this gang will break up.”

  “I’m not busting it up—he is! He may be older than I am but if he thinks that makes the least difference when it comes to having a say—well…he’d better think twice. I’m warning him. You hear that, Grant?”

  “I heard it. You misunderstood me.”

  “Like fun I did!”

  “Shorty,” Rod persisted, “will you drop this idea? I’m asking you please.”

  Shorty Dumont looked stubborn. Rod looked helplessly at Cowper, shrugged and sat down. Cowper turned away and growled, “Any more debate? You back there… Agnes? You’ve got the floor.”

  Jimmy whispered, “Why did you pull a stunt like that, Rod? Nobility doesn’t suit you.”

  “I wasn’t being noble. I knew what I was doing,” Rod answered in low tones.

  “You messed up your chances to be re-elected.”

  “Stow it.” Rod listened; it appeared that Agnes Fries had more than one grievance. “Jim?”

  “Huh?”

  “Jump to your feet and move to adjourn.”

  “What? Ruin this when it’s getting good? There is going to be some hair pulled… I hope.”

  “Don’t argue; do it!—or I’ll bang your heads together.”

  “Oh, all right. Spoilsport.” Jimmy got reluctantly to his feet, took a breath and shouted, “I move we adjourn!”

  Rod bounced to his feet. “SECOND THE MOTION!”

  Cowper barely glanced at them. “Out of order. Sit down.”

  “It is not out of order,” Rod said loudly. “A motion to adjourn is always in order, it takes precedence, and it cannot be debated. I call for the question.”

  “I never recognized you. This recall motion is going to be voted on if it is the last thing I do.” Cowper’s face was tense with anger. “Are you through, Agnes? Or do you want to discuss my table manners, too?”

  “You can’t refuse a motion to adjourn,” Rod insisted. “Question! Put the question.”

  Several took up the shout, drowning out Agnes Fries, preventing Cowper from recognizing another speaker. Boos and catcalls rounded out the tumult.

  Cowper held up both hands for silence, then called out, “It has been moved and seconded that we adjourn. Those in favor say, ‘Aye.’”

  “AYE!!”

  “Opposed?”

  “No,” said Jimmy.

  “The meeting is adjourned.” Cowper strode out of the circle of firelight.

  Shorty Dumont came over, planted himself in front of Rod and looked up. “A fine sort of a pal you turned out to be!” He spat on the ground and stomped off.

  “Yeah,” agreed Jimmy, “what gives? Schizophrenia? Your nurse drop you on your head? That noble stuff in the right doses might have put us back in business. But you didn’t know when to stop.”

  Jacqueline had approached while Jimmy was speaking. “I wasn’t pulling any tricks,” Rod insisted. “I meant what I said. Kick a captain out when he’s had only a few days to show himself and you’ll bust us up into a dozen little groups. I wouldn’t be able to hold them together. Nobody could.”

  “Bosh! Jackie, tell the man.”

  She frowned. “Jimmy, you’re sweet, but you’re not bright.”

  “Et tu, Jackie?”

  “Never mind, Jackie will take care of you. A good job, Rod. By tomorrow everybody will realize it. Some of them are a little stirred up tonight.”

  “What I don’t see,” Rod said thoughtfully, “is what got Shorty stirred up in the first place?”

  “Hadn’t you heard? Maybe it was while you were out hunting. I didn’t see it, but he got into a row with Roy, then Grant bawled him out in front of everybody. I think Shorty is self-conscious about his height,” she said seriously. “He doesn’t like to take orders.”

  “Does anybody?”

  The next day Grant Cowper acted as if nothing had happened. But his manner had more of King Log and less of King Stork. Late in the afternoon he looked up Rod. “Walker? Can you spare me a few minutes?”

  “Why not?”

  “Let’s go where we can talk.” Grant led him to a spot out of earshot. They sat on the ground and Rod waited. Cowper seemed to have difficulty in finding words.

  Finally he said, “Rod, I think I can depend on you.” He threw in his grin, but it looked forced.

  “Why?” asked Rod.

  “Well…the way you behaved last night.”

  “So? Don’t bank on it, I didn’t do it for you.” Rod paused, then added, “Let’s get this straight. I don’t like you.”

  For once Cowper did not grin. “That makes it mutual. I don’t like you a little bit. But we’ve got to get along…and I think I can trust you.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’ll risk it.”

  “I agree with every one of Shorty’s gripes. I just didn’t agree with his solution.”

  Cowper gave a wry smile unlike his usual expression. For an instant Rod found himself almost liking him. “The sad part is that I agree with his gripes myself.”

  “Huh?”

  “Rod, you probably think I’m a stupid jerk but the fact is I do know quite a bit about theory of government. The hard part is to apply it in a…a transitional period like this. We’ve got fifty people here and not a one with any practical experience in government—not even myself. But every single one considers himself an expert. Take that bill-of-rights motion; I couldn’t let that stand. I know enough about such things to know that the rights and duties needed for a co-operative colony like this can’t be taken over word for word from an agrarian democracy, and they are still different from those necessary for an industrial republic.” He looked worried. “It is true that we had considered limiting the franchise.”

  “You do and they’ll toss you in the creek!”

  “I know. That’s one reason why the law committee hasn’t made a report. Another reason is—well, confound it, how can you work out things like a constitution when you practically haven’t any writing paper? It’s exasperating. But about the franchise: the oldest one of us is around twenty-two and the youngest is about sixteen. The worst of it is that the youngest are the most precocious, geniuses or near-geniuses.” Cowper looked up. “I don’t mean you.”

  “Oh, no,” Rod said hastily. “I’m no genius!”

  “You’re not sixteen, either. These brilliant brats worry me. ‘Bush lawyers,’ every blessed one, with always a smart answer and no sense. We thought with an age limit—a reasonable one—the older heads could act as ballast while they grow up. But it won’t work.”

  “No. It won’t.”

  “But what am I to do? That order about hunting teams not being mixed—that wasn’t aimed at teams like you and Carol, but she thought it was and gave me the very deuce. I was just trying to take care of these kids. Confound it, I wish they were all old enough to marry and settle down—the Baxters don’t give me trouble.”

  “I wouldn’t worry. In a year or so ninety per cent of the colony will be married.”

  “I hope so! Say…are you thinking about it?”

  “Me?” Rod was startled. “Farthest thing from my mind.”

  “Um? I thought—Never mind; I didn’t get you out here to ask about your private affairs. What Shorty had to say was hard to swallow—but I’m going to make some changes. I’m abolishing most of the committees.”

  “So?”

&n
bsp; “Yes. Blast them, they don’t do anything; they just produce reports. I’m going to make one girl boss cook—and one man boss hunter. I want you to be chief of police.”

  “Huh? Why in Ned do you want a chief of police?”

  “Well…somebody has to see that orders are carried out. You know, camp sanitation and such. Somebody has to keep the signal smoking—we haven’t accounted for thirty-seven people, aside from known dead. Somebody has to assign the night watch and check on it. The kids run hog wild if you don’t watch them. You are the one to do it.”

  “Why?”

  “Well…let’s be practical, Rod. I’ve got a following and so have you. We’ll have less trouble if everybody sees that we two stand together. It’s for the good of the community.”

  Rod realized, as clearly as Grant did, that the group had to pull together. But Cowper was asking him to shore up his shaky administration, and Rod not only resented him but thought that Cowper was all talk and no results.

  It was not just the unfinished wall, he told himself, but a dozen things. Somebody ought to search for a salt lick, every day. There ought to be a steady hunt for edible roots and berries and things, too—he, for one, was tired of an all-meat diet. Sure, you could stay healthy if you didn’t stick just to lean meat, but who wanted to eat nothing but meat, maybe for a life time? And there were those stinking hides… Grant had ordered every kill skinned, brought back for use.

  “What are you going to do with those green hides?” he asked suddenly.

  “Huh? Why?”

  “They stink. If you put me in charge, I’m going to chuck them in the creek.”

  “But we’re going to need them. Half of us are in rags now.”

  “But we’re not short on hides; tanning is what we need. Those hides won’t sun-cure this weather.”

  “We haven’t got tannin. Don’t be silly, Rod.”

  “Then send somebody out to chew bark till they find some. You can’t mistake the puckery taste. And get rid of those hides!”

  “If I do, will you take the job?”

  “Maybe. You said, ‘See that orders are carried out.’ Whose orders? Yours? Or Kilroy’s?”

  “Well, both. Roy is my deputy.”

  Rod shook his head. “No, thanks. You’ve got him, so you don’t need me. Too many generals, not enough privates.”

  “But, Rod, I do need you. Roy doesn’t get along with the younger kids. He rubs them the wrong way.”

  “He rubs me the wrong way, too. Nothing doing, Grant. Besides, I don’t like the title anyhow. It’s silly.”

  “Pick your own. Captain of the Guard… City Manager. I don’t care what you call it; I want you to take over the night guard and see that things run smoothly around camp—and keep an eye on the younger kids. You can do it and it’s your duty.”

  “What will you be doing?”

  “I’ve got to whip this code of laws into shape. I’ve got to think about long-range planning. Heavens, Rod, I’ve got a thousand things on my mind. I can’t stop to settle a quarrel just because some kid has been teasing the cook. Shorty was right; we can’t wait. When I give an order I want a law to back it and not have to take lip from some young snotty. But I can’t do it all, I need help.”

  Cowper put it on grounds impossible to refuse, nevertheless…“What about Kilroy?”

  “Eh? Confound it, Rod, you can’t ask me to kick out somebody else to make room for you.”

  “I’m not asking for the job!” Rod hesitated. He needed to say that it was a matter of stubborn pride to him to back up the man who had beaten him, it was that more than any public-spiritedness. He could not phrase it, but he did know that Cowper and Kilroy were not the same case.

  “I won’t pull Kilroy’s chestnuts out of the fire. Grant, I’ll stooge for you; you were elected. But I won’t stooge for a stooge.”

  “Rod, be reasonable! If you got an order from Roy, it would be my order. He would simply be carrying it out.”

  Rod stood up. “No deal.”

  Cowper got angrily to his feet and strode away.

  There was no meeting that night, for the first time. Rod was about to visit the Baxters when Cowper called him aside. “You win. I’ve made Roy chief hunter.”

  “Huh?”

  “You take over as City Manager, or Queen of the May, or whatever you like. Nobody has set the night watch. So get busy.”

  “Wait a minute! I never said I would take the job.”

  “You made it plain that the only thing in your way was Roy. Okay, you get your orders directly from me.”

  Rod hesitated. Cowper looked at him scornfully and said, “So you can’t co-operate even when you have it all your own way?”

  “Not that, but—”

  “No ‘buts.’ Do you take the job? A straight answer: yes, or no.”

  “Uh…yes.”

  “Okay.” Cowper frowned and added, “I almost wish you had turned it down.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  Rod started to set the guard and found that every boy he approached was convinced that he had had more than his share of watches. Since the exterior security committee had kept no records—indeed, had had no way to—it was impossible to find out who was right and who was shirking. “Stow it!” he told one. “Starting tomorrow we’ll have an alphabetical list, straight rotation. I’ll post it even if we have to scratch it on a rock.” He began to realize that there was truth in what Grant had said about the difficulty of getting along without writing paper.

  “Why don’t you put your pal Baxter on watch?”

  “Because the Mayor gave him two weeks honeymoon, as you know. Shut up the guff. Charlie will be your relief; make sure you know where he sleeps.”

  “I think I’ll get married. I could use two weeks of loafing.”

  “I’ll give you five to one you can’t find a girl that far out of her mind. You’re on from midnight to two.”

  Most of them accepted the inevitable once they were assured of a square deal in the future, but Peewee Schneider, barely sixteen and youngest in the community, stood on his “rights”—he had stood a watch the night before, he did not rate another for at least three nights, and nobody could most colorfully make him.

  Rod told Peewee that he would either stand his watch, or Rod would slap his ears loose—and then he would still stand his watch. To which he added that if he heard Peewee use that sort of language around camp again he would wash Peewee’s mouth out with soap.

  Schneider shifted the argument. “Yah! Where are you going to find soap?”

  “Until we get some, I’ll use sand. You spread that word, Peewee: no more rough language around camp. We’re going to be civilized if it kills us. Four to six, then, and show Kenny where you sleep.” As he left Rod made a mental note that they should collect wood ashes and fat; while he had only a vague idea of how to make soap probably someone knew how…and soap was needed for other purposes than curbing foul-mouthed pip squeaks. He had felt a yearning lately to be able to stand upwind of himself…he had long ago thrown away his socks.

  Rod got little sleep. Everytime he woke he got up and inspected the guard, and twice he was awakened by watchmen who thought they saw something prowling outside the circle of firelight. Rod was not sure, although it did seem once that he could make out a large, long shape drifting past in the darkness. He stayed up a while each time, another gun in case the prowler risked the wall or the fires in the gap. He felt great temptation to shoot at the prowling shadows, but suppressed it. To carry the attack to the enemy would be to squander their scanty ammunition without making a dent in the dangerous beasts around them. There were prowlers every night; they had to live with it.

  He was tired and cranky the next morning and wanted to slip away after breakfast and grab a nap in the cave. He had not slept after four in the morning, but had checked on Peewee Schneider at frequent intervals. But there was too much to do; he promised himself a nap later and sought out Cowper instead. “Two or three things on my mind, Grant.�
�

  “Spill it.”

  “Any reason not to put girls on watch?”

  “Eh? I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “Why not? These girls don’t scream at a mouse. Everyone of them stayed alive by her own efforts at least a month before she joined up here. Ever seen Caroline in action?”

  “Mmm…no.”

  “You should. It’s a treat. Sudden death in both hands, and eyes in the back of her head. If she were on watch, I would sleep easy. How many men do we have now?”

  “Uh, twenty-seven, with the three that came in yesterday.”

  “All right, out of twenty-seven who doesn’t stand watch?”

  “Why, everybody takes his turn.”

  “You?”

  “Eh? Isn’t that carrying it pretty far? I don’t expect you to take a watch; you run it and check on the others.”

  “That’s two off. Roy Kilroy?”

  “Uh, look, Rod, you had better figure that he is a department head as chief hunter and therefore exempt. You know why—no use looking for trouble.”

  “I know, all right. Bob Baxter is off duty, too.”

  “Until next week.”

  “But this is this week. The committee cut the watch down to one at a time; I’m going to boost it to two again. Besides that I want a sergeant of the guard each night. He will be on all night and sleep all next day…then I don’t want to put him on for a couple of days. You see where that leaves me? I need twelve watchstanders every night; I have less than twenty to draw from.”

  Cowper looked worried. “The committee didn’t think we had to have more than one guard at a time.”

  “Committee be hanged!” Rod scratched his scars and thought about shapes in the dark. “Do you want me to run this the way I think it has to be run? Or shall I just go through the motions?”

  “Well…”

  “One man alone either gets jittery and starts seeing shadows—or he dopes off and is useless. I had to wake one last night—I won’t tell you who; I scared him out of his pants; he won’t do it again. I say we need a real guard, strong enough in case of trouble to handle things while the camp has time to wake up. But if you want it your way, why not relieve me and put somebody else in?”

  “No, no, you keep it. Do what you think necessary.”