“Willis,” said Jim, earnestly, “Jim is going away. Willis come with Jim?”
Willis seemed puzzled. “Stay here. Jim stay here. Willis stay here. Good.”
“Willis,” Jim said frantically, “Jim has got to go away. Willis come with Jim?”
“Jim go?”
“Jim go.”
Willis almost seemed to shrug. “Willis go with Jim,” he said sadly.
“Tell Gekko.” Willis did so. The Martian seemed surprised, but there was no further argument. He gathered up both boys and the bouncer and started for the door. Another larger Martian—tagged “G'kuro” Jim recalled—relieved Gekko of Frank and tailed along behind. As they climbed the tunnel Jim found suddenly that he needed his mask; Frank put his on, too.
The withdrawn Martian was still cluttering the passageway; both their porters stepped over it without comment.
The Sun was very low when they got to the surface. Although a Martian cannot be hastened his normal pace makes very good time; the long-legged pair made nothing of the three miles back to Cynia Station. The Sun had just reached the horizon and the air was already bitter when the boys and Willis were dumped on the dock. The two Martians left at once, hurrying back to the warmth of their city.
“Good-bye, GekkoP'Jim shouted. “Good-bye, G'kuro!”
The driver and the station master were standing on the dock; it was evident that the driver was ready to start and had been missing his passengers. “What in the world?” said the station master.
“We're ready to go,” said Jim.
“So I see,” said the driver. He stared at the retreating figures. He blinked and turned to the agent. “We should have left that stuff alone, George. I'm seeing things.” He added to the boys, “Well, get aboard.”
They did so and climbed up to the dome. The car clumped down off the ramp to the surface of the ice, turned left onto Oeroe canal and picked up speed. The Sun dropped behind the horizon; the landscape was briefly illuminated by the short Martian sunset. On each bank the boys could see the plants withdrawing for the night. In a few minutes the ground, so lush with vegetation a half hour before, was bare as the true desert.
The stars were out, sharp and dazzling. Soft curtains of aurora hung over the skyline. In the west a tiny steady light rose and fought its way upward against the motion of the stars. “There's Phobos,” said Frank. “Lookie!”
“I see it,” Jim answered. “It's cold. Let's turn in.”
“Okay. I'm hungry.”
“I've got some sandwiches left.” They munched one each, then went down into the lower compartment and crawled into bunks. In time the car passed the city Hesperidum and turned west-northwest onto the canal Erymanthus, but Jim was unaware of it; Jim was dreaming that Willis and he were singing a duet for the benefit of amazed Martians.
“ALL OUT! END OF THE LINE!” THE DRIVER WAS PRODDING them.
“Huh?”
“Up you come, shipmate. This is it—Syrtis Minor.”
LOWELL ACADEMY
“Dear Mother and Dad,
“The reason I didn't phone you when we got in Wednesday night was that we didn't get in until Thursday morning. When I tried to phone on Thursday the operator told me that Deimos had set for South Colony and then I knew it would be about three days until I could relay a call through Deimos and a letter would get there sooner and save you four and a half credits on a collect phone call. Now I realize that I didn't get this letter off to you right away and maybe you're not going to get it until after I would have been able to make a phone call if I had made it but what you probably don't realize is how busy they keep you at school and how many demands there are on a fellow's time and anyhow you probably heard from Frank's mother that we had gotten here all right and any way you look at it I still saved you four and one half credits by not making that phone call.
“I can just hear Phyllis saying that I am just hinting that the half-andfour I saved should be turned over to me but I am not doing anything of the sort because I wouldn't do anything like that and besides I've still got some of the money left that you gave me before I left as well as part of my birthday money and with careful management I will not need any more until you all come through here at migration even though everything costs more here than it does at home. Frank says it's because they always jack the prices up for the tourist trade but there aren't any tourists around now and won't be until the Albert Einstein gets in next week. Anyway if you simply split the difference with me you would still be a clear two and a quarter credits ahead.
“The reason we didn't get here Wednesday night was because the driver decided the ice might not hold so we laid over at Cynia Station and Frank and I just fooled around and killed time until sunset.
“Frank and I have been allowed to room together and we've got a dandy room. It was meant for just one boy and only has one study desk but we're mostly taking the same subjects and lots of times we can use the projector together. I am talking this letter into the study desk recorder because tonight is Frank's night to help out in the kitchen and all I've got left to study is a little bit of history and I'm saving that to do it with Frank when he comes back. Professor Steuben says that he does not know what they are going to do if they keep getting more students here with no more room, hang them on hooks maybe but he is just joking. He jokes a lot and everybody likes him and will be sorry when he leaves on the Albert Einstein and the new headmaster takes over.
“Well that's all for now because Frank just got back and we had better get to work because tomorrow we have a quiz on system history.
“Your loving son,
“James Madison Marlowe, Jr.
“P.S. Frank just told me that he didn't write his folks either and he wonders if you would mind phoning his mother and telling her that he is all right and would she please send his camera right away, he forgot it.
“P.P.S. Willis sends his love. I just asked him.
“PPPS. Tell Phyllis that the girls here are dyeing their hair in stripes. I think it looks silly.
“JIM”
IF PROFESSOR OTTO STEUBEN, M.A., LL.D., HAD NOT RETIRED, Jim's life at Lowell Academy would have been different. But retire he did and went back to San Fernando Valley for a well-earned rest. The entire school went to Marsport to see him off. He shook hands all around and wept a little and commended them to the care of Marquis Howe, recently arrived from Earth and now taking over.
When Jim and Frank got back from the space port they found the first arrivals gathered around the bulletin board. They crowded in and read the item that was drawing the crowd:
SPECIAL NOTICE
All students are required to keep themselves and their quarters neat and orderly at all times. The supervision of these matters by student monitors has not proved satisfactory. Therefore formal inspections by the Headmaster will be held each week. The first such inspection will be at ten hundred, Saturday, the 7th of Ceres.
(signed)
M. Howe, Headmaster
“Well, for crying out loud!” Frank burst out. “What d'you think of that, Jim?”
Jim stared at it darkly “I think that today is the sixth of Ceres.”
“Yeah, but what's the idea? He must think that this is a school of correction.” Frank turned to one of the older students, who had, until now, been monitor of their corridor. “Anderson, what do you think about it? Can he do that?”
“I don't know. I really don't know. It seems to me that our rooms and so forth are our private business.”
“What do you intend to do about it?”
“Me?” The young man thought a while before replying, “I've got just one more semester to my degree, then I'm out of here. I think I'll just sit tight, keep my mouth shut, and sweat it out.”
“Huh? That's easy enough for you to say but I've got twelve semesters staring me in the face. What am I? A criminal?”
“That's your problem, fellow.” The older student left.
One of the boys in the crowd seemed undisturbed by t
he notice. He was Herbert Beecher, son of the Company's Resident Agent General and a newcomer both to Mars and to the school. One of the other boys noticed his smirk. “What are you looking smug about, tourist?” he demanded. “Did you know about this ahead of time?’
“Certainly I did.”
“I'll bet you thought it up.”
“No, but my old man says you guys have been getting away with it for a long time. My old man says that Stoobie was too soft to put any discipline into this school. My old man says that—”
“Nobody cares what your old man says. Beat it!”
“You better not talk about my old man that way. I'll—”
“Beat it before I clip you one!”
Young Beecher eyed his antagonist—a red-headed lad named Kelly—and decided that he meant it. He faded out of sight.
“He can afford to grin,” Kelly said bitterly, “he lives in his old man's quarters. This thing only gets at those of us who have to live in the school. It's rank discrimination, that's what it is!” About a third of boys were day students, mostly sons of Company employees who were stationed at Syrtis Minor. Another third were migratory colonials and the balance were the children of terrestrials at the outlying stations, especially those employed on the atmosphere project. Most of these last were Bolivians and Tibetans, plus a few Eskimos. Kelly turned to one of them. “How about it, Chen? Are we going to put up with this?”
The Asiatic's broad face showed no expression. “It is not worth getting excited about.”
“Huh? You mean you won't stand up for your rights?”
“These things pass.”
Jim and Frank went back to their room but continued to discuss it. “Frank,” asked Jim, “what's behind this? Do you suppose they're pulling the same stunt over in the girls’ school?”
“I could call up Dolores Montez and find out.”
“Mmm … don't bother. I don't suppose it matters. The question is: what are we going to do about it?”
“What can we do about it?”
“I don't know. I wish I could ask Dad about this. He always told me to stand up for my rights… but maybe he would say that this is just something I should expect. I don't know.”
“Look,” suggested Frank, “why don't we ask our fathers?”
“You mean call ‘em up tonight? Is there relay tonight?”
“No, don't call ‘em up; that costs too much. We'll wait till our folks come through here at migration; that's not so very long now. If we're going to make a fuss, we've got to have our folks here to back us up, or we won't get anyplace with it. Meantime, we sit tight and do what he asks us. It may not amount to anything.”
“Now you're talking sense.” Jim stood up. “I suppose we might as well try to get this dump tidied up.”
“Okay. Say Jim, I just thought of something. Isn't the chairman of the Company named Howe?”
“John W Howe,” agreed Jim. “What about it?”
“Well, the head is named Howe, too.”
“Oh.” Jim shook his head. “Doesn't mean anything. Howe is a very common name.”
“I'll bet it does mean something. Doc MacRae says you have to be somebody's cousin to get any of the juicy Company appointments. Doc says that the Company setup is just one big happy family, playing you-tickle-me-and-I'll-kiss-you and that the idea that it is a non-profit corporation is the biggest joke since women were invented.”
“Hmm … Well, I wouldn't know. Where shall I put this junk?”
SLIPS WERE DISTRIBUTED AT BREAKFAST THE NEXT MORNING giving what was described as “Official Arrangement of Rooms for Inspection;” the job the boys had done the night before had to be done over. Since Headmaster Howe's instructions failed to consider the possibility that two boys might be living in a one-boy room the rearranging was not easy; they were not ready by ten o'clock. However it was nearly two hours later that the Headmaster got around to their cubicle.
He poked his head inside, seemed about to leave, then came inside. He pointed to their outdoors suits, hanging on hooks by the clothes locker. “Why haven't you removed those barbaric decorations from your masks?”
The boys looked startled; Howe went on, “Haven't you looked at the bulletin board this morning?”
“Er—no, sir.”
“Do so. You are responsible for anything posted on the bulletin board.” He shouted toward the door. “Orderly!”
One of the older students appeared in the doorway. “Yes, sir.”
“Weekend privileges suspended for these two pending satisfaction of inspection requirements. Five demerits each.” Howe looked around. “This room is unbelievably cluttered and untidy. Why didn't you follow the prescribed diagram?”
Jim stuttered, tongue-tied by the evident unfairness of the question. Finally he got out, “This is supposed to be a single room. We did the best we could.”
“Don't resort to excuses. If you don't have room to store things neatly, get rid of the excess baggage.” For the first time his eye lit on Willis, who, at the sight of strangers, had retreated to a corner and hauled in all out-rigging. Howe pointed at him. “Athletic equipment must be stored on tops of lockers or left in the gymnasium. It must not be thrown in corners.”
Jim started to answer; Frank kicked him in a shin. Howe went on lecturing as he moved toward the door. “I realize that you young people have been brought up away from civilization and have not had the benefits of polite society, but I shall do my best to remedy that. I intend that this school shall, above all other things, turn out civilized young gentlemen.” He paused at the door and added, “When you have cleaned up those masks, report to my office.”
When Howe was out of earshot Jim said, “What did you kick me for?”
“You dumb idiot, he thought Willis was a ball.”
“I know; I was just about to set him right.”
Frank looked disgusted. “Don't you know enough to let well enough alone? You want to keep Willis, don't you? He would have whipped up some rule making him contraband.”
“Oh, he couldn't do that!”
“The heck he couldn't! I'm beginning to see that Stoobie kept our pal Howe from exercising his full talents. Say, what did he mean: ‘demerits’?”
“I don't know, but it doesn't sound good.” Jim took down his respirator mask, looked at the gay tiger stripes. “You know, Frank, I don't think I want to become a ‘civilized young gentleman.’ “
“You and me both!”
They decided to take a quick look at the bulletin board before they got into any more trouble, rather than fix the masks at once. They went to the entrance foyer and did so. On the board was pinned:
NOTICE TO STUDENTS
The practice of painting respirator masks with so-called identification patterns will cease. Masks will be plain and each student will letter his name neatly in one inch high across the chest and across the shoulders of his outdoors suit.
Students are required to wear shirts and shoes or slippers at all times and places except in their own rooms.
Pets will not be kept in dormitory rooms. In some cases, where the animals are of interest as scientific specimens, arrangements may be made to feed and care for pets in the biology laboratory.
Food must not be kept in dormitory rooms. Students receiving food packages from parents will store them with the commissary matron and reasonable amounts may be withdrawn immediately after meals, except Saturday morning breakfast. Special permission may be obtained for “sweets parties” during recreation hours on occasions such as birthdays, etc.
Students denied weekend privileges for disciplinary reasons may read, study, compose letters, play musical instruments, or listen to music. They are not permitted to play cards, visit in other students’ rooms, nor leave the school area for any reason. 6. Students wishing to place telephone calls will submit a written request on the approved form and will obtain key to the communications booth at the main office.
(signed) M. Howe, Headmaster
Jim whistled. Frank sa
id, “Would you look at that, Jim? Would you, now? Do you suppose we have to get permission to scratch? What does he take us for?”
“Search me.”
“Frank, I haven't got a shirt.”
“Well, I can lend you a sweat shirt until you can buy some. But take a look at paragraph three—you'd better get busy.”
“Huh? What about it?” Jim reread it.
“You'd better go butter up the bio teacher, so you can make arrangements for Willis.”
“What?” Jim simply had not connected the injunction concerning pets with Willis; he did not think of Willis as a pet. “Oh, I can't do that, Frank. He'd be terribly unhappy.”
“Then you had better ship him home and let your folks care for him.”
Jim looked balky. “I won't do it. I won't!”
“Then what are you going to do?”
“I don't know.” He thought about it. “I won't do anything about it. I'll just keep him under cover. Old lady Howe doesn't even know I've got him.”
“Well … you might get away with it, so long as nobody snitches on you.”
“I don't think any of the fellows would do that.”
They went back to their room and attempted to remove the decorations from their masks. They were not very successful; the paint had bitten into the plastic and they succeeded only in smearing the colors around. Presently a student named Smythe stuck his head in the door. “Clean up your masks for you?”
“Huh? It can't be done; the colors have soaked in.”
“You're the umpteenth to find that out. But, from the goodness of my heart and a willingness to be of public service, I will paint your mask over to match the original shade—at a quarter credit per mask.”
“I thought there was a catch in it,” Jim answered.
“Do you want it, or don't you? Hurry up, my public is wait-mg.”
“Smitty you would sell tickets to your grandmother's funeral.” Jim produced a quarter credit.
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