Part 15 (2/2)

”This is an old pattern, fellow Martians! England tried it on her colonies three hundred years ago. And the people rose up and demanded their right to rule themselves. They had troubles with their governments, too--and they had panics. But they won their freedom, and it made them great--so great that now that _one_ nation--not all Earth, but that single nation!--is trying to do to us what she wouldn't permit to herself.

”Well, we don't have an army. But neither do they. They know the people of this world wouldn't stand for the landing of foreign--that's right, _foreign_--troops. So they're trying to steal our police force from us and use it for their war.

”Fellow Martians, they aren't going to bribe us into that! Mars has had enough. I declare us to be in a state of revolution. And since they have chosen the weapons, I declare our loyal and functioning Munic.i.p.al Police Force to be _our_ army. Any man who deserts will be considered a traitor. But any man who sticks will be rewarded more than he ever expected. We're going to protect our freedom.

”Let them open their banks--our banks--again. And when they have established your accounts, go in and collect the money! If they give it to you, Mars is that much richer. If they don't, you'll know they're lying.

”Let them bribe us if they like. We're going to win this war.”

Gordon felt the crowd's reaction twist again, and he had to admit that Wayne had played his cards well.

But it didn't make the question of where he belonged, or what he should do, any easier. He waited until the crowd had thinned out a little and began heading toward Corey's, with Izzy moving along silently beside him, carrying half the packages.

He remembered the promise of forgiveness for all sins on joining the new Legal Force; but he'd read enough history to know that it was fine--as long as the struggle continued. Afterwards, promises grew dim....

He had no use for the present administration, but Earth had no right to take over without a formal investigation, and a chance for the people to state their choice.

Then he grimaced at himself. He was in no position to move according to right and wrong. The only question that counted was how he had the best chance to ride out the storm, and to get back to Earth and a normal life.

He was still in a brown study as he took the bundles from Izzy and dropped them on his bed. Izzy went out, and Gordon stood staring at the wall. Trench? Or the new Commissioner Crane? If Earth should win--and they had most of the power, after all--and Bruce Gordon had fought against Security, the mines of Mercury were waiting.

He picked up the stuff from his bed and started to sweep it aside before he lay down. Then he remembered at last; he knocked on the panel, until it finally opened a crack.

”Here,” he told her. ”Food, and some other stuff. There are some refuse bags, too. Yell when you want them removed.”

She took the bundles woodenly until she came to a plastic can. Then she gasped. ”Water! Two gallons!”

”There are heat tablets, and a skin tub.” The salesgirl had explained how one gallon was enough in the plastic bag that served as a tub; he had his doubts. ”Detergent. The whole works.”

She hauled the stuff in and started to close the panel. Then she hesitated. ”I suppose I should thank you, but I don't like to be told I stink so much you can't stand me in the next room!”

”h.e.l.l, I've gotten so I can stand your grandfather,” he answered. ”It wasn't that.” The panel slammed shut.

He still hadn't solved his problem in the morning; out of habit, he put on his uniform and went across to Izzy's room. But Izzy was already gone.

Gordon fished into the pocket of his uniform for paper and a pencil to leave a note in case Izzy came back. His fingers found the half notebook cover instead. He drew it out, scowling at it, and started to crumple it. Then he stopped, staring at the piece of imitation leather and paper that wouldn't bend.

His fingers were still stiff as he began tearing off the thin covering with his knife; the paper backing peeled away easily.

Under it lay a thin metal plate that glowed faintly even in the dim light of Izzy's room! Gordon nearly dropped it. He'd seen such an identification plate once before.

The printing on it leaped at him: ”This will identify the bearer, BRUCE IRVING GORDON, as a PRIME agent of the Office of Solar Security, empowered to make and execute any and all directives under the powers of this office.” The printing in capitals was obviously done by hand, but with the same catalytic ”ink” as the rest of the badge. Murdoch must have prepared it, hidden it in the notebook, then died before the secret could be revealed.

A knock sounded from across the hall. Gordon thrust the d.a.m.ning badge as deep into his pouch as he could cram it and looked out. It was Mother Corey.

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