JILL LOOKED ROUND-EYED. .I’ve certainly had too many martinis Ben. Iwould swear that you said that that patient owns the planet Mars.“.He does. He maintained occupation of it, unassisted, for the required lengthof time. Smith is the planet Mars-King, President, sole civic body, what youwill. If the skipper of the Champion had not left colonists behind, Smith’stenure might have failed. But he did, and that continues occupation eventhough Smith came to Earth. But Smith doesn’t have to split with them; theyare mere immigrants until he grants them Martian citizenship.“.Fantastic!“.It surely is. Also it’s legal. Honey, do you now see why so many people areinterested in who Smith is and where he came from? And why theadministration is so damned anxious to keep him under a rug? What they aredoing isn’t even vaguely legal. Smith is also a citizen of the United States andof the Federation, by derivation-dual citizenship with no conflict. It’s illegal tohold a citizen, even a convicted criminal, incommunicado anywhere in theFederation; that’s one of the things we settled in World War Three. But Idoubt if Smith knows his rights. Also, it has been considered an unfriendly actall through history to lock up a visiting friendly monarch-which is what he isandnot to let him see people, especially the press, meaning me. You stillwon’t sneak me in as a thumbfingered electrician?“.Huh? You’ve got me worse scared than ever. Ben, if they had caught methis morning, what do you think they would have done to me?“.Mmm ... nothing rough. Just locked you in a padded cell, with a certificatesigned by three doctors, and allowed you mail on alternate leap years. Theyaren’t mad at you. I’m wondering what they are going to do to him.“.What can they do?“.Well, he might just happen to die-from gee-fatigue, say. That would be a fineout for the administration.“.You mean murder him?“.Tut, tut! Don’t use nasty words. I don’t think they will. In the first place he is amine of information; even the public has some dim notion of that. He mightbe worth more than Newton and Edison and Einstein and six more like themall rolled into one. Or he may not be. I don’t think they would dare touch himuntil they were sure. In the second place, at the very least, he is a bridge, anambassador, a unique interpreter, between the human race and the onlyother civilized race we have as yet encountered. That is certainly importantbut there is no way to guess just how important. How are you on theclassics? Ever read H. G. Wells’ The War of the Worlds?“.A long time ago, in school.“.Consider the idea that the Martians might decide to make war on us-andwin. They might, you know, and we have no way of guessing how big a clubthey can swing. Our boy Smith might be the go-between, the peacemaker,who could make the First Interplanetary War unnecessary. Even if thispossibility is remote, the administration can’t afford to ignore it until theyknow. The discovery of intelligent life on Mars is something that, politically,they haven’t figured out yet.“.Then you think he is safe?“.Probably, for the time being. The Secretary General has to guess and guessright. As you know, his administration is shaky.“.I don’t pay any attention to politics.“.You should. It’s only barely less important than your own heartbeat.“.I don’t pay any attention to that, either.“.Don’t talk when I’m orating. The majority headed by the United States couldslip apart overnight-Pakistan would bolt at a nervous cough. In which casethere would be a vote of no conlidence, a general election, and Mr. SecretaryGeneral Douglas would be out and back to being a cheap lawyer again. TheMan from Mars can make or break him. Are you going to sneak me in?“.I am not. I’m going to enter a nunnery. Is there more coffee?“.I’ll see.“They both stood up. Jill stretched and said, .Oh, my ancient bones! And,Lordy, look at the time! Never mind the coffee, Ben; I’ve got a hard daytomorrow, being polite to nasty patients and standing clear of internes. Runme home, will you? Or send me home, I guess that’s safer. Call a cab, that’sa lamb.“.Okay, though the evening is young.“ He went into his bedroom, caine outcarrying an object about the size and shape of a small cigarette lighter. .Sureyou won’t sneak me in?“.Gee, Ben, I want to, but-.

　　.Never mind. I wouldn’t let you. It really is dangerous-and not just to yourcareer. I was just softening you up for this.“ He showed her the little object.

　　.Will you put a bug on him?“.Huh? What is it?“.The greatest boon to divorce lawyers and spies since the Mickey Finn. Amicrominiaturized wire recorder. The wire is spring driven so that it can’t bespotted by a snooper circuit. The insides are transistors and resistors andcapacitors and stuff, all packed in plastic-you could drop it Out of a cab andnot hurt it. The power is about as much radioactivity as you would find in awatch dial, but shielded, The wire is good for twentyfour hours. Then youslide out a spool and stick in another one-the spring is part of the spool,already wound.“.Will it explode?“ she asked nervously.

　　.You could bake it in a cake.“.But, Ben, you’ve got me scared to go back into his room now.“.Unnecessary. You can go into the room next door, can’t you?“.I suppose so.“.This thing has donkey’s ears. Fasten the concave side flat against a wallsurgicaltape will do nicely-and it picks up every word spoken in the roombeyond. Is there a closet or something?“She thought about it. .I’m bound to be noticed if I duck in and out of thatadjoining room too much; it’s really part of the suite he’s in. Or they may startusing it. Look, Ben, his room has a third wall in common with a room onanother corridor. Will that do?“.Perfect. Then you’ll do it?“.Umm ... give it to me. I’ll think it over and see how the land lies.“Caxton stopped to polish it with his handkerchief. .Put on your gloves.“.Why?“.Possession of it is slightly illegal, good for a short vacation behind bars.

　　Always use gloves on it and the spare spools-and don’t get caught with it.“.You think of the nicest thingsl“.Want to back out?“Jill let out a long breath. .No. I’ve always wanted a life of crime. Will youteach me gangster lingo? I want to be a credit to you.“.Good girl!“ A light blinked over the door, he glanced up. .That must be yourcab. I rang for it when I went to get this.“.Oh. Find my shoes, will you? No, don’t come up to the roof. The less I’mseen with you from here on the better.“.As you wish.“As he straightened up from putting her shoes on, she took his head in bothhands and kissed him. .Dear Ben! No good can come of this and I hadn’trealized you were a criminal type-but you’re a good cook, as long as I set upthe combination . . . and I just might marry you if I can trap you into proposingagain.“.The offer remains open.“.Do gangsters marry their molls? Or is it .frails’? We’ll see“ She lefthurriedly.

　　Jill Boardman placed the bug without difficulty. The patient in the adjacentroom in the next corridor was bedfast; Jill often Stopped to gossip. She stuckit against the wall over a closet shelf while chattering about how the maidsjust never dusted high in the closets.

　　Removing the spool the next day and inserting a fresh one was just as easy;the patient was asleep. She woke while Jill was still perched on a chair andseemed surprised; Jill diverted her with a spicy and imaginary ward rumor.

　　Jill sent the exposed wire by mail, using the hospital’s post office as theimpersonal blindness of the postal System seemed safer than a cloak &dagger ruse. But her attempt to insert a third fresh spool she muffed. Shehad waited for a time when the patient was asleep but had just mounted thechair when the patient woke up. .Oh! Hello, Miss Boardman.“Jill froze with one hand on the wire recorder. .Hello, Mrs. Fritschlie,“ shemanaged to answer. .Have a nice nap?“.Fair,“ the woman answered peevishly. .My back aches.“.I’ll rub it.“.Doesn’t help much. Why are you always fiddling around in my closet?

　　Is something wrong?“Jill tried to reswallow her stomach. The woman wasn’t really suspicious, shetold herself. .Mice,“ she said vaguely.

　　.’Mice?’ Oh, I can’t abide mice! I’ll have to have another room, right away!“Jill tore the little instrument off the closet wall and stuffed it into her pocket,jumped down from the chair and spoke to the patient. .Now, now, Mrs.

　　Fritschlie-I was just looking to see if there were any mouse holes in thatcloset. There aren’t.“.You’re sure?“.Quite sure. Now let’s rub the back, shall we? Easy over.“Jill decided she could not plant the bug in that room again and concluded thatshe would risk attempting to place it in the empty room which was part of K-12, the Suite of the Man from Mars. But it was almost time for her reliefbefore she was free again. She got the pass key.

　　Only to find that she did not need it; the door was unlocked and held twomore marines; the guard had been doubled. One of them glanced up as sheopened the door. .Looking for someone?“.No. Don’t sit on the bed, boys,“ she said crisply. .If you need more chairs,we’ll send for them.“ She kept her eye on the guard while he got reluctantlyup; then she left, trying to conceal her trembling.

　　The bug was still burning a hole in her pocket when she went off duty; shedecided to return it to Caxton at once. She changed clothes, shifted it to herbag, and went to the roof. Once in the air and headed toward Ben’sapartment she began to breathe easier. She phoned him in flight.

　　.Caxton speaking.“.Jill, Ben. I want to see you. Are you alone?“He answered slowly, .I don’t think it’s smart, kid. Not now.“.Ben, I’ve got to see you. I’m on my way over.“.Well, okay, if that’s how it’s got to be.“.Such enthusiasm!“.Now look, hon, it isn’t that I-.

　　.’Bye!“ She switched off calmed down and decided not to take it out on poorBen-fact was they both were playing out of their league. At least she was-sheshould have stuck to nursing and left politics alone.

　　She felt better when she saw Ben and better yet when she kissed him andsnuggled into his arms. Ben was such a dear-maybe she really should marryhim. But when she tried to speak he put a hand over her mouth, thenwhispered close against her ear, .Don’t talk. No names and nothing buttrivialities. I may be wired by now.“She nodded and he led her into the living room. Without speaking she got outthe wire recorder and handed it to him. His eyebrows went up when he sawthat she was returning not just a spool but the whole works but he made nocomment. Instead he handed her a copy of the afternoon Post.

　　.Seen the paper?“ he said in a natural voice. .You might like to glance at itwhile I wash up.“.Thanks.“ As she took it he pointed to a column; he then left, taking with himthe recorder. Jill saw that the column was Ben’s own syndicated outlet.

　　THE CROW’S NEST by Ben CaxtonEveryone knows that jails and hospitals have one thing in common: they bothcan be very hard to get out of. In some ways a prisoner is less cut off than apatient; a prisoner can send for his lawyer, can demand a Fair Witness, hecan invoke habeas corpus and require the jailor to show cause in Open court.

　　But it takes only a simple NO VISITORS sign, ordered by one of the medicinemen of our peculiar tribe, to consign a hospital patient to oblivion morethoroughly than ever was the Man in the Iron Mask.

　　To be sure, the patient’s next of kin cannot be kept out by this device -but theMan from Mars seems to have no next of kin. The crew of the ill-fated Envoyhad few ties on Earth; if the Man in the Iron Mask- pardon me I mean the.Man from Mars“-has any relative who is guarding his interests, a fewthousand inquisitive reporters (such as your present scrivener) have beenunable to verify it.

　　Who speaks for the Man from Mars? Who ordered an armed guard placedaround him? What is his dread disease that no one may catch a glimpse ofhim, nor ask him a question? I address you, Mr. Secretary General; theexplanation about .physical weakness“ and .gee-fatigue“ won’t wash; if thatwere the answer, a ninety-pound nurse would do as well as an armed guard.

　　Could this disease be financial in nature? Or (let’s say it softly) is itpolitical?

　　There was more, all in the same vein; Jill could see that Ben was deliberatelybaiting the administration, trying to force them to bring Smith out into theopen. What that would accomplish she did not know, her own horizon notencompassing high politics and high finance. She felt, rather than knew, thatCaxton was taking serious risk in challenging the established authorities, butshe had no notion of the size of the danger, nor of what form it might take.

　　She thumbed through the rest of the paper. It was well loaded with follow-upstories on the return of the Champion. with pictures of Secretary GeneralDouglas pinning medals on the crew, interviews with Captain van Tromp andother members of his brave company, pictures of Martians and Martian cities.

　　There was very little about Smith, merely a medical bulletin that he wasimproving slowly but satisfactorily from the effects of his trip.

　　Ben came out and dropped some sheets of onion skin in her lap. .Here’sanother newspaper you might like to see,“ he remarked and left agan.

　　Jill soon saw that the other .newspaper“ was a transcription of what her firstwire had picked up. As typed out, it was marked .First Voice,“ .SecondVoice,“ and so on, but Ben had gone back and written in names wherever hehad been able to make attributions later. He had written across the top: .Allvoices, identified or not, are masculine.“Most of the items were of no interest. They simply showed that Smith hadbeen fed, or washed, or massaged, and that each morning and afternoon hehad been required to get up and exercise under the supervision of a voiceidentified as .Doctor Nelson“ and a second voice marked .second doctor.“ Jilldecided that this must be Dr. Thaddeus.

　　But one longish passage had nothing to do with the physical care of thepatient. Jill read it and reread it:

　　Doctor Nelson: How are you feeling, boy? Are you strong enough to talk fora while?

　　Smith: Yes.

　　Doctor Nelson: A man wants to talk to you.

　　Smith: (pause) Who? (Caxton had written in: All of Smith’s speeches arepreceded by long pauses, some longer than others.)Nelson: This man is our great (untranscribable guttural word-Martian?). He isour oldest Old One. Will you talk with him?

　　Smith: (very long pause) I am great happy. The Old One will talk and I willlisten and grow.

　　Nelson: No, no! He wants to ask you questions.

　　Smith: I cannot teach an Old One.

　　Nelson: The Old One wishes it. Will you let him ask you questions?

　　Smith: Yes.

　　(Background noises, short delay.)Nelson: This way, sir. Uh, I have Doctor Mahmoud standing by, ready totranslate for you.

　　Jill read .New Voice.“ Caxton had scratched this out and had written in:

　　.Secretary General Douglasilt“Secretary General: I won’t need him. You say Smith understands English.

　　Nelson: Well, yes and no, Your Excellency. He knows quite a number ofwords, but, as Mahmoud says, he doesn’t have any cultural context to hangthe words on. It can be rather confusing.

　　Secretary General: Oh, we’ll get along all right, I’m sure. When I was ayoungster I hitchhiked all through Brazil, without knowing a word ofPortuguese when I started. Now, if you will just introduce us-then leave usalone.

　　Nelson: Sir? I think I had better stay with my patient.

　　Secretary General: Really, Doctor? I’m afraid I must insist. Sorry.

　　Nelson: And I am afraid that I must insist. Sorry, sir. Medicalethics-Secretary General: (interrupting) As a lawyer, I know a little something ofmedical jurisprudence-so don’t give me that .medical ethics“ mumbo-jumbo,really. Did this patient select you?

　　Nelson: Not exactly, but-Secretary General: Just as I thought. Has he had any opportunity to make achoice of physicians? I doubt it. His present status is that of ward of the state.

　　I am acting as his next of kin, defacto-and, you will find, de jure as well. I wishto interview him alone.

　　Nelson: (long pause, then very stiffly) If you put it that way, Your Excellency, Iwithdraw from the case.

　　Secretary General: Don’t take it that way, Doctor; I didn’t mean to get yourback hair up. I’m not questioning your treatment. But you wouldn’t try to keepa mother from seeing her son alone, now would you? Are you afraid that Imight hurt him?

　　Nelson: No, but- Secretary General: Then what is your objection? Come now,introduce us and let’s get on with it. This fussing may be upsetting yourpatient.

　　Nelson: Your Excellency, I will introduce you. Then you must select anotherdoctor for your . . . ward.

　　Secretary General: I’m sorry, Doctor, I really am. I can’t take that as final-we’lldiscuss it later. Now, if you please?

　　Nelson: Step over here, sir. Son, this is the man who wants to see you.

　　Our great Old One.

　　Smith: (untranscribable)Secretary General: What did he say?

　　Nelson: Sort of a respectful greeting. Mahmoud says it translates: .I am onlyan egg.“ More or less that, anyway. He used to use it on me. It’s friendly.

　　Son, talk man-talk.

　　Smith: Yes.

　　Nelson: And you had better use simple one-syllable words, if I may offer alast advice.

　　Secretary General: Oh, I will.

　　Nelson: Good-by, Your Excellency. Good-by, son.

　　Secretary General: Thanks, Doctor. See you later.

　　Secretary General: (continued) How do you feel?

　　Smith: Feel fine.

　　Secretary General: Good. Anything you want, just ask for it. We want you tobe happy. Now I have something I want you to do for me. Can you write?

　　Smith: .Write?’ What is .write?’

　　Secretary General: Well, your thumb print will do. I want to read a paper toyou. This paper has a lot of lawyer talk, but stated simply it says that youagree that in leaving Mars you have abandoned-I mean, given up-any claimsthat you may have there. Understand me? You assign them in trust to thegovernment.

　　Smith: (no answer)Secretary General: Well, let’s put it this way. You don’t own Mars, doyou?

　　Smith: (longish pause) I do not understand.

　　Secretary General: Mmm . . . let’s try it this way. You want to stay here,don’t you?

　　Smith: I do not know. I was sent by the Old Ones. (Long untranscribablespeech, sounds like a bullfrog fighting a cat.)Secretary General: Damn it, they should have taught him more English bynow. See here, son, you don’t have to worry about these things. Just let mehave your thumb print here at the bottom of this page. Let me have your righthand. No, don’t twist around that way. Hold still! I’m not going to hurt you . . .

　　Doctor! Doctor Nelson!

　　Second Doctor: Yes, sir?

　　Secretary General: Get Doctor Nelson.

　　Second Doctor: Doctor Nelson? But he has left, sir. He said you took himoff the case.

　　Secretary General: Nelson said that? Damn him! Well, do something. Givehim artificial respiration. Give him a shot. Don’t just stand there- can’t you seethe man is dying?

　　Second Doctor: I don’t believe there is anything to be done, sir. Just let himalone until he comes out of it. That’s what Doctor Nelson always did.

　　Secretary General: Blast Doctor Nelson!

　　The Secretary General’s voice did not appear again, nor that of DoctorNelson. Jill could guess, from gossip she had picked up around the hospital,that Smith had gone into one of his cataleptic withdrawals. There were onlytwo more entries, neither of them attributed. One read: No need to whisper.

　　He Can’t hear you. The other read: Take that tray away. We’ll feed him whenhe comes out of it.

　　Jill was giving the transcription a third reading when Ben reappeared. He wascarrying more onionskin sheets but he did not offer them to her; instead hesaid, .Hungry?“She glanced inquiringly at the papers in his hand but answered, .Starved.“.Let’s get out of here and shoot a cow.“He said nothing more while they went to the roof and took a taxi, and he stillkept quiet during a flight to the Alexandria platform, where they switched toanother cab. Ben selected one with a Baltimore serial number. Once in theair he set it for Hagerstown, Maryland, then settled back and relaxed. .Nowwe can talk.“.Ben, why all the mystery?“.Sorry, pretty foots. Probably just nerves and my bad conscience. I don’tknow that there is a bug in my apartment-but if I can do it to them, they cando it to me . . . and I’ve been showing an unhealthy interest in things theadministration wants kept doggo. Likewise, while it isn’t likely that a cabsignaled from my flat would have a recorder hidden in the cushions, still itmight have; the Special Service squads are thorough. But this cab-. Hepatted its seat cushions. .They can’t gimmick thousands of cabs. One pickedat random should be safe.“Jill shivered. .Ben, you don’t really think they would...“ She let it trail off.

　　.Don’t I, now! You saw my column. I filed that copy nine hours ago. Do youthink the administration will let me kick it in the stomach without doingsomething about it?“.But you have always opposed this administration.“.That’s okay. The duty of His Majesty’s Loyal Opposition is to oppose. Theyexpect that. But this is different; I have practically accused them of holding apolitical prisoner . . . one the public is very much interested in. Jill, agovernment is a living organism. Like every living thing its primecharacteristic is a blind, unreasoned instinct to survive. You hit it, it will fightback. This time I’ve really hit it.“ He gave her a sidelong look. .I shouldn’thave involved you in this.“.Me? I’m not afraid. At least not since I turned that gadget back over toyou.“.You’re associated with me. If things get rough, that could be enough.“Jill shut up. She had never in her life experienced the giant ruthlessness ofgiant power. Outside of her knowledge of nursing and of the joyous guerillawarfare between the sexes, Jill was almost as innocent as the Man fromMars. The notion that she, Jill Ooardman, who had never experiencedanything worse than a spanking as a child and an occasional harsh word asan adult, could be in physical danger was almost impossible for her tobelieve. As a nurse, she had seen the consequences of ruthlessness,violence, brutality-but it could not happen to her.

　　Their cab was circling for a landing in Hagerstown before she broke themoody silence. .Ben? Suppose this patient does die. What happens?“.Huh?“ He frowned. .That’s a good question, a very good question. I’m gladyou asked it; it shows you are taking an interest in the work. Now if there areno other questions, the class is dismissed.“.Don’t try to be funny.“.Hmm ... Jill, I’ve been awake nights when I should have been dreamingabout you, trying to answer that one. It’s a two-part question, political andfinancial-and here are the best answers I have now: If Smith dies, his oddlegal claim to the planet Mars vanishes. Probably the pioneer group theChampion left behind on Mars starts a new claim-and almost certainly theadministration worked out a deal with them before they left Earth. TheChampion is a Federation ship but it is more than possible that the deal, ifthere was one, leaves all the strings in the hands of that redoubtabledefender of human rights, Mr. Secretary General Douglas. Such a deal couldkeep him in power for a long time. On the other hand, it might mean nothingat all.“.Huh? Why?“.The Larkin Decision might not apply. Luna was uninhabited, but Mars isinhabited-by Martians. At the moment, Martians are a legal zero. But the HighCourt might take a look at the political situation, stare at its collective navel,and decide that human occupancy meant nothing on a planet alreadyinhabited by non-human natives. Then rights on Mars, if any, would have tobe secured from the Martians themselves.“.But, Ben, that would logically be the case anyhow. This notion of a singleman owning a planet ...it’ s fantastic!“.Don’t use that word to a lawyer; he won’t understand you. Straining at gnatsand swallowing camels is a required course in all law schools. Besides, thereis a case in point. In the fifteenth century the Pope deeded the entire westernhemisphere to Spain and Portugal and nobody paid the slightest attention tothe fact that the real estate was already occupied by several million Indianswith their own laws, customs, and notions of property rights. His grant deedwas pretty effective, too. Take a look at a western hemisphere mapsometime and notice where Spanish is spoken and where Portuguese isspoken-and see how much land the Indians have left.“.Yes, but- Ben, this isn’t the fifteenth century.“.It is to a lawyer. They still cite Blackwell, Code Napoleon, or even the laws ofJustinian. Mark it down, Jill; if the High Court rules that the Larkin Decisionapplies, Smith is in a position to grant or withhold concessions on Mars whichmay be worth millions, or more likely billions. If he assigns his claim to thepresent administration, then Secretary Douglas is the man who will hand outthe plums. Which is just what Douglas is trying to rig. You saw that bugtranscript.“.Ben, why should anybody want that sort of power?“.Why does a moth fly toward a light? The drive for power is even less logicalthan the sex urge . . . and stronger. But I said this was a two-part question.

　　Smith’s financial holdings are almost as important as his special position asnominal king-emperor of Mars. Possibly more important, for a High Courtdecision could knock out his squatter’s rights on Mars but I doubt if anythingcould shake his ownership of the Lyle Drive and a major chunk of LunarEnterprises; the eight wills are a matter of public record- and in the threemost important cases he inherits with or without a will. What happens if hedies? I don’t know. A thousand alleged cousins would pop up, of course, butthe Science Foundation has fought off a lot of such money-hungry vermin inthe past twenty years. It seems possible that, if Smith dies without making awill, his enormous fortune will revert to the state.“.’The state?’ Do you mean the Federation or the United States?“.Another very good question to which I do not know the answer. His naturalparents come from two different member countries of the Federation and hewas born outside all of them . . . and it is going to make a crucial difference tosome people who votes those blocks of stock and who licenses thosepatents. It won’t be Smith; he won’t know a stock proxy from a traffic ticket. Itis likely to be whoever can grab him and hang onto him. In the meantime Idoubt if Lloyd’s would write a policy on his life; he strikes me as a very poorrisk.“.The poor baby! The poor, poor infant!“