Criminal Negligence

by J. Francis McComas

  Produced by Greg Weeks, Greg Bergquist and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Astounding ScienceFiction June 1955. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence thatthe U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor typographicalerrors have been corrected without note.]

  CRIMINAL NEGLIGENCE

  _Somebody was going to have to be left behind ... and who it would be was perfectly obvious...._

  BY J. FRANCIS MCCOMAS

  Illustrated by Freas

  Warden Halloran smiled slightly. "You expect to have criminals on Mars,then?" he asked. "Is that why you want me?"

  "Of course we don't, sir!" snapped the lieutenant general. His name wasKnox. "We need men of your administrative ability--"

  "Pardon me, general," Lansing interposed smoothly, "I rather think we'dbetter give the warden a ... a more detailed picture, shall we say? Wehave been rather abrupt, you know."

  "I'd be grateful if you would," Halloran said.

  He watched the lanky civilian as Lansing puffed jerkily on his cigar. Along man, with a shock of black hair tumbling over a high, narrowforehead, Lansing had introduced himself as chairman of the project'scooerdinating committee ... whatever that was.

  "Go ahead," grunted Knox. "But make it fast, doctor."

  Lansing smiled at the warden, carefully placed his cigar in the ash traybefore him and said, "We've been working on the ships night and day.Both the dust itself and its secondary effects are getter closer to usall the time. We've been so intent on the job--it's _really_ been a raceagainst time!--that only yesterday one of my young men remembered theMountain State Penitentiary was well within our sphere of control."

  "The country--what's left of it--has been split up into regions," thegeneral said. "So many ships to each region."

  "So," Lansing went on, "learning about you meant there was another batchof passengers to round up. And when I was told the warden wasyourself--I know something of your career, Mr. Halloran--I wasdelighted. Frankly," he grinned at Knox, "we're long on military andscientific brass and short on people who can manage other people."

  "I see." Halloran pressed a buzzer on his desk. "I think some of myassociates ought to be in on this discussion."

  "Discussion?" barked Knox. "Is there anything to discuss? We simply wantyou out of here in an hour--"

  "Please, general!" the warden said quietly.

  * * * * *

  If the gray-clad man who entered the office at that moment heard thegeneral's outburst, he gave no sign. He stood stiffly in front of thewarden's big desk, a little to one side of the two visitors, and said,"Yes sir, Mr. Halloran?"

  "Hello, Joe. Know where the captain is?"

  "First afternoon inspection, sir." He cocked an eye at the clock on thewall behind Halloran. "Ought to be in the laundry about now."

  The warden scribbled a few words on a small square of paper. "Ask him tocome here at once, please. On your way, please stop in at the hospitaland ask Dr. Slade to come along, too." He pushed the paper across thedesk to the inmate. "There's your pass."

  "Yes sir. Anything else, warden?" He stood, a small, square figure inneat gray shirt and pants, seemingly oblivious to the ill-concealedstares of the two visitors.

  Halloran thought a moment, then said, "Yes ... I'd like to see FatherNelson and Rabbi Goldsmid, too."

  "Uh, Father Nelson's up on the Row, sir. With Bert Doyle."

  "Then we'll not bother him, of course. Just the others."

  "Yes, sir. On the double."

  Lansing slouched around in his chair and openly watched Joe Mario walkout. Then he turned back to Halloran and said, "That chap a ... atrusty, warden?"

  "To a degree. Although we no longer use the term. We classify theinmates according to the amount of responsibility they can handle."

  "I see. Ah--" he laughed embarrassedly, "this is the first time I'vebeen in a prison. Mind telling me what his crime was?"

  Halloran smiled gently. "We try to remember the man, Dr. Lansing, andnot his crime." Then he relented. "Joe Mario was just a small-time crookwho got mixed up in a bad murder."

  Lansing whistled.

  "Aren't we wasting time?" growled the general. "Seems to me, warden, youcould be ordering your people to pack up without any conference. You'rein charge here, aren't you?"

  Halloran raised his eyebrows. "In charge? Why, yes ... in the sense thatI shape the final decisions. But all of my assistants contribute to suchdecisions. Further, we have an inmate's council that voices its opinionon certain of our problems here. And we--my associates and I--listen tothem. Always."

  Knox scowled and angrily shifted his big body. Lansing picked up hiscigar, relit it, using the action to unobtrusively study the warden.Hardly a presence to cow hardened criminals, Lansing thought. Halloranwas just below middle height, with gray hair getting a bit thin, eyesthat twinkled warmly behind rimless glasses. Yet Lansing had readsomewhere that a critic of Halloran's policies had said the penologist'sthinking was far ahead of his time--too far, the critic had added.

  * * * * *

  As Joe Mario closed the warden's door behind him, two inmates slowedtheir typing but did not look up as he neared their desks. A guard lefthis post at the outer door and walked toward Mario. The two of themstopped beside the desks.

  "What's the word, Joe?" the guard asked.

  Mario held out his pass.

  "Gotta round up the captain, Doc Slade and the Jew preacher," he said.

  "All right. Get going."

  "What do those guys want?" asked a typist as he pulled the paper fromhis machine.

  Mario looked quickly at the guard and as quickly away from him.

  "Dunno," he shrugged.

  "Somethin' about the war, I bet," grunted the typist.

  "War's over, dope," said the other. "Nothin' behind the curtain now buta nice assortment of bomb craters. All sizes."

  "Go on, Joe," ordered the guard. "You heard something. Give."

  "Well ... I heard that fat general say something about wanting thewarden outa here in a hour."

  The typewriters stopped their clacking for a bare instant, then startedup again, more slowly. The guard frowned, then said, "On your way, Joe."He hesitated, then, "No use to tell you to button your lip, I guess."

  "I'm not causing any trouble," Mario said, as the guard opened the doorand stood aside for him to pass into the corridor.

  O.K.'d for entrance into the hospital wing, Joe Mario stood outside therailing that cut Dr. Slade's reception area off from the corridor thatled to the wards. An inmate orderly sat behind the railing, writing aprescription for a slight, intelligent-looking man.

  Mario heard the orderly say, "All right, Vukich, get that filled at thedispensary. Take one after each meal and come back to see us when thebottle's empty. Unless the pain gets worse, of course. But I don't thinkit will."

  "Thanks, doc," the patient drawled.

  Both men looked up then and saw Mario.

  "Hi, Joe," the orderly smiled. "What's wrong with you? You don't looksick!"

  "Nothin' wrong with me that a day outside couldn't cure."

  "Or a _night_," laughed Vukich.

  Mario ran a hand over his sleek, black hair. "Better a night, sure," hegrinned back. Then he sobered and said to the orderly, "Warden wants tosee the doc. Right away."

  "Mr. Halloran sick?"

  "Naw ... it's business. Urgent business."

  "Real urgent, Joe? The doc's doing a pretty serious exam right now."

  Mario paused, then said, "You guys might as well know about it. There'sa general and a civilian in the warden's office. They're talkin' aboutsomething o
utside. Warden wants the doc in on it."

  Sudden tension flowed out between the three men. Down the hall, apatient screamed suddenly in the psycho ward. The three of them jerked,then grinned feebly at each other.

  Vukich said slowly, "Well, you don't start playing catch with atom bombswithout dropping a few. Wonder what it's like ... out there?"

  "We haven't _heard_ that it's any different," the orderly's voice lackedconviction.

  "Don't be silly," Vukich said flatly. "Ever since they moved the damesfrom Tehama into C block we've known _something_ happened."

  "Get the doc," Mario said. "I've got to be on my way."

  "Me, too." Vukich's thin, clever face looked thoughtful.

  The others stared blankly at him and said nothing.

  * * * * *

  As Alfred Court, captain of the prison, strode down the flower-borderedpath that led from the shops unit past A block to the administrationbuilding, a side door in A block clanged open and a sergeant came out.The sergeant turned without seeing his superior and walked hurriedlytoward the administration wing.

  "Hey, sarge!" Court called. "What's the hurry?"

  The sergeant whirled, recognized the captain and quickly saluted.

  "Glad to see you, sir," he said. "Just the man I was looking for!"

  "Good enough. What's on your mind? Better tell me as we go for thewarden's in a hurry to see me."

  The two men walked abreast, both big, although Court lacked any trace ofthe sergeant's paunch. As they walked and talked, their eyes dartedcontinually about, unconsciously checking the appearance of thebuildings, the position of the guard in the gun tower, the attitude of avery old inmate who was meticulously weeding a flower bed.

  "Captain, you going to let the men out for their yard time?"

  Court's pace slowed. "Why not?"

  "No real reason ... _now_. But there's trouble in the air, sir. I cansmell it. The whole place is buzzing ... with _something_."

  "With what?"

  "I can't put my finger on it. But all the men know there's some prettybig shots--at least one general, they say--in the warden's office, rightnow. There's a hot rumor that there's trouble outside--some sort ofdisaster."

  Court laughed shortly. "That Mario! He's going to lose a nice job if hedoesn't keep his mouth shut!"

  "None of them keep their mouths shut, captain."

  "Yes ... well, I don't know what's up, myself. I'm heading for thatconference right now. I'll ask the warden about letting the men out oftheir cells. What's their attitude?"

  The sergeant's broad, red face grew more troubled.

  "Uh ... the men aren't hostile, captain. They seem worried, nervous ...kind of scared. If somebody at the top--the warden or yourself--couldconvince them things were as usual outside ... they'd quiet down, I'msure."

  They were now thirty feet from the door to the administration building adoor that opened for but one man at a time. The officers stopped.

  "Things are _not_ normal outside," Court growled, "and you know it. I'vebeen wondering how long this prison could go on--as if there were stilla state's capital, with its Adult Authority, its governor, its SupremeCourt. D'you think every man jack here doesn't know a visit from theAuthority's long overdue!"

  "Yeah--"

  "Well, I'll go in, sarge, and see what's what. If you _don't_ hear fromme, stick to routine."

  "Right, captain."

  He remained where he was while Captain Court walked slowly toward thedoor, both hands well in sight. A pace from the door he stopped andexchanged a few words with someone watching him through a barredpeephole. After a moment, the door slid open and he walked into thebuilding.

  He was the last to arrive at the warden's office. Lansing gazed at himin fascination. Goldsmid had been a Golden Gloves champion middleweightbefore he had heeded the call of the Law, and he looked it. Dr. Sladewas the prototype of all overworked doctors. But Court was a type byhimself. Lansing thought he'd never seen a colder eye. Yet, thecaptain's lean face--so unlike the warden's mild, scholarly one--wasquiet, composed, unmarked by any weakness of feature or line ofself-indulgence. A big, tough man, Lansing mused, a very tough man. Buta just one.

  * * * * *

  "I've a problem, warden," Court said when the introductions were over."Something we should decide right away."

  "Can't it wait?" Knox said irritably.

  Lansing almost choked with stifled laughter when Court just glancedbriefly at Knox, then said quietly to the warden, "Sergeant Haines hasjust advised me that the inmates know about these gentlemen andthey're--restless. I wonder if we shouldn't keep the men in their cellsthis afternoon."'

  "Blast it!" roared Knox. "Can't you people keep a secret?"

  "There are no secrets in prison, general," Halloran said mildly. "Ilearned that my first week as a guard, twenty years ago." To Court hesaid, "Sit down, Alfred. Unless you disagree strongly, I think we'll letthe men out as usual. It's a risk, yes, but right now, the closer westick to normal routine, the better."

  "You're probably right, sir."

  Court sat down and Halloran turned to his two visitors.

  "Now, gentlemen," he smiled, "we're at your disposal. As I told you, mytwo associate wardens aren't here. Mr. Briggs is in town and Mr. Tate ishome ill. Dr. McCall, our Protestant clergyman, is also home, recoveringfrom a siege with one of those pesky viruses. But we here representvarious phases of our administration and can certainly answer all ofyour questions."

  "Questions!" Knox snorted. "We're here to tell you the facts--not ask."

  "General," soothed Lansing. He looked across the desk at Halloran andshrugged slightly. The warden twinkled. "General Knox is a trifle ...ah, overblunt, but he's telling you the essential truth of thesituation. We've come to take you away from here. Just as soon as youcan leave."

  "Hey?" cried Slade. "Leave here? The devil, man, I've got to take out agall bladder this afternoon!"

  "I'm afraid I don't understand," murmured Goldsmid. "I thought the warwas over--"

  "This is all nonsense!" There was an ominous note in Knox's hoarsevoice. "Do you people realize you're now under the authority of theFifth Defense Command?"

  Lansing cried: "Let's be sensible about all this!" He pointed his cigarat the fuming soldier. "General, these gentlemen have every right toknow the situation and we'll save time if you'll permit me to give thema quick briefing."

  "All right! All right!"

  "Well, then." Lansing crossed his long legs, glanced nervously about theroom, and said, "The world as we know it is done with. Finished. Inanother week it will be completely uninhabitable."

  "Hey," grunted Slade. "You Lansing, the physicist?"

  "That's right, doctor."

  "Didn't place you at first. Well, what's going to end this lousy oldworld of ours?"

  "Well," Lansing answered, "we wiped out our late antagonists with skilland dispatch. But, in the end, they outsmarted us. Left behind some sortof radioactive dust which ... _spreads_. It's rolling down on us fromChicago and up from Texas. God knows what other parts of the country arelike--we haven't had time to discuss it with them on the radio."

  Goldsmid muttered something in Hebrew.

  "Isn't that lack of communication rather odd?" asked the warden.

  "Not so very. We've been too busy building rocket ships."

  "Rocket ships!" Court was jarred out of his icy calm.

  "You mean spaceships?" cried the doctor.

  "Yes, Slade, they do," murmured the warden.

  "Precisely," Lansing said. "When it looked as if the cold war would getrather warm, the allied governments faced up to the fact that ourvenerable planet might become a ... ah, a battle casualty. So, incarefully selected regions, rather extensive preparations were made fora hurried departure from this sector of the universe."

  "Oh, come to the point!" Knox exploded. "All you people need to know isthat one of those regions is this area of the Rocky Mountains, that theships are bu
ilt and ready to go, and that you're to get aboard. Fast!"

  "That," nodded Lansing, "is it."

  * * * * *

  The four prison officials looked at each other. Halloran and Court satquiet; Goldsmid slowly dropped his eyes to the ground and his lipsmoved. Slade scratched his chin.

  "Going to Mars, hey?" he asked abruptly.

  "That's our destination."

  The doctor chuckled. "Comic-book stuff," he chortled.

  "No, it isn't," Halloran said. "We've been expecting something like thisfor a long time. Haven't we?"

  "Indeed we have," Goldsmid said. "Expecting, but not quite believing."

  Halloran looked thoughtfully at the physicist. "Dr. Lansing, these shipsof yours ... they're pretty big, I take it?"

  "Not as big as we like. They never are. But they'll do. Why?"

  "I should remind you that we have well over two thousand inmates here."

  "Inmates!" barked the general. "Who the devil said anything about yourinmates? Think we'll take a lot of convicts to Mars! Populate it withkillers, thieves--"

  "Who does go, then?" Halloran did not raise his voice but Knox lookedsuddenly uneasy.

  "Why ... uh, your operating personnel," he replied gruffly. "Yourguards, clerks ... hell, man, it's obvious, isn't it?"

  "I'm afraid that is out," Goldsmid said. "For me, that is." He stood up,a heavy-shouldered middleweight running a little to fat. "Excuse me,warden, my counseling period's coming up."

  "Sit down, Pete," Halloran said quietly. "We haven't finished thisconference."

  "I admire your sentiments, Rabbi," Lansing said hurriedly, "but surelyyou realize that we can't take any criminal elements to ... ah, whatwill be our new world. And we do have a special need for you. We'veplenty of your co-religionists among our various personnel, but we don'thave an ordained minister for them. They're your responsibility."

  "Afraid my first responsibility is here." Goldsmid's voice was quitematter-of-fact.

  "So's mine," grunted Slade. "Warden, even if the world ends tomorrow,I've got to get Squeaker Hanley's gall bladder out today. No point in myhanging around any longer is there?"

  "Of course there is," Halloran answered. He took a package of cigarettesfrom his pocket, selected one, and lit it. He exhaled smoke and lookedspeculatively at Lansing. The scientist felt himself blushing and lookedaway.

  Halloran turned to Court.

  "Quite a problem, isn't it, Alfred," he said. "I suppose these gentlemenare right in keeping the inmates off their ships. At any rate, _we_can't argue the matter--so let's do what we're asked. I think you'dbetter plan to get the guards out of here tonight, at shift change.Might pass the word to their wives now, so they can start packing a fewessentials. Doc," he turned to Slade, "before you get your greedy handson Squeaker's gall bladder, you'd better round up your staff and havethem make the proper arrangements."

  "O.K., I'll put it up to them."

  "You'll _not_ put it up to them," the warden said sharply. "You'll_order_ them to be ready when the general, here, wants them."

  "I'll give no orders," Slade said grimly.

  "Just a minute," interposed Court. "Sir, aren't you going?"

  "Of course not. But that's neither here nor there--"

  The loud clangor of a bell pealed through the room. The two visitorsjumped.

  "What's that?" cried Knox.

  "Yard time," Halloran smiled. "The men are allowed two hours out in theyard, now. They exercise, play games, or just sit around and talk."

  "Oh."

  "Did I understand you correctly, Warden Halloran?" Lansing's bony facewas pale now. "Do you refuse to come with us?"

  * * * * *

  When the bell rang, Joe Mario had been standing near the door to thewarden's office, ostensibly filing reports. Now, he closed the drawerwith a bang, stretched, and started toward the outside door.

  "Where are you going?" the guard asked suspiciously.

  "The yard. Where else?"

  "Not a word," Mario added virtuously. "I was too busy doin' my work.Anyway, you gotta let me out. My team's got a ball game set for thisafternoon."

  "Oh ... all right." He looked at the typists. "How about you two? Wantout?"

  The two men glanced quickly at each other, then shoved back their chairsand got up from their desks.

  "Sure," one of them grinned, "I guess we'll take a little air."

  * * * * *

  Lansing had the feeling he used to have occasionally, back in hisuniversity days when he lectured on freshman physics--as if he weretalking to a class of deaf students. For, like the hapless freshmen,Warden Halloran was quite obviously not listening to him. But thescientist plunged on. "Sir," he said hoarsely, "we need you. We _will_need you! I'm a scientist--I know nothing of the problems of ... ah,community living. Neither does Knox. He's accustomed to majorcrises--and solving them by giving orders. But both of us know there'llcome a time when people won't take orders--"

  "Absolutely correct," Knox said unexpectedly. "Once we get settled onMars, the military takes a back seat. And--I mean this, Lansing--_I'll_be damn' glad of it. When the people get their towns built they'll needsome gents with the right kind know-how to help them, show them--"

  "That's all very interesting, general, but it's not for me."

  "Why not?"

  Halloran snubbed out his cigarette, looked up at the general and at thescientist. He smiled briefly. "It's just my job, gentlemen--let's notdiscuss the matter any further. You can't make me go."

  "We will!" barked Knox. "I told you you were under the jurisdiction ofthe Fifth Defense Command and you are. If I want to, I can send a tankcompany over here and drag you to those ships!"

  "He's right, you know," Lansing said.

  Court stood up and took one step toward the general.

  "Alfred!" the warden did not lift his voice, but Court stopped. "GeneralKnox," Halloran went on in a conversational tone, "you're being a bit ofbully, you know, and in this prison we've all been ... ah, conditionedagainst bullies." He looked down at his desk and frowned. "However, I'lladmit that your position requires that I elaborate my reasons forstaying here. Well, then. As I see it, your people, your ... ah,colonists, can help themselves. Most of _my_ people, the inmates here,can't. A long time ago, gentlemen, I decided I'd spend my life helpingthe one man in our society who seemingly can't help himself, theso-called criminal. I've always felt that society owes a debt to thecriminal ... instead of the other way around."

  He hesitated, grinned apologetically at Captain Court. "I'm sermonizingagain, eh, Alfred? But," he shrugged, "if I must get dramatic about it Ican only say that my life's work ends only with my--death."

  "It's quite a rough job, you know," Goldsmid remarked. "This is amaximum security institution. Too many of the inmates have disappointedthe warden. But he keeps trying and we've learned to follow hisexample."

  "Our psychiatric bunch have done some mighty interesting things," beamedSlade, "even with cases that looked absolutely hopeless."

  "None of them can be saved now," muttered Lansing.

  "That is in the hands of God," Goldsmid replied.

  "Well," Halloran said gently, "still going to send those tanks after me,general?"

  "Uh ... no ... I won't interfere with a man doing his duty."

  Lansing cleared his throat, looked slowly from the somber-facedclergyman, to the fidgeting medico, to the burly captain, still staringimpassively at the general, to, finally, the quiet, smiling warden."Gentlemen," he said slowly, "it occurs to me that the situation hasn'tactually registered on you. The earth is really doomed, you know. Thisdust simply won't tolerate organic life. In some way--we have not hadtime to discover how--it's self-multiplying, so, as I said, it spreads.Right now, not a tenth of this entire continent--from the pole down tothe Panama Canal--is capable of supporting any kind of life as we knowit. And that area is diminishing hourly."

  "No way of checking i
t?" Slade asked. His tone was one of idlecuriosity, nothing else.

  "No. It's death, gentlemen. As deadly as your ... ah, gallows."

  "We use the gas chamber," Halloran corrected him. His mouth twisted."More humane, you know."

  There was brief quiet, then the warden said, "Well ... now that we'vefinished philosophizing, let's get back to the matter at hand. We canhave everyone that's going ready to leave by seven tonight. Will that besatisfactory?"

  "It'll have to be," Knox grunted.

  "Thank you." Halloran reached for his phone, then dropped his hands onhis desk. "I'd like to ask you a question," he said. "Perhaps it'spresumptuous, but I'm rather curious about the ... er, last workings ofour government. Tell me, don't you really have room for our inmates? Youhaven't told us how many ships you've built. Or how big they are."

  Lansing looked at Knox. The general flushed, then stared at the floor.Lansing shrugged tiredly.

  "Oh, we've plenty of room," he sighed. "But ... our orders are to takeonly those completely fit to build a new world. We've ... well, we havepracticed a lot of euthanasia lately."

  "Judges," murmured Goldsmid.

  "If you had come sooner," there was no anger in Halloran's voice,"couldn't you have selected some of our people, those that I ... all ofus know are ready for rehabilitation--even on another planet?"

  "Perhaps. But no one remembered there was a prison nearby."

  The warden looked at the rabbi. Goldsmid raised his heavy shoulders inan ancient Hebraic gesture.

  "That was always the trouble, wasn't it, Pete?" Halloran murmured."People never remembered the prisons!"

  The telephone beside him shrilled loudly, urgently.

  * * * * *

  The inmate mopping the floor of Condemned Row's single corridor slowedin front of Bert Doyle's cell. Doyle was slated for a ride down theelevator that night to the death cell behind the gas chamber. At themoment, he was stretched out on his bunk, listening to the soft voice ofFather Nelson.

  "Sorry to interrupt," the inmate said, "but I thought you'd like to knowthat all hell's busting loose down in the yard."

  Father Nelson looked up.

  Doyle, too, looked interested. "A riot?" he asked.

  "Yessiree, bob!"

  "Nonsense!" snapped the priest. "This prison doesn't have riots!"

  "Well, it's sure got one, now. 'Scuse me, Father, but it's the truth.The men grabbed four or five yard guards and the screws in the towersdon't dare shoot!"

  He gave up all pretense of work and stood, leaning on his mop-handle,his rheumy old eyes glowing with a feverish excitement.

  Nelson stood up.

  "Will you excuse me, Bert?" he asked. "I'd better see if I can help thewarden."

  Doyle, too, sat up, swung his feet to the steel floor, stood up andstretched. "Sure," he said. His hard face was pale but otherwise heseemed quite calm. "You've been a great help, Father." He lookedquizzically at the old inmate. "You lying, Danny? Seems to me the boyshave got nothing to beef about here."

  "Heh, they sure have now."

  "What?"

  "Well, I got this from a guy who got it from Vukich who heard it fromJoe Mario. Seems there's a big-shot general and some kinda scientist inMr. Halloran's office." He shifted his grip on the mop-handle. "Yougents maybe won't believe this, but it's what Joe heard 'em say to thewarden. Outside is all covered with radium and this general and thishere scientist are goin' to Mars an' they want the warden to go along.Leavin' us behind, of course. That's what the boys are riotin' about."

  Bert Doyle burst into harsh laughter.

  "Danny! Danny!" he cried. "I've been predicting this! You've gonestir-bugs!"

  "Ain't neither!"

  "Just a moment, Bert," Nelson whispered. Aloud he said, "Dan, go callthe guard for me, please." When the old man had shuffled out of earshotthe priest said to the condemned man, "It could be true, Bert. Byradium, he means radioactive material. And there's no reason spaceshipscan't get to Mars. We'd reached the Moon before the war started, youknow."

  Doyle sank back on his bunk.

  "Well, I'll be damned!" he breathed.

  "Bert!"

  Doyle grinned sheepishly. "Force of habit." Then, more soberly, "Sothey're off to Mars, eh? Father, you better get down there and pick upyour reservations!"

  "Don't be ridiculous!" The priest's voice softened and he patted thekiller's shoulder. "I will go down and see what's what, Bert. And I'llbe back just as soon as the men have quieted down. That is, if they_are_ creating a disturbance."

  The footsteps of the approaching guard sounded loud in the corridor.Doyle frowned a little.

  "When you come back, Father, you'll tell me the truth? No kidding, now!"

  The guard stood in front of the door of heavy steel bars. Father Nelsonlooked down at the man on the bunk.

  "I'll tell you everything, Bert. I swear it."

  "Uh, Father?" the guard's voice was nervous--and embarrassed.

  "Yes, Perkins?"

  "I ... I can't let you out right now. Orders from the warden. Not acell door opens till I hear from him direct."

  Doyle chuckled.

  "Might as well sit down, Father," he said, "and make yourselfcomfortable--"

  * * * * *

  "What will you do?" cried Lansing.

  "Go out and talk to them, of course," replied Halloran. He arose fromhis desk, a calm, unhurried man.

  "Look," growled Knox, "you get me through to the town. Some of ourpeople are still there. I'll order out as many soldiers as you want.I'll see to it that they get here--on the double!"

  Halloran flushed. "Would it ease your conscience, general," he grated,"if you killed off my men instead of leaving them--behind! Now, you willplease keep quiet. You'll be perfectly safe!"

  "What will we do with them, sir?" Court gestured at Lansing and Knox.

  Halloran strode from behind his desk to the opposite end of the room. Ashe twirled the dials of a wall safe he said, "They'll have to remainhere, for now. The men have got between this building and the gateoffice." The safe swung open and he reached far inside and took out asubmachine gun. "Here," he held the weapon out to Court. "If I don'tcome back, use this to get them to the gate office."

  "Didn't know you had an arsenal in here!" cried Slade.

  "No one else did, either, except Alfred. Now Doc, think you and Pete hadbetter stay here."

  Slade and Goldsmid pulled themselves out of their chairs as one man.Their timing was perfect.

  "No, you don't, hero!" growled Slade.

  "Warden," Goldsmid said, "perhaps _I_ could talk to the men--"

  The warden smiled and walked toward the door. There he stopped and saidto Court, "Switch on the speaker system, Alfred. I'll take the portablemike from the next office. While I'm out there, get word to allcustodial and operating personnel that they will be permitted to leavetonight. Meantime, I hope they will stay on their jobs. Better phone Mr.Tate, have someone try to locate Mr. Briggs, be sure and call Dr.Slade's staff."

  "Right, sir."

  The three men left the office. Court, the gun cradled under one arm,picked up the phone and spoke into it. His voice was a low, crispmonotone. After a while, he replaced the receiver and stood quiet,staring impassively at the others.

  "You might say the warden's career has been twenty years of futility,"he muttered. Lansing and Knox felt he wasn't actually speaking to them."Now me, I'm a screw of the old school. Hardboiled, they say. _I_ neverexpected a thing from a con ... and cons have lied to him, politicianshave broken their promises ... but the liars have loved him and thedumbest dope in the legislature has respected him."

  "Will he ... be all right?" Lansing asked.

  Court shrugged. "Who knows? You handled this very badly," he saiddispassionately. "Five minutes after you stepped through the main gateevery inmate in the place knew you were here and started wondering. Whydidn't you write--make arrangements to see the warden outside?"

 
"I'm sorry," Lansing said. "We know very little about prisons."

  Court laughed shortly. "You'd better learn," he said grimly.

  "Anyway we can see what's going on?" rumbled Knox. "And how about thatspeaker business?"

  "There's a window in the next office. Come along."

  * * * * *

  They crouched at the window, the fat Knox whizzing a little, becauseCourt had ordered them to keep out of sight of the rioters. They sawHalloran, Slade and Goldsmid at his heels, walking out into the smallcourtyard that lay between them and safety. Over the wall speaker came asullen roar, something very like the ragged blast of a rocket whosetiming is off. A few gray-clad men in the courtyard saw the approachingwarden, surged toward him, screaming at their fellows in the big yardbehind them.

  Halloran ignored the clutching hands. He held the mike up and they heardhim say, "There's no point in my talking with you unless you will bequiet and listen." He paused. The roar slowly subsided into an angrymutter. "Thanks. That's better."

  Now, they could see Slade's head but both Halloran and the rabbi werehidden by the