"He came in on a food freighter--in a cargo of potatoes that was sent
from a farmer's market at a place called New Iowa in the heart of the
Martian farm belt."
"Not far from the forbidden polar circle," Rex said.
"I thought you didn't know anything about Mars."
"When things were dull on Pluto, I studied timetables."
"That's interesting. I'll issue them to all agents."
"Of course you've got no proof that the body was put aboard at Iowa."
"Yes we have. The hold was locked and sealed there. The body was
inside. The seal was unbroken."
The closed eyes of Professor Spencer made Rex almost as uncomfortable
as the closed lips. "All right. I've got the picture. What do we do?
Send in a battalion to question the Martian taste in gift packages?"
"We've got no proof the Martians did this."
"Who else?"
"Maybe some transplanted Terran farmer took up taxidermy on the side."
"The odds are way against it."
"So are the odds against a solar eclipse, but they happen."
"Then we make no hostile gestures?"
"Not until we know the score. That's what I want you to do, Rex--go out
to Mars and find the score."
"Okay, Chief." Rex took a last look at the body. "And if I come back in
that shape, check my pockets. There might be time to write a note."
"Don't be such a pessimist," Malloy growled.
* * * * *
(_From the diary of Tommy Wilks_)
_The first thing you miss on Mars is the green. The things hardest to
get used to are the reds and the yellows and the tired browns. Never is
there any bright rich green filled with the promise of spring as I grew
used to in Kentucky back on Terra. Because this is a dying planet and
even when the Martian spring does come, there is a feeling of tiredness
in the air._
_And the warm rain on your face. You miss that too because there is no
rain on Mars. You keep looking at the sky, hunting for the big black
thunderheads that sent people running for cover back in Kentucky. You
look and look until your eyes ache and even the sting of icy cold rain
would be nice._
_The water here is all underground and in the canals. It is good water,
running down through the bogs and the rivers and the marshes in spring
when the big northern ice cliffs melt._
_It is very funny about the ice cliffs. Up there it snows in the
winter I guess because they get higher and higher until they are like
mountains. Then in spring, they melt in a few days. Nobody knows much
about the ice mountains because they are in the middle of the forbidden
polar zone. It is said there are Martian people up in the forbidden
circle but I don't think so. Because why would anybody live in such a
place when the level lands and the old sea bottoms and the canals are
down here!_
_Anyhow, we never go there. The only Martians I ever saw are the ones
that come by like tramps asking for food. We always give it to them
because they are always hungry and we don't want any trouble. And
then there is Barzoo. He was here when we came. He lives in a little
stone house out beyond the potato fields. All Martians have hard brown
skins--almost like shells--and instead of white in their eyes, like
Terrans, they have light green, and the pupils are always jet black.
Looking at a Martian is a little hard to get used to at first but after
a while it's all right._
_Dad and Mom made me stay away from Barzoo at first, but he was
harmless and now they let me visit him. We talk but I can only
understand a little of what he says and he can't understand much
Terran. He is a funny man, Barzoo. He never smiles and gives you the
idea he has only contempt for Terrans. But he takes me and shows me
where the big gadfish hide in holes in the canals and how to catch them
with a white pebble on the end of a line._
_Nobody minds Barzoo._
_I am Thomas Wilks Junior, but everybody calls me Tommy. I am fifteen
years old and I like to write and someday I will go to Terra to some
big university and learn to do it well and then I will write stories
all about Mars for the Terrans to read._
_My father is Thomas Wilks Senior. My mother is Lucy Wilks. My
sister is Jean Wilks. Father brought us to Mars when the Federation
opened this land. It is very easy to grow good crops here--very big
potatoes--because Dad says ages ago it was farmed by the Martians and
the fields and the canals are all here. We put the potatoes on big
space freighters that take them back to Terra. All the farmers send
their potatoes in the big freighters and they all talk about going back
themselves after they get rich out here but I have a feeling very few
of them will go. There is something about this planet that grows on
you. It's awfully cold a lot of the time and you have to learn to walk
carefully or you go right up in the air. But you get used to it. And
two moons instead of one._
_I like keeping a diary because someday I will need what I'm writing
now for my stories about Mars and will become very famous and live in
a high tower in Kentucky. Or maybe I will build a tower right here on
Mars._
* * * * *
(_Wednesday_)
_We have a new man working for us. He came in on the last freighter. He
is very tall and has yellow hair and he is different from most men that
come here to work. Most of them go to the saloon when the ship sets
down, but this one went to the candy store and that was where I met
him._
_He bought me some ice cream and we talked about Mars. I guess I did
most of the talking. I told him all about the farm and about Barzoo
and the gadfish you catch with a pebble. He seemed very interested in
Barzoo and said he'd like to meet him._
_I told him if he worked for Dad I would introduce him to Barzoo and he
said all right. Which Dad slapped me on the back for later because help
is hard to get and he gave me credit for talking the yellow haired man
into working for us._
_His name is Rex Tate and we didn't ask him how he happened to come out
here. We're just glad that he did because help is a problem._
_After this I guess the farmers will check the candy store too when
they come into Iowa along with the saloon. But who would expect to find
a grown man like Rex Tate in a candy store? He's different than the
other workers who come here. A lot more intelligent. I like to talk to
him._
* * * * *
Rex Tate, clad in a Martian fox jacket against the sharp winter air,
worked at a strand of broken fence on the far north line of the Wilks
farm.
He straightened and looked off across the dull brown plains. The
experts said this had all been ocean once; back in the days when Terra
was a seething, untenanted ball of hot lava. Rex wondered how right
they were.
One thing was sure. A no more dull, drab, peaceful landscape could
possibly be imagined. He turned to look northward toward the high ice
cliffs of the polar circle. The thin air made distances deceptive and
the cliffs looked to be hanging almost over Rex's head. But he knew
they were many miles away.
He frowned. This had seemed the logical place to start his
investigation, yet what evil could lurk among these simple energetic
Terrans? Such an act as had been perpetrated upon Professor Spencer
was certainly beyond their ability to conceive, and Margo Spencer was
certainly not hidden among them.
Only one thing kept him in this vicinity and it was indeed a frail
thread. The Martian hermit young Wilks had told him about. He wanted to
look the man over but had delayed, feeling that even though the lead
seemed hardly to be taken seriously, caution was still the better part
of wisdom.
Rex turned now to watch big Tom Wilks stride across the frozen brown
moss of the pasture. Terran cattle, Rex had learned, thrived on the
prickly stuff.
Tom Wilks had a big, cordial face, roughened and seamed by the Martian
cold. He slapped Rex on the shoulder and said, "Well, how do you like
this outpost of civilization?"
"It's different--I'll say that."
"Hope you grow to like it. A man can get rich out here."
"I don't doubt it."
"You aren't like the others," Wilks said.
"Thank you."
"I mean most of the help we get out here are drifters looking for a
stake. You could easy get yourself some land--make a go of it. We need
good solid men out here. Now I've got a fine looking daughter--" Wilks
paused. "Guess maybe I'm going too fast."
"Jean's a fine girl, but you don't know much about me, Mr. Wilks."
"The name's Tom and don't forget it. And don't think I'm going to nose
into your business until you're ready to tell us. We're inclined to
take people at face-value. We consider 'em first-rate until they prove
otherwise. You might say we kind of follow our instincts."