"Suppose you do go on through, what's your plan, Skipper?" MacRae persisted.

"Go straight to the boat basin, ramp the scooters, and load whatever boats are there. As soon as the ice is rotten enough for the boats to break through it, start them north. I'd like to have a hundred and fifty or so of us out of Syrtis Minor and headed north before Beecher recovers from his surprise. I haven't any real plan except to keep forcing events so that he doesn't have time to plan, either. I want to hand him a set of accomplished facts."

MacRae nodded. "Audacity, that's the ticket. Go ahead with it."

"I want to, but I'm afraid of the ice. If a scooter breaks through there'll be people killed-and my fault."

"Your drivers are smart enough to spread out in echelon once the Sun is up. Jamie, I found out a long time ago that you have to take some chances in this life. Otherwise you are just a vegetable, headed for the soup pot." He paused and peered out past the driver. "I see a light ahead that ought to be Hesperidum. Make up your mind, Jamie."

Marlowe did not answer. After a time the light was behind them.

When the Sun came up Marlowe had his driver cut out of column and take the lead. It was near nine when they passed Syrtis Minor scooter station, without stopping. They ploughed on past the space port and turned right into the boat basin that marked the terminus of the main canal from the north. Marlowe's driver drove onto the ramp while he was still lowering his crawling gear, with no respect for his runners. The lead car crawled far along the ramp and parked; the others closed in behind it.

Out of the headquarters car climbed Marlowe, Kelly, and MacRae, followed by Jim, carrying Willis. Other scooter doors opened and people started getting out. "Tell them to get back into their cars, Kelly," Mr. Marlowe snapped. Hearing this, Jim placed himself behind his father and tried to avoid attracting attention.

Marlowe stared angrily at the basin. There was not a boat in it. Across the basin one small launch was drawn up on skids, its engine dismounted. Finally Marlowe turned to MacRae. "Well, Doc, I'm up a tree; how do I get down?"

"You are no worse off than if you had stopped at Hesperidum."

"And no better."

A man came out of one of the row of warehouses ringing the basin and approached them. "What's all this?" he inquired, staring at the parked scooters. "A circus?"

"It's the seasonal migration."

"Wondered when you folks were coming through. Hadn't heard anyting about it."

"Where are all the boats?"

"Still spread out here and there, at the Project camps mostly, I suppose. Not my responsibility. Better call the traffic office."

Marlowe frowned again. "At least you can tell me where the temporary quarters are." To take care of the relays of colonists a warehouse was always set aside at each migration and fitted up as a barracks; the one Company hostelry. Hotel Marsopolis, had only twenty beds.

The man looked puzzled. "Now that you mention it, I don't know of any such preparations being made. Looks like the schedule was kind of fouled up, doesn't it?"

Marlowe swore, realizing his question had been foolish. Beecher, of course, had made no preparations for a migration he did not intend to permit. "Is there a phone around here?"

"Inside, in my office-I'm the warehouse storekeeper. Help yourself."

"Thanks," said Marlowe and started off. MacRae followed him.

"What's your plan, son?"

"I'm going to call Beecher."

"Do you think that's wise?"

"Confound it, I've got to get those people out of those cars. There are young babies in there-and women."

"They're safe."

"Look, Doc, Beecher has got to do something about it, now that we're here."

MacRae shrugged. "You're the cook."

Marlowe argued bis way past several secretaries and finally got Beecher on the screen. The Agent General looked out at him without recognition. "Yes? Speak up, my good man, what is this urgent business?"

"My name is Marlowe. I'm executive chairman of the colonists from South Colony. I want to know-"

"Oh, yes! The famous Mr. Marlowe. We saw your tattered army coming through." Beecher turned away and said something in an aside. Kruger's voice answered him.

"Well, now that we are here, what are you going to do about us?"

"Do? Isn't that obvious? As soon as the ice forms tonight you can all turn around and go back where you came from. All except you-you stay here for trial. And your son, if I recall correctly."

Marlowe held his temper. "That isn't what I mean. I want living space, with cooking and toilet accommodations, for five hundred people."

Beecber waved the problem away. "Let them stay where they are. A day won't hurt them. Teach them a lesson."

Marlowe started to answer, thought better of it and switched off. "You were right. Doc. There was no point in talking with him."

"Well-no harm done, either."

They went outside, there to find that Kelly had strung a line of his deputies around the scooters. "After you went inside, Boss, I got uneasy, so I stationed some of the boys around."

"You're a better general than I am," Marlowe told him.

"Any trouble?"

"One of Beecher's cops showed up, but he went away

again."

"Why didn't you grab him?" asked MacRae.

"Well, I wanted to," Kelly answered, "but he kept going when I yelled at him. I couldn't stop him without shooting, so I let him go."

"Should have winged him," said MacRae.

"Should I have?" Kelly said to Marlowe. "I was tempted to, but I didn't know where we stood. Is this a shooting war, or is it just a row with the Company?"

"You did right," Marlowe assured him. "There will be no shooting unless Beecher starts it." MacRae snorted. Marlowe turned to him. "You disagree?"

"Jamie, you put me in mind of a case I ran into in the American West. A respected citizen shot a professional gunthrower in the back. When asked why he didn't give the other chap a chance to draw, the survivor said, 'Well, he's dead and I'm alive and that's how I wanted it to be.' Jamie, if you use sportsmanship on a known scamp, you put yourself at a terrible disadvantage."

"Doctor, this is no time to swap stories. I've got to get these people safely housed and at once."

"That's my point," persisted MacRae. "Finding housing isn't the first thing to do."

"What is is, then?"

"Set up a task force of your best shots and send them over to grab Beecher and the Company offices. I volunteer to lead it."

Marlowe gestured angrily. "Out of the question. At present we are a group of citizens going about our lawful occasions. One move like that and we're outlaws."

MacRae shook his head. "You don't see the logic of the actions you've already taken. You know that water runs downhill, but you think-praise God!-it'll never reach the bottom. In Beecher's books you are an outlaw now. All of us."

"Nonsense, we're just enforcing our contract. If Beecher behaves, we'll behave."

"I'm telling you, son-the way to grasp a nettle is firmly."

"Doctor MacRae, if you are so sure how this matter should be conducted, why did you refuse to accept leadership?"

MacRae turned red. "I beg your pardon, sir. What are your orders?"

"You know Syrtis better than I do. Where is a building we can commandeer as a barracks?"

Jim decided that this was a good time to come out of hiding. "Dad," he said, coming around in front of him, "I know where we are and the school is-"

"Jim, I've no time to chat. Get in me car."

"But, Dad, it's only about ten minutes' walk!"

"I think he's got something," put in the doctor. "The school will have real beds for the kids, and a kitchen."

"Hmmm... very well. Possibly we should use both schools and put the women and small children in the girls' school."