Tunnel in the Sky (19 page)

   
“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure! I mean, I agree with you.”

   
“Good! I was sure you would understand. And I must ay that I think you have done a very good job in getting us together. I don't agree with any who have criticized you. You were doing your best and we should let bygones be bygones.” Cowper grinned that friendly grin and Rod felt as if he were being smothered with kisses.

   
Cowper turned to Kilroy. “That's all I have to say, Mr. Chairman.” He flashed his grin and added as he sat down, “Sorry I talked so long, folks. I had to get it off my chest.”

   
Kilroy clapped his hands once. “The chair will entertam nominations for- Hey, Grant, if we don't call it 'captain,' then what should we call it?”

   
“Mmm . . .” Cowper said judicially. “'President' seems a little pompous. I think 'mayor' would be about right-mayor of our city-state, our village.”

   
“The chair will entertain nominations for mayor.

   
“Hey!” demanded Jimmy Throxton. “Doesn't anybody else get to shoot off his face?”

   
“Out of order.”

   
“No,” Cowper objected, “I don't think you should rule Jimmy out of order, Roy. Anyone who has something to contribute should be encouraged to speak. We mustn't act hastily.”

   
“Okay, Throxton, speak your piece.”

   
“Oh, I didn't want to sound off. I just didn't like the squeeze play.”

  
 
“All right, the chair stands corrected. Anybody else? If not, we will entertain-”

   
“One moment, Mr. Chairman!”

   
Rod saw that it was Arthur Nielsen, one of the Teller University group. He managed to look neat even in these circumstances but he had strayed into camp bereft of all equipment, without even a knife. He had been quite hungry.

   
Kilroy looked at him. “You want to talk, Waxie?”

   
“Nielsen is the name. Or Arthur. As you know. Yes.”

   
“Okay. Keep it short.”

   
“I shall keep it as short as circumstances permit. Fellow associates, we have here a unique opportunity, probably one which has not occurred before in history. As Cowper pointed out, we must proceed with care. But, already we have set out on the wrong foot. Our object should be to found the first truly scientific community. Yet what do I find? You are proposing to select an executive by counting noses! Leaders should not be chosen by popular whim; they should be determined by rigorous scientific criteria. Once selected, those leaders must have full scientific freedom to direct the bio-group in accordance with natural law, unhampered by such artificial anachronisms as statutes, constitutions, and courts of law. We have here an adequate supply of healthy females; we have the means to breed scientifically a new race, a super race, a race which, if I may say so-”

   
A handful of mud struck Nielsen in the chest; he stopped suddenly. “I saw who did that!” he said angrily. Just the sort of nincompoop who always-”

   
“Order, order, please!” Kilroy shouted. “No mudsling or I'll appoint a squad of sergeants-at-arms. Are you through, Waxie?”

   
“I was just getting started.”

   
“Just a moment,” put in Cowper. “Point of order Mr. Chairman. Arthur has a right to be heard. But I think he speaking before the wrong body. We're going to have a constitutional committee, I'm sure. He should present his arguments to them. Then, if we like them, we can adopt his ideas.”

   
“You're right, Grant. Sit down, Waxie.”

   
“Huh? I appeal!”

   
Roy Kilroy said briskly, “The chair has ruled this out of order at this time and the speaker has appealed to the house, a priority motion not debatable. All in favor of supporting the chair's ruling, which is for Waxie to shut up, make it known by saying 'Aye.'“

   
There was a shouted chorus of assent. “Opposed: 'No.' Sit down, Waxie.”

   
Kilroy looked around. “Anybody else?”

   
“Yes”

   
“I can't see. Who is it?”

   
“Bill Kennedy, Ponce de Leon class. I don't agree with Nielsen except on one point: we are fiddling around with the wrong things. Sure, we need a group captain but, aside from whatever it takes to eat, we shouldn't think about anything but how to get back. I don't want a scientific society; I'd settle for a hot bath and decent food.”

   
There was scattered applause. The chairman said, “I'd like a bath, too . . . and I'd fight anybody for a dish of cornflakes. But, Bill, how do you suggest that we go about it?”

   
“Huh? We set up a crash-priority project and build a gate. Everybody works on it.”

   
There was silence, then several talked at once: “Crazy! No uranium.” - “We might find uranium.” - “Where do we get the tools? Shucks, I don't even have a screwdriver.” - “But where are we?” - “It is just a matter of-”

   
“Quiet!” yelled Kilroy. “Bill, do you know how to build a gate?”

   
“No”

   
“I doubt if anybody does.”

   
“That's a defeatist attitude. Surely some of you educated blokes from Teller have studied the subject. You should get together, pool what you know, and put us to work. Sure, it may take a long time. But that's what we ought to do.”

   
Cowper said, just a minute, Roy. Bill, I don't dispute what you say; every idea should be explored. We're bound to set up a planning committee. Maybe we had better elect a mayor, or a captain, or whatever you want to call him-and then dig into your scheme when we can discuss it in detail. I think it has merit and should be discussed at length. What do you think?”

   
“Why, sure, Grant. Let's get on with the election. I just didn't want that silly stuff about breeding a superman to be the last word.”

   
“Mr. Chairman! I protest-”

   
“Shut up, Waxie. Are you ready with nominations for mayor? If there is no objection, the chair rules debate closed and will entertain nominations.”

   
“I nominate Grant Cowper!”

 
  
“Second!”

   
“I second the nomination.”

   
“Okay, I third it!”

   
“Let's make it unanimous! Question, question!”

   
Jimmy Throxton's voice cut through the shouting, “I NOMINATE ROD WALKER!”

   
Bob Baxter stood up. “Mr. Chairman?”

   
“Quiet, everybody. Mr. Baxter.”

   
“I second Rod Walker.”

   
“Okay. Two nominations, Grant Cowper and Rod Walker. Are there any more?”

   
There was a brief silence. Then Rod spoke up. “Just a second, Roy.” He found that his voice was trembling and he took two deep breaths before he went on. “I don't want it. I've had all the grief I want for a while and I'd like a rest. Thanks anyhow, Bob. Thanks, Jimmy.”

   
“Any further nominations?”

   
“Just a sec, Roy . . . point of personal privilege.” Grant Cowper stood up. “Rod, I know how you feel. Nobody in his right mind seeks public office . . . except as a duty, willingness to serve. If you withdraw, I'm going to exercise the same privilege; I don't want the headaches any more than you do.”

   
“Now wait a minute, Grant. You-”

   
“You wait a minute. I don't think either one of us should withdraw; we ought to perform any duty that is handed to us, just as we stand a night watch when it's our turn. But I think we ought to have more nominations.” He looked around. “Since that mix-up this morning we have as many girls as men .
 
. yet both of the candidates are male. That's not right. Uh, Mr. Chairman, I nominate Caroline Mshiyeni.”

   
“Huh? Hey, Grant, don't be silly. I'd look good as a lady mayoress, wouldn't I? Anyhow, I'm for Roddie.”

   
“That's your privilege, Caroline. But you ought to let yourself be placed before the body, just like Rod and myself.”

   
“Nobody's going to vote for me!”

   
“That's where you're wrong. I'm going to vote for you. But we still ought to have more candidates.”

   
“Three nominations before the house,” Kilroy announced. “Any more? If not, I declare the-”

   
“Mr. Chairman!”

   
“Huh? Okay, Waxie, you want to nominate somebody?”

   
“Yes.”

   
“Who?”

   
“Me”

   
“You want to nominate yourself?”

   
“I certainly do. What's funny about that? I am running on a platform of strict scientific government. I want the rational minds in this group to have someone to vote for.”

   
Kilroy looked puzzled. “I'm not sure that is correct parliamentary procedure. I'm afraid I'll have to over-”

   
“Never mind, never mind!” Caroline chortled. “I nominate him. But I'm going to vote for Roddie,” she added.

   
Kilroy sighed. “Okay, four candidates. I guess we'll have to have a show of hands. We don't have anything for ballots.”

   
Bob Baxter stood up. “Objection, Mr. Chairman. I call for a secret ballot. We can find some way to do it.”

   
A way was found. Pebbles would signify Rod, a bare twig was a note for Cowper, a green leaf meant Caroline, while one of Jimmy's ceramic attempts was offered as a ballot box. “How about Nielsen?” Kilroy asked.

   
Jimmy spoke up. “Uh, maybe this would do: I made another pot the same time I made this one, only it busted. Ill get chunks of it and all the crackpots are votes for Waxie.”

   
“Mr. Chairman, I resent the insinua-”

   
“Save it, Waxie. Pieces of baked clay for you, pebbles for Walker, twigs for Grant, leaves for Carol. Get your votes, folks, then file past and drop them in the ballot box.
   
Shorty, you and Margery act as tellers.”

   
The tellers solemnly counted the ballots by firelight. There were five votes for Rod, one for Nielsen, none for Caroline, and twenty-two for Cowper. Rod shook hands with Cowper and faded back into the darkness so that no one would see his face. Caroline looked at the results and said, “Hey, Grant! You promised to vote for me. What happened? Did you vote for yourself? Huh? How about that?”

   
Rod said nothing. He had voted for Cowper and was certain that the new mayor had not returned the compliment . . . he was sure who his five friends were. Dog take it!-he had seen it coming; why hadn't Grant let him bow out?

   
Grant ignored Caroline's comment. He briskly assumed the chair and said, “Thank you. Thank you all. know you want to get to sleep, so I will limit myself tonight to appointing a few committees-”

   
Rod did not get to sleep at once. He told himself that there was no disgrace in losing an election- shucks, hadn't his old man lost the time he had run for community corporation board? He told himself, too, that trying to ride herd on those apes was enough to drive a man crazy and he was well out of it- he had never wanted the job! Nevertheless there was a lump in his middle and a deep sense of personal failure.

   
It seemed that he had just gone to sleep . . . his father was looking at him saying, “You know we are proud of you, son. Still, if you had had the foresight to-” when someone touched his arm.

   
He was awake, alert, and had Colonel Bowie out at once.

   
“Put away that toothpick,” Jimmy whispered, “before you hurt somebody. Me, I mean.”

   
“What's up?”

   
“I'm up, I've. got the fire watch. You're about to be, because we are holding a session of the inner sanctum.”

   
“Huh?”

   
“Shut up and come along. Keep quiet, people are asleep.”

   
The inner sanctum turned out to be Jimmy, Caroline, Jacqueline, Bob Baxter, and Carmen Garcia. They gathered inside the ring of fire but as far from the sleepers as possible. Rod looked around at his friends.

   
“What's this all about?”

   
“It's about this,” Jimmy said seriously. “You're our Captain. And we like that election as much as I like a crooked deck of cards.”

   
“That's right,” agreed Caroline. “All that fancy talk!”