David swerved suddenly, as the wheels of the 'track slipped into an almost invisible crevice, and the machine gave a bone-crushing lurch to one side. "Yi!" said Tuck, feeling slightly green. "Yi, yourself," said David, throwing the car into
reverse and jerking loose from the crevice. The motor responded with a grating of gears, and started climbing again. "Me and this 'track, we understand each other."
"So it seems," said Tuck, weakly. "You try to kill it, and it tries to kill you. Nice and cozy—"
David grinned. "Keep your eyes open now. Seems to me the Snooper should be a couple of miles over to the left of the main road to the rocket landing— isn't that right? I hit pretty fast after the explosion, but I came in nearly three point, so I must have had a couple of miles of skimming."
Tuck shook his head. "It looked to me as if you were barrel rolling all the way."
"Me? Barrel roll? Never!"
"Well, you didn't have much to say about it."
"That's for sure. Felt like somebody came up behind and whacked me with a large stone wall." He braked the machine, and peered out in the strange, gloomy light. "There, now. See the tracks? That must be where dad's 'track came back onto the path after he picked me up." David jerked the steering rod again, and this time the 'track moved sharply to the right, mounted a rocky rise, and tumbled down, jerking from side to side as the caterpillar tracks bit the unfamiliar coarse terrain. Tuck gritted his teeth, and felt his hands clench the gripping bar. "I hope you know what you're doing," he growled. "That felt like we were going to roll—"
"So we turn it over—so what? This plastic on the top will take a lot of punishment. There are even fancy jacks in the back to turn it back right side up if it rolls."
Tuck gripped the bar tighter. "Do they roll very often?"
David laughed. "Don't get excited. It doesn't happen often. But if you get caught after dark, the emergency lights make the crevices look just like more rock, and then anything can happen. I spent a week in the bottom of a crevice once, until they came and found me. Why, there was one time—" he jerked the wheel hard— "when I ran one of these things right up on top of a great big clordelkus before he decided that now was the time to go somewhere else—"
Tuck grinned, remembering his first scare at seeing one of those. The 'track was following a faint path in the snow left by the 'track before them, and far ahead and to the right Tuck could see the gorge, or what remained of it, where the explosion had occurred. The sight drew his mind back to the things that had happened since the Earth ship had landed —back to the impending crisis at the colony. He watched the leader's son, thoughtfully, as the lad fought the steering bar of the half-track. Odd that he should be sitting here, perfectly confident in the friendship he felt growing between them—a friendship that was ridiculous by all the standards Tuck had ever known. He wondered if David had even thought of the strangeness of their friendship under these circumstances. Probably not. And yet David was ready to take him into his confidence, with little more than his word for security. Quite suddenly, Tuck felt a pang of shame for his suspiciousness, for his father's stubbornness—above all, for his own reluctance to admit to himself that Earth Security's position might, conceivably, be wrong. This was so futile, so needless—
And yet there was John Cortell. The thought sent a chill down Tuck's spine. "It would be nice if they had caught Cortell by the time we get back," he said wistfully. "That would solve a lot of problems."
David snorted. "Well, they won't, so don't figure on it. They aren't going to get near to catching Cortell —and dad knows it."
"How can you be so sure? It seems to me there's just so much of the colony to search."
David nodded. "That's right. But it's deceptive. We're right over a part of the colony now, even though we're three miles away from the dome."
Tuck glanced down at the black rock path involuntarily. "Tunnel?"
David nodded. "They go out in all directions—a regular maze. Down about forty feet deep, and even then we have trouble with cave-ins and quakes and landslides." He hung onto the bar precariously with one hand, pointing to a long outcropping of rock to the right. "See that? That's a rich vein—goes out almost twenty miles. They mine it and run the ore back to the refinery on railroad tracks laid in there. Got a whole little supply unit in the mining area-whoops!" The car lurched and dropped about six feet, jarring their very bones. David spun the steering bar and went right on talking as Tuck picked himself up from the dashboard. "The tunnels are all interconnecting, everywhere. Get somebody in there who doesn't know their plan, and he could starve to death trying to get out. But Cortell—"
"I suppose he knows every tunnel," Tuck remarked glumly.
"Like the back of his hand. He could hide there till doomsday, and nobody'd ever find him. And he's got plenty of friends to help him, too. If a search party comes close to him, Cortell gets the word, and moves somewhere else. Oh, he's a clever one—"
Tuck blinked. "Then it seems to me that all this hunting is silly."
David grinned. "Good boy. Comes the dawn." He jerked the wheel sharply, avoiding a huge black outcropping, and plunged the half-track down into a shallow gully with high, overhanging crags on both sides.
"But why is your father pretending—" "Not pretending. He's hunting. But he needs time —he needs time worse than anything. And he needs to keep the men that are on his side good and busy until he can get your father to see things the colony's way." He looked soberly at Tuck. "Want to know the facts of life?"
"Tell me the facts of life."
"Okay, Bub. Fact number one: your father is going to have to give in and go along with dad. If he doesn't, the fat's in the fire. Cortell will have enough time to put his plans into action—"
"But what's holding him up now?"
"Aha! He can't do what he wants to do now, and dad knows it. That's fact number two—but I'm coming to that. Don't interrupt. Fact number three: if dad can keep his own boys with him long enough to make a settlement with your father, he can cut the floor right out from under Cortell. And that's where my little scheme comes in—"
Tuck scowled, gripping the bar tightly as the 'track climbed back out of a gully, slowly, painfully, like a roller coaster climbing up for its first big plunge. '"But I still don't see what Cortell is planning to do—"
David slowed the 'track down suddenly, and braked it, snapping the motor off. He stretched his arms for a moment, then turned to Tuck. "Think about it a minute," he said. "The whole picture. They teach you logic and data evaluation in your Earth schools. Look at the facts. An angry crowd of people out here, being walked all over for years and years. I don't care whether you believe that or not—I know it's true. They've been kicked for years. No hope of changes-things getting worse and worse for them as the ruthenium gets more and more important for Earth. No end in sight—are you with me?"
Tuck nodded. "So far."
"Good. Then the smuggled supplies coming out here—oh, they've been coming out here, all right. And they've been smuggled, too. Then your father gets appointed to come out here. Why? To trace down smuggled supplies. And what happens? They try to clip him—"
"Who tries to clip him?"
David held up his hand. "Just hold on a minute. Somebody—it doesn't matter who. But the attempt backfires, you and your father come out here anyway —tracing down the supplies. And then Cortell moves and threatens something—and my father won't tell your father what." David looked at Tuck narrowly. "You're the one that's been to school. Now I ask you —what does all that add up to?"
Tuck chewed his lip. "Cortell is desperate that the smuggled supplies not be found," he said suddenly. He looked at David. "And so is your father"
"Huzzah," said David.
"Why—this begins to make sense!" Tuck's excitement rose. "You even made a slip about it, that first morning in the colony—"
David nodded. "The Big Secret," he said.
"Something both Cortell and your father know about, and your father
doesn't dare tell dad about!"
David nodded glumly. "It's a plan," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "There's been a plan for a long, long time, here in the colony. My father would break my neck if he ever knew I'd told you this. It's been so well guarded that there aren't more than six or seven in the colony now who know exactly what the plan is, or how it's supposed to work—"
"But what is it?"
David shook his head. "I don't know. I mean, I don't know specifically—" He saw Tuck's face, and shook his head again. "No, no—I'm not holding out on you. I honestly don't know. Hardly anybody knows, although everybody has his pet theory. It got started over a hundred years ago, and everyone in the colony has helped with it, one way or another—but only a few chosen ones have known exactly what it is." "But when did it start?"
David spread his hands. "Years ago. Back in the very earliest days, when our leaders began to see what Earth Security was trying to do. Oh, they were bitter in those days—there were strikes, and fighting and protest—it was really gay. But whenever there was an outbreak, Security just cut off supplies and let the colony starve for a while. It worked fine—but even a hundred years ago the colony could see what was coming. Titan was going to end up a slave colony, with no rights of any kind, and no place to go in the whole Solar System. It was like the old horror story I read once about the guy being walled up in a cellar brick by brick. So the leaders held a council. Sometime things would come to a breaking point. They had to make plans for that time, while they could, or the Colony would never be free again. So they came up with the Big Secret."
Tuck frowned. "I don't see how it could work. How could everyone help if nobody knew what it was? Why all the secrecy?"
"Why? With Security watching us like bugs under a glass? It had to be secret. It was a big plan, a plan that would take years to prepare. And it was to be a last-ditch retreat for the colonists—maybe a huge, barricaded, carefully hidden underground colony, where the colonists could go and blockade themselves in, and then blow the mines to smithereens, and all
Earth's precious ruthenium with it. Oh, it's possible. After all, we're used to living in cramped quarters, we're used to little food, we can even take a lower oxygen concentration for a longer time than you can. They started it, back in the early days, cutting down their rations, saving little bits of food under deepfreeze; they got supporters back on Earth, got them wormed into Security, and started a grand smuggling program to bring out supplies. And once here, the goods were secretly stored, and then passed on to the five or six men who were guarding the Secret. And there were clothes, made out of scraps—clothes to keep 500 people warm, and tools and oxygen—for over a hundred years every oxygen tank that has been used here has been closed down for empty when it was only three-quarters gone. And all this to prepare the Big Secret for action when the time came." David shook his head. "I don't know what it is, or where it is—it may be carved out of rock a hundred miles straight down in the ground—or somewhere on the other side of the planet."
Tuck stared numbly at the leader's son. "It would be suicide," he whispered. "They'd—they'd be sealing themselves up forever. They could never come out! And they'd have every patrol soldier in the Solar System here on Titan, hunting them down—"
David shrugged. "Back in Earth legend, a guy named Horatio guarded a bridge against a whole army. They could do the same—and they could hold out for years, even if their location were found."
"And after years—then what?"
David nodded unhappily. "That's the big hitch. They could last for twenty, thirty, fifty years—but they'd be dead men, in the long run. That's what dad believes. He thinks the Big Secret, whatever it is, is sure suicide for the colony. That's why he fought against it, tried to slow down its completion as much as he could, for fear the colony would reach the breaking point while there was still a chance of peaceful change and negotiation. But Cortell has been leading his group to believe that the breaking point has passed, that the time has come, that they should start the Big Secret into action right now, whatever it is. Oh, dad is no fool, he knows what the Big Secret is—but Cortell has a lot of the colonists believing that dad is a weakling and a traitor, that it's too late ever to establish peace with Earth—"
"But your father is still strong in the colony—"
"He was—until now. He's losing strength fast. A lot of people believed that he would be able to negotiate with the Colonel. But the important thing is that the Big Secret just isn't ready to put into operation yet. It's nearly ready, but not quite."
Tuck nodded. "Five hundred people are a lot to take care of—for a long period of time."
"And how! And dad is trying to make the people see that they're choosing suicide if they follow Cortell." The leader's son started the motor again. "Dad doesn't dare spill the whole story to the Colonel, because he thinks the Colonel would clamp down and report it to Security—which he probably would, considering the state he's in. Dad's hogtied. Earthmen and Titan colonists have hated each other for so long that they can't imagine trusting each other. They're from different ends of the Universe."
The half-track started again with a lurch, and reached the top of the gully, started lumbering down the side. Both boys peered eagerly ahead; then suddenly Tuck let out a shout. "Over to the right—see it?"
David squinted against the sun. "I think—yes! That's it!" The half-track bounced forward with renewed speed as they approached the glinting metal that had been the Snooper. At first all they could see was the tail, sticking out from behind an outcropping of rock; then the 'track moved around the rock, and they saw the wreck-It had skimmed on its belly, ripping off one of its sled tracks, and the sharp rocks had ripped long, curling strips of the underfuselage away from the braces. The nose had burrowed a ten-foot-long ditch, and one of the little stabilizer wings had been ripped almost completely off. But worst of all, the exhaust tube showed a long, crooked split that ran right back its length toward the jet engines-Tuck felt his heart sink. They would need tools, welding—they'd practically need a machine shop to put the little scooter back into the air. He turned to David, all his excited hopes of exploration on the rugged planet surface dashed into the black rocks just like the Snooper itself. "Looks like we're out of luck."
David eyed the wreckage critically. "Hmmm—" he said. "Have to weld the exhaust tube—may even have wrecked the combustion chamber—I don't know. But the thing was in a lot worse shape when I first put it together." He looked at Tuck. "Are you game to try?"
"Well, we can't do it any harm—"
"Then come on!" David checked the helmet to his pressure suit, and started to open the half-track top. "Between the two of us, we should be able to get the thing back into shape—maybe it won't take as much work as it looks." He was out of the half-track, moving toward the back of it when Tuck got his suit heater controls readjusted and clambered out, wondering just what they were going to work with. And then he saw the whole rear casing of the half-track peel away to reveal a huge tool case, complete with three or four large gas bottles, welding torches, metal siding, and a dozen different types of wiring on neat spools along the top.
It would be work, but there was lots of daylight left, and there were emergency lights on the 'track if they couldn't finish by dark. In a few moments both boys were struggling with the gas bottles, dragging them over toward the Snooper, and David was clambering up into the cockpit gleefully, disappearing into the broken fuselage.
But even as he moved toward the little ship, Tuck was mulling over David's words. A secret, a wild, hopeless plan that would destroy Earth's power source, utterly and irreparably. A single word, a flick of the wrist, and everything could be lost. And neither Colonel Benedict nor Anson Torm could cross the barrier of hatred and distrust that had built up between their peoples over the years. Tuck's heart sank gloomily. It was too much to expect. Nobody could cast aside a lifetime of teaching, and trust someone he had been drilled and drilled so carefully to distrust and hate. Not even a fine
and wise man like his father could cross a barrier like that. Nobody could do it-He stopped cold in his tracks, and stared at the little ship below him, stared at the suited and hel-meted figure now climbing out of the cockpit and waving at him. Nobody?
He was Tuck Benedict, an Earthman—and that was David Torm, a Titan miner's son and a colonist, a rebel, a traitor, a sneak, a murderer, by everything Tuck had ever been taught—and they were working together for something they both wanted badly—
And they were friends, and they trusted each other—
Suddenly a great weight lifted from Tuck's chest. Nobody? He hoisted up the gas bottle and started for the ship as fast as he could go, his heart tearing in his chest, his pulse pounding. They were somebody, and somehow, insidiously, without even giving it a thought, they had succeeded in doing the unheard of, the very thing that had never been achieved since the earliest days of the Titan colony. He reached the ship, gasping for breath just as David got to the ground, took the bottle and set it alongside the others. "Not bad up there," he said. "There's a lot of outside tearing, but if we can seal up the cockpit and the engines, it might just work." David grinned at Tuck. "How about it? Ready to start?"
Tuck grinned back, feeling happier than he had ever felt in his life. "Ready? Buddy, we re going to make this wreck run like it never ran before. And when we have it running, you and I have a job to do!"
"You mean—"
"I mean we're going to teach our respective fathers the facts of life, or know the reason why!"
Alan E. Nourse Page 9
