some traction, and the car lumbered out. Not a word was exchanged between the boys; David fought the bar in a frenzy of silent desperation, and Tuck gripped the safety bar for dear life, trying to protect his head from banging on the overhead or the front panel. He felt numb; he tried to think of what David had said, but his thoughts were incoherent. A meeting at the colony could mean a dozen things, a hundred things. What if Cortell had called a convention? The men were angry, excited—could there be a mob meeting to break Anson Torm's power, for the last crushing blow? Or could it be an attack on the Colonel, turned upon him when he was helpless and alone in the colony? It didn't make sense, nothing made sense as Tuck held on tightly in the lurching vehicle, and he just sat, praying that the half-track would not get stuck somewhere on the way-It seemed hours before they mounted the final rise and started down the valley toward the colony. The lights were bright; the bubble gleamed like a magic thing in the blackness, but when they reached the lock, a single man was the only human being in sight. The man admitted them, thrusting his thumb over his shoulder. "Better step on it," he shouted as the boys climbed out. "Down in the hall—there's a general colony meeting going on—" "Who called it?"
"Petition.Two hundred signatures. And it sounds like it's hot as ore slag—"
"Who was pushing the petition?" David struggled out of his pressure suit, panting, his face white.
"Well, it wasn't your father, you can bet on that.
Cortell has been out of hiding, down in the mines— him and some of his men. Been going through the mines all day, whipping the men up until they're fighting mad." The guard gave Tuck Benedict a black look from the corner of his eyes, and lowered his voice to a whisper. "He's been telling them that Anson's made a dirty deal with that Earthman—"
David's face whitened, and he started at a run for the hall, Tuck close at his heels. The colony was deserted; every cabin was empty, the lights burning stark in the gloom; the porch of the trading post was empty. Down the road two children were wandering, hand in hand, whimpering, and somewhere far away, Tuck heard a baby squalling, a tiny, helpless, lonely voice shrilling in the darkness. The boys reached the stairs and plunged down, and then at the bottom they stopped and wormed their way into the crowd of excited people. The meeting was in progress.
The room was filled, every seat, every bench. At the head of the room Anson Torm sat at the table, a huge service revolver on the table in front of him; the electric lights were dim, and someone had erected two huge torches that burned smokily on either side of the room, making flickering shadows dance along the rough-hewn walls. Colonel Benedict was also in the front of the room, sitting to one side, his face an angry mask. And standing up in the center of the room was a huge, burly man, talking in a heavy bass rumble. The man held a hat in his hand, and his words were greeted with a mutter of approval from people on all sides.
"—All I know is what I can see, Anson," the big man was saying, wrenching his hat nervously in his hands. "I been with you right down the line—you know that's a fact. But what Cortell says is beginning to sound just about right."
"You mean what CortelTs stooges have been spreading around the colony—is that right?" Anson Torm's voice cut like a knife in the still air.
"I got eyes," the miner snapped back. "What I see is you and this Earthman throwin' Cortell in jail, and holdin' secret meetings. I don't like it. Maybe I don't think Cortell's always right, but he's a colonist, and he's got the good of the colony at heart—"
"And that's more than some people can say" a voice snarled from the rear. A dozen men burst into angry approval. "What have you got to say, Anson?" somebody shouted. "Cortell says you're selling us out—"
Another man jumped to his feet, shaking his fist. "You've been whining around this Earthman's feet for two days now—where has it got you? You've been saying there'd be changes, that Security would listen to us when they sent a man out—well, how about it? Where are the teachers for our kids? And the money for the new school—how about that, Anson?" The man's face was bitter. "What about the building materials they've promised us for years, so we wouldn't have to five in these hovels? When are they going to send us the men we need to run this place so we don't have to work sixteen-hour days?"
Torm's eyes flashed angrily. "Do you think I can help Security's broken word? Who do you think is stopping all these things? Me? Do you think I am?"
The man on the floor raised his hand and pointed at Colonel Benedict. "That's the man that's doing it—and you're playing right along with him! He's got the power and authority to get changes made if he feels like it. But he doesn't feel like it. All we hear is more work and less food." He turned his eyes to the crowd, waving his hands wildly. "Well I say throw 'em both out! Shut down the mines for a while, and see how Earth Security likes it. I say let's go along with Cortell—"
A cheer went up in the room. Another man was on his feet—it was Taggart, the man Tuck had seen making the rounds of the cottages after Cortell's escape. "Seems to me there are two men to blame," he said, his voice very loud and smooth. Faces turned to him, angry faces. "The one of them is just a spy, an ordinary stooge like all of them Security sends out to crack down harder on the whip. But the other one is worse than any spy could be—" His eyes caught Anson's face, and he stabbed a hand at him, savagely. "That's the man you want to watch. We can fight Earth—and we can win! Don't listen to the old man; listen to the one that's on your side. We can blow up the mines and starve them for power—we could have done it years ago, but oh, no, Torm handed us lots of nice words and pretty promises. Well, the time to break it off with Earth is now. Suicide? Hogwash! Blow up these mines, and Earth is stripped! And even if it is suicide—" he paused, glaring around the room. "Well, we've got fathers and grandfathers who died for this colony—what's wrong with you? Are you afraid? Have they got you cowed? Torm is the traitor—let's throw him out, send him back to Earth with his spy friends, and let a man lead the colony like it ought to be led—"
Torm stood up slowly, his face very tired. With a trembling hand he banged on the table for silence. Then he said, "In six months the laws governing this colony call for a convention of all colonists and a general election—either to confirm the old leader, or elect a new one. That's the law—you voted for it; you laid it down. When that election comes, it'll be you who does the voting, and you can vote for the Devil himself, for all I care. But until then, I'm still the leader here, with the power to sign warrants and enforce law. And I say John Cortell has attempted murder. I say he'll stand trial for it, and anyone who's helping him will stand trial. Shut up, Taggart, you've had your say, just the way Cortell told you to say it. Now I'll have mine."
He brushed a hand over his forehead, and leaned forward, both hands on the table. "You've done a great job tonight," he said bitterly. "A great job. You expect Earth Security to trust us, to give us more freedom, more education, more respect—and then you put on a show like this. Well, it won't work. You want to go along with Cortell's insanity—well, that won't work, either. It's suicide. What you're talking about is the end of the line. And as long as I'm leader, I won't let you do that—"
Taggart was on his feet again. "We've had about enough of your soft talk, Anson. How about it, men? Are we going to wait for an election? Cortell says the time is now—are we going to give this Earth spy six months to get a nice fleet of Security Patrol ships out here to fight us?"
One of Torm's men jumped to his feet, hands in pockets, avoiding Anson's eyes. "Now wait a minute, Taggart—we've got to go slow. This—this all is happening too fast." He looked unhappily at the colony leader. "Anson, I've been with you, too—but now I don't know. We're in too deep now. Cortell's plan is risky, I admit that—but you can see for yourself—" he gestured helplessly.
"Attaboy!" Taggart shouted. "How about some more of Torm's men? Carter? Aaronstein? Miller? What have you got to say?"
"I say you're a pack of fools!" Ned Miller shouted, jumping up on a chair so he could be seen. "This c
olony has never had a better leader, and you know it. Cortell's plan risky? Is cutting your throat risky? You're fools, the whole crowd of you—"
The whole room was explosive now; Tuck caught David's arm, whispered sharply in his ear. "We've got to do something! This place is going wild!"
David shook his head desperately. "We can't. There's no time—"
Tuck saw his father, sitting like a statue, his face bleak. He looked tired and old, as though the life had been torn from him, and he was a corpse sitting there in the front of the room. Then suddenly Colonel Benedict came to life; he slammed his fist down on the table, and stood up, bitter anger heavy on his face. He was dressed in full Security uniform, and he stood proudly, his back straight, gray hair perfectly combed, mustache crisp above thin-drawn lips. This was the picture that was so familiar, Tuck thought, the picture of Earth that the colonists had, and hated so much. The Colonel stepped in front of the table, and the uproar subsided, reluctantly, every eye turning to the Colonel's face.
"I've heard about as much of this as I want to hear," he said quietly, and his voice held a whiplash in its softness. "I don't care a hang whether you consider me a spy from Earth, which I am not, or a legal, authorized delegate of the Earth Security Commission, which I am. And I do not care a nickel whom you elect as your leader, or what kind of petty little squabbles you insist upon having in this colony. But as far as what you do in the mines is concerned, I've heard enough nonsense in this room tonight to last me for the rest of my life."
The Colonel paused, his eyes sweeping the room. "These mines are going to continue to run, no matter what happens here. If you threaten production from these mines, Security is prepared to throw every man, woman and child in the colony into prison for treason, and send you back to Earth for trial, and bring in convicts and soldiers to run the mines. Already there's been violence—my own life has been threatened twice. There'd better not be any more."
The crowd exploded into an angry roar. Anson Torm was on his feet, turning furiously to the Colonel. "Can't you see that threats won't frighten these people any more? They've been living under threats for years. They won't take any more."
"They are threatening Earth's entire economy. And they seem to have an exalted opinion of their own importance, for some strange reason." The Colonel's voice was like a knife.
"But if they blow up the mines—"
"And kill themselves at the same time? I'm sorry, but that bluff won't work. Too many people have been trying to bluff me—"
Pandemonium broke loose on the floor as a dozen men began shouting at once. "You must be blind," Torm cried. "Do you really think these people are bluffing?"
"Five hundred people will not deliberately blow up the very colony they must have in order to survive. Yes, I think they're bluffing." He straightened up, and his voice cut through the rising growl of the colonists. "I want Cortell in irons, and I want him on the Earth ship." He was shaking with anger, his voice trembling. "I don't care who wins your little battle here. But I want Cortell delivered to me at the Rocket Landing by sundown tomorrow. If he isn't there then, and if you aren't back in the mines then, I'll declare martial law in this colony, and call a troopship in from Ganymede to enforce it." The Colonel turned to Torm as a horrified hush fell over the room. "Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
"Perfectly."Torm spat the word, as though it were something disgraceful.
"Then if you don't mind, I'll leave you to your squabbling." The Colonel turned away contemptuously, "I'd like a half-track placed at my disposal immediately."
He strode through the crowd like a man apart, catching Tuck's eye as he passed, nodded grimly toward the stairs. Tuck followed him silently, his heart sinking. "Where are we going?"
"Back to the ship. It isn't safe to remain here now."
"But Dad, this is all wrong—"
"And I'll thank you to keep your nose out of it, if you please!" His fathers voice was furious. Without another word he strode up the stairs.
Tuck hesitated just a moment, trying to catch David's eye. But when he saw the utter despair on the boy's face, he turned quickly and followed his father.
Minutes later they were walking swiftly toward the colony air lock.
Chapter J2a Desperate Chance
OR A LONG time they rode in silence. The half-track had been waiting for them when they gathered their belongings from the Torms' cabin, Tuck packing in despair, his father in white-faced anger. They had climbed in, with the Colonel at the steering bar, and the vehicle started out across the valley floor in the direction of the Rocket Landing.
Tuck had no idea what time it was, but he knew it was very late. Saturn had set now; the sky was pitch black, matching perfectly the black rocks of the tundra. There seemed to be no hurry; the Colonel eased the half-track along, searching out the path with the emergency lamp, frequently slowing to a stop to study the treacherous ground. Tuck sat huddled on the seat, his mind whirling with the sudden turn of events. For the first time in his life he felt himself utterly at a loss-there seemed to be no possible answer. He stared miserably out the front panel, saying over and over to himself that this was all wrong, that there had to be an answer—but he realized that his father still didn't know about the Big Secret—whatever it was. And as
he watched the Colonel, sitting stiffly, face still angry, Tuck knew he couldn't tell him now. Several times he started to speak; each time it suddenly seemed ridiculous. There was nothing to say, as minute by minute they moved farther away from the colony.
Finally Tuck said, "There must be some way to stop them."
"A trial for treason will stop them," the Colonel snapped. "Of all the pigheaded, rebellious trash I ever saw in my life—"
"You haven't given them a chance—"
The Colonel snorted, turning angry eyes to his son. "Yes, they seem to have you right along with them. I thought you had more sense than to swallow their nonsense."
Tuck's eyes widened. "What did I do?"
"You really gave me a helping hand, you did, getting yourself all chummy with that ninny of a son of his. That was fine. While I was doing everything I could to keep things on a negotiable basis, you had to pour fuel on Cortell's little fire, to make the people think that a shady deal was going on. I wonder what kind of friends you picked back at school."
Tuck's ears turned red at the sarcasm. "I'm sorry, Dad. But you aren't even trying to see their viewpoint at all-"
"They have no viewpoint that makes any difference!" The Colonel burst out angrily. "You'd think they'd feel some sort of loyalty to the land that feeds them, and supports them and depends on them. Viewpoint, bah!
First they try to blackmail me, and then they take my own son out and feed him a wild story that he doesn't have brain enough to see through—"
"That isn't fair, and you know it!"
The Colonel looked at Tuck, and his face softened suddenly. The anger disappeared, and left behind it lines of weariness and defeat. "Oh, I suppose it isn't. You didn't know any better, and probably David didn't realize what he was doing, either. I—I'm just tired, that's all." He sighed audibly. "This thing beats me, Tuck. It doesn't make sense. I came up here to try to make a peaceable settlement, and I haven't gotten to first base. Everything's gone wrong right from the first, and now it looks like it's going to be the end. We'll be back to the penal colony stage, after all these years, and that's a real defeat." He shook his head wearily. "I don't know. Maybe I'm getting old."
Tuck sat in silence, his heart sinking. Then his father really didn't realize what the true picture was. He still thought the whole business was a huge scheme to bluff him—with Torm and Cortell and David all working together. A flicker of doubt passed through his mind. Could it be possible that he had been fooled? That David had been used to foment violence against Torm and his father? Could it be that the Big Secret was actually ready, and that Torm himself was trying to breed an "incident" that would make it necessary to use it? Tuck shook his head. He just couldn't believe
that. Because there was no retreat for the colonists, no matter what plan they had. They could only go underground, into some vast subterranean vault, to lock themselves in, if they rebelled against Earth. Earth was too powerful, it spread too far. And once the die was cast, no Titan colonist would ever again be able to go anywhere in the Solar System. Their names would be the names of traitors against humanity, and they would have to stay in their hole and rot. So perhaps they would survive for twenty years, or fifty years, or a hundred years —what good was survival that way?
No, David was right, and the Colonel was wrong. He could see that—his father couldn't. The Colonel had brought a little more distrust, a little deeper prejudice, and a more bitter fund of experience with him. These were the things that blocked his father and blinded him. He couldn't see what had been happening to the Titan colonists, he couldn't realize what it meant to live in a tight, crowded, frozen colony for generation after generation, seeing their slender grip on freedom and their rights as men being torn from them bit by bit. He couldn't understand how they could be as desperate as they really were. And if Tuck were to tell him about the Big Secret—the Colonel would probably laugh. Because unless he could see the colonists' viewpoint, the Big Secret would be just another deceit, just another lie to use to blackmail him—
The half-track jounced through the gorge where the ambush had been laid. Tuck and his father peered out, but could see very little of the rubble that had fallen. Minutes passed—how long had they been gone? An hour? Two? Tuck knew he should be tired, but sleep was far from his mind. Slowly they rolled along, moving in a strange slow motion, a little black bug feeling its way across the wastes of an impossible planetoid to the last haven of humanity that still remained—the ship from Earth. Yet once they reached it, there would be no retreat. The colony would be lost. Because Torm would never be able to hold the colonists to his side after this last failure to settle peaceably with Earth.
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