Alan E. Nourse

by Trouble on Titan

The Colonel stared at Torm, wide-eyed, and there was bewilderment on his face. "I don't get this," he said. "I can see somebody ambushing us—Tuck and me —but you were in this half-track too—"

  Torm's eyes were filled with bitter anger. "A remarkable observation," he said sourly. "Now maybe you'll believe me when I tell you I'm on your side. This was well-planned—magnetic fuse on a land mine, so that anything metallic that came into that gorge would be gone. Beautiful. Even David missed it, until he brought the scooter in at the same level as the halftrack. And it was supposed to kill two birds with one stone." He turned a bitter grin toward the Colonel and Tuck. "Or maybe I should say three birds—"

  "And you know who planted the trap?"

  Torm looked up again, and his eyes were not pleasant. "Yes, I know who did it. And I know what to do about it. I think it's time for a showdown with John Cortell."

  Chapter 6 The Prisoner

  r

  tE COLONY lay tight and compact in the long, shallow valley between the two parallel lines of black, jagged peaks. A queer, bulbous, glistening bubble of heavy plexiglass surrounded the entire outpost like an alien cocoon. Tuck stared at the huge bubble wonderingly as the half-track rumbled the last hundred yards down the grade toward the entrance lock. "You mean that that plastic stuff covers the entire colony?"

  Anson Torm nodded grimly. "Every crack and leak is sealed off with the stuff, or with the plastic gum we use to seal off and caulk leaks. Remember, we're human beings—we're not equipped to live and breathe in a methane atmosphere at 250 degrees below zero." He swung the half-track around a heap of rocks, and rumbled up to the opening of the lock. Tuck peered with excitement through the glimmering sheathing. The pale sun was almost below the horizon, and the colony bubble caught the dim, ghostly light of Saturn, now almost directly overhead. Inside the dome Tuck could see the pale electric lights beginning to glow,

  brightening the drab interior as much as anything could brighten the dreary place. The half-track moved into the lock, and Torm began loosening his pressure-suit helmet almost at once, the anger still black on his tired face. Suddenly the inner lock-hatch opened with a loud ping, and the half-track moved forward until the door could close behind it. Torm threw open the top, and sprang out onto the ground.

  Tuck followed Torm out, holding up a hand to help his father, his eyes taking in the street in all its details. It was a strange street; the lock opened into a large, clear area, faced by a long, low building of rock and wood that looked like a troops' barracks. The clearing stretched out to the left and right in a rough unpaved road that curved around, following the course of the curved dome. And lining the road on both sides were strange-looking buildings, mostly thrown together of black stones and coarse mortar—buildings doubly strange because they seemed to have no roofs. The rock walls rose eight or ten feet in the air to end in jagged wall-like tops; on a few Tuck could see brightly colored woven blankets and painted canvas thrown across the tops, but many had nothing of the sort, and through one open door Tuck could see the bright dome shining through from above.

  Near the lock, one of the buildings had a large porchlike arrangement, and signs were posted on the black walls—obviously a trading post or store. Several men and women were gathered on the porch, staring at Tuck and his father with dark, suspicious eyes, and a group of children were chattering and pointing. Then a small, deeply tanned man broke from the group and ran across the clearing toward them. He ignored the Earthmen as if they weren't there, and turned to Anson Torm excitedly. "What happened, Anson? We heard a blast—"

  Torm nodded to the man, and gestured toward Tuck and his father. "The Earth delegation, Ned. Colonel Robert Benedict and his son, Tucker. This is Ned Miller."

  The little colonist looked up at the Colonel and Tuck with sharp brown eyes, as if he were trying to penetrate a veil; then he sniffed in disgust and turned back to Torm. "Now I think that's real nice," he said sourly. "But what—" His eye caught sight of the boy in the back of the half-track. "Anson! That's David— what happened, man?"

  They helped David out of the cab onto the ground, where he lay, still limp. The man called Ned Miller galvanized into frantic action, waving a couple of the men over, shouting for a stretcher. "We heard the blast half an hour ago," he said excitedly. "We expected David to be back with some news, but he didn't come. Is he hurt bad?"

  "Not bad. Concussion, or maybe just shaken up a little." He turned to one of the men. "Send over word to Doc Taber, and ask him to come running, will you?"

  "But what happened?" Ned Miller asked again.

  Torm's face darkened as he stood up. "Ambush. One of the mining charges, with a magnetic fuse. David must have gotten wind of it, somehow. He came over in the Snooper, and scouted it out for us— over in Carter's gorge. Didn't touch us, but the concussion wave got the Snooper and David."

  Ned Miller scowled, rubbing his grizzled chin. "Cortell," he said.

  "Who else? But there's no proof."

  "Proof, bah!" Miller exploded, his brown eyes snapping. "Cortell couldn't wait for you to get out of here this morning. He and about ten men had a meeting, a quarter of an hour after you left, and half a dozen of his boys were out of the mines this afternoon."

  Torm nodded angrily. "Send Martz and Darly to get Cortell down to the convention room, and pronto. Legal order. We'll be down there in a few minutes, and we want him there. And if he doesn't want to come, break his legs and then bring him."

  Miller's eyes were worried. "There'll be trouble, Anson. Unless you and the Colonel got farther than I think you did—"

  "There'll be trouble, all right. But there isn't much we can do about it now. This thing has got to stop." He turned to find the short, balding figure of the colony's doctor kneeling beside David.

  "What about it, Doc?"

  The doctor examined the boy's head carefully. "Better get X-rays. I wouldn't worry, but he'll be down at the infirmary for a couple of days. Check with me later."

  Anson nodded, and turned to Tuck and the Colonel. Together, they started across the clearing into the long, low building that faced them.

  It was a barracks, on either side of the large common room—the quarters of the former military contingent, now used as a storehouse. But in the rear were stone steps, leading down in a long spiral. Anson Torm snapped on lights, his face still tense with anger, and they started down. A number of the colonists were in the common room reading, and a few waved at Anson as they passed through—but there were no smiles when they saw Torm's company. At the bottom of the stairs they found themselves in a huge underground excavation, filled with rude seats, with a desk and chair at the front, and a massive wall of files. Anson Torm nodded Tuck and the Colonel into seats, then seated himself at the table, and waited, drumming his hand on the table top in impatient anger. The hall was dark, and very silent. There was room here to seat every one of the colonists, man, woman, and child, but now the room was empty. Yet, if he listened closely, Tuck could hear more clearly the strange, rumbling noise he had heard up above, coming from far underground —a persistent sound that never dropped nor rose, and almost became a part of the background of the place. Probably pumps, Tuck reasoned—or maybe mining machinery. Whatever it was, it only added to the gloom of the place. Tuck shifted uneasily, wishing the stillness were not so complete.

  Finally Colonel Benedict broke the silence. He turned to Anson Torm questioningly. "What do you propose to do with this Cortell person when he gets here?"

  Torm turned his angry eyes to the Earthman. "I don't know," he said slowly.

  "You mean you'd let him get away with something like this?" The Colonel's eyes were wide. "Like what?"

  "Like an ambush. Like attempted murder." The Colonel's voice was tense.

  Torm stared at him tiredly. "I may have no choice. I am the elected leader of this colony—nothing more. I have the position of judiciary—the power to select juries and the power to make final judgments in judicial matters of law. And since I've held this position, I've s
tudied Earth law and colony law for a long, long time." The big man shrugged his shoulders apologetically. "Unfortunately, in all this time and study, I've not yet found any justification for condemning a man with no evidence against him."

  "But everyone here seems to know that it was Cortell who planted the trap—or at least Cortell's men—"

  "This may very well be true. But it's not proof."

  The Colonel drummed the table top impatiently. "And yet, from a very selfish viewpoint, that was a deliberate attempt on my life—nothing more nor less. I'm here with a job to do—and I intend to see it done, if I have to take Cortell, and you, and everyone else involved in the little plot and place them under Earth arrest for high treason."

  Torm looked at the Colonel for a long moment, studying his face, a look of puzzlement in the colony leader's eyes. "You forget one thing," he said finally. "It was an attempt on my life, too. And it nearly killed my son."

  "But why on your life?"

  Anson Torm leaned forward, his eyes square on the Colonel's face. "How well do you know the history of this colony?"

  "Quite well, I should say—"

  "Security Commission records, no doubt."

  The Colonel reddened. "Among other source materials. What are you getting at?"

  "It was started as a prison, this colony," Torm said. "That was a hundred and fifty years ago. A place where criminals against Earth society were sent, a deathtrap, a modern-world Devil's Island if you wish— You've heard of that place, I presume? Not a fair comparison, really—at least those poor creatures had Earth sky and Earth sea—" The big man's eyes grew wistful for just a moment. "But back when the colony here was started, ruthenium wasn't so critical to Earth economy. As time went on, Earth authorities began to realize that they didn't dare leave the mining of their ruthenium up to criminals and cutthroats, so they recruited workers, made the mines a free colony, and started the mining system that we have here now—"

  "This is all very interesting," the Colonel said. "But I repeat—what are you driving at?"

  Tuck watched the colony leader closely. He felt the awkwardness between the two men quite acutely. And strangely, as he listened, the doubts which had been creeping into his mind since his first sight of the big man's face on the ship became stronger. It seemed incredible that this quiet voice, this stern face with the lines of worry and compassion engraved over the years, could be the voice and face of an outlaw and a liar. And yet he knew, even thinking it otherwise was foolhardy. There had been two vicious attacks, there was violence in the very air of this strange colony, and this big, sandy-haired man was the leader here. Or at least, he claimed to be—

  Torm held up his hand. "Patience, Colonel. Think about history for a minute. Earth made Titan a free colony, which was very fine—except that the people on Earth could never forget that it was originally a prison colony. Ruthenium became more and more necessary to the growing luxury on Earth, and this colony became more and more vital—and the people on Earth grew more and more afraid of us who worked in the mines. They were afraid of the power we might assume, they were afraid we might someday grow too strong. So, you see, they took steps to see that we would never grow too strong. Very gradually, very skillfully, they turned propaganda on Earth against us —propaganda deliberately planned to degrade us as human beings, planned to lower our status, planned to make people on Earth more afraid of us, to make them regard us as slaves, half-animals, rebels—'

  Colonel Benedict stared at the colony leader. "You're expecting me to believe this?"

  "You should believe it," Torm replied softly. "Your own Earth Security Commission has engineered it for years—"

  "The Commission is responsible for the security of people on Earth—nothing more. They hardly have the time to set themselves up as persecutors. There's been trouble in this colony for years—you know that as well as I. Time after time Earth delegations have come out here, trying to reach a ground for peace and co-operation. Time after time they've been met with treachery and hatred."

  "That is not true, Colonel. You have been afraid of us, and naturally we have grown to fear you, too. After all, Earth has the power to starve us, to smother us, to slaughter us, if they wish." The colony leader stood up, walked back and forth in the still room. "We know that. We're helpless out here, alone, utterly dependent on Earth's regular supplies. But we have always known how much Earth needs ruthenium. Of course they have never done us physical harm—but there are other things that can destroy people, Colonel. Men must be able to keep their self-respect, and the respect of the people they live with. And slowly, over the years, we've been down-graded in the eyes of Earth people. Oh, nothing deliberate or premeditated—but we've lost our status as citizens in the Solar System. Promises have been broken, supply quotas have been lowered, higher and higher production has been expected, and every year our position as citizens falls, and fear builds up, and we go through the vicious circle again."

  Tuck stared at Torm, hardly believing his ears. This was seditious talk; this was treason—yet his father sat calmly, without even lifting a finger to stop the man. Finally, when Torm had finished, the Colonel said, "Let's get to the point, Mr. Torm. Where does Cortell come into this?"

  Torm shrugged. "The people of the colony have taken all they're going to take. They've had enough for decades, but they never had anyone smart enough to lead them, or think for them. But Cortell is a clever man—far more clever than I am, Colonel. He knows how to use propaganda and back-street whispers. He's an incendiary, third generation in this colony, and he hates Earth and Earthmen. There are many people here who have been listening to his talk, more and more, and he's set about deliberately to undermine my power as leader. My power is traditional here, and it's elective. And Cortell pretends to believe that by open revolt the colony can win against Earth, and dictate its own terms—"

  The Colonel jerked back in his chair, staring. "Open revolt—you mean armed warfare against Earth?"

  "Precisely."

  "Why, that's ridiculous! The Earth could—"

  "The Earth could bring its bombing rockets and wipe out the colony in an hour," said Torm quietly. "But it would be too late, because Cortell could do his work much more quickly than Earth could move. Because the first step in open revolt, as Cortell sees it, would be to break open the mining tunnels, flood the mines with methane, and then set a match to it—" The colony leader looked up slowly. "Methane and oxygen explode," he said softly. "They explode with such violence that no one would ever again be able to operate these mines."

  Colonel Benedict chewed his lip. Then he looked up at Torm. "And where do you stand?"

  Torm shrugged. "I'm tired, Colonel. I've been fighting him for five years—ever since he started his move for power. He's been working up hatred for Earth, whipping the colonists to the edge of revolt, undermining my power every way he can. He thinks the colony could win such a revolt. I know they can't." He looked straight at the Colonel, and his face was white. "There is only one way to reinstate this colony in Earth society as a unit with full rights and privileges—only one way short of violence. And that way is to work together, my people and your people, in mutual trust. But to me, you're an Earthman, and I don't believe a word you say, not one. And I won't, until you give me some reason to. I've been kicked by Earthmen once too often. I'm not going to be kicked again."

  Colonel Benedict took a deep breath. "Well, we can discuss this at length later. It looks to me as if you'd better turn Cortell over before we do anything."

  "Cortell will be accused and tried in the Titan colony, by a jury of Titan colonists. Not on the Earth ship, and not back on Earth—" The colony leader's voice was cut off by a commotion on the stairs. There was a scuffle of feet, and two burly miners appeared, half-dragging a third man between them. They marched the man across the floor to the desk, then released him, and stood nearby, grimly. "He didn't want to come, Anson," one of the men said sourly. "Didn't seem to think he wanted to see you."

  The capti
ve glared at them, then turned his sharp little eyes to Anson Torm. He was a man of medium height, thin and wiry, and he stood like a cornered wildcat, his brown hair disheveled, thin lips drawn back over sharp yellow teeth. When he spoke, his voice was nasal, and hissed through his teeth, as though he were out of breath. "You'll be sorry for this, Torm—you have no warrant to drag me around like this—"

  Torm sat back in the chair and blinked up at the man. "There was a land mine in Carter's gorge," he said, his rich bass voice almost conversational. "It wasn't there when the half-track went out to the ship. It was there when it came back."

  A nasty grin spread over John CorteU's face. "A pity it didn't get you and these Earth dogs you call your friends—"

  Torm rose slowly from the desk, his eyes blazing, and slapped Cortell sharply across the mouth. "It did get my son," he grated. "And these Earth dogs are no more friends of mine than yours. But if they're harmed, the whole colony will suffer—"

  Cortell rubbed his mouth, glaring at Torm. "What do you want with me?"

  "You and your men laid the mine."

  "Really? You have proof of that, of course?"

  "Where were you when the half-track left for the ship this afternoon?"

  "I was in Smogi's having a drink and waiting for my shift to come due." The grin returned to CorteU's face. "Any more questions? Or are you ready to go back to selling out the colony to these toads?"

  Slowly Torm sat back in his chair. His whole body was shaking almost uncontrollably. He found a small printed form in one of the desk drawers, laid it on the table, and started to write. "You're under arrest, John," he said softly. "For attempted murder and treason against the colony. You'll be held for trial, and exportation to Earth if you're convicted." He nodded to the guards. "Take him to his quarters, and post a double guard. There'll be a hearing in public tomorrow. And no visitors—"

  John Cortell's face went white with rage, and he flew at Torm, slamming his fist down on the desk top. "You don't have proof," he screamed. "You can't prove a thing against me, and when you get through, see how long you last as leader of this colony! Justwait!" Cor-tell turned and stalked for the door, with the guards on his heels.