"Good. The tunnel they dug through opens into this one about fifty feet from where they're working. They haven't got much light—if we move slow and quiet we might get past them. Careful!"
He started moving again, inching across the tunnel toward the black, raw hole that had been dug into the tunnel, around the cave-in. Tuck sneaked a look at the two burly workmen, toiling to get the sandbags thrown up to completely block the opening to the outside. Both were working in light, close-fitting pressure suits. They worked swiftly, grunting and cursing as they struggled with the bags. Tuck moved slowly, very slowly, desperately afraid some scratch, some joggled stone would rattle and betray them. But he suddenly saw David's feet disappear into the darkness of the tunnel, and with his heart racing, he eased himself up over the lip of the newly dug hole, slithered through, and lay panting, his heart pounding in his throat.
"Made it!" David was on his feet, crouched over in the narrow cut. "We'd better make speed."
"Where?"
"We can go back to the colony. There's probably a sealed entrance to this tunnel, coming off one of the main tunnels. If we can get into a main tunnel, we're all right—nobody can touch us. But if they catch us in here—" He solemnly drew his finger across the throat of the helmet. "Keep your fingers crossed."
They moved slowly, using their lights only when they needed to. "I don't think we need to worry about more Murexide," David whispered. "The stuff is too dangerous to mess around with, if they've had men moving supplies through here. Probably the one booby trap was considered protection enough." They hurried along as the tunnel started upgrading, winding slightly as they moved. Several times they passed through widened vaults, with cargo packed high against the walls; once they thought they heard steps ahead of them, and froze against the wall, only to realize that it was only rocks breaking loose from the roof and crunching down to the floor. Time passed, and still they walked, until Tuck began to doubt if they would ever reach the main tunnel. And then, like a flash, David dove for the floor. "Down, Tuck!"
Tuck fell like a poleaxed mule. He lay, face down, panting. Then he lifted his head, to confirm the glimpse of light that had struck his eyes a moment before.
There was no mistake. Ten feet ahead was a room, one of the widened vaults through which the tunnel passed. It had been dark, and then a light had suddenly gone on, almost in their faces. And in the room a man was pacing to and fro, his face lighted by the battle lamps in the vault, and he was talking in a loud, sharp, nasal voice that Tuck had heard once before, once too often.
The man was John Cortell.
Chapter 15 The Closing Ring
THERE WAS no doubt of the man's identity. The thin, wiry frame, the pale hair, the narrow, hawklike face —all were carved in Tuck's memory from his first sight of John Cortell. The man was angry now, and he paced the room like a caged wildcat, his voice sharp in the still air.
"I don't care if there were a thousand cave-ins, we've got to get moving, can't you see that? As long as we've got the colony to fight them off, we're doing fine, but how long do you think that can last?"
Another man's voice came to the boys from inside, a man they could not see. His voice was quiet, almost weary, and he was saying, "John, we've done everything we can. Cave-ins happen, and this one just came at the wrong time—"
"It sure did! It came so much at the wrong time that it smells from here to Earth and back!"
"John, you're getting nervous. You're dreaming things."
"Dreaming? With a cave-in in the one tunnel we have to have open?" The fugitive's voice rose desperately. "I don't like it. I've got a right to be nervous—"
"But nobody knows about it—they couldn't, or you'd have that Earth snooper and his whole crew in here on our necks right now. Relax, John. It'll just be a few more hours."
"And that idiot Farnham!"Cortell snarled. "Had to worry about Security catching up with him back on Earth—had to try to rub Benedict before he even left Earth—" He ran a nervous hand through his pale hair. "Too much has gone wrong. We could have left two days ago! We could be gone, and the whole lousy crowd of them would be finished, and there wouldn't be a soul left to give Security a hint—"
Tuck listened, his confusion growing. He slowly edged his way back into the darkness, found David crouched close to the wall, listening. "Did you hear that? What's he talking about?" he whispered.
He heard David's breath, harsh in the darkness. "I don't quite know. Listen."
"But what is this place?"
"Looks like Cortell's main hide-out. It makes sense. He knows dad couldn't come for him here without giving away the whole works to the Colonel. And it's handy for making the ship ready. Cortell's no fool."
"But what can we do? We can't get through there into the colony—"
"That's for sure. And we can't go back." David's voice was edged with worry. "But they don't know we're here—and they don't know we're listening. And I want to hear the rest of this—"
They moved in closer to the opening. Tuck's mind was whirling, the thought screaming in his ears: your luck has run out, you're caught here, trapped! He tried to force the thought out, but it wouldn't force. They were caught—what if they hadn't been discovered yet? It was only a matter of time until somebody came back through the tunnel. Tuck glanced nervously over his shoulder into the blackness, straining to hear some sound of footfalls. He tried to think what they could do if the workmen were to suddenly come back down the tunnel, and he found to his horror that he couldn't even organize his thoughts—
"But we'll have to move fast when the time comes, because if Torm and the others even get a hint of it beforehand, it'll all be over." Cortell's voice was quieter now, but he still was pacing the narrow room. "We can't take any chances on it. That's one reason I'd like to see Torm killed now—with him gone, and maybe Ned Miller, they'd be running around like blind men. But on the other hand, it will be nice to think of him dying back here in the blowup, along with all the others—"
Tuck's eyes widened in horror. He glanced back at David, caught a glimpse of his face in the dim light, and repressed a shudder, turning back to listen again.
"I'm not sure I like that so much, either, John," the other man was saying. "The ship is outfitted for everyone. There's enough—"
"Garbage!"Cortell burst out. "It would take another ten years to outfit it for five hundred people." His voice lowered, almost confidentially. "Look, Dan, be reasonable. The supplies on that ship right now wouldn't keep five hundred people alive for fifty years—not a chance in a million, not even if everyone would take cut rations and co-operate a hundred percent. And that's the kicker—everyone won't. With five hundred people on that ship, there'd be murder and violence every step of the way. With five hundred people aboard, it wouldn't stand the breath of a chance." He stared at his companion, an ugly grin on his face. "But for ten people—five men and five women—there'd be plenty of supplies, plenty of food, plenty of water— and enough for the children when they come." Cortell sat down, nervously. "It's the only smart way to do it." "I still don't like it."
"Look—there's me, and you, and Johnny Taggart, and Pete Yeakel and Rog Strang. And then there's our wives. Just the ten of us, on that ship, headed out. And not a trace left behind us, no mines, no colony, no Torm, no nothing—just one big, smoking crater to teach the Earth swine who they were meddling with—"
The other man was silent for a long time. Then he said. "The women won't like it, John. The men, sure, but the women—you know how they feel about—well, about the colony, about all the children—"
Cortell grinned nastily. "Now isn't that just too bad. It makes my heart ache, it does." His eyes were suddenly savage. "I've waited too long, Dan. If the women don't like it, that's tough. They come anyway. If they don't want to come, we drag them. But we've got to move—"
Tuck heard a swift movement at his elbow, a low-throated growl of rage. He caught David's arm violently, jerked it back, wrenching him sharply back. "Don't be a fool," he whispere
d. "Come on, we've got to get out of here—"
"I'll break his dirty neck," David snarled. "Let go of me, I tell you, I'll smash his skull in—"
Tuck pinned the huge lad's arm back, suddenly savage himself. "Quiet! You'd wreck everything. Come on now!" His whisper was a sharp command in the darkness. David suddenly relaxed, stumbling along behind him, tears of fury rolling down his cheeks. "He's selling out everybody, the whole colony—"
"Well, you can't stop him that way." They crouched against the wall, well out of earshot of the hide-out. "Now listen. We've got to get back to the colony somehow, and fast. We can't do a thing by ourselves now. But we know where the ship is, and we know where Cortell is. We can lead your father to him, if we can stall Cortell, somehow. Now here's what I was thinking—"
Swiftly Tuck outlined the plan that had formed in his mind as he had listened to the men in the hideout. David listened intently, nodding every now and then. Then he said, "It might work—if the workers don't get us. And if we can stall him long enough—" They stood up, and started down the tunnel again, moving cautiously. The noise of their footfalls seemed deafening—surely they must be heard, back in the hide-out—but as they paused from time to time, straining to listen, they heard nothing but the sound of their own strained breathing. Occasionally they stopped to catch their breath, then forced on again. It seemed that they walked for miles, and then, far up ahead, they saw the workmen's lights, and slowed down to a cautious approach. "Do you think they'll be finished with the repair yet?"
David shook his head. "Can't tell. Maybe. But they'll have to pump out methane for another six hours before they dare let oxygen in."
"Maybe they won't try to let oxygen in. Why should they bother, if only ten people are coming through? They can certainly find ten pressure suits—"
David bit his lip, slowing to a stop. "Hadn't thought of that. But maybe we can fix them anyway." His eyes gleamed malignantly in the dim helmet light, and he searched around the floor of the tunnel until he found a couple of large rocks. "I think I can really fix things for them."
They could hear the pumps now, but there was no sign of activity at the other end of the newly dug tunnel. Slowly the boys inched forward, and Tuck stuck his head through the narrow opening, took a quick look, and drew it back sharply.
"One of them is right on the other side," he whispered. "But he's alone—"
"Think you can take him?"
Tuck nodded. "A lead pipe cinch, if he hasn't gotten a gun from the ship. They had quite an arsenal there, remember—homemade jobs, but deadly."
The Closing Ring
"Did you see him with a gun?"
Tuck shook his head. "Well, here goes," he whispered. With a crash he lunged through the opening into the tunnel, bringing an avalanche of rock and dirt down with him as he went. He got his balance in the tunnel just as the workman straightened up, alarm written a yard wide across his face. Before he could make a sound, Tuck was upon him, ripping out the talker-wires with a well-aimed swipe of his hand. The workman's curse was muffled as he tried to break from Tuck's grip, and with a powerful heave he threw Tuck down on his back on the tunnel floor. Like a cat the man was upon him, gripping his neck, lifting his head helmet and smashing it down on the floor. Tuck gave a wrench, and wriggled from his grasp, throwing the man off balance; then suddenly David's helmeted figure appeared from the open tunnel mouth, and caught the worker in a powerful half nelson. Two quick blows from David's heavy fist doubled him up on the ground, alive but quite helpless.
"Dirty fighting," grinned David as they started up the tunnel for the ship.
"Dirty guys," Tuck snapped back. "Better watch the talking now. I don't know where the other man is." They approached the Murexide strips gingerly, and as they crossed, Tuck noticed that David still carried the rocks. "What are those for?"
"You just watch," said David. They reached the opening into the crevice where the ship was. It was still quite dark and gloomy, but they could see the second workman up on the ramp near the Rocket Port, sitting on a box, busy scraping plastic sealer from his huge paws. He was completely oblivious to anything but his own troubles.
The boys flattened themselves in the shadow of the wall, slowly edging out of the tunnel mouth. Still the guard did not look up. Tuck moved along the wall, getting farther and farther from the tunnel mouth before he realized that David was still there. And then he saw David raise one of the rocks and heave it carefully into the tunnel; it struck the ground and rolled, and the guard looked up in alarm—
And then there was an earsplitting roar, shaking the ground like an earthquake, reverberating down the tunnel, and billows of dense, acrid Murexide smoke rolled out into the crevice. The guard ran down the ramp, and met a full body block from David, coming out of the smoke. The guard rolled over and over on the edge of the crevice as Tuck and David raced for the ramp. It was a short jump from the ramp to the nearest section of scaffolding, and then the boys were climbing like monkeys, higher and higher toward the rocky ledge at the top of the crevice. "Get the ship between us and the guard," Tuck roared, and they climbed even more frantically.
On the tunnel ledge below the guard was on his feet again, finally realizing that he'd been duped. There was a sharp crack, and Tuck heard a bullet whiz by his ear, followed by another, and another, both of which drove into and through the thin hull plating of the ship. Tuck scrambled as nimbly as he could, trying to get behind the ship, but the guard followed on the ledge below, trying to aim the gun with clumsy fingers on the trigger. A modern high-speed pellet gun would have succeeded, but this was an old-fashioned, home-forged revolver, clumsy and inaccurate. The bullets whizzed uncomfortably close, and then suddenly the guard was climbing after them, shouting hoarsely. David made a jump for the upper ledge, caught it and held, dragging himself up by brute strength. Then he leaned over and caught Tuck's wrist, and in an instant they were standing on top, with just a thin layer of plastic sealer between them and the outside.
David whipped out a knife, and started slashing the stuff, like putty. There was a hiss of inrushing gas as the methane broke through the airtight seal. Then David got his hand into the hole, and gave the stuff a powerful rip; it clung to his fist and tore like gum rubber, but the hole widened. The boys crawled through, then started ripping the sealer away as fast as they could. In a moment almost all of the camouflage was gone, leaving the formerly sealed-in crevice wide open, with the nose of the ship gleaming up at the purple sky.
And then they were running across the rocks, making for the Snooper; after a few minutes' climbing, they could see the little jet where they left it, gleaming in the fading sunlight, and they realized, almost with a shock, that they had been in the tunnel almost the whole Titan day. The guard finally reached the top of the scaffolding, and was shooting again, but the boys clambered into the cockpit of the little ship, and the motor was warmed before the guard got fifty feet. With a burst of blue flame the ship shot forward, and Tuck leaned back, his heart pounding in his throat as he felt the Snoopers nose rise into the sky.
A few moments later they were landing outside the air lock of the colony bubble, just as the lights were going on for the Titan night.
The night, Tuck reflected grimly, which bid fair to be the colony's last—
Chapter JO ••ƒ'// Back You to a Man!
fjNSON TORM paced back and forth in the little stone cabin, his gray head bent, hands gripped tightly || behind his back. He was alone—he had been alone for over an hour, listening to the minutes tick by, steadily, certainly. On the table lay a pile of papers; he stopped and leafed through them wearily. His fingers trembled on the typewritten sheets, and he thought, here it is—the last duty in a lifetime of work. Here is the dotted line, Anson, for you to sign your colony's death warrant. Cortell has won, in the end, and you have lost, but it is you who must check the supply lists, it is you who must make sure that all the supplies are stored, all final details completed. Not far away, a ship stands waiting to carry your peopl
e to limbo, and soon they will wait no longer; soon they will file aboard—
The old man stared bitterly at the table top. He wanted to smash his fist down and roar with anger and frustration. If only they would think! If only he could make them understand what they were doing— And yet he knew it would do no good. This was the
end of the line. The colonists would no longer support him, they believed Cortell when he told them that the time for revolt had come. And perhaps it had. Even his closest friend, Ned Miller, who fought at his side all these stormy years of leading the colony, had said, "There's nothing more we can do, Anson. If we oppose him now, Cortell will only kill us, and carry out the plan anyway—"
"But there must be some other way!"
"I don't know what. We knew it would come someday. You knew it, and I knew it."
And Torm had spread his hands helplessly, and sank down in the chair, a tired, beaten old man. "But it need never have come," he said wearily. "It's so senseless, so hopeless—"
It was true. He knew in his heart that it was hopeless. The Colonel from Earth had dealt the last blow with his ultimatum, even as Cortell's men had moved through the colony, spreading hatred, whispering rebellion, arousing the colonists to fury. And now the end had come—there was no answer, no other way.
He sank down to the table, taking the first supply list from the pile with a heavy heart. And then the door burst open, and David was in the room, followed by the son of the Earth Colonel. Anson looked up, startled by the air of excitement that swept in the door with the boys; he saw their eyes go to the check lists on the table, and back to his face, and he felt a pang of shame. "Dad—you've got to come—"
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