The stranger was not a man, but a youth, hardly older than himself, a stout, muscular fellow who seemed to be attempting to take the ship by storm, in the face of two very angry crewmen. As the lock closed, Tuck saw one of them motion toward the lock, gun in hand, saying, “I told you they’re in conference, and they left orders that they weren’t to be disturbed under any circumstances. Now will you get out, or do we have to throw you out?”
“But I’ve got to see him,” the boy cried. “Look—it wouldn’t hurt you to bang on the door and tell him David is here—he won’t eat you—”
“We’ve got our orders—”
“Orders! Bah! What good are orders? You may be dead in five minutes!” The fellow’s excitement was expansive, his voice filling the corridor. “Look, I’m David Torm—the man in there is my father. My father, can’t you hear that? I’ve got to see him—” Swiftly the boy’s voice became wheedling. “What will it hurt to let me see him for just ten seconds? What can they do to you for that? Hang you by your toes? Or aren’t they doing that on Earth any more? Let me see him, and your commander will be forever grateful. You’ll be the apple of his eye! Just one moment to see my father, I beg of you—”
The man, who was growing redder by the minute, nearly exploded at this outburst. “You move an inch further into this ship, sonny, and you’ll be dead.”
The boy’s eyes flashed angrily, and he shook his fist in the guard’s face. “Hah! You’d not have the nerve to shoot me, you chicken! I’ll see my father if I have to slice your ears off, clod! May your suit spring a leak, may your airline clog—don’t lay a hand on me, or you’ll regret it—” The boy’s voice rose shrilly, and he ducked nimbly back when the guard took an angry swipe at his head. Swiftly he turned to Tuck, his eyes bright. “You! Explain to this dolt, in simple terms, that I’ve got to see my father before it’s too late!” He stared in utter contempt at the crewman, whose face had gone purple, then turned his entire attention to Tuck, as if the man had ceased to exist. “It’s urgent,” he said quite seriously. “I must see him.”
“Why?” Tuck eyed the youth coldly, fighting down an impulse to laugh aloud at the crewman’s discomfort. “They’re busy. Why can’t you wait?”
David Torm groaned in exasperation, brushing thick blond hair out of his eyes. His face had the same healthy, weathered look as his father’s, and the eyes were the same startling blue—but this lad’s eyes were quicker, with a twinkle of exuberant mischief in them, not in the least clouded by his excitement. “I’ve been trying to explain to this toad over here for fifteen minutes. There’s trouble at the colony. My father must get back as soon as possible.”
“What kind of trouble?”
The blue eyes flashed in disgust. “You too? Questions, always questions! A clordelkus is attacking. He’s chewing up the bubble. In half an hour the colony will be frozen to death. Can’t you see it’s urgent?” David didn’t even crack a smile.
Tuck just looked at him. “So let it chew,” he said dryly. “Then maybe my father and I can go home.”
David Torm’s face lighted up. “So it’s your father he’s talking to! Then tell my father I’m here.”
Tuck looked him straight in the eye. “If I thought you’d been telling a word of truth since you got here, I’d do so gladly. Tell me what the trouble is, and I’ll tell him.”
David threw his hands up in despair. “You Earth people! You’re all alike! Stubborn, like mules.” He stared at Tuck for a moment, then started to bolt on his helmet again. “If it wouldn’t kill you,” he said sarcastically, “perhaps you’d tell my father to get back to the colony without losing a minute, as soon as he’s through talking. I can’t wait, I’ve got to get back.” He started for the lock. “Tell him that Cortell is organizing his group—can you tell him that?” Without waiting for an answer, he clamped down the faceplate of the helmet, still muttering under his breath. Tuck stood watching as the lock door clanged shut, thoroughly confused. Maybe the boy had been serious! There had been something about those pale blue eyes that had demanded trust. But then, he was a colonist, and nothing he said could be trusted. Tuck turned angrily away from the lock. Probably he had come aboard simply to look around—or maybe he had his pockets stuffed with Murexide plates. There was no way of telling. And certainly, it wasn’t worth taking a chance.
Impatiently Tuck paced the corridor outside the room where the men were conferring. They had been talking almost two hours now, and as the minutes passed, Tuck became more and more uneasy. Perhaps he should have trusted the boy, accepted his word. Who was Cortell? And what sort of a group was he organizing? Probably Anson Torm would know the significance of that. But surely the conference was more important than anything else. If the mines were to shut down, there would be real trouble, and soon.
Tuck’s mind drifted back to the blond-haired youth. So Anson Torm was his father. That meant he must have been born and grown up in the colony. For an instant a thousand questions flooded Tuck’s mind, questions he would like to ask. And the jet plane—could David possibly have rebuilt it himself? It would be wonderful to have such a ship, to come and go with as he pleased, just big enough to use for exploratory jaunts—and especially if he lived on such a place as Titan, with so much of the surface still a barren, uncharted jungle of rocks and gorges and black-faced cliffs. But he jerked his thoughts away from such channels; probably he would never even talk to the fellow again, and certainly he’d have no chance to try out his plane. There were more important things to do—
And then the door to the room flew open, and Colonel Benedict stalked out, his face white and drawn with anger. He was followed by the tall colony leader. Anson Torms face looked very tired, and his jaw was set in a grim line. Tuck stared at the two men, and his heart sank.
The first conference was over.
Chapter 5
Ambush
In the course of his eighteen years Tuck Benedict had seen the Colonel in many moods, but he had never before seen such a combination of anger and distrust on his father s face. The Colonel stalked into the room, barely nodding to Tuck, and slapped a sheaf of papers down on the desk furiously. Then he snatched up the intercom speaker, his hand trembling barely within the limits of control. “Better get up here, Jim,” he snapped to the pilot. “We re going to the colony.”
Tuck stared at his father, and then at the tall colony leader, his heart sinking. What could have happened? His father was furious, and Torm was controlling himself with difficulty, his face white, lips in a tight, grim line. Neither man spoke; Torm was struggling into his pressure suit again, the tired wrinkles deeper around his eyes, an expression of bitterness and disappointment on his face.
Finally the Colonel turned to the tall colony leader. “You have accommodations for us at the colony, I presume?” he said coldly.
Torm shrugged. “If you desire them. You and your son will have to stay in my quarters—there’s no place for guests in the colony. But your crew will have to stay here.”