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 studied 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 Colonels 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.”