Tuck frowned. “I don’t see how it could work. How could everyone help if nobody knew what it was? Why all the secrecy?”
“Why? With Security watching us like bugs under a glass? It had to be secret. It was a big plan, a plan that would take years to prepare. And it was to be a last-ditch retreat for the colonists—maybe a huge, barricaded, carefully hidden underground colony, where the colonists could go and blockade themselves in, and then blow the mines to smithereens, and all Earth’s precious ruthenium with it. Oh, it’s possible. After all, were used to living in cramped quarters, we’re used to little food, we can even take a lower oxygen concentration for a longer time than you can. They started it, back in the early days, cutting down their rations, saving little bits of food under deepfreeze; they got supporters back on Earth, got them wormed into Security, and started a grand smuggling program to bring out supplies. And once here, the goods were secretly stored, and then passed on to the five or six men who were guarding the Secret. And there were clothes, made out of scraps—clothes to keep 500 people warm, and tools and oxygen—for over a hundred years every oxygen tank that has been used here has been closed down for empty when it was only three-quarters gone. And all this to prepare the Big Secret for action when the time came.” David shook his head. “I don’t know what it is, or where it is—it may be carved out of rock a hundred miles straight down in the ground—or somewhere on the other side of the planet.”
Tuck stared numbly at the leader’s son. “It would be suicide,” he whispered. “They’d—they’d be sealing themselves up forever. They could never come out! And they’d have every patrol soldier in the Solar System here on Titan, hunting them down—”
David shrugged. “Back in Earth legend, a guy named Horatio guarded a bridge against a whole army. They could do the same—and they could hold out for years, even if their location were found.”
“And after years—then what?”
David nodded unhappily. “That’s the big hitch. They could last for twenty, thirty, fifty years—but they’d be dead men, in the long run. That’s what dad believes. He thinks the Big Secret, whatever it is, is sure suicide for the colony. That’s why he fought against it, tried to slow down its completion as much as he could, for fear the colony would reach the breaking point while there was still a chance of peaceful change and negotiation. But Cortell has been leading his group to believe that the breaking point has passed, that the time has come, that they should start the Big Secret into action right now, whatever it is. Oh, dad is no fool, he knows what the Big Secret is—but Cortell has a lot of the colonists believing that dad is a weakling and a traitor, that it’s too late ever to establish peace with Earth—”
“But your father is still strong in the colony—”
“He was—until now. He’s losing strength fast. A lot of people believed that he would be able to negotiate with the Colonel. But the important thing is that the Big Secret just isn’t ready to put into operation yet. It’s nearly ready, but not quite.”
Tuck nodded. “Five hundred people are a lot to take care of—for a long period of time.”
“And how! And dad is trying to make the people see that they’re choosing suicide if they follow Cortell.” The leader’s son started the motor again. “Dad doesn’t dare spill the whole story to the Colonel, because he thinks the Colonel would clamp down and report it to Security—which he probably would, considering the state he’s in. Dad’s hogtied. Earth-men and Titan colonists have hated each other for so long that they can’t imagine trusting each other. They’re from different ends of the Universe.”
The half-track started again with a lurch, and reached the top of the gully, started lumbering down the side. Both boys peered eagerly ahead; then suddenly Tuck let out a shout. “Over to the right—see it?”
David squinted against the sun. “I think—yes! That’s it!” The half-track bounced forward with renewed speed as they approached the glinting metal that had been the Snooper. At first all they could see was the tail, sticking out from behind an outcropping of rock; then the ’track moved around the rock, and they saw the wreck—
It had skimmed on its belly, ripping off one of its sled tracks, and the sharp rocks had ripped long, curling strips of the underfuselage away from the braces. The nose had burrowed a ten-foot-long ditch, and one of the little stabilizer wings had been ripped almost completely off. But worst of all, the exhaust tube showed a long, crooked split that ran right back its length toward the jet engines—
Tuck felt his heart sink. They would need tools, welding—they’d practically need a machine shop to put the little scooter back into the air. He turned to David, all his excited hopes of exploration on the rugged planet surface dashed into the black rocks just like the Snooper itself. “Looks like we’re out of luck.”
David eyed the wreckage critically. “Hmmm—” he said. “Have to weld the exhaust tube—mav even have wrecked the combustion chamber—I don’t know. But the thing was in a lot worse shape when I first put it together.” He looked at Tuck. “Are you game to try?”
“Well, we can’t do it any harm—”
“Then come on!” David checked the helmet to his pressure suit, and started to open the half-track top. “Between the two of us, we should be able to get the thing back into shape—maybe it won’t take as much work as it looks.” He was out of the half-track, moving toward the back of it when Tuck got his suit heater controls readjusted and clambered out, wondering just what they were going to work with. And then he saw the whole rear casing of the half-track peel away to reveal a huge tool case, complete with three or four large gas bottles, welding torches, metal siding, and a dozen different types of wiring on neat spools along the top.
It would be work, but there was lots of daylight left, and there were emergency lights on the ’track if they couldn’t finish by dark. In a few moments both boys were struggling with the gas bottles, dragging them over toward the Snooper, and David was clambering up into the cockpit gleefully, disappearing into the broken fuselage.
But even as he moved toward the little ship, Tuck was mulling over David’s words. A secret, a wild, hopeless plan that would destroy Earth’s power source, utterly and irreparably. A single word, a flick of the wrist, and everything could be lost. And neither Colonel Benedict nor Anson Torm could cross the barrier of hatred and distrust that had built up between their peoples over the years. Tuck’s heart sank gloomily. It was too much to expect. Nobody could cast aside a lifetime of teaching, and trust someone he had been drilled and drilled so carefully to distrust and hate. Not even a fine and wise man like his father could cross a barrier like that. Nobody could do it—