The room was filled, every seat, every bench. At the head of the room Anson Torm sat at the table, a huge service revolver on the table in front of him; the electric lights were dim, and someone had erected two huge torches that burned smokily on either side of the room, making flickering shadows dance along the rough-hewn walls. Colonel Benedict was also in the front of the room, sitting to one side, his face an angry mask. And standing up in the center of the room was a huge, burly man, talking in a heavy bass rumble. The man held a hat in his hand, and his words were greeted with a mutter of approval from people on all sides.
“—All I know is what I can see, Anson,” the big man was saying, wrenching his hat nervously in his hands. “I been with you right down the line—you know that’s a fact. But what Cortell says is beginning to sound just about right.”
“You mean what Cortell’s stooges have been spreading around the colony—is that right?” Anson Torm’s voice cut like a knife in the still air.
“I got eyes,” the miner snapped back. “What I see is you and this Earthman throwin’ Cortell in jail, and holdin’ secret meetings. I don’t like it. Maybe I don’t think Cortell’s always right, but he’s a colonist, and he’s got the good of the colony at heart—”
“And that’s more than some people can say,” a voice snarled from the rear. A dozen men burst into angry approval. “What have you got to say, Anson?” somebody shouted. “Cortell says you’re selling us out—”
Another man jumped to his feet, shaking his fist. “You’ve been whining around this Earthman’s feet for two days now—where has it got you? You’ve been saying there’d be changes, that Security would listen to us when they sent a man out—well, how about it? Where are the teachers for our kids? And the money for the new school—how about that, Anson?” The man’s face was bitter. “What about the building materials they’ve promised us for years, so we wouldn’t have to live in these hovels? When are they going to send us the men we need to run this place so we don’t have to work sixteen-hour days?”
Torms eyes flashed angrily. “Do you think I can help Security’s broken word? Who do you think is stopping all these things? Me? Do you think I am?”
The man on the floor raised his hand and pointed at Colonel Benedict. “That’s the man that’s doing it—and you’re playing right along with him! He’s got the power and authority to get changes made if he feels like it. But he doesn’t feel like it. All we hear is more work and less food.” He turned his eyes to the crowd, waving his hands wildly. “Well I say throw ’em both out! Shut down the mines for a while, and see how Earth Security likes it. I say let’s go along with Cortell—”
A cheer went up in the room. Another man was on his feet—it was Taggart, the man Tuck had seen making the rounds of the cottages after Cortell’s escape. “Seems to me there are two men to blame,” he said, his voice very loud and smooth. Faces turned to him, angry faces. “The one of them is just a spy, an ordinary stooge like all of them Security sends out to crack down harder on the whip. But the other one is worse than any spy could be—” His eyes caught Anson’s face, and he stabbed a hand at him, savagely. “That’s the man you want to watch. We can fight Earth—and we can win! Don’t listen to the old man; listen to the one that’s on your side. We can blow up the mines and starve them for power—we could have done it years ago, but oh, no, Torm handed us lots of nice words and pretty promises. Well, the time to break it off with Earth is now. Suicide? Hogwash! Blow up these mines, and Earth is stripped! And even if it is suicide—” he paused, glaring around the room. “Well, we’ve got fathers and grandfathers who died for this colony—what’s wrong with you? Are you afraid? Have they got you cowed? Torm is the traitor—let’s throw him out, send him back to Earth with his spy friends, and let a man lead the colony like it ought to be led—”
Torm stood up slowly, his face very tired. With a trembling hand he banged on the table for silence. Then he said, “In six months the laws governing this colony call for a convention of all colonists and a general election—either to confirm the old leader, or elect a new one. That’s the law—you voted for it; you laid it down. When that election comes, it’ll be you who does the voting, and you can vote for the Devil himself, for all I care. But until then, I’m still the leader here, with the power to sign warrants and enforce law. And I say John Cortell has attempted murder. I say he’ll stand trial for it, and anyone who’s helping him will stand trial. Shut up, Taggart, you’ve had your say, just the way Cortell told you to say it. Now 111 have mine.”
He brushed a hand over his forehead, and leaned forward, both hands on the table. “You’ve done a great job tonight,” he said bitterly. “A great job. You expect Earth Security to trust us, to give us more freedom, more education, more respect—and then you put on a show like this. Well, it won’t work. You want to go along with Cortell’s insanity—well, that won’t work, either. It’s suicide. What you’re talking about is the end of the line. And as long as I’m leader, I won’t let you do that—”
Taggart was on his feet again. “We’ve had about enough of your soft talk, Anson. How about it, men? Are we going to wait for an election? Cortell says the time is now—are we going to give this Earth spy six months to get a nice fleet of Security Patrol ships out here to fight us?”
One of Torm’s men jumped to his feet, hands in pockets, avoiding Anson’s eyes. “Now wait a minute, Taggart—we’ve got to go slow. This—this all is happening too fast.” He looked unhappily at the colony leader. “Anson, I’ve been with you, too—but now I don’t know. We’re in too deep now. Cortell’s plan is risky, I admit that—but you can see for yourself—” he gestured helplessly.
“Attaboy!” Taggart shouted. “How about some more of Torm’s men? Carter? Aaronstein? Miller? What have you got to say?”
“I say you’re a pack of fools!” Ned Miller shouted, jumping up on a chair so he could be seen. “This colony has never had a better leader, and you know it. Cortell’s plan risky? Is cutting your throat risky? You’re fools, the whole crowd of you—”
The whole room was explosive now; Tuck caught David’s arm, whispered sharply in his ear. “We’ve got to do something! This place is going wild!”
David shook his head desperately. “We can’t. There’s no time—”
Tuck saw his father, sitting like a statue, his face bleak. He looked tired and old, as though the life had been torn from him, and he was a corpse sitting there in the front of the room. Then suddenly Colonel Benedict came to life; he slammed his fist down on the table, and stood up, bitter anger heavy on his face. He was dressed in full Security uniform, and he stood proudly, his back straight, gray hair perfectly combed, mustache crisp above thin-drawn lips. This was the picture that was so familiar, Tuck thought, the picture of Earth that the colonists had, and hated so much. The Colonel stepped in front of the table, and the uproar subsided, reluctantly, every eye turning to the Colonels face.
“I’ve heard about as much of this as I want to hear,” he said quietly, and his voice held a whiplash in its softness. “I don’t care a hang whether you consider me a spy from Earth, which I am not, or a legal, authorized delegate of the Earth Security Commission, which I am. And I do not care a nickel whom you elect as your leader, or what kind of petty little squabbles you insist upon having in this colony. But as far as what you do in the mines is concerned, I’ve heard enough nonsense in this room tonight to last me for the rest of my life.”