“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 whispered. “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.”
“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.