Dan Carver was whimpering, his face a mask of fear as he peered up at his captors. “Don’t tell them,” he was babbling, “Don’t tell them—take us back to Earth, do anything, but don’t let them know—” He collapsed into frightened tears, sobbing like a baby. But John Cortell just stared around him as though he didn’t believe what he saw, and then sank to the ground, a snarl on his lips. “If you want me back in the colony,” he rasped, “you’ll carry me—”
The Colonel stared down in contempt at the traitor, then jerked a thumb at him, and nodded to two of the crewmen. “Carry him,” the Colonel said.
Chapter 17
A Fearful Choice
The air was heavy with bloodshed. It hung in the huge underground meeting hall of the Titan colony; it echoed from the dark walls, and dripped from the dead rock carved generations before; it hung on every face, every grim-faced man and woman in the hall. Bloodshed hovered in the room like a ghost as the men and women gathered, muttering to each other in low tones. The faces were bitter faces, with their violence barely repressed; the mutterings were the noises of an angry crowd, driven to its limit, and when Colonel Benedict and Anson Torm walked down the center aisle to the front of the room, the muttering rumbled at their heels like a gathering storm. Their eyes were turned toward Torm and the Colonel, sullen eyes that carried the savage gleam of desperation and hatred.
And then the guards entered with John Cortell—a surly-faced Cortell, face red with anger, eyes that carried an underlying tinge of fear. The colonists saw him, half-dragged to the front of the room, and the angry muttering broke into an uproar that drowned words in a fever of cries and gestures. Fists were shaken in Anson Torm’s face. A voice cried out, “Let him go!” and a hundred shouts of approval rose like a tide in the tension-laden room.
Then Anson Torm stood up, his face grim, sweat standing out on his forehead as he faced the angry crowd. “I want every man and woman in the colony down here,” he shouted above the tumult. “Is everybody here?”
Somebody shouted, “Everybody’s here—get on with it!”
“Then let’s have it quiet!” The uproar stilled slightly, as all eyes turned to Torm’s face. “The Colonel from Security told us to have Cortell in his hands by sundown,” Torm cried. “All right. Cortell is in his hands, as directed.” He turned cold eyes to Cortell’s face as a pandemonium of protest broke loose from the crowd. “Let’s have it quiet!” he cried again. “Cortell has some things to tell you—before he’s turned over to Earth courts on charges of treason!”
The uproar burst out again, angrily. A man jumped up in the back of the room, shaking his fist in the air. “Anson Torm is the only traitor in this room—”
A cheer went up, and for an instant it looked as if the colonists would rise up and mob the colony leader. The crewmen around Cortell turned to face the crowd, guns raised defensively. And then, like a cat, Cortell caught the nearest guard a brutal blow to the side of the neck, wrenched his gun from his hand as he fell. Cortell jumped up on a chair, gun raised above his head, and a cheer went up from the crowd as the gun lowered straight for Colonel Benedict’s head.
“One move, and the Earth spy will be dead!” Cortell shouted above the uproar.
A hush fell on the room, a sudden, breathless stillness. The sullenness died on the colonists’ faces, and a cheer went up. “You tell ’em, John! You tell ’em who the traitor is!”
Cortell’s voice was an angry rasp as his eyes shot around to one of the Earth ship’s crewmen who was moving slowly back behind him. “Not a move! I warn you! Even if you could shoot me, your precious Colonel would never escape this room. And as for our fine colony leader—” He turned his eyes to Torm, jubilantly. “The shoe is on the other foot now, and you’d better not forget it. You’re through with your yellow-bellied deals and your lies, Torm—as of now!”
The room was full of cheers now. Some of the men were on their feet, ready to move forward at a glance from Cortell. But others hesitated, and waited—
And then, very slowly, Anson Torm walked to the table, and leaped up on top of it, high above the group, so that every man in the room could see him. “He’s a very brave man with a gun—yes, a very brave man.” Torm’s eyes flashed about the room. “Well, I have no gun. Take a look—my hands are empty. But I’ve got something to say, and you’re going to listen—”
“Nobody wants to hear you,” somebody snarled, and there were cheers and threatening fists. Cortell’s face darkened with anger; he started to speak, and then caught Torm’s eye. And something held him. He sneered, and stuck his hand in his pocket as Anson Torm started to speak.
“Cortell talks about yellow deals—well, listen to the deal I’ve made. We’ve won our fight—do you hear that? The Colonel came here as an enemy of all of us—he’s sitting here now as a friend. We’ve asked for equality—he’ll fight to give us equality. We’ve fought for representation, for education, for the right to go back to Earth as men, to be regarded as men—all right, he’ll fight to give us those rights.” Torm’s voice rose sharply. “We’ve fought against the lies and propaganda that have reduced us to the level of slaves—he’ll stop that propaganda, and tell the truth about Titan to the ends of the Earth! The Colonel has pledged us these things, and he’ll keep his promises.”
A mutter went up from the crowd, but Torm cut them off sharply. “But Cortell here has told you that these things will never happen. No Earthman can be trusted, he says, the time for rebellion has come, the best solution to our problems is to go aboard the ship which waits for us, leave Titan, leave our homes, leave the Solar System, take what providence will offer us and our great-great-grandchildren who remain at the end of such a voyage. This is what Cortell has been telling you, isn’t it? It wouldn’t be suicide, he says, there would be freedom for all of us, he says—isn’t that what he says?” Torm’s eyes turned to Cortell, bitterly. Cortell’s face had gone dead white, and a smile appeared on Torm’s lips. “How about that, John? Did you mean freedom for everybody? Or for just a few of your friends? Tell them about your plan, John! Tell them how you figured that the fewer people who embarked on the journey, the greater the chances for success. Tell them why you planned to leave secretly, to gather your four close friends and their wives together and leave. Why don’t you speak up, John? Why don’t you tell them how you planned to blast off with the ship and leave them here to die when you ignited the mines—”
There was bewilderment on the faces of the crowd now, and disbelief. Eyes were wide, turned to John Cortell. They turned, and saw Cortell’s face, a white, frightened mask, and realization began to dawn—
“It’s a lie!” Cortell screamed. “Don’t listen to him! He’s afraid, he’s cornered and he knows it, and he’s lying—”
“Well, who are you going to believe?” Torm cried to the colonists. He pointed an accusing finger at Cortell. “Look at him! And then look at me. Think back, and try to remember the last time I’ve lied to you in the last thirty years—think! Cortell says I’m afraid—well, look at him, and then look at me, and see who’s afraid—and then remember how many times you’ve seen me afraid—” Torm’s eyes were blazing now, and his head was high. “Count the times you’ve seen me cower and cringe and go white with fear—go ahead, name the times! Name the times you’ve seen me a coward. Count the lies you’ve heard from my lips—and then look at the man who accuses me!”