The faces were turned to John Cortell now, white faces, faces with the truth dawning in them. A hundred faces turned to him, two hundred, and voices began to rise. “Listen!” Torm cried. “I told you he’s betrayed you—that he planned to leave in secret with Carver and Taggart and Strang and Yeakel, to take your ship and leave you behind. He was all ready to go when we caught him—” He glanced narrowly at the rear of the room, and said, “Well, we can prove it! Look around you! Who is missing from the room right now?”
Eyes looked around, wide, frightened eyes, eyes filling with sudden suspicion. There was a hush over the room; then a woman let out a gasp and cried, “Their wives! Where are their wives?”
There was silence, as though a huge curtain had fallen over the room. Then Torm said, “Bring ’em in, Ned. Show the people who we found on board the star-ship!”
There was a scuffle on the stairs, and then four figures were pushed down the center aisle, figures still clad in pressure suits. The room was still as death as they marched forward—Dan Carvers wife, Johnny Taggart s wife, Rog Strang’s wife, John Cortell’s wife. They moved forward like people condemned, their hands covering their faces—
And then, as the crowd rose in fury, Cortell jumped down from the chair with a roar, gun tight in his fist. Slowly he backed toward the stairs, covered on either side by Pete Yeakel and Rog Strang. His face was a mask of fear now, and when he reached the stairs he broke and ran as the mob fell upon his lieutenants. One of the Earth ship’s crewmen was up the stairs in a flash, jerking his gun from its holster as he ran. Cortell was heading for the main tunnels; his footfalls rang out on the cold rock ground, until a shot rang out* and he fell, arms flung out, and lay kicking helplessly, blood streaming from his leg. And then the crewmen were around him, keeping back the colonists, waving down the bitter shouts, until stretcher-bearers came from the infirmary, and Doc Taber took over, and Cortell was taken away. And then they turned again, and went back to the hall.
It was much later when Ned Miller appeared at the door to Anson Torm’s cabin, just as the Colonel and Tuck were finishing supper. He stood in the doorway, awkwardly, rubbing his stubbled chin, twisting his mining cap in his hands. Then finally he stepped inside, nodded uncomfortably at the Earth Colonel.
“You did a fine job, Ned,” Anson Torm said. “The timing was perfect—and I thought you’d find the women aboard the ship, especially when I couldn’t spot a one of them in the crowd—”
Ned nodded uneasily. “Anson,” he said, “I’ve got to say something—”
Torm looked up. “What is it, Ned?” The little miner shifted from one foot to the other. “I’ve been delegated,” he blurted finally. “Some of the men got together, after the meeting was over. They want me to talk for them—” He looked up, his eyes unreadable.
Torm stood up in alarm. “What’s the trouble?”
“We want to go,” said Ned Miller softly. “We want to take the ship and go—”
Torm’s jaw sagged. “Ned! What are you saying?”
“We mean it, Anson. The Colonel’s given us promises—I know that. But we’ve heard promises from Earthmen before. Many promises, wonderful promises. And always, in the end, we were worse off than before—”
“Ned, this is different now!”
“I know you believe that,” the little man said doggedly. “We—we’d like to. But we can’t.”
Torm’s face was white. “What are you trying to say, Ned?”
“I’m saying we’ve worked on the ship for years. I’ve worked on it, without knowing what I was working on—until today. But I knew it was a hope against hope, something we could count on, something we could build our faith into. There’s nothing here for me, not any more, not with my faith built into that ship. And there are a lot of men who feel the same way. They’re afraid the Earthman will go aboard his ship tomorrow and take it up, and bomb our star-ship to smithereens. And then where would our hope be? Then what would prevent him from coming back down, and throwing us all into chains—even you? Or if not this Earthman, then the next, or the next after him. It would be the end, the bitter end of four generations of work—”
Torm sat silent for a long time. Then he said, “What do your men want to do, Ned?”
“There are a hundred and forty of us—men, women and children. We talked, and we all feel the same. We want to take the ship and go.”
Torm’s face was gray. “You know the chances of ever finding a landing—”
“We know. But it’s a hope. We can have faith in it. The star-ship is the only answer, for us. If the others want to stay, take their chances, that’s their choice. For us, we want to take the ship while we can.”
Torm looked at him, the weariness of long years written on his face. “I—I can’t give you permission, Ned. That’s the man who can give you permission, or not, as he sees fit.” He looked sadly at Colonel Benedict.
Ned turned to the Colonel, a desperate light in his eyes. “If you mean the promises you’ve made to Anson, then prove your faith. Give us permission to go.”
Colonel Benedict stared at the man. “Why, to allow you to take that ship would be to violate every principle of the Earth Security Commission. I’d be liable to a general court-martial. It’s unthinkable—” He stood up, a strange light in his eyes. “It would be the biggest scandal Security has had on its hands for a hundred years—Anson, do you realize what it could mean? It would bring a wholesale, total investigation of the whole Earth-Titan relationship!” He stared at the colony leader, excitedly. “It would bring this colony under the spotlight like never before. People could see what’s been happening out here; they could see the truth about the colony, instead of the lies they’ve been hearing! Why, Security would be turned inside out with investigation, and in a court-martial I could tell the truth, and there would be no brushing my report aside—they’d have to listen!”
“Then you’ll let us go?” Ned Miller’s voice was eager.
“Let you? You have my full, official permission—I’ll give it to you in writing, with an Earth Security seal!”
Ned turned to Anson Torm. “We have Security’s permission, Anson,” he said. “We want our leader’s permission.”
Torm sighed. “Make me a listing of passengers,” he said. “We’ll help you finish supplying the ship and make it ready. And as for us who remain—” He looked proudly at Colonel Benedict. “We’ve got a fight on our hands. Hie sooner we make our plans, the better—”
Chapter 18
“When Two Strong Men—”
The next days were exhausting. The list of the colonists who were leaving on the star-ship was long; I the men studied it carefully, and the weariness grew in Anson Torm’s eyes as he checked name after name—friends of many years, men and women he had known and loved and fought for. Yet he knew that for them, their decision was the right one. The years of hatred and bitterness had left its mark on the colony, a mark that nothing could erase, a mark so deep that no human decision could now change it. And behind that mark was the knowledge that a hundred years of work and sorrow lay behind their decision.
The boys pitched in with the rest in the tremendous task of making the ship ready for its final journey. With only a hundred and forty people aboard, the chances for a successful voyage were far greater than they ever could have been with the whole colony. But the boys saw something that their fathers perhaps did not see—they could see the greatness of the adventure, they could feel the call of the unknown challenge that lay before the ship. They worked in bright-eyed eagerness as they saw the supplies rolling up the ramp, the few personal belongings of the embarking colonists installed in the tiers of small lockers in the huge sleeping quarters of the ship. Here was the call of the stars—one small ship, manned by men who had no place in the land they were leaving. The ship sat still and proud as the work progressed, its silver nose pointed toward the dark sky, and as the boys worked, their excitement grew.