it—"
For the first time Colonel Benedict stood up,
turned to Torm . "I take it you don't expect to
find this madman."
Torm looked up with cold blue eyes. "We
don't stand a chance in a million, thanks to you. Cortell's support is growing every minute. He's got over a third of the colony on his
side now—and with that he can hide where he likes, and he'll never be
found."
The
Colonel scowled. "That's very nice," he said sourly. "And just
what is it that Cortell wouldn't try?"
Torm's eyes narrowed. "He can't do anything—or
at least he won't, as long as we can keep weapons out of his hands."
"These mining tunnels—they go for miles
back underground, don't they?"
Torm's eyes flickered. "That's right."
"And how many tunnels
are there?"
"Dozens. There are three or four hundred miles of
tunnel going out of the colony, one place or another—"
"Then what's to prevent Cortell from holing himself up in one of the tunnels with
his friends, and blowing the entire colony to kingdom come?"
"Nothing could prevent it, if Cortell wanted to do it. It would be very simple. There's
methane outside on the planet's surface. It would be a simple matter to break
through someplace in the tunnel and let methane into the colony—he could do it
in a dozen places, and we wouldn't have a chance of stopping him. And then when
it got to a critical mixture, just a single spark, a single lit match, and the
colony would go off like an atom bomb." Torm's eyes met the Colonel's defiantly.
"Anyone
in this colony could have done that, years ago—but we haven't. And Cortell won't do it, either. Not now." "Why not?"
"What would it accomplish? There he'd
be, and as soon as his supplies gave out, or his oxygen, he'd be as dead as we
were."
Colonel
Benedict leaned over the desk, staring straight at the colony leader. "But
for years and years supplies have been coming in here, smuggled supplies, above
the colony's quota, Anson. Food, plants, equipment,
tools—everything." His eyes blazed. "I think it's time for you
to do some talking. I'm tired of this run-around. I want to know where those
supplies have gone, and what Cortell plans to do with
them. I want to know who's behind the smuggling that's been going on, and why it's been going on." The Colonel's knuckles tightened on his chair.
"A criminal is at large in the colony, and you sit quietly by and say,
'Oh, he won't hurt anybody, he won't do any damage, let him be.' All right, if Cortell is not able to put his plans for revolt in action
now, I want to know why not."
Torm spread his hands. "He just won't. He
can't."
"Then
what's blocking him?"
Anson Torm's face was set. He didn't answer.
"I
want the truth, Torm . What are his plans? What's
blocking him?"
"I can't tell you—" He broke off as
a group of men came tumbling down the stairs into the
meeting room, angry-faced men, talking rapidly among themselves.
They
gathered in a group, still muttering angrily and looking darkly at Anson Torm when a tall, thin man walked up to Torm ,
hands on his belt. "What's the idea of sending men up with guns to break
out the arsenal?" The man's anger was barely controlled as he glared down
at the colony leader.
Anson Torm looked up calmly. Then he nodded to the Colonel.
"This is Colonel Benedict, of Earth Security. Colonel, meet Rog Strang ."
The
man called Strang glared at the Colonel for a moment,
and then spat on the floor. "I didn't come to talk to this scum. I came to
talk to you. Your men are cleaning out the arsenal. What's the idea?"
"I ordered them to. There were guns
stolen from it last night, as you probably know well enough. Cortell is at large, as you also know quite well. And as
long as I'm leader of this colony, Cortell's not
going to get any more guns."
Strang sneered. "Maybe you're not going to be
leader for so long. The people want you to lay off Cortell .
He's the only one who's talking sense around here, and he says the time has
come to quit taking it lying down from Earth Security.
For the first time Colonel Benedict stood up,
turned to Torm . "I take it you don't expect to
find this madman."
Torm looked up with cold blue eyes. "We
don't stand a chance in a million, thanks to you. Cortell's support is growing every minute. He's got over a third of the colony on his
side now—and with that he can hide where he likes, and he'll never be
found."
The
Colonel scowled. "That's very nice," he said sourly. "And just
what is it that Cortell wouldn't try?"
Torm's eyes narrowed. "He can't do anything—or
at least he won't, as long as we can keep weapons out of his hands."
"These mining tunnels—they go for miles
back underground, don't they?"
Torm's eyes flickered. "That's right."
"And how many tunnels
are there?"
"Dozens. There are three or four hundred miles of
tunnel going out of the colony, one place or another—"
"Then what's to prevent Cortell from holing himself up in one of the tunnels with
his friends, and blowing the entire colony to kingdom come?"
"Nothing could prevent it, if Cortell wanted to do it. It would be very simple. There's
methane outside on the planet's surface. It would be a simple matter to break
through someplace in the tunnel and let methane into the colony—he could do it
in a dozen places, and we wouldn't have a chance of stopping him. And then when
it got to a critical mixture, just a single spark, a single lit match, and the
colony would go off like an atom bomb." Torm's eyes met the Colonel's defiantly.
"Anyone
in this colony could have done that, years ago—but we haven't. And Cortell won't do it, either. Not now." "Why not?"
"What would it accomplish? There he'd
be, and as soon as his supplies gave out, or his oxygen, he'd be as dead as we
were."
Colonel
Benedict leaned over the desk, staring straight at the colony leader. "But
for years and years supplies have been coming in here, smuggled supplies, above
the colony's quota, Anson. Food, plants, equipment,
tools—everything." His eyes blazed. "I think it's time for you
to do some talking. I'm tired of this run-around. I want to know where those
supplies have gone, and what Cortell plans to do with
them. I want to know who's behind the smuggling that's been going on, and why it's been going on." The Colonel's knuckles tightened on his chair.
"A criminal is at large in the colony, and you sit quietly by and say,
'Oh, he won't hurt anybody, he won't do any damage, let him be.' All right, if Cortell is not able to put his plans for revolt in action
now, I want to know why not."
Torm spread his hands. "He just won't. He
can't."
"Then
what's blocking him?"
Anson Torm's face was set. He didn't answer.
"I
want the truth, Torm . What are his plans? What's
blocking him?"
"I can't tell you—" He broke off as
a group of men came tumbling down the stairs into the
meeting room, angry-faced men, talking rapidly among themselves.
They
gathered in a group, still muttering angrily and looking darkly at Anson Torm when a tall, thin man walked up to Torm ,
hands on his belt. "What's the idea of sending men up with guns to break
out the arsenal?" The man's anger was barely controlled as he glared down
at the colony leader.
Anson Torm looked up calmly. Then he nodded to the Colonel.
"This is Colonel Benedict, of Earth Security. Colonel, meet Rog Strang ."
The
man called Strang glared at the Colonel for a moment,
and then spat on the floor. "I didn't come to talk to this scum. I came to
talk to you. Your men are cleaning out the arsenal. What's the idea?"
"I ordered them to. There were guns
stolen from it last night, as you probably know well enough. Cortell is at large, as you also know quite well. And as
long as I'm leader of this colony, Cortell's not
going to get any more guns."
Strang sneered. "Maybe you're not going to be
leader for so long. The people want you to lay off Cortell .
He's the only one who's talking sense around here, and he says the time has
come to quit taking it lying down from Earth Security.
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