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its occupants about the inside like dolls in a box, but Anson Torm wrestled the steering bar, gunning the machine as fast
as he could make it go. At the top of the rock he slowed, spotted the scooter
lying with a crumpled wing and a split-open jet, on the floor of the gorge
below the place of the explosion. Torm turned the
half-track in that direction, and it roared on down
the hill. All three of them watched the wreck, but there was no sign of life
from the little scooter. It seemed a lifetime as the half-track made its way
down; as they came closer, Tuck felt his stomach muscles tighten. Somehow,
David must have known that an ambush might be planned to destroy the half-track
as it returned from the ship; when he'd not been allowed to see his father, he
had waited, then scouted the pathway for them as they made their way back to
the colony. Tuck suddenly felt sick—David had been telling the truth, there on
the ship! And Tuck had had to pick that time to be stuffy and suspicious. And
he had thought himself very clever the way he had handled the flamboyant
visitor! Quite suddenly and incredibly, as they moved down toward the wreckage
of the jet plane, Tuck felt deeply ashamed. The blond-haired lad had had the courage
to risk his own life to save them from a trap— and now he was down there in the
smashed jet—
They
reached an outcropping above the jet scooter, and Torm was out of the half-track in an instant. The Colonel and Tuck followed, staring
at the crumpled wing and smashed-in undercarriage of the little ship. And then,
even as they approached, the cockpit flew open, and David appeared, moving
feebly, dragging himself up out of the seat. Torm let out a
cry, and helped him down to the ground, checking his helmet for leaks as the
boy muttered incoherently. Then David's knees buckled under him, and
they eased him down to the ground.
"It's unbelievable," Torm said, his voice choking.
"He's alive. And no bones broken— probably just a
slight concussion." He motioned toward the half-track, and together they
carried the youth, pressure suit and all, into the cab of the machine, made a
place for him on the floor behind the seats where some oilcans had been stored.
They were silent; as they moved the lad, the anger in Anson Torm's face grew like a gathering storm. "They did it this time," he
muttered as he took his place behind the controls of the half-track. "They
went a step too far this time. If it hadn't been for David they'd have gotten
all of us—"
The
Colonel stared at Torm , wide-eyed, and there was
bewilderment on his face. "I don't get this," he said. "I can
see somebody ambushing us— Tuck and me —but you were in this half-track too—"
Torm's eyes were filled with bitter anger. "A
remarkable observation," he said sourly. "Now maybe you'll believe
me when I tell you I'm on your side. This was well-planned—magnetic fuse on a
land mine, so that anything metallic that came into that gorge would be gone. Beautiful. Even David missed it, until he brought the
scooter in at the same level as the halftrack. And it was supposed to kill two
birds with one stone." He turned a bitter grin toward the Colonel and
Tuck. "Or maybe I should say three birds—"
"And you know who
planted the trap?"
Torm looked up again, and his eyes were not pleasant. "Yes, I know who did it. And I know what
to do about it. I think it's time for a showdown with John Cortell ."
Chapter 6 The Prisoner
r
tE colony lay
tight and compact in the long, shallow valley between the two parallel lines
of black, jagged peaks. A queer, bulbous, glistening bubble of heavy plexiglass surrounded the entire outpost like an alien
cocoon. Tuck stared at the huge bubble wonderingly as the half-track rumbled
the last hundred yards down the grade toward the entrance lock. "You mean
that that plastic stuff covers the entire colony?"
Anson Torm nodded grimly. "Every crack and leak is
sealed off with the stuff, or with the plastic gum we use to seal off
as he could make it go. At the top of the rock he slowed, spotted the scooter
lying with a crumpled wing and a split-open jet, on the floor of the gorge
below the place of the explosion. Torm turned the
half-track in that direction, and it roared on down
the hill. All three of them watched the wreck, but there was no sign of life
from the little scooter. It seemed a lifetime as the half-track made its way
down; as they came closer, Tuck felt his stomach muscles tighten. Somehow,
David must have known that an ambush might be planned to destroy the half-track
as it returned from the ship; when he'd not been allowed to see his father, he
had waited, then scouted the pathway for them as they made their way back to
the colony. Tuck suddenly felt sick—David had been telling the truth, there on
the ship! And Tuck had had to pick that time to be stuffy and suspicious. And
he had thought himself very clever the way he had handled the flamboyant
visitor! Quite suddenly and incredibly, as they moved down toward the wreckage
of the jet plane, Tuck felt deeply ashamed. The blond-haired lad had had the courage
to risk his own life to save them from a trap— and now he was down there in the
smashed jet—
They
reached an outcropping above the jet scooter, and Torm was out of the half-track in an instant. The Colonel and Tuck followed, staring
at the crumpled wing and smashed-in undercarriage of the little ship. And then,
even as they approached, the cockpit flew open, and David appeared, moving
feebly, dragging himself up out of the seat. Torm let out a
cry, and helped him down to the ground, checking his helmet for leaks as the
boy muttered incoherently. Then David's knees buckled under him, and
they eased him down to the ground.
"It's unbelievable," Torm said, his voice choking.
"He's alive. And no bones broken— probably just a
slight concussion." He motioned toward the half-track, and together they
carried the youth, pressure suit and all, into the cab of the machine, made a
place for him on the floor behind the seats where some oilcans had been stored.
They were silent; as they moved the lad, the anger in Anson Torm's face grew like a gathering storm. "They did it this time," he
muttered as he took his place behind the controls of the half-track. "They
went a step too far this time. If it hadn't been for David they'd have gotten
all of us—"
The
Colonel stared at Torm , wide-eyed, and there was
bewilderment on his face. "I don't get this," he said. "I can
see somebody ambushing us— Tuck and me —but you were in this half-track too—"
Torm's eyes were filled with bitter anger. "A
remarkable observation," he said sourly. "Now maybe you'll believe
me when I tell you I'm on your side. This was well-planned—magnetic fuse on a
land mine, so that anything metallic that came into that gorge would be gone. Beautiful. Even David missed it, until he brought the
scooter in at the same level as the halftrack. And it was supposed to kill two
birds with one stone." He turned a bitter grin toward the Colonel and
Tuck. "Or maybe I should say three birds—"
"And you know who
planted the trap?"
Torm looked up again, and his eyes were not pleasant. "Yes, I know who did it. And I know what
to do about it. I think it's time for a showdown with John Cortell ."
Chapter 6 The Prisoner
r
tE colony lay
tight and compact in the long, shallow valley between the two parallel lines
of black, jagged peaks. A queer, bulbous, glistening bubble of heavy plexiglass surrounded the entire outpost like an alien
cocoon. Tuck stared at the huge bubble wonderingly as the half-track rumbled
the last hundred yards down the grade toward the entrance lock. "You mean
that that plastic stuff covers the entire colony?"
Anson Torm nodded grimly. "Every crack and leak is
sealed off with the stuff, or with the plastic gum we use to seal off
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