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and caulk
leaks. Remember, we're human beings—we're not equipped to live and breathe in a
methane atmosphere at 250 degrees below zero." He swung the half-track
around a heap of rocks, and rumbled up to the opening of the lock. Tuck peered
with excitement through the glimmering sheathing. The pale sun was almost below
the horizon, and the colony bubble caught the dim, ghostly light of Saturn, now
almost directly overhead. Inside the dome Tuck could see the pale electric
lights beginning to glow,
brightening the drab interior as much as anything could
brighten the dreary place. The half-track moved into the lock, and Torm began loosening his pressure-suit helmet almost at
once, the anger still black on his tired face. Suddenly the inner lock-hatch
opened with a loud ping, and the half-track moved forward until the door could
close behind it. Torm threw open the top, and sprang
out onto the ground.
Tuck
followed Torm out, holding up a hand to help his
father, his eyes taking in the street in all its details. It was a strange
street; the lock opened into a large, clear area, faced by a long, low building
of rock and wood that looked like a troops ' barracks.
The clearing stretched out to the left and right in a rough unpaved road that
curved around, following the course of the curved dome. And lining the road on
both sides were strange-looking buildings, mostly thrown together of black
stones and coarse mortar—buildings doubly strange because they seemed to have
no roofs. The rock walls rose eight or ten feet in the air to end in jagged
wall-like tops; on a few Tuck could see brightly colored woven blankets and
painted canvas thrown across the tops, but many had nothing of the sort, and
through one open door Tuck could see the bright dome shining through from
above.
Near
the lock, one of the buildings had a large porchlike arrangement, and signs were posted on the black walls—obviously a trading post
or store. Several men and women were gathered on the porch, staring at Tuck and
his father with dark, suspicious eyes, and a group of children were chattering
and pointing. Then a small, deeply tanned man broke from the group and ran
across the clearing toward them. He ignored the Earthmen as if they weren't
there, and turned to Anson Torm excitedly. "What
happened, Anson? We heard a blast—"
Torm nodded to the man, and gestured toward Tuck
and his father. "The Earth delegation, Ned. Colonel Robert Benedict and his son, Tucker. This is Ned Miller."
The
little colonist looked up at the Colonel and Tuck with sharp brown eyes, as if
he were trying to penetrate a veil; then he sniffed in disgust and turned back
to Torm . "Now I think that's real nice," he
said sourly. "But what—" His eye caught sight of the boy in the back
of the half-track. "Anson! That's David— what
happened, man?"
They
helped David out of the cab onto the ground, where he lay, still limp. The man
called Ned Miller galvanized into frantic action, waving a couple of the men
over, shouting for a stretcher. "We heard the blast half an hour
ago," he said excitedly. "We expected David to be back with some
news, but he didn't come. Is he hurt bad ?"
"Not
bad. Concussion, or maybe just shaken up a little." He turned to one of
the men. "Send over word to Doc Taber, and ask him to come running, will
you?"
"But what
happened?" Ned Miller asked again.
Torm's face darkened as he stood up. "Ambush. One of the mining charges,
with a magnetic fuse. David must have gotten wind of it, somehow. He
came over in the Snooper, and scouted it out for us—
over in Carter's gorge. Didn't touch us, but the concussion wave got the Snooper and David."
Ned
Miller scowled, rubbing his grizzled chin. " Cortell ,"
he said.
"Who
else? But there's no proof."
"Proof,
bah!" Miller exploded, his brown eyes snapping. " Cortell couldn't wait for you to get out of here this morning. He and about ten men had
a meeting, a quarter of an hour after you left, and half a dozen of his
leaks. Remember, we're human beings—we're not equipped to live and breathe in a
methane atmosphere at 250 degrees below zero." He swung the half-track
around a heap of rocks, and rumbled up to the opening of the lock. Tuck peered
with excitement through the glimmering sheathing. The pale sun was almost below
the horizon, and the colony bubble caught the dim, ghostly light of Saturn, now
almost directly overhead. Inside the dome Tuck could see the pale electric
lights beginning to glow,
brightening the drab interior as much as anything could
brighten the dreary place. The half-track moved into the lock, and Torm began loosening his pressure-suit helmet almost at
once, the anger still black on his tired face. Suddenly the inner lock-hatch
opened with a loud ping, and the half-track moved forward until the door could
close behind it. Torm threw open the top, and sprang
out onto the ground.
Tuck
followed Torm out, holding up a hand to help his
father, his eyes taking in the street in all its details. It was a strange
street; the lock opened into a large, clear area, faced by a long, low building
of rock and wood that looked like a troops ' barracks.
The clearing stretched out to the left and right in a rough unpaved road that
curved around, following the course of the curved dome. And lining the road on
both sides were strange-looking buildings, mostly thrown together of black
stones and coarse mortar—buildings doubly strange because they seemed to have
no roofs. The rock walls rose eight or ten feet in the air to end in jagged
wall-like tops; on a few Tuck could see brightly colored woven blankets and
painted canvas thrown across the tops, but many had nothing of the sort, and
through one open door Tuck could see the bright dome shining through from
above.
Near
the lock, one of the buildings had a large porchlike arrangement, and signs were posted on the black walls—obviously a trading post
or store. Several men and women were gathered on the porch, staring at Tuck and
his father with dark, suspicious eyes, and a group of children were chattering
and pointing. Then a small, deeply tanned man broke from the group and ran
across the clearing toward them. He ignored the Earthmen as if they weren't
there, and turned to Anson Torm excitedly. "What
happened, Anson? We heard a blast—"
Torm nodded to the man, and gestured toward Tuck
and his father. "The Earth delegation, Ned. Colonel Robert Benedict and his son, Tucker. This is Ned Miller."
The
little colonist looked up at the Colonel and Tuck with sharp brown eyes, as if
he were trying to penetrate a veil; then he sniffed in disgust and turned back
to Torm . "Now I think that's real nice," he
said sourly. "But what—" His eye caught sight of the boy in the back
of the half-track. "Anson! That's David— what
happened, man?"
They
helped David out of the cab onto the ground, where he lay, still limp. The man
called Ned Miller galvanized into frantic action, waving a couple of the men
over, shouting for a stretcher. "We heard the blast half an hour
ago," he said excitedly. "We expected David to be back with some
news, but he didn't come. Is he hurt bad ?"
"Not
bad. Concussion, or maybe just shaken up a little." He turned to one of
the men. "Send over word to Doc Taber, and ask him to come running, will
you?"
"But what
happened?" Ned Miller asked again.
Torm's face darkened as he stood up. "Ambush. One of the mining charges,
with a magnetic fuse. David must have gotten wind of it, somehow. He
came over in the Snooper, and scouted it out for us—
over in Carter's gorge. Didn't touch us, but the concussion wave got the Snooper and David."
Ned
Miller scowled, rubbing his grizzled chin. " Cortell ,"
he said.
"Who
else? But there's no proof."
"Proof,
bah!" Miller exploded, his brown eyes snapping. " Cortell couldn't wait for you to get out of here this morning. He and about ten men had
a meeting, a quarter of an hour after you left, and half a dozen of his
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