Revolt on Alpha C Page 8

  “No,” Larry said.

  “Are you sure? Hurry it up—Carter’s waiting to get things under way.”

  “No,” he repeated. “I can’t do it.”

  Harl stared silently at him. “I thought you’d finally grown up, Larry. I see you haven’t, not really. You can’t take the one step more you need to make it.”

  I can’t give up the Patrol, Harl,” Larry said. “And my father—and Earth—it’s too much to ask, all at once. Your side is right, but—” His voice trailed off weakly.

  “I see,” Harl said coldly. “You just can’t do it, I’ll tell them. All right.” He turned to leave and Larry watched him move away.

  “Harl?”

  Harl stopped and turned back.

  “What do you want?”

  “How long will they keep us in this prison?”

  “They would have let you out now. I have the key with me. But now you’ll have to stay here till your trial. I wish you had listened to me, old man; you’re not as dense as you try to be.”

  “Trial?”

  “Your spy trial. Caught in enemy territory, remember?”

  “But we had our Patrol uniforms on—” Larry objected. You can’t try us as spies if we had our uniforms on.”

  Harl laughed. “Sorry, but we’re a little too serious about this revolution to worry too much about ancient Earth rules of war. It’s harsh, but our lives depend on it. You’re a spy.”

  “But the penalty—?”

  “If they find you guilty, Larry, the penalty is the same one they have on Earth. Death.”

  The blackness seemed to close in around Larry. Death?”

  “You heard me,” Harl said. “I’m sorry, but I gave you a chance.”

  “You could help me escape—you have the key—” Don’t ask me that,” Harl said. “Maybe we were friends once, aboard the Carden. But this is war, and I’m on the other side. I can’t help you any more; you’ll have to help yourself.”

  Harl turned again and this time kept moving. Larry watched him as long as he could, until Harl disappeared in the dark. Then he looked after him. He saw that Harl was perfectly serious—that their earlier friendship would not stand in the way of the revolution.

  CHAPTER 14

  LARRY SAT QUIETLY in the darkness for a long while. He was now a martyr for real—he had had a chance to save his life by betraying Earth, and he had refused.

  But he didn’t feel at all noble. He felt like a fool. Earth had not earned his life.

  Once again the feeling that it was all a dream wandered over him. It seemed incredible that he should be sitting in a dungeon somewhere on Alpha Centauri IV, on trial for his life. He reached out to feel the wall of the cell. It was clammy and cold, and very real. This was no dream.

  He heard footsteps approaching once again.

  “Harl?”

  There was no answer. He heard the key turn in the lock, and the gate slowly swung open.

  A giant figure stood silently in Larry’s cell.

  After a moment it spoke, in a deep murmur. “No noise, lad. It’s me—O’Hare.”

  Larry could hardly repress a whoop of joy. “Pat!”

  “Right. But sorry circumstances I’m finding you under, lad. Harl’s told me you won’t be sensible, But I knew from the first you weren’t sensible. No sensible person would come back aft to sing songs.”

  So Harl’s told you everything, eh?”

  “Yes. I won’t press you any further, Larry. If you want to stay loyal to Earth, I’ll not argue. We won’t let a difference in politics end our friendship so soon.”

  I’m to be tried as a spy,” Larry said.

  Oh? I suspected as much. It looks bad, indeed. But you know what Harl said—”

  How’d you get into my cell, Pat?”

  “I’m your jailer, Larry. I have your key.”

  Larry thought for a moment. “O’Hare?”

  “Yes, Larry?”

  I want to get back to the Carden. Could you—no, I guess you can’t.”

  O’Hare bowed his head; Larry could see the gesture even in the darkness. “I can’t do it, Larry. I’ve switched sides, now. Remember what I wrote you: enemies are friends, friends are enemies. If I let you go back to the Carden, it’ll be bad for the side I’m on. No, Larry. It wouldn’t make sense.

  “You’re not a sensible man, Pat. You said so just now yourself.”

  Larry frowned. He hated to be doing this, but his father had often told him that the important thing was to survive.

  “Pat—Pat, remember that time outside the ship?”

  Larry felt his face grow hot with shame; he was begging for his life now. But he had to get out.

  “How could I forget it, lad?”

  Pat—the punishment for spying is death.”

  O’Hare silently looked at him. Larry saw now that he had O’Hare firmly caught. He wondered what he would do when he got back to the Carden—whether he would ever destroy the radio.

  “I see,” O’Hare said slowly. “I see what you want, and I can’t refuse. There are some loyalties higher than political ones, Larry. I can’t refuse.

  He held open the gate. “Go on—go,” he said in a choked voice. “Go before I change my mind. Heitor stays here, though—I don’t owe him anything too. If you’re lucky enough to get out of the building, you’ll find a jetcopter parked in back. Chicago Colony—you know the way. Due east, a thousand miles. Now, go—and good-by, lad.”

  Larry lingered for just a moment. “Thanks, O’Hare. Thanks—and good-by,” he said softly. He went through the open gate and tiptoed down the corridor, looking back just once at O’Hare, who was still standing in front of the empty cell.

  He did not feel very heroic about it all.

  Getting out of the building seemed to take years. Fortunately Larry remembered the way he had come, so he reversed his field and tiptoed through the winding corridor and up the staircase, up the second flight, and up into the main floor of the building.

  A door in the main hall was open, and Larry saw Carter, the head of the revolutionaries, seated at a desk, reading some reports. No one else was in sight.

  Larry considered running through the hall and out the open door, but decided against it. Carter would certainly be attracted by a running figure, but he might not even bother to look up at someone merely walking out of the building.

  Slowly he walked through the hall, as if he were walking on eggs. He passed Carter’s office with his breath drawn in, walking almost on tiptoe, eyes rigidly forward. Carter tinned almost automatically to look through the door as Larry passed, and then turned back to his desk, apparently not realizing who it was going by.

  Another step, then another, and Larry was through the open door and out into the fresh Centauran air. Alpha Centauri was high and burning yellow; off in the comer of the sky was pale Beta with its ghostly light. Proxima, the third sun in the system, was nowhere to be seen; the tiny red star was probably below the horizon.

  Now, to find the copter, Larry thought. O’Hare had said it was parked “in back.” Larry trotted quickly around to the back of the administration building, but found an empty lot and nothing more.

  He scowled and bit his lip. This was bad. Without a copter, he was as good as in the cell, since he was a thousand miles from help with no means of reaching it. A trek through the jungle was impossible—Larry recalled his earlier jungle experience, and tried to multiply it by a thousand. He thought of the wingfingers hovering overhead, and the great reptiles. He needed a copter.

  He looked up. A hundred yards away was the great wall. And—he whistled in amazement—parked atop the wall was a jetcopter.

  Larry set out in a sprint for the wall, his boots clattering against the concrete street and sending echoes reverberating through the quiet colony. He arrived at the wall winded and quickly found the steps leading to the top. lie paused for breath before beginning the climb, looked around, and saw three figures come running out of the administration building.

 
; The chase was on already. He had less time than he had thought.

  Larry climbed the wall in a rush and ran toward the copter. Standing next to it, calmly polishing its propeller, was Jon Browne.

  They stared at each other in mutual amazement.

  “What are you doing up here?” Browne said as Larry approached.

  “I could ask the same thing. But never mind that. I need your copter.”

  Browne looked down to the ground. Larry’s eyes followed, and he saw men starting to climb the steps to the top. Not much time left, Larry thought.

  What? Do you think I’m going to let you escape? Let s see what these men have to say about it.”

  I want the copter,” Larry repeated.

  “You can’t get away with this,” Browne said, determined to stall until the reinforcements arrived.

  All’s fair in war, Larry thought grimly. He knocked Browne sprawling and leaped into the copter.

  It was then that he discovered it was an ancient model and he had no idea how to start it.

  He studied the control board for a moment, then pressed a button which seemed to be a starter. The copter gave a little lurch and jumped ten or twelve feet in the air, and hovered directly overhead. Larry looked out and saw three colonists coining up to the top of the wall, and Browne struggling to his feet and pointing.

  “No time to waste,” he said, and pressed another button. The copter shot away from the wall at a blinding speed, and headed out over the jungle. He looked back and saw a group of colonists standing on the wall—he could barely make them out at this distance—and waving their arms furiously in the air. Larry wondered how long it would take for them to begin to pursue.

  He looked back and saw a pair of copters coming after him. But he had a considerable head start on them, and they seemed to be dropping farther behind, until at last they veered off in another direction and disappeared. Puzzled, Larry devoted his attention to his main problem, which was finding Chicago Colony.

  A thousand miles due east, O’Hare had said—but which way was east? He had no compass. He could be going in any direction at all. He decided the best plan would be to continue straight ahead.

  The copter seemed to fly itself, once it had been put into motion. It maintained a steady course, almost skimming the tops of the trees, heading straight and fast.

  Larry studied the steaming jungle below. It was all that could be seen. There was no sign of London Colony behind, nor of Chicago Colony ahead. All around, front and back, was the jungle.

  As the copter rushed by, Larry caught glimpses of the great beasts living below—living without any suspicion that the planet was no longer theirs, that its possession was being contested by two groups of absurd pygmies from another star.

  The wingfingers were abundant over the jungle. Larry got a good view of one which kept pace with the copter for a minute or two. It was mostly wing, with a tiny body surmounted by a long, fierce beak. The wings were leathery and were stretched batlike on a framework formed from the greatly extended fingers. Larry’s wingfinger seemed perfectly capable of moving at the great speed of the jetcopter, but after following along for a short time it sheered off and swooped down on the treetops below.

  The copter continued its steady course. Time drifted by; Larry almost forget where he was and what was happening, as he watched the monotonous green below. But after a while he noticed a dot of gray up ahead, which grew and grew until he realized it was the great wall which ringed Chicago Colony.

  He hovered over the colony for a moment, wondering how to land the copter. There was no apparent landing gear, and he didn’t want to risk a belly-landing. Finally he decided to hover over the wall and leave the copter floating in mid-air while he clambered down the rope ladder.

  Now he knew he had to get back to the Earthmen quickly. He still was not sure whether he would tell Reinhardt everything that happened or smash the radio after all, but he knew he had to get back. He raced down the steps and toward the first colonist he saw.

  He was a dark-skinned man with a beard. Larry ran up to him.

  “Can you tell me where the Earthmen are quartered? I think I’m lost.”

  The colonist spoke in a soft, deep voice with an overtone of puzzlement. “What Earthmen? Are you feeling well, boy?”

  Larry stared at the colonist. What he had suspected of being a dream was fast turning into a nightmare.

  “The Earthmen from the Spaceship Carden, sir. They were living at the Chicago Hotel, but I can’t seem to get my bearings.”

  “You’ll have difficulty finding the Chicago Hotel here, young man. This is Bombay Colony.”

  “But—” Larry stopped, overwhelmed by rage and frustration. He realized what he had done: he had gone the wrong way and landed at Bombay Colony, which was off to the west, instead of at Chicago Colony. No wonder the London Colony copters hadn’t bothered to chase him; they saw he was going to get lost.

  The problem now was whether Bombay Colony had been alerted for him and would imprison him again.

  He noticed the bearded colonist watching him curiously.

  “I have to get back to Chicago Colony immediately,” Larry said. “I’m lost.”

  The head of the Bombay Colony was a tall, distinguished man with an unpronounceable name. Larry explained his predicament in as few words as he could, saying nothing about the revolution but simply acting like a frightened cadet who had been joy-riding and had gotten lost. If communications between the colonies were as slow as he hoped, they might help him before they found out he was a fugitive.

  The man with the unpronounceable name nodded his head.

  “I suppose we can redirect you,” he said. “Where did you leave your ship?”

  “My ship is hovering over the wall, sir,” said Larry. “I couldn’t figure out how to land it.”

  He waved to a young man in a military uniform standing near the door. “Come on, then. We’ll have to get it down before a wingfinger flies off with it,” he laughed. “Chandra—you’ll find a copter hovering over the wall at 140 North Quadrant. That is where you said you came down, isn’t it? Give this fellow a compass and point him toward Chicago Colony and let him.”

  Larry breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently there would be no trouble here.

  “You care to stay here tonight as our guest?” the tall man said.

  “No,” Larry said nervously. “I’m afraid they will miss me if I stay away too long.”

  “All right,” the tall man said. He nodded dismissal.

  He sat in silence until the ship reached Chicago Colony. This time Larry recognized some familiar buildings. He left the copter hovering over the wall again and headed for the hotel, expecting at any minute to be stopped by men who had followed him from London Colony or Bombay Colony or by Chicago Colony revolutionaries. But he walked unopposed and unnoticed through the quiet streets.

  Finally he found the Chicago Hotel. He realized for the first time that he had not the slightest idea how much time had elapsed since he had left Chicago Colony. There had been the trek through the jungle, and his stay in the dungeon, and the wrong-way trip to Bombay Colony. It might have been hours or days.

  He was bedraggled and exhausted. His once-proud uniform was tom and ragged; his face was grimy and covered with sweat.

  He decided the first thing to do was to report to Captain Reinhardt.

  CHAPTER 15

  THERE WERE RINGS under the captain’s eyes; this had been no pleasure jaunt for him. Larry saluted as crisply as he could, but he was unable to conceal his fatigue.

  “You’re back just in time,” the captain said. “Last night’s meeting puts us in an awkward position.”

  Last night’s meeting! Then the whole adventure had taken not quite twenty-four hours! Larry tried to arrange the thought to fit his fatigue.

  “While you were gone, Chicago Colony voted to join the revolution. Henrikstown came through with a repeat vote. Only Bombay Colony seems to be leaning back to Earth again. But that means we�
��re likely to find ourselves in the midst of a revolution—a shooting one—before long. What did you learn in London Colony?”

  Larry made up his mind not to tell of the plan to sabotage the radio.

  “It’s the center of the revolution,” he said. “The leader is a man named Carter. London Colony has already proclaimed itself the capital of the Free World of Alpha C IV,” he said. “Carter is the provisional president of the revolutionary government.”

  There was a knock on the door. President Harrison of the loyalist government entered.

  “Do you know a man named Carter?” the captain asked.

  “Revolutionary leader at London Colony,” Harrison said. ‘He’s the one who started it all. Everyone at London Colony is solidly behind him and favors a revolutionary war if necessary.”

  How about the other colonies? Will they fight?”

  “Chicago Colony probably will. I’m not sure about Henrikstown; Bombay Colony is divided half and half but is supposedly more pro-Earth than not, and won’t revolt. But they’ll support London Colony if all the other colonies do.

  “Where’s van Haaren?” Captain Reinhardt asked.

  “We were both captured by the London Colony colonists,” Larry said. “I escaped; he’s still there. I found a jetcopter and got away, only I went the wrong way and wound up at Bombay Colony. They sent me here.”

  “What did you find out about London Colony?”

  “That they plan to revolt, sir.”

  The captain scowled. “More definite! When? How? Didn’t you find out anything more definite than that?”

  Larry felt his face go red.

  “This information may be vital to Earth, Cadet Stark. Do you realize that? Now: what did you find out?”

  “I can’t, sir.”

  Captain Reinhardt looked at him with eyes burning with anger. “You—can’t? You can’t what? Are you in your right mind, Cadet Stark?”