The Escape Orbit

Chapter 9

The complex system of tunnels and chambers had been carved out of the solid rock to duplicate the major corridors and compartments of the great Bug guardship, Hutton told him, and the dimensions and proportions were as accurate as repeated psychological probing of the memories of the prisoners could make them. As he spoke the major sounded intensely proud of the place—with justification, Warren thought.

“This was part of the mine’s original workings,” Hutton went on, “since bypassed because of low yield. Someone remembered that the useless tunnel was approximately the same length as the central corridor of the guardship, so we decided to cut out Control, Drive and shuttle-cock compartments and use it for training assault groups. The later additions and refinements—cross corridors, the Bug living quarters that we know about, dummy controls and Drive housings—were and are useful in training, but they also served as make-work for the people who, with nothing but assault drills to occupy them, would otherwise go stale. Only the more important compartments have been reproduced and the bulkheads are, of course, greater than scale thickness because of the necessity of supporting the system. The entry locks have been made as bulky and difficult to operate as the real ones, but the two things which we cannot hope to reproduce are the Bug lighting and the weightless conditions…”

Hutton broke off as another assault group pounded along the corridor past them. The men wore kilts, but there were bulky wickerwork baskets covering their heads and heavy logs strapped to their shoulders to simulate the equipment they would have to carry.

“Those kilts give too much freedom of movement,” Warren said. “The drills should be more life-like. Can you reproduce the Bug atmosphere…” he broke off, nearly strangling himself in an effort not to cough.

“It is bad today, sir,” said Hutton apologetically. “The wind must be blowing up the gorge again.”

The base of Hutton’s Mountain was riddled with interconnecting tunnels, labs, living quarters and the ventilating system which rendered them livable. The air inlets, which also served as observation and communications tunnels, joined the main network at several points while a single outlet used the chimney effect to carry away the smoke and heat from the smelter and machine shops, at the same time drawing fresh air into and through the rest of the system. This outlet emerged some distance up the mountain in a gorge so narrow and steep that the river responsible for its formation fell in a series of spectacular cataracts, the spray from which merged with the smoke so effectively that it was impossible to distinguish them at a distance of a few hundred feet much less from an orbiting guardship. But when the wind blew directly into the gorge, as it did a few times a month, the smoke did not escape completely and the interior of the mountain became barely habitable.

“Is it necessary to duplicate Bug air, sir?” Hutton asked suddenly. “There are other gases easier to produce which would be unpleasant enough to make them careful without being lethal.”

Warren shook his head. “These drills have become … well, drills—something performed without conscious thought. That frame of mind will have to go. Besides, your people working on the assault suits will be that little bit more careful if they know that the wearer can die, during practice as well as on the big day, if they make a slip.”

“The Bug atmosphere is deadly stuff, sir,” Hutton said thoughtfully. “Getting rid of it afterwards will be a problem. We’ll have to evacuate the place and rig fans to—”

“When we’ve taken the guardship, we won’t need the mountain!” Warren snapped, irritated by the objections. “Except, that is, as a place to house Bug prisoners, in which case a few tunnels and compartments already filled with their atmosphere would come in handy.”

In the flickering yellow light of the oil lamps Hutton’s face, already red from constant proximity to open furnaces, grew even redder.

“I’m sorry, sir,” said Hutton. “Maybe I haven’t fully accepted the fact that we will be taking Bug prisoners of war again.”

Warren relaxed. “You will, Major, you will,” he said, smiling. “And now let’s go and give your spacesuit technicians a pep-talk.”

Considering the necessity for concealment and the severely limited resources available, the level of technology inside Hutton’s Mountain was surprisingly high. As the weeks passed Warren gradually came to know every room and gallery and dimly-lit corner of the place, and his growing familiarity bred admiration rather than contempt. He grew used to the hiss and thump and rumble of the steam engines at every major intersection and the endless belt and pulley systems which transmitted their drive to the mechanical hammers, lathes, air-compressor pumps and to the fans which augmented the natural ventilation system. He considered normal the anvil chorus from the smithy and machine shops which echoed continuously throughout every tunnel in the mountain, the sound becoming as familiar and distracting as the ticking of a bedroom clock. He became accustomed, when the wind was in the wrong quarter, to conducting staff conferences where every fifth word was a cough, although on those days he tried whenever possible to visit the heavily camouflaged lab out on the mountainside where the gunpowder was produced and where they were currently developing more sophisticated forms of nastiness using wood alcohol, oil and various combinations of organics.

One of the most important things he learned was that Hutton only appeared to object to all new ideas and suggestions. The Major had a habit of considering minutely every aspect of a question, the snags first and then the advantages, and Warren’s original mistake had occurred because the Major was also in the habit of thinking aloud.

Hutton was now getting all the specialists he needed. From Andersonstown and from farms and villages out to a radius of two weeks travel away they came trickling in. Most of them were girls, of course, but there were enough men among the recruits to tell Warren that he was gaining support for the Escape itself and not merely operating a part-time matrimonial bureau. Naturally the weddings were coming thick and fast and, while there were any number of ex-Captains around to officiate, Fielding suggested that it would be a nice gesture and a considerable boost to a girl’s morale to be married by a Sector Marshal.

Warren did not mind. It would serve to improve and strengthen his image, he thought cynically, against the time in the not too distant future when he would have to start getting tough with some of these people.

The time came some eight months after his visit to Andersonstown, on the first occasion that Kelso and Hynds were present at the mountain together. Major Hynds received his orders first.

“You have the communications system and enough non-Committee support to begin our re-education program,” Warren said. “I want you to organize the manufacture and distribution of paper and books on the widest possible scale. Every adult on the planet must shortly have enough paper to take initially, say fifty thousand words. Wherever possible there should be consultation between them to avoid duplication of effort, but the main thing is that they commit to paper everything they know. Every fact, theory, background detail or item of personal knowledge regarding their specialties as computermen, doctors, psychologists or what have you. Also details of their hobbies and any helpful experiences gained while living on the prison planet. They must organize this data as best they can, bearing in mind the fact that they are preparing the texts from which their fellow officers will study…”

Warren broke off, then said sharply, “I caught the remark about us being lucky that paper grew on trees, Major, but I missed the rest. Speak up!”

“I said, sir,” Hynds answered warily, “that I suppose I’m the logical one to head this programme, although up to now Intelligence and Education had a very tenuous connection in my mind. But hobbies, sir! And planet-side experiences…!”

For a time Warren stared silently through the Major. There were very good reasons for preparing books on prison planet know-how, but some of them could not be given to his Staff. He also thought, self-analytically and a trifle philosophically, that while sometimes it was a good thing for a tactician not to let his right hand know what his left was doing—an enemy had two chances of being surprised then instead of one—if carried to extremes the tactician might find that he had surprised even himself. Warren could not understand why, now that everything pertaining to the Escape was going so well, the possibility of its complete failure worried him more and more. Nor could he understand why his disposition towards his Staff and other senior Committeemen continually worsened, even though both individually and as a group, his feelings toward them were little short of paternal. Unless the reason was that he liked and trusted them so completely that he allowed more of his true face to show to them than to less important people, and the face was that of a mean, short-tempered old man.

Abruptly Warren brought both his mind and his eyes to focus on the Major, realizing as he did so that his blank stare had caused Hynds considerable discomfort. In a tone so warm and friendly, and so different from that which he had been employing of late that it made the Intelligence head even more uneasy, Warren said, “All hobbies are useful, Major, some more than others. You have two fully operational gliders at Thompson Mountain which you would not have had if certain prisoners had not had the juvenile hobby of building model airplanes. And those not directly of use are usually good for morale. So far as recording prison planet experiences for study is concerned, there are two reasons for this.

“First,” Warren continued quietly, “you must have realized by now that there may other Bug prisons like this one, and that when we return to service there will be the possibility of us being captured again. I want as many officers as possible capable of forming an Escape Committee wherever they may be imprisoned. The second reason will become plain when you hear my instructions for Lieutenant Kelso…”

Not to mention a third reason, Warren added silently to himself, which he could not go into now or perhaps ever.

“I’ve a big job for you, Kelso,” he went on, “that of making the people of Andersonstown and the smaller coastal villages into sailors. You will initiate a large-scale boat building program—and not just fishing smacks; I want ships capable of carrying passengers, livestock and cargo in useful quantities over long distances. While it is getting under way you will send exploring teams to the other continent and to the islands which link it to us. As well as filling in some of the blank spots on our maps these teams will advice on likely sites for farms and villages which must be built to house the officers evacuated from this continent. As a large proportion of these officers will be townspeople they will have to study the texts produced by earlier farmers…”

The expected storm of protest came then, with Kelso as its center and Hynds, Fielding and Hutton silent only because the Lieutenant was putting forward their objections much more vehemently than they dared or were capable of doing themselves. And Kelso, Warren noted, was becoming down-right disrespectful.

“… You can’t do it and they won’t stand for it anyway!” Kelso was saying. He was beginning to run down and also to drift from the point. “There’s no need to waste men and effort exploring the other continent when there’s still enough room on this one, no reason to evacuate anyone to it, and this idea of sending everybody to night school is a sheer waste of time! In your efforts to gain support for the Committee you’re undermining it, wrecking it and everything it stands for! Look at all the women coming here, and our location is supposed to be a secret! I tell you the whole damned Committee is fast going Civilian and our security is shot to hell!”

“Our security is shot to hell … sir!” said Warren.

Fielding coughed and the two Majors began rubbing their jaws suddenly so that the lower halves of their faces were hidden. Kelso was silent for a long time, his face becoming a deeper red with every second which passed, then he mumbled, “I—I’m sorry, sir.”

“Very well,” said Warren. Still quietly, he went on, “Your two main objections are that we don’t need the other continent and that we’re all going Civilian. Well now, I personally do not care, Lieutenant, if the whole Escape Committee goes Civilian, if in so doing we are enabled to escape. With that out of the way we come to my reasons for wanting the other continent, some of which you should not have to have explained to you, Lieutenant—weather observation posts for accurate forecasting immediately prior to the Escape date, and the communications relays to bring the data to us. The Escape itself must be made as foolproof as is humanly possible, which means that no effort or sacrifice however great will be too much if by it we can allay Bug suspicions or otherwise improve the chances of the Escape by the tiniest fraction, and I can tell you that our sacrifices will be considerable. At the same time we will not move until we are as certain of success as it is possible to be.

“Even so,” Warren continued, the rasp coming back into his voice despite himself, “it would be criminally negligent and stupidly unrealistic if I did not consider the possibility of failure, or take all possible precautions against Bug reprisals, because we must assume that if the attempt aborted they would retaliate with nuclear weapons. In such an eventuality I would like everyone not immediately concerned with the Escape to be as many hundreds of miles away as possible—where, we hope, they would live to try another day.”

The expression on the faces around him were definitely subdued, Warren thought grimly, and with E-Day just under two years it was not too early to remind them of the consequences of failure. There were still far too many Committeemen who thought of the Escape as something which was always in the future, an event which would never actually come to pass.

Returning his attention to Kelso, he said briskly, “They will stand for it, Lieutenant, and you will have the job of talking them into leaving. If your well-known charm fails, there are various types of pressure which can be brought to bear. It will be a gradual process, of course, so much so that I doubt if force will be necessary at all.

“Here is what I had in mind…”