IV
They went in and up the ladders into the sealed storage space next the convict quarters. There was a huge cylinder of lead suspended over the mouth of the duct from the extractor.
"They must collect the stuff when they bring oil and supplies," said Loris. "Well, MacVickers, what happens to us now?"
MacVickers looked at them, the lines deep in his face. "We all agree, don't we, that there's no hope of escape? If we wait until the next supply ship comes and try to take it, we lose the chance of doing—well, call it our duty if you want to. That is, to wreck their only source of the explosive that's winning the war for them.
"I think you know," he added, "what our chances of taking that ship would be, without offensive weapons or any protection against theirs. It would only mean a return to this slavery, if they didn't kill us all outright."
His grey-green eyes were somber, deeply bright.
"It comes down to this. Shall we turn this bell into a disintegrator bomb, setting the Jovium free to destroy its own and every other metallic atom in the mud, or shall we gamble our worlds on the slim chance of saving our necks?"
Loris looked down at the deck and said softly, "Why should we worry about our necks, MacVickers? You've saved our souls."
"Agreed, then, all you men?"