Old Brockman had been right--it was no place for a spaceman. Now it
was probably too late. No Terran space freighter would accept him and
Intergalactic could not. There was not even a way for him to recover
his service records.
"Will you join us, Mr. Craig?" asked one of the men. "We can use your
skills, particularly your knowledge of space."
"Look, how do I know you aren't a bunch of traitors? Maybe all this
you've told me is true. I've seen plenty of that bureaucracy and there
seems to be damned little freedom of action left on Terra. But how do I
know you can do any better when you get in power?"
"Liberty will never be 'in power,' Mr. Craig," Cocteau said quietly.
"Liberty will attempt to reach the minds of the people with our message
of hope, of freedom in true democracy."
Another of the group joined Cocteau. "We are now hunted as criminals.
We have only this small stronghold in the old city."
"We shall attempt only to gain entry to the minds of the people," said
Cocteau. "Gain entry to tell them how they live, for most of them have
had no contact with any other kind of life."
"It would mean killing a few people," Craig pointed out.
"One of the basic principles of Liberty is the inherent goodness of
every man," Cocteau repeated. "We have never taken a life, even in
self-defense. We shall never take one. Nor will it ever be necessary
for a member of the Liberty party to hold public office, to own a
weapon, to coerce a man in any physical way."
"But you will coerce them with ideas. Is that what you have in mind?"
Craig protested.
"If a point of view, a promise, a goal is coercion, then the answer to
your question is yes. But ideas are not dangerous when a man is free to
argue and act against them."
"Look here, Cocteau," Craig said earnestly, "all you say may be true.
I believe it is. But what can I do? I'm a spaceman, or at best an
apprentice import clerk. I don't know anything about this sort of work."
"Come here a moment," invited a member of the group.
Through the window indicated by the man, Craig saw an incredible sight.
The entire scene seemed to be on the inside of a vast underground
cavern. There were other buildings and some kind of systematic work
being done by many men and women. But the thing that caught Craig's eye
seemed to be cradled in a kind of hangar.
"A spaceship!" exclaimed Craig.
"A very modest one, yet not so modest when you consider that it was
necessary to carry in every single piece and part by hand."
"Good Lord!"
"_You_, Mr. Craig, might captain that ship. Very few Terrans have
ever even flown in one. It will be necessary to establish contact with
possible assistance outside of Terra. You can make that possible."
Craig was thoughtful. "I suppose, now that I've seen all this, you
can't let me leave here unless I join you."
"No," denied Cocteau. "You may leave here any time you like."
"I'd be sure to get caught, of course...."
"Within limits, it might be possible to help you avoid capture."
Cocteau reached into his beggar's coat and withdrew a wallet. "Identity
card, food ration, clothing, work card, even a Government party card.
It's all here, Mr. Craig. You could have a slightly altered physical
appearance. Liberty accepts no unwilling members. You are given as
nearly a free choice in this matter as is possible to give you."
"Suppose I talked?" asked Craig, nodding bluntly toward the port.
Cocteau smiled. "It was necessary to prepare for that. You were given a
drug. It has not affected your thinking capacity in any way. But once
it wears off, you will be unable to remember what took place while
under its influence.
"When agents of the Liberty party are sent out of here, they go having
had all experience with Liberty take place while under the drug. None
of us could remember for more than a few hours the exact location of
this headquarters. When it is necessary to leave for very long, we
carry a small amount of the drug with us. Many of our agents have
been caught and a few have resigned. But none has divulged enough
information to harm us seriously."
Craig was postponing his decision to the last. "They must know you're
somewhere in here. If the radioactivity keeps them out, why shouldn't
they put a cordon around the entire old city?"
"Periodically, they try. But there are many, many other ways of leaving
here than by the surface. Underground water conduits, ancient power and
sewer lines, a number of tunnels we have dug...."
Craig was solemnly handed the wallet.
"If you will submit to sufficient plastic surgery to make you resemble
this man, you may safely leave here no later than tomorrow night."
A long silence ensued. It was interrupted by a noise from outside the
door of the room. It was the voice of Phil.
"Has he decided to stay? Did you see him? He looks like my daddy
did.... Will he stay?"
"You mustn't interrupt, son. They're in conference now. We'll let you
know."
"Tell him yes!" said Craig in a loud voice. "Tell him hell, yes, I'm
staying!"
The men gathered around him to congratulate him on the decision.
Phil was allowed in the clinic to join them.
"Oh, Cocteau, one more thing," Craig said.
"Yes?"
Craig was fumbling for his own wallet. He extracted a folded card.
"Where would East 71, North 101, Number 4 be?"
"It _would_ have been somewhere here in Old City."
"God! How did the old guy expect me to deliver this message? Old
man named Brockman. He sent me a message just before he died in
Gravitation. I was to visit his wife."
"Brockman?" asked Cocteau. "You mean Ethel Brockman?"
"Yeah. How'd you know?"
"Ethel Brockman was one of the organizers of the Liberty party. She
served as its chairman until her death only a few years ago. Her
husband must have felt your 'sea legs' would lead you to us eventually.
And, of course, they did."