"I don't understand," protested Wilding.
"You must take responsibility for your own kind. That is our law. In
your dealings with us, it must be yours."
Wilding shrugged, then agreed soberly. It seemed that his authority
carried accumulating responsibility with it.
Return to the prison colonies of the outer caverns was without
incident. Though surprised to see him alive, his fellow convicts
received his news boisterously. Wilding cut short their enthusiasm and
rapidly assigned tasks.
Time was short, and there was much to be done. For reasons concerned
with the relative proximity to a new-type spaceship that he had
previously cached in the asteroid belt, everything must be accomplished
before the next scheduled arrival of the supply ship, or even sooner
if an unscheduled prisoner delivery should occur. With atomic power,
anything was possible. Prisoners turned to with a will as soon as
radioactive ores, already processed, began to pour into the caverns,
proving the Pit Men as good as their word. Grouth and Wilding oversaw
the tooling of weapons and stockpiling of vital supplies. Concor
supervised technical jobs.
Work went on. In any subsurface world, time is arbitrary, an artificial
thing of clockwork and labor expended. It passed rapidly.