Tongues Of The Moon Part 8

"Don't worry," he said. "We'll try harder the next time-if that's possible."

"If there is a next time. I have a feeling that something bad is going to happen and very soon."

"We'll see how your so-called woman's intuition works out.

I'll see you later. I have to attend a meeting. But don't expect much. I'm very tired. I've had about three hours'

sleep in the last thirty, and those were very trying hours."

"Including our honeymoon?" she said, but she smiled. "A man should be fresh and strong then, darling. I'll get some sleep-I hope-and then I'll see you."

He kissed her briefly on the lips and walked away. However, he was not to return as quickly as he had hoped.

Radman had called his officers together to discuss their procedure in case the Axe fleet remained in full force. Broward did not see much sense in this. It would be better to find out first if the enemy had come to establish bases. Otherwise, why waste time. Perhaps, Radman was doing this to give them something to occupy their thoughts and keep them from getting jittery. In any case... the next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake by the captain seated next to him. Radman was glowering at him, but, before he could say anything, Broward apologized. Thereafter, he had to struggle to keep his eyes open during the seemingly unending discussion. He managed, although without contributing anything of his own.

After listening to anybody who cared to volunteer, and there were many dissenting opinions, especially from the Chinese, Radman made his decision. If the scout indicated that the Soviet must evacuate, then the fleet would make a run for it to Ganymede. On the way, a ship carrying the bomb Broward had brought back from Earth would approach close enough to Mars to launch it. The Axe fleet would find out about the destruction of their home base sooner or later. When it did, then it could either surrender to the Soviet or die when its supplies were exhausted. Or it could start digging in some place, the Moon or Mercury. In either case, the Axe would be vulnerable to attack.

Broward did not understand why it would not be much better strategy to send one ship with the bomb against Mars while the Soviet fleet remained holed up. Why expose it? Why not lie hidden until the Axe fleet found out that the Martian colonies were destroyed? If Argentineans then decided to rebuild the Moon bases or to dig deep into the interior, they could be simultaneously attacked by the Soviets already within the Moon and the fleet now in this cavern.

Did Radman have some ambition of his own to become supreme leader of the survivors? Did he hope that the Axe would locate Scone's group and destroy it?

Broward did not know. But be felt too tired and disgusted to care much at the moment. Dismissed, he left the conference room and returned to the scout ship. There, he found Ingrid waiting for him. The sight of her renewed his desire. He did not get to sleep as soon as he had planned. "Do you know," he said drowsily just before he sank away, "this is what people everywhere should be doing. They should be making love at night, and in the daytime theyshould be working for their loved ones. Not thinking about how to kill and to keep from being killed. Wouldn't it be nice if everybody was doing just that?"

"If they were, we wouldn't be here," she said. "None of this would have happened; the Earth would still be populated, have air pleasant to breathe, and..."

"But it's not a nice world. Rather, sometimes it is, but most of the time..."

He was awakened by a voice from the com. "Captain Broward! Captain Broward! Report at once to Commander Radman on the bridge! Lieutenant Nashdoi! Lieutenant Nashdoi! Report at once to Commander Radman on the bridge!"

He jumped up from the air-mattress, shook Ingrid until she roused, and began dressing. Once she understood what was happening, she put on her uniform, hastily combed her short hair, and followed him into the Zemlya. There was much activity aboard, with every one busy at work or trying to look as if he or she had something important to do.

"What's up?" Ingrid said to Broward as they entered the huge navigation room where the officers'

conferences were held. Then, she stopped so suddenly that he b.u.mped into her, and she gasped.

He did not need to ask her what had startled her. There, standing behind the commander's desk, taller and bigger than any man in the room, was Scone. "How... how...?" said Ingrid, but Broward gave her a little nudge and said, "Don't be frightened. What can he do-Scone gave them one long look, his features impa.s.sive, then he said something to Radman. The commander spoke loudly, "Take your seats! Colonel Scone will address you!"

Broward guided Ingrid to a seat, for she still seemed stunned, and he sat down beside her. Not caring that it was an unmilitary action, he took her hand in his. But he continued examining Scone.

The big man's face was smudged with dirt; his uniform jacket was ripped down one sleeve. And his eyes were circled with the blue of fatigue.

His voice, however, was as loud and powerful as ever; he did not seem to have lost a whit of confidence or authority.

"You must be surprised because I am here. You thought I was with the others in the refuge. And so I was.

And how I got here is not important, because I made sure before we sealed up the main entrances to our cavern that there would be at least one exit. Its location is a military secret and will remain so until circ.u.mstances dictate otherwise."

By then, the entire audience was in a state of frenzied speculation, though silent, and many were semi-stunned. It seemed obvious that something terrible had happened and that Scone was the only survivor.

He gave ope of his rare smiles and said, "I know what you are thinking. But you are only half right. The others are not lost-at least, not all of them, by any means. What happened is this..."

The Moonmen had entered the t.i.tanic bubble and had set off the chemical reactions that would melt down the bases and gla.s.s over the rocky floors. They did not dare destroy the bases with the small atomic bombs available because the Axe fleet was so close it might have detected the explosions and certainly would have noticed the too-high radioactive background. Then, beams had melted the rock that formed the entrance tunnel. This was done to prevent the Axe detecting the tunnel with magnetometer readings. Because Clavius was in the sun's shadow, the hot rock on the surface would cool quickly, quickly enough so that the Axe would not notice the heat-it was hoped.

Then, the Moonmen waited. They were not inactive, however, for all hands were busy moving equipment to suitable places and to set it up. Since this bubble was to be the permanent habitation of most of them, the oxygen-generators had to be operated full blast. The water had to be melted. Construction of buildings was started.

Rock was chewed up and blown into the machines that would convert the minerals therein into edible, though tasteless, food. Other rocks were broken down into fine particles and mixed with chopped-up garbage to make soil into which plants could fix their roots. Sunlamps were set up to beam on the plants, and water was sprayed over the ground.

During this, Scone kept watch. Above him, on the surface, was a boulder. Set within the boulder was a TV tube, the exterior surface of which looked just like lunar rock. A wire ran from the boulder beneath the rock and down into Scone's hiding place. He watched the Axe fleet approach warily. Their automatic scouts had already tested the defenses of the bases and found them wanting. They had also relayed the information that all the bases on the Moon seemed to be in ruins. Nevertheless, the first wave was composed only of gunboats which carried a few men and much detection apparatus of various kinds. The scouts poked around the shattered and melted fragments for an hour. But they must have signaled that all was well, for the big ships began to arrive.

Even so, if the vessels at Clavius were any indication of the number that landed at the other bases, then half of the Martian fleet must still be somewhere far above the Moon. Scone had no time to continue his surveillance, for he was called away. (By this statement, Broward guessed that Scone's post was not within the big bubble. That is, if he were telling the truth. The rest of his story made Broward wonder if the first part had conformed to reality.) The officer communicating with Scone had reported that the Chinese element had attacked the others. They were using lasers, machineguns, grenade lobbers, and handguns. The onslaught had been entirely unexpected-by the Russians, that is, for Scone had not trusted any non-Americans even at this critical time. So, the Americans on guard warned the others immediately, and the Russian contingents had received the full force of the attack. Fully half of them were casualties in the first two minutes. But, vicious as the Chinese had been, they must have been making an effort to save the women for themselves. A third of these escaped to the American lines-if it could be said that there was any such thing as a 'line' in that melee.

Scone, on hearing the news, did not hesitate. He pressed the b.u.t.ton that sent pulses to the activationmechanisms of the three neutron bombs buried under the surface of each crater floor, of Clavius, Eratosthenes, and Fracastorius. For the second time within three weeks, a large proportion of the human race died. The soldiers and sailors of the Axe dropped where they stood. The beauty of this arrangement, as Scone made clear, was that the ships and equipment were left unharmed, available for use by the Moonmen.

Then, Scone hastened with a party of soldiers (so, thought Broward, he was not alone nor was he unprepared) to the bubble. All wore gravpaks and they got to their position quickly. This was an outcropping near the top of the cavern; on it was placed a powerful laser. Using this and the advantage of being able to see everything and everybody by the light of flares, they first put the Chinese big lasers out of commission. Afterwards, they destroyed the machine guns and grenade-lobbers and their crews. Most of the Chinese, though they realized they were defeated, fought to the end.

When it was over, all the Oriental men were dead or too badly wounded to keep battling. Ten Chinese women, however, were captured. Their enemies also wanted s.e.xual mates and breeding stock.

At this moment, Broward realized consciously what he had only felt before as an undefined lack. That is, no Chinese personnel had been summoned to the meeting. This meant that Scone's next move would be to arrest and imprison them. Perhaps, they were even now in custody, though it did not seem likely because he would need his officers to carry out the move.

By then, despite the fact that the a.s.sembly was a formal military one, the room was in an uproar. Many of the Russians present were weeping or crying out questions to Scone. Some, however, sat in their chairs and kept their faces impa.s.sive. Broward wondered if these were not having the same doubts as he, that Scone had been the aggressor and had struck a blow to get rid of his opposition. Whatever their thoughts, they were keeping them to themselves. They wanted to continue to live; perhaps, to get revenge if their suspicions were proven valid later on.

Broward felt sorry for them because they were human beings. But, as an American whose country had been weakened by treachery and insidious cold-warfare, then violently conquered and savagely treated after defeat, he felt that they were getting what they deserved. If Scone had been treacherous and deadly, he had learned from masters in such.

Not that Broward approved of what he did. At this time, when so few men and women were alive and every one was needed, a blow against anyone was a blow to the whole species. Yet, he understood why Scone had acted so-if he were guilty.

Scone shouted above the tumult until he succeeded in quieting them.

"It has happened, and, regret it as we may, we cannot undo it. Nor can we rest. The enemy within has been conquered. The enemy without still lives, although he, too, has suffered greatly. However, he can afford to suffer more than we can, since his numbers are greater. And, now he knows that we are not out of the battle, he will begin searching the Moon, although he will do so very cautiously. He cannot turn tail and run back to Mars. Of course, he must consider the possibility that our bases were almost wiped out but that the few survivors left b.o.o.by traps for the Axe. He'll consider this, but it won't make any difference to him. If he thought there was only one Soviet left alive on the Moon, he'd not rest until that lone survivor was dead or in chains.

"If the Axe search very thoroughly, they're bound to detect this cave. But it will take much time. Time is what we need, and what we'll get. Time to send the planet-shaker bomb to Mars and annihilate all our enemies except those who are s.p.a.ceborne. As soon as that is done, we inform the Axe fleet and give them a choice of surrendering or fighting. If they decide to battle, they will have to deal not only with us but with the Ganymedans and Mercutians.

Some hours after I received the report of the approaching Axe fleet, I sent emissaries to each of those bases to ask for help. I am sure that, once they realize the stakes, they'll send every ship they can."

Unless, thought Broward, they realize that what has happened to Scone's enemies here may eventually also happen to them. But, no, they would not know because the battle within the Moon had taken place after they left. Still, if they were as suspicious of Scone as he was of everybody else, they might refuse. Or, there might not even be anybody alive on the moon of Jupiter or the planet nearest the sun. The Axe might have taken care of them before they converged on the Moon. A Russian, four seats from Broward, suddenly leaped up and screamed, "You treacherous dog! You planned this! You want to kill all those who are not Yankees! Die! Die! Die!"

He pulled an automatic from his holster and fired at Scone. The big man dropped behind his table. Broward shoved Ingrid down on the floor and jumped at the Russian. The man had gone mad, his mind snapped, for he fired once again at the p.r.o.ne figure of Scone and then began to shoot at those nearest him.

The other Russians, perhaps fearing that the pistol shots meant that they were to die like the Chinese, pulled their weapons out. Those nearby, not too stunned to move, responded. The chamber was filled with the booming of guns, the shrieks of wounded men, the hoa.r.s.e cries of men shouting in hysteria and fear. There were scuffles as men seized the Russians and tried to drag them down; some of these fell, struck by bullets from their own comrades, who were firing in a frenzy.

Abruptly, it was all over. Most of the Russians lay silent But the melee had cost the others even more heavily. Fifteen Russian dead; twenty Americans and Europeans dead or badly wounded.

Broward, untouched by bullets, made his way through the shouting people until he found Ingrid. She was sitting on the floor, white-faced, and was staring at him with enormously wide eyes.

"You all right?" he said.

She shook her head to indicate that she was not harmed. He had to sit down then, for he found himself shaking violently. It was some time before he could control himself. "G.o.d," he moaned to Ingrid, "if this keeps up, we'll destroy ourselves."Ingrid started to answer but closed her mouth. She pointed, and Broward, looking in the indicated direction, saw Scone standing up on the platform behind his desk. His face was pale, but he did not seem to be wounded. The energy and authority he showed within the next few moments were not those of an injured man.

"Now, have you seen enough!" he shouted. "Do you need any more convincing? Our enemies have conspired from the beginning to kill us off so that they could inherit the world. They have failed. But our job is not yet complete."

"You, Radman, detail men to arrest all Chinese, men and women. Put all Russians under arrest, too. Place them in the SA tanks!"

He was referring to the suspended amimation chambers in which it had originally been planned to put the personnel of the Zemlya during the many years that it would take to reach Tau Ceti. This action, thought Broward, was at least humane. He had expected Scone to order all the male Russians and Chinese executed.

"Don't worry," said Scone to the unvoiced questions of many. "Later, when we have defeated the Axe, we will remove the women from the tanks. And the men also will be released, but much later and one at a time so that we may evaluate their trustworthiness, their ability to integrate with us after they have been properly deconditioned."

He looked at Broward. "You! Go to my office and wait there for me."

Broward said softly to Ingrid, "Let me handle this. I'm sure he doesn't know we're married. I'll break the news."

He walked away and entered the office. Not wishing to give Scone the feeblest excuse for trouble, he did not sit down but stood before Scone's desk, ready to spring to attention when he came in. It was a long wait, only ten minutes by his wrist.w.a.tch but interminable by other standards. Finally, when Broward was beginning to wonder all sorts of things, even that Scone was angry enough to accuse him of treachery, the commander walked in. He strode to his desk, sat down, placed his big hands on the desk, and looked at Broward grimly.

"So," he said, "we have taken one more step towards the defeat of our enemies. Now, give me a report of your trip to Earth. Make it brief, however. I know that you came back with the bomb."

Broward told his story, the false and true details spilling out easily. Scone kept his pale blue eyes fixed on Broward's face as if he were trying to read behind the flesh. Then, when Broward ended with the account of his ship's landing at the port of Clavius, Scone seemed to relax a trifle. He leaned back and said, "It couldn't have gone better."

By which Broward knew that Scone was pleased not only with the retrieval of the bomb but the solution of the problem of the "Jew." At that moment, Broward hated Scone as never before. He even thought of killing him, but he did not act on the thought. If he did so, he would be as much a monster as Scone. Moreover, he himself would undoubtedly be executed a few minutes later. No, he wanted to live, to enjoy life with Ingrid, and to ensure the survival of mankind-although he was doubtful that mankind was really worth saving.

He did derive a bitter satisfaction from the knowledge that Moshe was safe and that Scone, although he would never know it, was cheated.

"We have the bomb," said Scone. "How do we use it?" He was speaking out loud to himself, for he would never have asked Broward for advice. "This mission to deliver the bomb must not fail. It is our greatest, I might almost say, our only chance to defeat the Axe."

He glared at Broward. "You realize that I cannot go on this expedition. I cannot trust these people. Some of them might try to take over while I'm gone."

"I know," murmured Broward.

"I need somebody who has proven himself."

"Me?"

"You will have to admit that, logically, you are the candidate."

Broward nodded his head and thought, If I complete the mission but should die while doing it, then Scone, once again, will have killed two birds with one stone. And I will be the means of the murder that I hate, the instrument of the murder that I hate.

"Like it or not," continued Scone, "I have to spare one ship. That will be the one that already has the bomb attached to it. Hmm. I made a mistake. I should have ordered you, once you had the bomb, to proceed to Mars with it.

Then, it would all be over. No, it wasn't a mistake. I had to know for sure that you did get it."

"I am not a professional navigator," said Broward.

"That does not matter. You know enough to get there. In this day of automatic devices, a man does not have to be highly skilled to pilot a s.p.a.ceship. If he knows enough to feed the proper data into the computer... we will program most of the flight. I can't spare more than one man."

"So much depends on the success of this," said Broward. "You can't afford to take a chance. We can't afford..."

"One man, one ship," replied Scone firmly. "Two men won't help. It wouldn't help if I sent my entire fleet out with you. In fact, the fewer in s.p.a.ce, the less chance of detection."

"Sir," Broward said, "I request permission to take along my wife!"

"Your... wife? I didn't know you were married?"

"Ingrid Nashdoi and I were married shortly before you showed up, sir."

"Who gave you permission? I specifically..." Scone's voice trailed off, but Broward knew what he meant to say.

"I did," said Broward. "It's legal."

"Why should you want to take her along? It's a very dangerous mission."

"If either of us were to die, the other wouldn't want to live. If we have to die, then let it be together."Broward hoped that Ingrid would agree with him; he was sure that she would.

Scone's lips curled and he said, "All very sentimental, I'm sure: I might say, the sentiments of a bourgeois."

"That is the way we feel, sir."

"Broward, you know that the life of every woman is precious. The future of the race depends upon her. If I sanctioned this stupid senseless move, I would be betraying my trust, the survival of mankind."

"Very n.o.ble sentiments, sir. Those of a true leader, who is devoted to his species."

"None of your sarcasm. What I have done, I have done to ensure peace in the future and a life worth living.

No, Broward, your request is not granted. No! Would you like to sit down? You look faint."

"I'll stand. How do we proceed, sir?"

"You must be tired. Go rest. I want you to be in as fine a shape as possible, since you have an extremely grueling task ahead. We will set up the flight and make the ship ready. You will be awakened."

Broward saluted and turned to leave, but Scone said, "Oh, yes. You must not be disturbed. I'll station a guard so you won't be bothered by visitors."

"I understand," said Broward. Furious, but helpless, he walked away. When he had gone through the conference room, instead of obeying his orders, he went to the biolab to look for Ingrid. She should be taking care of the "freezing" of the Russian and Chinese prisoners. He found her at the controls of a large console, making some adjustments needed for the preliminary "treatment" of those about to be frozen. These were out of sight in another room, but he was familiar enough with SA procedure to know that they had been put to sleep with an anaesthetic gas.

He bent over her as if he were asking her a question about her work and said softly, "Keep on working, Ingrid. And don't look surprised or alarmed. I've been ordered to deliver the bomb to Mars. I'm not supposed to see you; I'm supposed to be resting."

Ingrid continued to watch the indicator lights and meters on the panel. She said, "Mars! Why didn't you ask Scone if I could go with you? You know..."

"I knew, and I did ask. He refused."

"Can't you say no? Tell him you will not go?"

"You know better than that. He'd either have me shot or else placed in the tanks with the others."

"Couldn't I stow away?"

"Not a chance. Scone will make sure of that."

"Isn't there anything we can do?"

"We can hope. First, the Axe must be destroyed. Afterwards, who knows what will happen? I've seen things take too unexepeted a turn to think that Scone will always have his way."

"I want to go with you to your room at least."