later," he said. "I am not particular who rescues us. I am an American,
you know. I owe something to the Soviets too. When you look at the
world from here, from another planet, these distinctions of nationality
seem so--somehow--unimportant. We are all humans, all from the same
ancestors. Even if we were not brothers, we would feel ourselves such.
Our roots go to all parts of the world. If you add up all people's
ancestors a hundred generations back, you will realize that there can't
be anyone who is not distantly related to everyone else--that we all
share somebody in our ancestry who lived in every country of the world,
shared all the histories of the past and all the different politics and
opinions."
Peter grew quiet, as if a little amazed at his own outburst. Robin drew
close to him, threw an arm around him. "I think when more men get out
among the stars, people are going to realize that we can't afford to
think of ourselves as anything other than citizens of Mother Earth.
In the face of the universe, of Moonmen, of the inhabitants of the
millions of other planets that must exist, our national differences
seem so small, so much a private family matter as not to be thrashed
out in the public of our interstellar neighbors. I think it's good we
are brothers. All men are brothers."
Robin threw the switch.
Outside, the crater suddenly lighted up in a blinding white glare,
a blaze that threw wild, dancing black shadows several miles across
the floor, that momentarily lighted the great crags and precipices
of the mountains, that made an outburst of grandeur in a moonscape of
unearthly terror and beauty.
Five minutes later, when the flares had died down, Robin again threw
the switch. The second set of magnesium bombs went off and again the
crater was brilliantly lighted.
"On Earth that should stand out very sharply. It is nearly a new moon
for them. This spot of light will be like a blinding diamond on a black
velvet setting," said Peter poetically.
They rested now, taking their space suits off, lolling around on two
hammocks, just talking, renewing acquaintance, exchanging experiences.
They ate another meal, slept, finally donned their outfits again and
set off the next set of flares a half Earth-day later, when the massive
area of Eurasia was on the face of the globe in the Lunar sky.
"Now the Russian observers have had a chance to see us," said Peter.
"We ought to go back to the underground world again. Our supplies here
are not enough. In order to eat and breathe the next few months, we
will have to live among the Glassies. We have to go back to the great
cleft again."
"Yes," said Robin. "And that brings up the question of Von Borck. He'll
be waiting for us, you know."
His brother nodded. "Ah, but this time we will be the ones who are
armed and ready." He reached down, took out a second gun belt, handed
it to Robin. "Use this. Strap it around your space suit."
Robin looked at it, lifted the pistol in its holster. "It's an army
automatic," said Peter. "A Tokarev .30, built much the same as an
American Colt. Here, I'll show you how it works."
He cautioned about the lack of a safety catch, showed how to load the
clip of bullets. "Be careful of it, though. It has a strong kickback on
Earth--here on the Moon, it may be quite tricky to fire a gun."
They dressed again in their outfits, loaded on other supplies that
might come in handy, including a light carbine, hunting knife and axe,
and waterproof pack of matches. They slung the gun belts around their
waists, tied the nylon cord to each other as an added precaution, and
made a last check of the rocket cabin.
The little radio signal was still humming. Some day it would bring a
rescue ship. Whether that would be a matter of months or a matter of
years was the only question. Robin gulped a bit at the prospect of
spending more years away from his own world. Sight of Earth, the taste
of real food had made him quite homesick.
He thrust such thoughts away, snapped tight his helmet plate, and
nodded to Peter. They climbed out of the rocket, sealing the air-lock
door. They stood for a moment outside the wreck, taking their bearings.
They turned to head for the cliff wall, when something went _ping_
off a metal fixture on Robin's helmet. He started, pulled back and
something seemed to flick past his eyes and pop against the side of the
rocket.
He yelled and ducked for cover. "Look out, Peter! Get down!"
Standing on the surface, just outside the narrow crack that led
underground, was the figure of a man--a man wearing a space suit
similar to theirs, with a small dark object in his hand which issued a
little flash of red fire.
"It's Von Borck," gasped Robin, "and he's shooting at us!"
_18. Madman's Battle_
Robin lay flat against the ground, holding himself motionless. Peter's
voice came over his helmet-radio. "Did you get hit?"
"No," said Robin. "Something may have chipped my helmet but there's no
leak, so I guess it wasn't a direct shot. How about you? Where are you?"
From his position he couldn't see his brother, who had obviously fallen
somewhere near. "I'm down just behind you," came Peter's voice. "We'll
have to find better cover than this. There's a slight ridge about a
foot high a couple of yards to your left. Crawl over to it and get
behind it."
Robin cautiously raised his head. It drew no fire and he realized that
lying down in the darkness of the gray surface, the greenish Earthlight
was not sufficient to outline him to Von Borck's eyes. He eased up on
his arms and crawled slowly to the ridge. Behind this was a measure of
protection. He was now free to twist his body around to look for Peter.
In the cumbersome helmet and suit, the only way he could look around
was to move his whole body.
Peter was crawling after him slowly. There was a sudden spurt of dust
from the ground just behind him, like a tiny geyser. "Von's still
shooting at you," said Robin. "Hurry!"
Peter slid quickly into refuge behind the ridge at Robin's side.
Twisting his body, he unstrapped the light carbine rifle from his back,
brought it around in front of him. "Have you ever fired a rifle or a
pistol, Robin?" he asked.
"I learned some target shooting at school," said Robin. "I was a pretty
fair shot. But I never handled a revolver."
Peter slid the rifle over to him. "Then you use this. I'll use my
pistol. We'll have to get him before he gets us."
Robin held the rifle awkwardly. He glanced at it, saw that it was
loaded, slid the bolt action. "I don't like this," he said. "If there
was only some way we could capture him and hold him until we're
rescued. You said he's a good man with rockets. Maybe he can be
straightened out mentally if we can get him back to Earth."
Peter shrugged, grunted. "Don't waste time dreaming. Sure he was a good
engineer. But right now it's him or us. If he has his way, none of us
will ever return to Earth alive. Just remember he's doing his very best
to kill us--we cannot dare do any less. Sure, if we get a break, we'll
capture him. Right now, though, we'd better shoot him or we'll never
get out of this alive."
Peter suited his action to his words. He clumsily forced his thickly
gloved finger through the trigger guard and grasped the pistol. He
swiftly raised up, aimed, and pulled the trigger.
There was a flash of red and simultaneously Peter fell over backward
and rolled over once with a yell of pain. Robin turned, stricken with
horror. "What happened! Are you hit?"
Peter's voice came back. "No, I'm not hit, but I almost wrenched my
arm off! It was the gun's recoil, the kick! I completely forgot what
a terribly strong recoil a pistol would have on the Moon. It was like
holding a rocket engine in my hand for a split second. It simply hurled
me right over."
Peter rolled himself over on his chest, resuming his position next to
Robin. "We'll have to be careful when we fire. Remember the kick will
be many times stronger than back on Earth."
There was another spurt of dust to one side of them. Another evidence
of Von Borck's shooting. Possibly he had caught a glimpse of Peter's
scramble.
Robin slid the rifle out in front of him, cocked it for firing. He
crawled to a break in the ridge, propped the butt of the gun against a
small outcropping of rock along the surface, rolled himself clumsily
into position. Raising his head, he saw the figure of Von Borck still
standing against the narrow entrance to the wall. He aimed the rifle as
well as he was able under the handicaps, pressed it hard, and pulled
the trigger.
He felt a sharp shock as the rifle tried to kick out of his hands,
but he had bolstered it well. He saw a chunk of rock split from the
cliffside just over the German's head. Von Borck ducked as the dust
began to fall upon him in its slow Lunar fashion, then the German moved
back into the break.
Robin again aimed the rifle, this time directly at the dark center of
the break in the cliff. Again he fired. This time the figure of the
space-suited man backed out of sight entirely.
"What now?" asked Robin. "Shall we wait for him to come back or shall
we try to follow him?"
"Better take the chance and go after him," said his brother's voice.
"Must follow up every advantage."
"Then let's go," said Robin and leaped to his feet. Peter jumped up
with him and they both started to sprint for the entrance in the cliff.
They ran for it in low, swift leaps, and this time Robin saw what ease
and fun running on the Moon's surface could be if you had the proper
outfit for it. It was so light and easy, like running in a dream,
gliding rapidly over the faintly lighted eerie moonscape in a world of
absolute silence and motionlessness.
For an instant, as they closed in on the cliff, Robin saw Von Borck's
figure appear, there was another flash of red and then the man vanished
again. But the boys did not halt. Together they charged the entrance.
In a matter of seconds, they reached it, blocked it.
There was no sign of the German. They shone their flashlamps into the
channel behind the opening. There was nothing.
Robin could feel the faint rustling movement of the rushing air
current, but he could see nothing in motion. Again he was struck by the
weirdness of the phenomenon.
"Where'd he go?" he whispered, even though his voice could not be heard
outside of their helmets.
"He's probably hiding somewhere. We'll have to follow him. Get ready
and then remember to throw yourself hard across that air blast. It's
strong." Peter checked the nylon that tied them together. "Shall I
untie this or shall we jump together?"
"Let's go together," said Robin. They held hands, and, backing up, took
a running start and threw themselves into the darkness of the break.
There was again the buffeting of a powerful wind, and Robin felt
himself being caught off his feet by the force of a hurricane. Before
he could be swept away, a jerk at the cord around his waist threw him
down, and he rolled over on the windless far side of the tunnel, safe
with Peter.
He became aware of outside noises. He followed Peter's example and
opened the plate of his helmet. For an instant he gasped for air, then
adjusted to the thin atmosphere.
Both brothers listened. But they heard nothing. "He must have headed
back for the cleft," said Peter. "We'll have to follow him."
They started to retrace their tracks. Partly down the wind tunnel they
found the downward slope on which they had traveled before. Robin
flashed his lamp down its steep pitch. He saw nothing. Gingerly he
began to work his way cautiously down the sharp slope.
Peter followed behind. Halfway down, Robin stopped for breath. When he
caught it, he whispered, "I just thought of something. How do we know
Von went down here? Maybe he's gone farther up the tunnel, waiting to
slip back and get behind us."
"I don't think so," said Peter. "I looked in the dust up along the
tunnel for his footprints and saw none. He must be ahead of us."
They slid on down the slope, found themselves at the beginning of the
upper series of connected broken bubbles. Along this they trekked,
passing along the debris-strewn floor, picking their way carefully.
Shining their lamps ahead as they went, they saw no sign of motion.
Finally they came to the hole in the floor, through which they would
have to drop several feet into the cave below. Robin switched off his
light as they approached it, whispered to Peter to do the same.
They stood silently in the pitch darkness. Then Robin nudged Peter,
pointed with his hand against Peter's. The hole in the floor was
faintly visible. There was a dim flickering coming from it. Robin
whispered, "It must be Von's flashlamp. He's down there, waiting for
us."
Peter nodded in the darkness. "It was the logical spot. He probably
hopes to shoot us as we drop through the hole."
The two stepped carefully up to the hole, not yet using their lights.
They kneeled down, looked.
The cave below was almost dark. But from just outside it, from the
tunnel that led into it, was a flickering light. Their crazed enemy was
lurking there, waiting.
"What do we do now?" muttered Peter.
Robin looked carefully. "I think I have it. Untie the cord and give it
to me."
Peter untied his end of the nylon rope that linked them. Robin undid
his end, took his flashlamp, tied it to the cord. He whispered his plan
to Peter.
Robin lit the flash, backed away from the hole several feet, and then
kicked some rocks and began to make a clattering noise. At the same
time he began to talk loudly, as if conversing with Peter.
Meanwhile, Peter was crouched at the edge of the hole, his Tokarev
automatic firmly wedged against one side of the hole while it was
pointing directly at the faint spot of light below which Von Borck was
hiding.
Robin reached the hole, making sure he was creating enough noise for
the rocket pilot to hear him. Then he waved his lamp a few times,
flickering it around the cave below, and kneeling down, began to lower
it on the cord, trying to keep its beam pointed at the tunnel in which
their foe waited. This was the bait on their trap.
Just as he had expected, as the swinging lamp was about halfway down,
dangling presumably in the helpless hand of a man being lowered to the
floor--as Von Borck was supposed to think--the figure of the German
appeared in the cave, uttering a wild yell of triumph and aiming a big
pistol at the moving light.
Two guns went off at the same instant. There were two flashes of
fire, two deafening blasts of sound. Von Borck's bullet shattered the
swinging flashlamp, blew it into a dozen fragments.
Peter's bullet struck Von Borck in the chest, hurling him against the
wall to fall in a heap on the floor.
Without wasting time, Peter simply stepped into the hole and drifted
downward in the low force of Moon gravity. Robin followed suit. They
leaned over the German's body.
Robin looked at the pale, mustached face, the staring eyes. "I think
he's dead," he said. "Though he could be only unconscious." He reached
over, started to feel the man's face to find out whether he still
breathed.
"Look out!" shouted Peter suddenly and grabbed Robin, pulling him to
one side. Robin looked up and back.
Above him, with maddening leisureliness, the entire ceiling of the
underground bubble was dropping down, dropping in several giant chunks,
several Earth tons of rock falling toward them.
With a mad scramble the two leaped to safety in the tunnel leading
downward. There was a slow grinding crash as the shattered roof of the
cave settled to the floor, crushing the body beneath it, blocking and
sealing the tunnel.
"Come on!" Peter grabbed Robin's arm. "The rest of it is caving in!
We'd better run!"
They dashed down the tunnel, as it crashed behind them. On they ran,
following the twisted trail through fault and cleft and bubble, with
disaster following their steps. Finally the ruin and destruction came
to an end as they reached the last steep slope downward to the great
sealed cleft.
"What happened?" asked Robin, as they paused at last to catch their
breath.
"The explosions!" gasped Peter. "The concussions of our pistols
shattered the delicate balance of the honeycomb undersurface here.
We're lucky it didn't all come down at once, rather than in the form of
a chain reaction. We're lucky to be alive, believe me!"
"Yes," said Robin, beginning to make his way down the last tunnel that
led to the open ledge of the great bubble-world where the Glassies
lived. "Yes, we're lucky to be alive, but how will we ever get back to
the surface now? We're sealed in. Maybe forever."
Peter was silent as they reached the ledge, looked into the vastness
of the cleft-world, saw the faint flickering lights of Moonworm and
Moonman. "Maybe we'll never get out. Robinson Crusoe lived twenty-eight
years on his island before he was rescued. It may be fifty before they
find us in here."
Robin shrugged. "When I first landed here, I said to myself that while
there's life there's hope. Now there are two of us. And that's an
advance...."
_19. Riding the Tornado_
They looked down from their point on the high ledge into the length
of the cleft-world. A very faint light streak could be seen looking
upward--this was the curious volcanic glass of the surface roof.
Through it penetrated just a hint of the full Earthlight that bathed
the outer moonscape. Down were shadows and darkness, in the distance
little bits of moving lights, flickering sparks, that may have been the
Glassies' head-stalks.
The two men used their remaining flashlamp to light up the narrow
ledge. Carefully they made their way down the steep side of the cavern
wall, their light swinging slowly back and forth. "Suppose the Glassies
see the light?" said Peter. "We may be in for trouble."
"Maybe," said Robin, "but this time we'll be alert for it. We'll have
to steer clear of overhanging spots, keep our light swinging about, but
I have an idea we'll have no trouble. That bomb and the shooting will
probably make them keep their distance."
Down they went until they reached the level surface. Then they started
off across the space to the faraway place where the lights could be
seen. It was the winter half-month now for the sublunar world. The Moon
growths had fallen, shriveled, died. Their seeds lay dormant for the
next sun period. It was fairly chilly in the cavern, yet not as cold as
it might have been. Somewhere, thought Robin, there is a warm volcanic
current keeping this cavern from freezing over.
They kept a good distance between each other, the long, thin, strong
cord linking them being kept almost taut. The reasoning behind this
was that if another lassoing attempt were made, it would be almost
impossible to get both at once. As long as one were free to get at his
firearms, they could overcome such an attack.
On they went, with still no sign of meeting any opposition. Then Robin
saw a sudden faint flicker in a clump of darkness to one side. He
stopped, whispered into his helmet-radio what he had seen. Rapidly
his eyes swept the scene, and, yes, there was another suddenly doused
flicker on the other side. The Glassies must be watching them, waiting.
Now the two proceeded at a slow pace, widely swinging their light from
side to side to prevent ambush. "Somehow," said Robin, "we are going to
have to prove we're friendly. We may have to live here a long time."
"Yes," said Peter, "but how?"
They walked only a few steps farther before the answer was given them.
Something was standing directly in their path. As their light swung
near it, this figure raised two hands high and its head-stalk light
flashed into brilliant prominence.
It was a Glassie standing there, a transparent-bodied Moonman whose odd
face bore the equivalent of a broad smile and whose chest was decorated
with a painted black circle. Robin stared at the figure of this chief a
moment. He saw something move on the Glassie's shoulder--a tiny, dark,
manlike creature no bigger than a doll.
This creature opened its mouth, uttered a sharp shriek. "Cheeky!"
gasped Robin. And at the sound of his voice the little monkey leaped
from the Glassie's shoulder in one monstrous Lunar bound and arrived at
Robin's foot. Another jump and it was in Robin's arms, screeching with
joy.
The Glassie chief came forward. It spoke, "Robin! Good see you. Good
see you." It was Korree! Now he too moved forward to grasp Robin
awkwardly but happily ... Korree wearing the marking of the tribal head!
Now other Glassies appeared around them, but they held no weapons
in their hands, no sticky hoops or bindings. They stood around the
newcomers with awe and uncertainty--willing to be guided by Korree's
actions but aware of the possible results of an encounter with
space-suited Earthlings.
Korree turned a moment, waved them on, speaking in their tongue. Peter
came up, nodding, shoving his pistol back into its holster.
"I see your two friends have won the day while we were up above," he
said. "They were indeed friends."
The two brothers were escorted back to the site of the native
settlement in a crowd of bobbing head-stalk lights and jabbering
Glassies. Korree explained as they walked.
It seemed that the explosion of the homemade bomb had completely
disrupted the fear in which Von Borck had held the Glassies.
This was greater magic to them, and it was the mysterious little
being--Cheeky--who had accomplished it. In the first excitement, the
Glassies had fled and hid. That was when the German had come after
Peter and Robin, leaving the Glassies behind.
This, too, was an indication that even the powerful stranger who had
usurped the role of chief by the expedient of his mere existence and
strength had bowed to the power of the little monkey. In Moonman
tribes, the chief never fled the scene of his authority. To do so was
to abdicate it. Von Borck had unknowingly destroyed his authority by
his abrupt chase after Robin and Peter.
When Korree made his way back to the cave-village after giving up his
attempt to follow his Earthling friends, he had arrived to find the
Glassies cowering in fear of the capering Cheeky, who was unhurt by the
blast.
Korree had gathered up Cheeky in his arms and by so doing had made
himself the master of the situation. That was how it came about that
the two brothers had been met by a friendly admiring reception rather
than a hostile one.
"But what happened when Von Borck returned here to get his space suit?"
asked Robin.
Korree waved a hand as if the answer was obvious. "Glassies hide,"
he said simply. "Korree hide. Cheeky hide. Everyone hide." And so
Von Borck arrived to find himself deserted and unwelcome. And he had
promptly left to follow the trail to the surface.
Once back at the site of the caves, they found themselves honored
guests. In the days that followed, they set up a cave for themselves,
organized a home. Cheeky seemed to have now attached himself to Korree
and went everywhere with the Glassie. Robin and Peter rested, set up a
regimen of native food, observed the Glassies' way of life.
The sun came up again on the surface and flooded the cleft with its
light. The Moontrees grew rapidly in dense profusion. The two brothers
gradually explored the length and breadth of the little world,
systematically working around it in search of some new path upward.
But their search seemed fruitless. There were a number of holes and
breaks in the walls and caves, but none promised a place of exit to the
surface.
They went back to the original ledge and tunnel, tried to work their
way in, but it was blocked with fallen stone and jammed too tightly for
passage.
They discussed the possibility of making explosives, blasting through,
but discarded this as they realized the basic fragility of the whole
cleft setup. Such blastings might do worse damage, might even crack
a direct opening to the surface through which the air within the
cleft-bubble would rush out, leaving it a sterile, cold, and dead
region.
Finally after another Lunar night and another Lunar day, exhausting
still one more Earth month, they settled down to a slow steady picking
and shoveling. They worked in the blocked tunnel in all their spare
time, carefully picking away chips of rock, pushing others aside,
burrowing around fallen slabs, slowly, gradually, painfully working
their way along the old path. But it was hard and unrewarding work. It
went slowly and they were always afraid of a cave-in.
Two or three times such an event did occur, and had it not been for
the slowness with which things fell on the Moon, one or the other
brother would surely have been pinned down. On the third such disaster,
the two quit the task, returned to their home in the Glassie village
discouraged.
"This will not work," said Robin. "We'll have to give up this entire
approach. It would be months or even years before we could make our
entire way and by that time one of us would surely be killed in the
tunnels. They are still highly unsettled, still shifting."
They sat down, looked at each other. "There must still be a way," said
Peter. "We must find a way to reach the surface. Otherwise we will
remain here forever."