"Yes. Can't we repair it, Johnny?"
"No. Would have to take that whole plaster section out, shut off the
Erentz plant and exhaust the interior air of all this bulkhead. Day's
job--maybe more."
And the crack would get worse, I knew. It would gradually spread and
widen. The Erentz circulation would fail. All our power would be
drained struggling to maintain it. This brigand who had unwittingly
committed suicide by his daring act had accomplished more than he had
perhaps realized. I could envisage our weapons, useless from the lack
of power. The air in our buildings turned fetid and frigid; ourselves
forced to the helmets. A rush out to abandon the camp and escape. The
building exploding, scattering into a litter on the ledge like a
child's broken toy. The treasure abandoned, with the brigands coming
up and loading it on their ship.
Our defeat. In a few hours now--or minutes. This crack could slowly
widen, or it could break suddenly at any time. Disaster, come now so
abruptly upon us at the very start of the brigand attack....
Grantline's voice in my audiphone broke my despairing thoughts.
"Bad. Come on, Gregg. Nothing to do here."
We were aware that our other four men had run along the building's
other side. They emerged now--with the running brigands in front of
them, rushing out toward the stairs on the ledge. Three giant Martian
figures in flight, with our four men chasing.
A brigand fell to the rocks by the brink of the ledge. The others
reached the descending staircase, tumbled down it with reckless leaps.
Our men turned back. Before we could join them, the enemy ship down in
the valley sent up a cautious searchbeam which located its returning
men. Then the beam swung up to the ledge, landing upon us.
We stood confused, blinded by the brilliant glare. Grantline stumbled
against me.
"Run, Gregg! They'll be firing at us."
We dashed away. Our companions joined us, rushing back for the port. I
saw it open, reinforcements coming out to help us--half a dozen
figures carrying a ten foot insulated shield. They could barely get it
through the port.
The Martian searchray vanished. Then almost instantly the electronic
ray came with its deadly stab. Missed us at first, as we ran for the
shield, carrying it back to the port, hiding behind it.
The ray stabbed once or twice more.
Whether Miko's instruments showed him how badly damaged our front wall
was, we never knew. But I think that he realized. His searchbeam clung
to it, and his zed-ray pried into our interiors.
The brigand ship was active now. We were desperate; we used our
telescope freely for observation. Miko's ore carts and mining
apparatus were unloaded on the rocks. The rail sections were being
carried a mile out, nearly to the center of the valley. A subsidiary
camp was being established there, only a mile from the base of our
cliff, but still far beyond reach of our weapons. We could see the
brigand lights down there.
Then the ore chute sections were brought over. We could see Miko's men
carrying some of the giant projectors, mounting them in the new
position. Power tanks and cables. Light flare catapults--small
mechanical cannons for throwing illuminating bombs.
The enemy searchlight constantly raked our vicinity. Occasionally the
giant electronic projector flung out its bolt as though warning us not
to dare leave our buildings.
Half an hour went by. Our situation was even worse than Miko could
know. The Erentz motors were running hot--our power draining, the
crack widening. When it would break, we could not tell; but the danger
was like a sword over us.
An anxious thirty minutes for us, this second interlude. Grantline
called a meeting of all our little force, with every man having his
say. Inactivity was no longer a feasible policy. We recklessly used
our power to search the sky. Our rescue ship might be up there; but we
could not see it with our now disabled instruments. No signals came.
We could not--or, at least, did not--receive them.
"They wouldn't signal," Grantline protested. "They'd know the
Martians would be more likely to get the signal than us. Of what use
to warn Miko?"
But he did not dare wait for a rescue ship that might or might not be
coming! Miko was playing the waiting game now--making ready for a
quick loading of the ore when we were forced to abandon our buildings.
The brigand ship suddenly moved its position! It rose up in a low flat
arc, came forward and settled in the center of the valley where the
carts and rail sections were piled, and the outside projectors newly
mounted on the rocks.
The brigands now began laying the rails from the ship toward the base
of our cliff. The chute would bring the ore down from the ledge, and
the carts would take it to the ship. The laying of the rails was done
under cover of occasional stabs from the electronic projector.
And then we discovered that Miko had made still another move. The
brigand rays, fired from the depth of the valley, could strike our
front building, but could not reach all our ledge. And from the ship's
newer and nearer position this disadvantage to us was intensified.
Then abruptly we realized that under cover of darkness bombs, an
electronic projector and searchray had been carried to the top of the
crater rim, diagonally across and only half a mile from us. Their
beams shot down, raking all our vicinity from this new angle.
I was on the little flying platform which sallied out as a test to
attack these isolated projectors. Snap and I, and one other volunteer,
went. He and I held the shield; Snap handled the controls.
Our exit port was on the lee side of the building from the hostile
searchbeam. We got out unobserved and sailed upward; but soon a light
from the ship caught us. And the projector bolts came up....
Our sortie only lasted a few minutes. To me, it was a confusion of
crossing beams, with the stars overhead, the swaying little platform
under me, and the shield tingling in my hands when the blasts struck
us. Moments of blurred terror....
The voice of the man beside me sounded in my ears: "Now, Haljan, give
them one!"
We were up over the peak of the rim with the hostile projectors under
us. I gauged our movement, and dropped an explosive powder bomb.
It missed. It flared with a puff on the rocks, twenty feet from where
the two projectors were mounted. I saw that two helmeted figures were
down there. They tried to swing their grids upward, but could not get
them vertical to reach us. The ship was firing at us, but it was far
away. And Grantline's searchbeam was going full power, clinging to the
ship to dazzle them.
Snap circled them. As we came back I dropped another bomb. Its silent
puff seemed littered with flying fragments of the two projectors and
the bodies of the men.
We swiftly flew back to our base.
It decided Grantline. For an hour past Snap and I had been urging our
plan to use the gravity platforms. To remain inactive was sure defeat
now. Even if our buildings did not explode--if we thought to huddle in
them, helmeted in the failing air--then Miko could readily ignore us
and proceed with his loading of the treasure under our helpless gaze.
He could do that now with safety--if we refused to accept the
challenge--for we could not fire through the windows and must go out
to meet this threat.
To remain defensive would end inevitably in our defeat. We all knew it
now. The waiting game was Miko's--not ours.
The success of our attack upon the distant isolated projectors,
heartened us. Yet it was a desperate offensive upon which we decided!
We prepared our little expedition at the larger of the exit ports.
Miko's zed-ray was watching all our interior movements. We made a
brave show of activity in our workshop with abandoned ore carts which
were stored there. We got them out, started to recondition them.
It seemed to fool Miko. His zed-ray clung to the workshop, watching
us. And at the distant port we gathered the platforms, shields,
helmets, bombs, and a few hand projectors.
There were six platforms--three of us upon each. It left four people
to remain indoors.
I need not describe the emotion with which Snap and I listened to
Venza and Anita pleading to be allowed to accompany us. They urged it
upon Grantline, and we took no part. It was too important a decision.
The treasure--the life or death of all these men--hung now upon the
fate of our venture. Snap and I could not intrude our personal
feelings.
And the girls won. Both were undeniably more skillful at handling the
midget platforms than any of us men. Two of the six platforms could be
guided by them. That was a third of our little force! And of what use
to go out and be defeated, leaving the girls here to meet death almost
immediately afterward?
We gathered at the port. A last minute change made Grantline order six
of his men to remain to guard the buildings. The instruments, the
Erentz system, all the appliances had to be attended.
It left four platforms, each with three men--Grantline at the controls
of one of them. And upon two of the others, Venza rode with Snap and I
with Anita.
We crouched in the shadows outside the port. So small an army,
sallying out to bomb this enemy vessel or be killed in the attempt!
Only sixteen of us. And thirty or so brigands well armed.
I envisioned then this tiny Moon crater, the scene of this battle we
were waging. Struggling humans, desperately trying to kill!