Brigands of the Moon

by Ray Cummings

  XXXVI

  Grantline led us. We held about level. Five hundred feet beneath usthe brigand ship lay, cradled on the rocks. When it was still a mileaway from us I could see all its outline fairly clearly in thedimness. Its tiny hull windows were dark; but the blurred shape of thehull was visible, and above it the rounded cap of dome, with a dimradiance beneath it.

  We followed Grantline's platform. It was rising, drawing the othersafter it like a tail. I touched Anita where she lay beside me with herhead half in the small hooded control bank.

  "Going too high."

  She nodded, but followed the line nevertheless. It was Grantline'scommand.

  I lay crouched, holding the inner tips of the flexible side shields.The bottom of the platform was covered with the insulated fabric.There were two side shields. They extended upward some two feet,flexible so that I could hold them out to see over them, or draw themup and in to cover us.

  They afforded a measure of protection against the hostile rays, thoughjust how much we were not sure. With the platform level, a bolt frombeneath could not harm us unless it continued for a considerable time.But the platform, except upon direct flight, was seldom level, for itwas a frail, unstable little vehicle! To handle it was more than aquestion of the controls. We balanced, and helped to guide it with themovement of our bodies--shifting our weight sidewise, or back, orforward to make it dip as the controls altered the gravity pull in itstiny plate sections.

  Like a bird, wheeling, soaring, swooping. To me, it was a precariousbusiness.

  But now we were in straight flight diagonally upward. The outline ofthe brigand ship came directly under us. I crouched tense, breathless;every moment it seemed that the brigands must discover us and loosetheir bolts.

  They may have seen us for some moments before they fired. I peeredover the side shield down at our mark, then up ahead to getGrantline's firing signal. It seemed long delayed. An added glow downthere must have warned Grantline that a shot was coming from there.The tiny red light flared bright on his platform.

  I turned on our Benson curve light radiance. We had been dark, but asoft glow now enveloped us. Its sheen went down to the ship to revealus. But its curving path showed us falsely placed. I saw the littleline of platforms ahead of us. They seemed to move suddenly sidewise.

  It was everyone for himself now; none of us could tell where the otherplatforms actually were placed or headed. Anita swooped us sharplydown to avoid a possible collision.

  "Gregg?"

  "Yes. I'm aiming."

  I was making ready to drop the small explosive globe bomb. Our searchlight ray at the camp, answering Grantline's signal, shot down andbathed the enemy ship in a white glare, revealing it for our aim.Simultaneously the brigand bolts came up at us.

  I held my bomb out over the shield, calculating the angle to throw itdown. The brigand rays flashed around me. They were horribly close;Miko had understood our sudden visible shift and aimed, not where weappeared to be, but approximately where we had been before.

  I dropped my bomb hastily at the glowing white ship. The touch of ahostile ray would have exploded it in my hand. I saw others droppingalso from our nearby platforms. The explosions from them merged in aconfusion of the white glare--and a cloud of black mist as thebrigands out on the rocks used their darkness bombs.

  We swept past in a blur of leaping hostile beams. Silent battle oflights! Darkness bombs down at the ship struggling to bar our campsearchray. The Benson radiance rays from our passing platforms,curving down to mingle with the confusion. The electronic rayssending up their bolts....

  Our platforms dropped some ten dynamitrine bombs in that first passageover the ship. As we sped by, I dimmed the Benson radiance. I peered.We had not hit the ship. Or if we had, the damage was inconclusive.But on the rocks I could see a pile of ore carts scattered--brokenwreckage, in which the litter of two or three projectors seemedstrewn. And the gruesome deflated forms of several helmeted figures.Others seemed to be running, scattering--hiding in the rocks andpit-holes. Twenty brigands at least were outside the ship. Some wererunning over toward the base of our camp ledge. The darkness bombswere spreading like a curtain over the valley floor; but it seemedthat some of the figures were dragging their projectors away.

  We sailed off toward the opposite crater rim. I remember passing overthe broken wreckage of Grantline's little spaceship, the _Comet_.Miko's bolts momentarily had vanished. We had hit some of his outsideprojectors; the others were abandoned, or being dragged to saferpositions.

  After a mile we wheeled and went back. I suddenly realized that onlyfour platforms were in the re-formed line ahead of us. One wasmissing! I saw it now, wavering down, close over the ship. A boltleaped up diagonally from a distant angle on the rocks and caught thedisabled platform. It fell, whirling, glowing red--disappeared intothe blur of darkness like a bit of heated metal plunged into water.

  One out of six of our platforms already lost! Three men of our smallforce gone!

  But Grantline led us desperately back. Anita caught his signal tobreak our line. The five platforms scattered, dipping and wheelinglike frightened birds--blurring shapes, shifting unnaturally in flightas the Benson curve lights were altered.

  Anita now took our platform in a long swoop downward. Her tense,murmured voice sounded in my ears:

  "Hold off; I'll take us low."

  A melee. Passing platform shapes. The darting bolts, crossing likeancient rapiers. Falling blue points of fuse lights as we threw ourbombs.

  Down in a swoop. Then rising. Away, and then back. This silent warfareof lights! It seemed that around me must be bursting a pandemonium ofsound. Yet there was none. Silent, blurred melee, infinitelyfrightening. A bolt struck us, clung for an instant; but we weatheredit. The light was blinding. Through my gloves I could feel the tingleof the over charged shield as it caught and absorbed the hostilebombardment. Under me the platform seemed heated. My little Erentzmotors ran with ragged pulse. I got too much oxygen. I was dullysmothering....

  Then the bolt was gone. I found us soaring upward, horribly tilted. Ishifted over.

  "Anita! Anita, dear, are you all right?"

  "Yes, Gregg. All right."

  The melee went on. The brigand ship and all its vicinity wereenveloped in dark mist now--a turgid sable curtain, made more dense bythe dissipating heavy fumes of our exploding bombs which settled lowover the ship and the rocks nearby. The searchlight from our campstrove futilely to penetrate the cloud.

  Our platforms were separated. One went by, high over us. I saw anotherdart close beneath my shield.

  "God, Anita!"

  "Too close! I didn't see it."

  Almost a collision.

  "Gregg, haven't we broken the ship's dome yet?"

  It seemed not. I had dropped nearly all my bombs. This could not go onmuch longer. Had it been only about five minutes? Only that? Reasontold me so, yet it seemed an eternity of horror.

  Another swoop. My last bomb. Anita had brought us into position tofling it. But I could not. A bolt stabbed up from the gloom and caughtus. We huddled, pulling the shields up and over us.

  Blurred darkness again. Too much to the side now. I had to wait whileAnita swung us back. Then we seemed too high.

  I waited with my last bomb. The other platforms were occasionallydropping them: I had been too hasty, too prodigal.

  Had we broken the ship's dome with a direct hit? It seemed not.

  The brigands were sending up catapulted light flares. They came frompositions on the rocks outside the ship. They mounted in lazy curvesand burst over us. The concealing darkness, broken only by the flaresof explosions, enveloped the enemy. Our camp searchlight was stillstruggling with it. But overhead, where the few little platforms werecircling and swooping, the flares gave an almost continuous glare. Itwas dazzling, blinding. Even through the smoked pane which I adjustedto my visor I could not stand it.

  But these were thoughts of comparative dimness. In a patch where theEarthlight struck through the darkness
of the rocks, I saw another ofour fallen platforms! Snap and Venza?

  It was not they, but three figures of our men. One was dead. Two hadsurvived the fall. They stood up, staggering. And in that instant,before the turgid black curtain closed over them, I saw two brigandscome rushing. Their hand projectors stabbed at close range. Our mencrumpled and fell....

  We were in position again. I flung my last missile, watched its lightas it dropped. On the dome roof two of Miko's men were crouching. Mybomb was truly aimed--perhaps one of the few in all our bombardmentwhich landed directly on the dome roof. But the waiting marksmen firedat it with short range heat projectors and exploded it harmlesslywhile it was still above them.

  We swung up and away. I saw, high above us, Grantline's platform,recognizing its red signal light. There seemed a lull. The enemy firehad died down to only a very occasional bolt. In the confusion of mywhirling impressions, I wondered if Miko were in distress. Not that!We had not hit his ship; perhaps we had done little damage indeed! Itwas we who were in distress. Two of our platforms had fallen--two outof six. Or more, of which I did not know.

  I saw one rising off to the side of us. Grantline was over us. Well,we were at least three. And then I saw the fourth.

  "Grantline is calling us up, Gregg."

  Grantline's signal light was summoning us from the attack. He was athousand feet or more above us.

  I was suddenly shocked with horror. The searchray from our campsuddenly vanished! Anita wheeled us to face the distant ledge. Thecamp lights showed, and over one of the buildings was a distresslight!

  Had the crack in our front wall broken, threatening explosion of allthe buildings? The wild thought swept me. But it was not that. I couldsee light stabs from the cliff outside the main building. Miko haddared to send some men to attack our almost deserted camp!

  Grantline realized it. His red helmet light semaphored the command tofollow him. His platform soared away, heading for the camp, with theother two behind him.

  Anita lifted us to follow. But I checked her.

  "No! Off to the right, across the valley."

  "But Gregg!"

  "Do as I say, Anita."

  She swung us diagonally away from both the camp and the brigand ship.I prayed that we might not be noticed by the brigands.

  "Anita, listen: I've got an idea!"

  The attack on the brigand ship was over. It lay enveloped in thedarkness of the powder gas cloud and its own darkness bombs. But itwas uninjured.

  Miko had answered us with our own tactics. He had practically unmannedthe ship, no doubt, and had sent his men to our buildings. The fighthad shifted. But I was now without ammunition, save for two or threebullet projectors.

  Of what use for our platform to rush back? Miko expected that. Hisattack on the camp was undoubtedly made just for that purpose: to lureus back there.

  "Anita, if we can get down on the rocks somewhere near the ship, andcreep up unobserved in that blackness...."

  I might be able to reach the manual hull lock, rip it open and let theair out. If I could get into its pressure chamber and unseal the innerslide....

  "It would wreck the ship, Anita: exhaust all its air. Shall we tryit?"

  "Whatever you say, Gregg."

  We seemed to be unobserved. We skimmed close to the valley floor, amile from the ship. We headed slowly toward it, sailing low over therocks.

  Then we landed, left the platform. "Let me go first, Anita."

  I held a bullet projector. With slow, cautious leaps, we advanced.Anita was behind me. I had wanted to leave her with the platform, butshe would not stay. And to be with me seemed at least equally safe.

  The rocks were deserted. I thought that there was very little chancethat any of the enemy would lurk here. We clambered over the pitted,scarred surface; the higher crags, etched with Earthlight, stood likesentinels in the gloom.

  The brigand ship with its surrounding darkness was not far from us. Noone was out here. We passed the wreckage of broken projectors, andgruesome, shattered human forms.

  We prowled closer. The hull of the ship loomed ahead of us. All dark.

  We came at last close against the sleek metal hull side, slid along itto where I was sure the manual lock would be located.

  Abruptly I realized that Anita was not behind me! Then I saw her at alittle distance, struggling in the grip of a giant helmeted figure!The brigand lifted her--turned, and ran.

  I did not dare fire. I bounded after them along the hull-side, aroundunder the curve of the pointed bow, down along the other side.

  I had mistaken the hull port location. It was here. The running,bounding figure reached it, slid the panel. I was only fifty feetaway--not much more than a single leap. I saw Anita being shoved intothe pressure lock. The Martian flung himself after her.

  I fired at him in desperation, but missed. I came with a rush. And asI reached the port, it slid closed in my face, barring me!