by J. T. Wilson
For a while now, since leaving the City of Light and Science, he had been entertaining the notion that the Heart had been…not calling him exactly, but certainly urging him on. He remembered he had had a similar feeling last time he was on Luna and was suddenly stricken with a longing to indulge in it, to fill himself with the knowledge that was hinted at—and to never leave it. He imagined for a moment that he saw a glow ahead in the passageway, but as they neared he realised it was an illusion, or perhaps a psychic allegory. The Heart was ever closer.
2.
BEDFORD HOBBLED on, taking most of the weight of his right ankle on the metal walking staff, and wishing mostly that he was healthy enough to render better assistance to Annabelle. She had her own staff, of course, and never mouthed a complaint nor gave a look other than cheerful optimism when they exchanged glances, even though her brow was creased with pain and fatigue.
“Will this tunnel never cease, Grant?” asked Stone from the rear of the column. “The Selenites grow weary.”
“In a way, Professor, the tunnel does indeed never cease; it branches and joins others and eventually forms a circuit back to the City, after all. Nevertheless I do believe we are finally at our destination.”
Stone and Annabelle exchanged a glance in the gloom. Both, although worried that Grant had taken leave of his senses entirely, realised that it was best not to question how he was aware of their location in this dim light. Clearly he was operating on a level that went beyond the five senses. Or perhaps Bing, their guide, had simply told him this in his silent language. Grant’s next words seemed to confirm this.
“Mister Bing, if you would be so kind as to enable us access to the Heart.”
There was a sound from the general vicinity of the senior Drobate which sounded as if he was merely tapping on the wall. At the fifth tap, however, a large part of the wall to their right fell silently away, allowing light to pour into the tunnel and briefly dazzle the group.
“A concealed wall? Ingenious!” remarked Phillips. “I understand the pyramids operated along the same lines. No doubt for the same cause: to protect their treasures.”
Bedford, while impressed by the ersatz wall, did not reply to the doctor directly, too concerned with the sight that greeted the group.
The Heart was there, of course: a giant metallic wall that reached the length of the cavern, disappearing into the solid rock, awesome in both scale and significance. Yet Bedford’s eyes were not drawn to the Heart immediately, but to the rabble that waited for them. He pushed Annabelle behind him and drew his revolver from his holster.
“Saltators!” he growled to Lieutenant Booth and the Marines, to his right now and still sheltered inside the passageway. Saltators, yes, but among them, perhaps their leader, stood a being which defied categorization.
It appeared to be an experiment more hideous even than those of Bing and the rest. A human physiology was still apparent, and the jaw and bone structure seemed largely unchanged, but the skull was larger than expected and the skin was taking on a bluish tone that was positively inhuman. Inhuman, indeed—it was the skin tint of a Drobate. But while it was impossible to understand the origin of the creature in front of them, Bedford realised immediately from the untamed hair and the imperial coat of arms at the creature’s breast that it already had a name; one with which he was familiar.
“How nice that you have brought your friends to witness my final triumph, Grant,” said nastavnik Vladimir Tereshkov.
3.
“VLADIMIR, WHAT has happened to you, man?” asked Grant in disbelief, a sentiment Annabelle agreed with entirely.
“What has happened to me?” Tereshkov answered. “I am on my way to becoming the most advanced species in the Solar System. The Heart has chosen me, not you, to elevate. Ha!”
Annabelle wondered at the fluency of Tereshkov’s English. Despite the thick Russian accent and deformities of his features still he spoke with perfect clarity. She also wondered at the familiarity between Tereshkov and her uncle; despite the situation Grant and Tereshkov spoke as if they were old rivals, not bitter enemies.
“You know, you and I are not so different, Cyrus,” Tereshkov said. “Both of us want to find the origin of the Drobates. Both of us now know this information lies within this part of the Heart. Both of us have discovered the secret of the Selenites and used it to learn more.”
“But not like this!” Grant cried. “You have visited the Mother Wall, haven’t you? The place of origin of the Selenites, their Holy of Holies, and let it toy with you as we would creatures that swarm and multiply on a microscope slide. Have you lost your senses entirely?”
Tereshkov waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Let us not have this conversation. I am well aware, then, of your experiments with these Drobates. The only difference between us is that you prefer to test on cadavers and I prefer to experiment on myself. Typical American cowardice.”
“Or typical Russian lunacy,” interposed George. “Come, Tereshkov, what exactly do you intend to achieve here? The supremacy of the Russian Empire? Your men have surely abandoned you if you are taking refuge with these characters.” At this last, he gestured to the grotesque red Selenites, a type Annabelle had never seen but which George had a moment earlier called Saltators.
“It is true that the Russian presence on Luna has been, ah, reduced somewhat,” replied Tereshkov. “Still, I have the ship mounting the aether propeller governor of my own design and in the last three months it has made numerous trips back and forth from Earth, ferrying reinforcements, as well as heavy weapons which will break the resistance of your British garrison. The Tsar—the entire world—will certainly gather around in fascination once I reveal my secret. I have gained some interesting information—very interesting information indeed.” He threw back his head and laughed at this cryptic statement.
Annabelle looked around the group. It appeared that Folkard and Stevenson were still lost in some sort of trance at the sight of the Heart. She remembered that Stevenson had never seen the Heart before and wondered at the control the Heart must be taking of the young man’s mind. While Phillips, likewise, had never seen the Heart before, he seemed content to observe rather than fall to the Heart’s charms or to engage the lunatic Russian in futile debate. No doubt the fusion of human and Drobate physiology fascinated the biologist, to say nothing of the red demons that surrounded him. Lieutenant Booth and the rest of the party lurked out of sight in the passageway, awaiting developments, although she heard a soft whisper of metal on metal, as the Marines drew their long bayonets and then two clicks as they seated them on the ends of their rifles
“You really expect the Russian government to take an interest in the views of a madman who physically resembles a nightmare?” Annabelle asked.
“I am certain of it. Who would not be intrigued by the prospect of travelling beyond the asteroid belt and to the outer planets?”
At this, even Folkard and Stevenson snapped out of the trance they seemed to have slipped into.
“The outer planets?” asked Folkard. “Impossible. It cannot be done.”
“Impossible is merely a challenge to the scientist, Captain,” Tereshkov reproached. “What would you say were I to tell you that it had already been done?”
“Already done?” Folkard was aghast. “Not by the Russians?”
“I admit not. Only a matter of time, but not yet.” Tereshkov waved Folkard’s question away. “My purpose here is to gather this information from the Heart. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Surely we are not to believe this rot,” George said to Grant. “Look at the man and tell me that he is not insane. Why is it that we are prepared to believe that the Heart boasts this information? You think your Gorloff Gun and a field gun will overcome Otterbein?” he asked the travesty which had once been Tereshkov. “Yes, I know of them because I found your ammunition caches, and Sovereign’s Marines have by now uncovered the rest of your surprises. Another failure, Tereshkov. This scoundrel is merely playing fo
r time with this talk,” he said, again turning to Grant. “I put it to you that the Heart cannot possibly offer clues to escaping the asteroid belt.”
“The Heart knows all,” murmured Stevenson.
“The Heart holds all the secrets of the universe,” confirmed Folkard.
Annabelle looked from one man to the other. On Mercury she had seen Hermes communicate through telepathy, was the Heart now doing the same thing? “Uncle?” she said, turning to Grant. “You know the Heart better than any of us. Surely this cannot be true?”
“The Heart is omniscient, I’m afraid,” said Grant, “or at least seems so from our rather less exalted perspective—second only to God. It is entirely possible that Vladimir has become privy to the information that he claims. This is why I left the research base, my dear,” he added, placing a hand on Annabelle’s shoulder, “because through my communion with the Heart I came to learn that it contained so much information, but that it responded only to informed questions. I had to learn more before I could understand what to ask.”
“You are a fool, Lieutenant Bedford,” sneered Tereshkov. “I had no need to capture Otterbein, only to encourage that dolt Colonel Harrison to withdraw the guard detachment from the Heart. What better way than to threaten the station itself? If it fell, all the better, but as you see we are here and not one British soldier stands guard over the most important single treasure in the Solar system.
“But as I say, all this bores me. It is time that I achieved my destiny. I have taken the liberty of preparing a destiny for you, of course, or anyone else that might stand in my way. Already you have met the Saltators?” He gestured at the bristling Selenites. “A number of months I have spent with them, explaining the nobility of the Russian Empire and noting the similarities to the Saltators. They have become tougher, more focused, stronger. I have harnessed their natural abilities. Under my guidance they have gone from marauding bandits to heroes! Your friends on Sovereign have already become acquainted with their abilities, of course, but those men were little more than cannon-fodder: a delaying tactic to amuse the men of Sovereign and prevent them reaching you. These are my finest men. Perhaps you might wish to see an example of their skills for yourselves? You can be torn limb from limb at my command.”
“For all that you are, Vladimir, you have never been a murderer,” said Grant.
“Never before have I had something this precious to protect,” said Tereshkov. “Already, Captain Rumyanstev with a company of the Lifeguard Jaegers approaches to secure the Heart. It is imperative that I gain this information and that you do not! Only you know the questions which need asking, Grant, and if I leave you alive, you will simply find out later and dog my trail. No, only your death will suffice.”
“We’ll see about that,” George growled beside Annabelle and cocked his revolver as he raised it. Before he could fire, however, the red Selenites surged forward and Tereshkov disappeared behind them. George’s revolver barked, the sound almost deafening Annabelle in the confined space, and fired again and again. Folkard and Stevenson seemed dazed while the Drobate scientists cowered in fear.
“At them, lads!” Lieutenant Booth shouted as he pushed past Phillips to stand at George’s right, firing his revolver as he did so, and the two Marine riflemen found space in the opening as well, their rifles soon hammering round after round into the Selenites and filling the air with black powder smoke.
Annabelle saw the entire front rank of monsters collapse but they came on, clambering over the heap of bodies as if in a nightmare. To her left one of the larger Drobates screamed in agony as a Saltator lifted and shook her in its mandibles. Another Saltator behind it turned its head, saw Annabelle, and charged.
Her back to the wall and Phillips cowering to her right behind George and Booth, Annabelle had no place to flee. In desperation she allowed the tip of her metallic walking staff to drop forward, its butt braced against the joint of the wall and floor, and the Saltator impaled himself on it with a chattering screech.
Folkard seemed to come to his senses at the last moment, striking a Saltator in the head with the butt of his electric rifle and then killing another with a bolt of electricity. George’s revolver clicked on an empty cylinder and he dropped it, took his metal walking staff in both hands, and thrust it into the flank of a Saltator finishing off another of the Drobate scientists. Annabelle saw his face twisted in fury, teeth bared, as he drove the makeshift spear home with a shout, then withdrew it in a spray of gore and turned to look for another target.
And then it was all over. The cavern floor between the Heart and the tunnel wall seemed carpeted with twitching, quivering red Selenite bodies. Her one leg trembling with reaction, Annabelle let herself slide down the passage wall and sit.
4.
BLACK POWDER smoke drifted through the air, gradually dispersing, and Annabelle found the silence almost as unnerving as the thunder of rifle and pistol fire, which had left her ears ringing.
“Jones, Heighway, find Tereshkov’s body,” George ordered.
“Sir!” the two Marines answered and made their way gingerly through the slaughterhouse, prodding bodies with bayonets and occasionally thrusting home.
George turned to Annabelle and knelt beside her. “Are you wounded?” he asked, his voice rising in fear. She smiled.
“No, my dear, or at least not in the flesh. I am not well suited to witnessing this manner of slaughter, and even less so to be a participant, much to my surprise.”
“Do not be fooled, none of us are,” he replied. “Men who go through this and pretend it is of no consequence seldom sleep well at night.” He made to touch her face with his trembling hand but withdrew it when he saw it dripping with the Selenite blood. He stood and surveyed the party. “Where is Doctor Grant?”
“Here,” a tremulous voice answered from Annabelle’s left. She saw a horribly mutilated Drobate shudder and seem to half rise from the dead, then fall away to the side and her uncle sat up, himself nearly covered in gore. “Oh! Poor Newton! Poor Newton!” he exclaimed, looking at the Drobate body which had sheltered him. It was the first genuine emotion she had heard from her uncle since their reunion.
“Annabelle, where are you?” That was Nathanial. He pushed past Stevenson and Phillips and crouched beside her, took her hand in both of his. “I am so relieved you are not injured. You have suffered enough as my ward, and to think I was not here for you again!”
“Oh, Nathanial, we have settled all that, haven’t we? Besides, you were unarmed. Better to leave room for the Marines to do their job—and they did it magnificently I must say.”
Lieutenant Booth turned and smiled, touching his forehead with the barrel of his revolver in salute.
“Sir, no sign of the Russian…or whatever he was,” Heighway reported to Booth.
“Blast!” George said. He knelt and picked up his revolver, broke it open, and dug in the leather ammunition pouch on his belt. “Booth, have you any more ammunition?”
“Just two rounds. Shall we share them?” the Marine officer replied with a grim smile.
“No, you keep them, with your bum arm. I can use this spear, I suppose.”
“I…I didn’t fire, Lieutenant Bedford, sir” Stevenson said hesitantly.
“That’s all right, Stevenson,” George answered and patted him on the shoulder. “Jones and Heighway have more ammunition between them than we do, so at least we have a few revolver rounds in reserve. Why don’t you change revolvers with Mister Booth and help with carrying Private Gordon? There’s a good lad.”
Folkard hefted the electric rifle. “This wasn’t half bad, Bedford, and I see one of your Marines has another. Why not try it? Easy to aim and fire, although it can’t be fired a second time until several seconds later—recharging or some such, I imagine.”
Heighway unslung the electric rifle he had carried over his back and held it out, but George shook his head. “With this game ankle I need the spear anyway and can’t manage that and a long weapon. How about you, Stone?�
�� Nathanial stood up and nodded. “That’s the spirit.” George said.
“Are you sure it will not distress you, Professor Stone?” Phillips asked in a sarcastic tone as Heighway moved to hand Nathanial the rifle. Heighway lifted the end a bit as he passed by Phillips and the rifle stock caught the doctor in the groin. “Oww!” he exclaimed and doubled over in pain. “You stupid lout! You should be flogged!”
“Oh, and it’s that sorry I am, sir!” Heighway protested.
“Yes, inexcusably clumsy of you, Heighway,” Captain Folkard said, his face absolutely serious.
“Sir!” the Marine answered, snapping to attention.
“Fortunately for you, the Royal Navy no longer flogs men. See that it doesn’t happen again.”
“Sir.”
Annabelle saw that one of the Drobate scientists had survived, apparently by running down the tunnel, and now returned to help Grant to his feet. This was the smallest of the three, the one her uncle called Bing.
“What difference does all this talk of ammunition and weaponry make?” Annabelle asked, still seated on the ground. “We are back at the Heart, directly under Otterbein Base. All we have to do is take the lift up to the station and return to Sovereign. Is that not so?”
Grant and Folkard exchanged a grim look and, she was surprised to see, Nathanial hefted the electric rifle and shook his head.
“No good, Annabelle,” he said. “Tereshkov’s still out there, the Russian Lifeguard Jaegers are coming, and Drobate soldiers from the city may be as well, if what Cyrus told us earlier is correct. Someone has to keep them away from the Heart.”
“Here’s something more to consider,” George said. “We do not know the condition at Otterbein. I assume Larkins and the others found all of the caches of ammunition, and may have even found the guns, but Harrison might as easily have confined everyone to the base to wait and see what developed—the one course virtually guaranteed to lose the base.”