Garbon brought a thin flask out from under his uniform and opened it. The others held out three thimble-sized cups, and he filled each with Scotch. Then he poured one for himself, and all looked to Broward.
He lifted his cup and said, "A toast to the new bride. May she have a long and happy life and bear many fine and happy children."
"Wait a minute," said Fielding. "You forgot to toast the Union."
"The Union of the Soviet World Republics?" said Broward. "I toast the Union. The Union of Man. May it have a long and happy life."
Afterwards, there were jokes, some of them very Rabelaisian and all about newly married couples. Ingrid blushed at some of them, and this pleased Broward, though he would have found it difficult to say why. Then, abruptly, Fielding handed him the flask and the two soldiers left. Quickly, Broward closed the port. He turned to Ingrid, took her in his arms, and said, "It's not the time or place I would have picked for a honeymoon. But you will have to admit it's unique."
"For just a little while," she murmured, "let's pretend that we're alone in the universe."
They were lucky, for no one disturbed them. No calls came over the receiver. Perhaps, everyone in the ships clustered together in the tremendous cavern were silent and motionless, sitting like rabbits in a hole and hoping that the wolves prowling outside would not notice the hole. Perhaps there were other lovers' who had found a niche and were making love, thinking that this might be their last chance forever.
But there came the time when Ingrid and Broward could no longer pretend that there was no outside world. Reluctantly, they opened the port and entered the larger domain of the Zemlya. He went to the captain's cabin to make a belated report, and she went to the biological laboratory to determine if she were pregnant. Radman, a tall, thin man with unruly wheat-colored hair, either was not aware of what Broward had done or was purposely ignoring it. He gave him an official welcome and told him that all ship commanders were to meet within an hour for a conference. No, no news about the Axe had come in. At present, a small scouter, disguised as a boulder, was on top of a mountain which formed part of the crater around the Clavius base. But it would not return with a report until it was safe for it to move. And that would not occur until the Axe left—if they did.
Broward hastened to the biolab and met Ingrid just as she was leaving. By her downcast expression, he knew
what the results of the test had been.
"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 they should 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?"
"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 bumped 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 impassive, 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 circumstances 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 titanic bubble and had set off the chemical reactions that would melt down the bas
es and glass 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 button that sent pulses to the activation mechanisms 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.
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 sexual 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 assembly 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 impassive. 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 booby 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 spaceborne. 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 prone 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 hoarse 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 s
itting 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. "God," 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.
"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 wristwatch 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.
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