Tongues of the Moon

by Philip José Farmer

  Broward pounded him hard on his back. "Are you going to sit here and be slaughtered like the Holy Father?" he shouted. "Come on now! Or get out and let me take your place! I'll do it alone if you've lost your guts!"

  Quiroga said, harshly, "I'm all right. And watch your language. No man calls me a coward."

  The jeep started slowly around the rear of the house. Then, when it rounded the corner, it straightened out. Quiroga turned the acceleration disc, and the jeep surged ahead so swiftly that all three were thrust back against the seats. Broward picked up one of the burpers from the floor and looked at the upper row of windows in the building. It was from there that the fire of the Angels would be most dangerous. The closer the jeep got to the building, the better angle those in the upper story would have to shoot over the vehicle that was their shield.

  "This is going to take good timing," he said to Saavedra, who held a knife in one hand. "When I give the word..."

  The plaza became a hell of noise. The entire front of the building seemed to blaze. But Broward was already pulling his head down when the hail came and the jeep began to shake. Bullets went whing! zeeee! past them; explosive bullets struck the body of the shield and bent it over towards the men.

  Quiroga had locked the controls and slipped from the seat to the hood, unhindered because there was no windshield. Saavedra and Broward, crouching, followed him beneath the shelter of irradiated plastic that formed the vehicle's body.

  Broward peered through the opening between the shield and the hood. "Slow it down!" he shouted to Quiroga, who held the controls in his hands. The shaft, capable of being telescoped and very flexible, was bent forwards over the hood.

  The jeep checked, and the men slid against the frame of the shield. Broward's head banged into a tire; for a second he almost blacked out.

  Then, the three were pressed against the frame; the jeep had rammed into the building. Saavedra slashed at the strips of sheet that held one end, then slid the knife over to Broward. He grabbed at it, it struck his hand, and dived off the hood onto the ground. Without thinking, he jumped off the hood, picked up the knife, and leaped back onto the hood. Explosive bullets, striking the rock floor, threw chips 'of stone like sharpnel and zinged off the hood.

  He felt something sharp hit his face, put his hand up, and it came away with blood. But he used the other hand to slash at the strips holding down his end of the shield. In the meantime, the others, weightless because of their gravpaks, were clinging to the underside of the shield. It rose, pulled upwards by the counterdrive of the paks attached to it Broward sprang up and grabbed hold of a jeep wheel, his momentum sending the vehicle more quickly upwards.

  Clinging to the underside like a baby Martian spider to its mother, Broward looked down. They were just above the top row of windows. Now, the men should be running out into the plaza to get a shot at them from the exposed side. And the men in the window now below should be leaning out to fire up at them.

  "Use your paks!" he screamed. "Up and over!" They soared above the ascending jeep, corrected their controls, and were on the root.

  Broward had been afraid that men would be up there. If so the three would be helpless targets. But there was no one there. Not yet. He landed, flipped oft the pak power, and turned to the others.

  Quiroga was all right. Saavedra was not there.

  He followed the line indicated by the young officer's pointing finger. Saavedra was still rising towards the ceiling of the cave. His head lolled; blood spurted out of the hole created when his knee had been blown off.

  Quiroga crossed himself and then began, with Broward, to look for entrances on the roof to the story below. But there were none.

  Broward cursed and then said, "That figures. He wouldn't want an assassin using the same approach as us."

  "What do we do?" Quiroga said. "They'll be putting on paks and coming up after us in a minute."

  Broward looked up at Saavedra's body, now pressed against the ceiling of the cave, and at the jeep, still rising.

  "I'd say we've had it. But we're still alive. Maybe..."

  Quiroga, who was facing the wall of rock at the rear of the building, shouted and fired his burper. Broward whirled and saw that a section of the rock, just above the juncture of the building and wall, had moved outwards.

  He jumped to one side to be out of sight of anyone on the other side of the half-opened door. Quiroga fired another burst and then ran over alter Broward. The Moonman stopped by the door, fell to the root, shoved his gun under the door and into the opening beyond. He squeezed the trigger and did not release it until he had loosed at least thirty explosive bullets, as indicated by the tiny counter on the barrel.

  Quiroga leaped through the opening as soon as the shooting stopped. Broward rose, hesitated a moment, then, hearing nothing, went around the rock-door. The lieutenant was standing inside an open bait-cage, which, in turn, was in a shaft hollowed out of the rock, The only light came from a lamp mounted on a thin pole on one side of the cage. This was mounted on a gravity-unit.

  The cage and the walls of the shaft around it, however, were spattered with blood and covered with gobbets of flesh. The stream of explosive bullets poured in by Broward had literally blown the Angels apart. The head of one was missing; it had been knocked over the cage and down into the shaft or else had disintegrated.

  Broward said, "Let's get what's left of them out of here. Lucky tor us we didn't destroy the controls."

  Part of the plastic rails around the cage had been shattered and there were dents in the floor, but this was the only damage. Before starting to clear out the remains, Broward looked above them and also peered over the edge, for there was some space between the cage and the shaft. Darkness above and below.

  "I think that Howards may have prepared this for a secret getaway," he said. "He probably sent these men up to get us from the rear. Maybe nobody else knows."

  They dumped the legs and arms and torsos over and kicked bits of flesh and bone down the shaft. Then Broward pulled on the grips fastened to the back of the door and swung it in.

  "If the men that'll be coming after us from the outside don't know about this shaft, they're going to be mightily puzzled."

  "Yes, but when they report to Howards," Quiroga said, "he'll know soon enough what's happened."

  Broward hesitated. Up? Or down? If they descended, they might catch Howards by surprise and kill or capture him. This did not seem very likely. Although Howards did not like many people close to him, he made sure that his bodyguards were not too far off. Still, it might be worth taking a chance. The only drawback was that, even if they did get to Howards, they would surely be killed afterwards. Then, the bomb would come.

  Besides, he was very curious about where the upper part of the shaft led.

  Either way, he had to do something fast. It was possible that Howards might be able to cut off the power to the cage by remote control.

  He tested the button marked with an arrow pointing upward, and the cage began moving up. There was a little wheel by the two buttons; he turned it to the right and the cage picked up speed. Rotating the wheel to the left slowed it down until it was crawling. The button marked A (for alto. "halt" he supposed) stopped the cage.

  Having mastered the controls, he resumed upward progress at full speed. Quiroga turned the lamp, which was

  on a joint, so that it shone straight above them. A minute passed, and Quiroga said, "I think we've passed the second level." A few seconds later, he said, "We should be about even with the top of the first level. Do you think this goes to the surface?"

  "We'll find out soon enough. There's the end of the shaft."

  They rose to the opening. Before reaching it, the cage had begun to slow down without operation of the controls. It stopped, and the two men got off.

  They were in a well-lighted place, one large enough to hold several of the type of the four-seater spaceship that it did contain. The chamber was hollowed out of granite and, beside the craft, had several cots,
a tank of water, a large box full of provisions, canned food, medical supplies, and liquor. The illumination came from several mobile luminescent panels leaning against the walls.

  "You know how to handle the controls?" the Moonman said. "They're unfamiliar to me."

  The lieutenant examined the control panel, shook his head, and said, "This one can't be activated unless you have the key. Guess who has that"

  "Can't you rewire it? Or isn't there time?"

  "Even if there were, I wouldn't try it," Quiroga said. "I imagine that Howards has this rigged to explode if anybody tampers much with it."

  "I don't know. He wouldn't think anybody would have access to it Which reminds me. How do you get out of

  here?"

  They examined the walls. Undoubtedly, some section of it must open to an air-lock and beyond that to the surface. The rock around them must be part of a hill or cliff, and it must be out of sight of the domes above Osorno. But there was nothing within to indicate the exit. No slightest crack.

  "It's probable," said Quiroga, "that Howards must activate the mechanisms that open this with a radio or laser frequency. He might carry the emitter with him, or it might be part of the ship. More likely the latter, since he could open it from the surface easier if the emitter were built into the

  "So," said Broward, "we're where we were before. Mean-He, Howards must have found out what happened on the rooftop. We can expect some sort of a move against us at any moment."

  He went from the control cabin into the rear. There was a tiny washroom, spaces in the corridor for bunks, and, beyond, a storage room. At the rear wall of this, he opened a door and looked into the compartment containing the motor, generator, fuelpile, and electronic equipment. There was also a box that looked like a tool box.

  Gingerly, for he feared booby-traps, he stepped through the door and then snapped up the catch that held the cover. A minute later, he was back in the control cabin with a hammer, several screwdrivers, pliers, tape, and two cold chisels.

  Quiroga said, "You know that we'll probably set off an alarm or some kind of booby trap."

  Broward shrugged. "Too bad. But there's nothing else to do."

  "You get outside the ship," the Argentinean said. "I'm expendable. But if you die, everybody dies."

  "One man only'll take too much time. Come on. No argument now."

  "No," Quiroga said firmly. "Somebody has to guard the shaft. They'll be coming up with gravpaks and quickly."

  "All right," said Broward. He turned and walked out of the ship to the elevator. He got on the cage and started it downwards. Halfway down the shaft, at a point above the rooftop entrance, he halted the cage. Then he soared back up by means of his gravpak.

  Quiroga was startled when he returned. Broward explained. "Maybe they can get enough men with paks underneath it to drive it back up. There are a lot of maybe's. There's work to do, and I'm helping with it."

  They hammered furiously and then used the screwdrivers and a little crowbar to pry the lock mechanism out. Each expected something drastic to happen; both were sweating far more than the work alone could account for.

  Then, the lock was out, and the wires connected to it were exposed. Quiroga began to make the necessary connections, but Broward did not wait for him to finish. He had been more worried about attack from the shaft than he had shown.

  He looked down the rock walls. The light glared on the cage; it was moving upwards slowly. Smiling grimly, he rose over the hole and plunged downward. On reaching the cage, he turned the gravpak controls to give him half-weight. The barrel of his burper went over the edge at an angle so that the bullets would strike below the cage. He pressed the trigger, and the shaft became a deafening hell. Not so deafening that he could not hear the screams of the men below. Although they would have received no direct hits from the bullets themselves, they were undoubtedly wounded by fragments of stone chipped off the walls and sent flying.

  He quit firing and looked over the edge through the space between the cage and the shaft. Below him, light flooded through the opened rooftop door. Men flew through it, out of the shaft and onto the top of the building. Some were still screaming.

  He fired at an Angel halfway through the door, saw the body blow apart, and fired at the man behind it. That man fell fast because the bullets had destroyed his gravpak.

  Their next move would be to bring in a mobile laser and burn the elevator down. Before that happened, the ship must be activated. He rose, leaving the elevator where it was, and returned to Quiroga.

  The lieutenant said, "I was worried. I heard the shots."

  "Just a little holding action. It won't keep long. Any luck?"

  "It isn't trapped. Howards must not have thought that anybody would find it. We're ready to go. See that button there? I think it's the emitter control. Anyway, it's the only one whose function I don't know."

  "Press it."

  Quiroga shut the port of the ship first, then depressed the button. Slowly, a section of wall in front of the ship slid aside. Where it had been was a sheet of plastic. Quiroga kept his finger on the button, and the sheet slid in behind the rock section to reveal a tunnel. At its end was another plastic sheet.

  Quiroga lifted the vessel slowly and piloted it into the On its clearing the entrance, the plastic sheet slid out of the wall. They waited until the exterior sensory of the ship indicated that the air had been pumped out of the tunnel.

  They were looking out on early morning Mars.

  A yellowish-red plain stretched out to the horizon. Nothing moved on it, for Mars had no surface life, animal or vegetable. Far off to the left was a thin cloud of yellowish dust Though it was day, the sky was a blackblue, the brighter stars filtered through the weak light of the small sun. Around the hill, they knew, would be the three big domes on top of Osorno.

  'Take her out," Broward said, "Just far enough to turn her around. Then use the emitter to open the outer ports."

  "Dios mio! Are you crazy?"

  "I know exactly what I'm doing," Broward replied. Quiroga shrugged, rolled his eyes upwards, and obeyed. In a few seconds, the false section of the hill and the plastic gate behind it had moved into the rock.

  'Take her into the tunnel. But only halfway. I don't want the outer ports closing."

  The Argentinean said something under his breath, but he drove the ship to the spot indicated.

  "This ship has a burner laser," Broward said. "Use it" Quiroga placed his hand over his face and groaned, "Stupid! Now I see what you mean to do. But..."

  "You have a better idea?" said Broward. "God help me, no."

  Quiroga activated the laser, and a pencil-thin white beam shot out of the nose of the craft and bore through the plastic. Then, Quiroga described a large circle with the beam. The plastic resisted only breifly, bubbled, then disappeared. Quiroga shut the beam off, moved the ship forward swiftly and bumped into the center of the described circle. While the ship was backing up to its original position, the large disc of plastic fell out of the sheet and onto the rock floor.

  The laser struck again. This time, the thick granite section held out longer. But there was air pushing against it from the other side. Suddenly, the slab of rock, marked by a thin dark line where the laser had cut, began to move outwards. "Back! Back!" said Broward loudly, but Quiroga had already touched the controls. The ship shot out of the tunnel at a velocity that would have crushed the two of them if they had not been in stasis.

  They went back a long ways, and they needed the distance, for the granite disc came out of the mouth of the tunnel like a bullet out of the muzzle of a gun. It did not fly far after that but, when it hit the surface of the hill on its edge, it turned over once. Then, instead of falling flat, it landed on its opposite edge and began rolling down the slope like the hoop of a giant child.

  The two men did not watch it run its course. They were too fascinated, and shocked, though they had expected it, at what followed the disc. A man, upside down, flew out of the tunnel. Another came behind
him, then the water tank and the provisions chest. Two men, holding on to each other. A fifth Angel. Then, the elevator cage.

  Broward and Quiroga could not see it, but they could imagine the roar of the thick air escaping from Osorno through the cave and the shaft that led down to Howards' house and the plaza on the third level. Dust blew up from the hill, a yellow-red cloud that obscured the tunnel. Abruptly, a door soared out from the tunnel and flopped on the plain. The door at the entrance to the house at the bottom of the shaft?

  Quiroga spoke with a choking voice. "It must be hell down there. The people fighting to get out of the plaza before the barriers come down in the tunnels at each end and seal them off. But they can't do anything but roll before the great wind until they are smashed against a wall and held there. Or slide along until the wind carries them through the doors and broken windows into the house and maybe even up the shaft"

  He put his hands over his face. "I do not weep for Howards and his men, because they deserve to die. But there are innocent people in that plaza. Women and children, Mier's daughter..."

  Broward put his hand on the lieutenant's shoulder. "I am sorry, deeply sorry. What else can I say? Now, would you take the ship back in? We'll close the outer ports; they should be strong enough to take the wind. Once they're closed, your people can start pumping air back into the plaza.

  "And buck up. You've got a lot of explaining to do and a lot of organizing. You're not going to get much sleep. Neither will I. I have to get back to Deimos. But I'll be coming back."

  Quiroga stood up, tears running down his face, and said, "I'll put on my suit"

  Broward did not reply. He was so tired that he wanted to do nothing but sleep.

  Four Mars days later, he left the red planet again, headed this time for the Moon. Quiroga, spokesman for the Martians, sat beside him. Below them, on the dwindling reddish ball, the newly formed government was trying to determine the course of its society. After the outbreak against the more devoted followers of Howards, most of whom had been killed by those eager for revenge as soon as the news of El Macho's death was known, a temporary government had been set up.