Labastida, an admiral, and Learmont, one-time mayor of Osorno, had been released from the prison where Howards had recently placed them. After hearing Broward's story, they had agreed that he should return to the Moon. He was to attempt to arrange for a truce. Eventually, they hoped, a treaty would be made. Peace could be established, and the survivors could get down to the serious and harsh business of struggling for a living and of hewing out of the subarean and sublunarian rock Lebensraum for themselves and their descendants.
Broward had sent the bomb in an orbit towards the sun. It was traveling at top speed towards its fiery tomb; nothing could divert or recall it
Now, Quiroga was with him as ambassador. Since he alone had any acquaintance with the Moonman, and since he had several important relatives, he had gotten the job. The two did the things that a man must do to keep from going mad during the long voyage in cramped quarters. However, for Broward, the return was not as bad as the original trip. He had someone to talk to.
Broward smiled and said, "Once, I would have been very eager to explain it to you. I'd have talked for hours on end and only reluctantly dropped the subject. But not now."
"But what is it?"
"Briefly, it was the idea of setting up human government and society so that all was decentralized. Well, not everything. With the huge and crowded population Earth had, there were many things that could only be handled by a terrestrial-wide government.
"But I wanted society cut into the minimum segments possible. Each segment would be composed of, say, five hundred men and women. These would govern all local affairs, and the governing would be conducted on a basis like that which ancient Athens had.
"This would require, of course, a politically educated and zealous electorate. I wasn't naive enough to think that people would naturally be so. However, the idea was that the children would be educated to be so, conditioned, as it were."
"And who would enforce this conditioning, this education?"
"There you are. The weak point. Or one of them. Only a powerful central government could make this come about And such a government is not likely to bring about its own demise wilfully. In a way, I had the same idea as Marx himself. That is, he thought the state would wither away after a world government was established and the proletariat ruled. That idea, though still paid lip service to by our leaders and taught in school, had been abandoned in practice. Only the most diehard Marxist subscribed to it.
"Unconsciously, I must have been affected by what my teachers offered me, even though not many of them believed it. Long after I had conceived the Athenian ideology, I realized my error. However, by then, I had formed my Athenian Underground. It was absurd to think that the authorities didn't know of it They did, but they allowed me to go unharmed, even to be given a place of trust on the Moon. Why? I don't know for sure. Perhaps, they were using me to detect other potential subversives. At any time they wanted to, they could have brought the entire movement, which was small, anyway, to its knees by using the bonephones.
"Later, I realized this, too. But it was too late to back out. So, I went ahead as if I had not been detected. If the authorities were willing to let me play my little game, I was willing. Though I lost much of my enthusiasm.
"Then, when most of Earth was killed, and human society was suddenly restricted, I began thinking again. Now, Athenianism could work. And the children would be so few in numbers, they could easily be educated. They would grow up thinking that the Athenian system of democracy was the best way for men to govern themselves. All would be free, within necessary limits, of course. The old would be kicked out; the new, based on rationality and logic, would come in."
He fell silent for a while. Quiroga shifted around in his seat, then said, "And now?"
Broward shrugged, and said, "I think I've learned. Man is only logical when he is working with machines or mathematics or in the laboratory. And not always then. Otherwise, he behaves as custom demands. Oh, there are men who don't, and enough of these at one time influence society to change its customs, though slowly. Or technological changes influence them to adopt new customs. But these changes are not made systematically or after much thought They just come about.
"The born conservative resists them; the born liberal adopts them. Neither knows quite why he resists or adopts, though he gives rational reasons for his conduct Then, they die, and the same process goes on with their sons and their sons' sons. And so it goes."
"You've given up?"
"No. I can't. Even realizing the truth, I can't. Besides, now that mankind is so few, one man's feelings and ideas may wield great power. But I'm not going to try to change society overnight. I'll do my best to introduce what I think are good ideas. If they're rejected, I won't kill or jail people for it."
"This Scone?" Quiroga said. "He will kill. He will kill you because you disobeyed him and threw away his chance for victory."
"Scone is a man like Genghis Khan, Napoleon, Hitler. He has no business existing in this world. He'd like to keep the old order, with himself as top dog, of course. He's reactionary down to his bones, yet he's a great fighter, a soldier who won't stop until his enemy is dead or he's dead. So..."
He continued, "I've been thinking about a plan to inform the people on the Moon of what's happened without Scone being able to repress the news. I'm also informing them about the surplus of women on Mars and your people's offer to send volunteer women to the Moon to balance out the lack there. That's a very strong point. If you'll excuse me, I'll get to work on that now."
He spent several hours in recording, wiping out, rerecording. Finally, he was satisfied. Then, for the relay satellite had been contacted a little while before, he transmitted. Over and over again.
"And what do you expect to happen?" said Quiroga. He had been listening quietly but with some puzzlement while Broward talked into the mike.
"This message will be taped at the Moon receiving station," he answered. "The operator will also listen in. He won't understand a word of it, of course, because it's in Navaho. He won't even know what language it is. There'll be an uproar; he'll call in Scone. Scone will summon Dahlquist, because he's the man most likely to understand an exotic language. Dahlquist will listen, and the first thing he'll hear will be my request that he not tell Scone the truth. "That's one of the weak points in my plan. If Dahlquist won't go along, then we're done for. But I know him; I'm banking on him. If he does as I say, he'll tell Scone that I've lost the codebook and am using Navaho for communication. It's just as good as any code.
"Very clever," the Martian said. "But this Scone is also very clever, crafty as a wolf, and he has great power. He may not believe what this Dahlquist tells him."
"He probably won't. But he surely won't dare to use force on the old Swede. Dahlquist is a very respected and much loved man."
"What if Scone decides not to take a chance but sends a ship to intercept and destroy us before we get there? His most faithful henchmen would do that for him, wouldn't they? And if nothing was said about it, everybody on the Moon would think you had had some accident. Ships disappear all the time, you know, and nothing is ever heard of them again."
"That's a chance we'll have to take," Broward said. "I doubt if Scone would do that. Why should he? He thinks that everything he's wanted has come about He can easily deal with me once I land—he thinks."
Nevertheless, Broward was very uneasy after this. He kept expecting the alarms of the ship to sound out, to indicate that a UFO had been picked up by the radar. He did some calculation. If Scone sent a ship after him several hours after he'd received the message, then it should be within radar area in about five hours from now.
He sat tensely until the five hours had passed. Still, he did not relax. The interceptors might have left later. Six hours, seven, eight, passed. He sighed with relief. Although it was still possible that a ship might appear, the possibility dwindled the closer the scout came to the Moon. Scone would not want the lunar detectors to witness the explosion that would
result if the interceptor blew him up with a small atomic bomb.
But there was the very good probability that the Moon no longer had any missiles. The last battle with the Axe fleet could have expended them, since there were few when the fight started. Mars itself had no more than three left
If that were the case, the interceptor would use beams. Well, if he detected a UFO coming at him, and he'd do so before it was within a half-million mile range, he'd take evasive action. This would not be like the evasive action taken by airplanes during the old wars on Earth. Even though the occupants of spaceships were not affected by sudden angles of flight or decelerations or accelerations, the ships had their limits. No, he would simply place the ship in a new orbit shortly before it came within effective range of the lasers. At the speed the interceptor would be going, it could not turn around in time to catch him before he had reached the Moon. Unless, of course, the interceptors were lucky and caught him with a wild swing of the beams.
Hours passed, and no strange ship appeared ahead of him. So, Scone did not intend to destroy him before he reached home base. Probably, so egotistical was Scone, he did not think it necessary. He had used Broward for his own purposes despite Broward's feeling, and he would now dispose of him when and as he wished.
Broward began worrying about another thing. Why hadn't Scone answered his message?
He told Quiroga this latest thought, and the Martian said, "Why should he?"
Two more hours were rounded off on the ship's chronometer. Then, a message did come. But it was only a routine acknowledgment of Broward's approach and directions on where to land.
There were still six hours to go to landing time. Since he was now close enough to lock in and to use laser channels for communication, and the need for code was gone, he asked the operator the news.
"Sorry, Captain," replied the operator. "Just follow orders." Angry, frustrated, Broward did not make another attempt Even seeing the great globe of earth and the smaller one of its satellite ever expanding before him did not make him feel any better. What was going on down there?
At the designated time, the scout landed before the entrance lock to the port of Clavius. This was a new tube that had been extended from the ruins of the old base. Near it loomed the gigantic cigar-shaped Zemlya. Several men in suits were working on the stern of the vessel. Occasionally, one of them ventured from the shadows into the sunlit areas to work a little while before retreating. Even now, the problems of keeping a suit cool in the full heat of the sun had not been solved. But the repairs on the Zemlya seemed to have been all but completed. Even as Broward and Quiroga left their craft, the figures dropped off the scaffolding and descended slowly to the surface. They then walked to a port near the stern and entered.
Broward and Quiroga were also in suits, since the lock was not fitted for direct attachment to a ship and a force field was not being generated due to lack of power. Quiroga, speaking through his radio, said, "I feel very strange. And, though I should not admit it, I am afraid. It is like entering a cave of wolves."
"Some of those wolves are my friends," Broward said. "And they want peace as much as you do, I'm sure. Don't worry. Whatever happens, I won't desert you. You have my word."
He pressed the button that opened the lock from the outside, after looking through the transparent shield to make sure that no one was within. Normally, the locks had features built within them to ensure that they could not be opened unless it was safe for those inside the lock. But materials were so scarce now, and the lock had been built so swiftly, that Broward was not sure that regular precautions had been taken.
The lock was empty. The port swung open; they stepped inside; the port closed. Air soon filled the little chamber, and the two then opened the inner port and went down a narrow shaft. There was no ladder; they had to fall down the approximately 3.1 meters.
Beneath the shaft was a larger room and a tunnel that led to a still larger. Both rooms had racks on which were suits and associated equipment, but this had several desks. Presumably, these were to be used by the officials who
"That's strange," said Broward, then he stiffened. He had beard gunshots.
Broward said, "That can mean only one thing. But I don't know who'll be coming down that tunnel in a minute."
"We have no guns," said Quiroga. "Let's go back to the ship."
Broward did not answer but whirled and ran through the other room and leaped up the shaft. At the entrance to the lock, he quickly replaced and resecured his helmet Quiroga did the same. They entered the lock and, without waiting for the air to be pumped out, went out onto the lunar plain. Behind them, the escaping atmosphere pushed, but they jumped up and allowed it to sail them towards their ship.
In the scout, Broward seized a burper and handed another to Quiroga.
"Back to the shaft," he said.
They made it just in time. The barks of larger caliber weapons and the pop-pop of smaller guns came up through the shaft. Then, there was a silence. Broward guessed that, whoever they were down there, they were putting on suits. And their antagonists had, for some reason, stopped firing.
He said to Quiroga, "If it's Dahlquist and his men, we'll simply help them make for the Zemlya. If it's Scone, we'll stop them. He'll be trying for the Zemlya, too."
Below him, a man appeared. The fellow looked up before jumping, and Broward recognized him as Radman, the commander of the Zemlya. At the same time, Radman saw him. He cried out and raised his .20 centum. Broward threw himself back and on the floor to escape the stream of explosives. The ceiling above the shaft broke into a thousand chips and went flying around the top of the shaft and back down it.
When the thum-thum of the little exploding bullets had quit, Broward roiled near the shaft. He called out, "Radman! I want to speak to Scone!"
There was a silence. Seconds passed, a minute. Then Scone's voice came hollowly up the shaft.
"Broward! You bad penny! I underestimated you by farl But you haven't won yet!"
Broward shouted back, "Why not?"
Scone's voice was triumphant "Because I have Ingrid Nashdoi!"
Broward gritted his teeth and said, "How do I know you have her?"
"I picked her up while we were fighting our way out to here. I knew she'd be handy as a hostage. Besides, I want her!"
"I think you're bluffing."
Scone did not answer. Broward wondered what he would do next. Perhaps, he and Quiroga should go out to the scout They could place it against the lock and beam down anybody who tried to come out.
A scream wailed up through the shaft. Broward stiffened and cursed. He cursed again when he heard Ingrid's voice crying out in agony.
Immediately thereafter, Scone shouted up, "Now do you believe?"
"All right," Broward replied. "Now what?"
"I just want to get to the Zemlya," Scone said. "I know you've got me cornered. So, I'll make a trade with you. Ingrid for the Zemlya."
Broward did not need to ask what Scone would do if he were turned down. He'd try to fight his way out even if he knew it was hopeless. But he'd kill Ingrid first
"There's been too much bloodshed already," said Broward. "Most of it entirely needless. All right You can have the Zemlya. But release Ingrid first"
"What kind of a fool do you think I am?" Scone replied.
"Scone, the Zemlya will be a small price to pay to get rid of you and your kind. Believe me, I want you to leave on it Release her, and on my word, I'll do nothing to prevent you from escaping. More, I'll do my best to see that no one on the Moon goes after you."
Again, there was silence. Though it was cold by the shaft, Broward was sweating.
He turned to Quiroga. 'Take the scout Melt all the destructive projection equipment you can locate on the exterior of the Zemlya. I doubt if those in it will know about it; they're not likely to have the sensories on. Come back as soon as you're through, and park the ship to one side. Have the beams ready to go if I give the word or if I don't come out with the others."
Quiroga nodded and left. Broward said loudly down the shaft, "What about it Scone? You don't have much choice, you know. You have to trust me."
There were several shots, an exchange between Scone's group and the others, he hoped. Then Scone said, "You lucky bastard! To show up just at the right time for you, wrong time for me."
Broward replied, "Sure!" But he was thinking that it might not perhaps, be all luck. Too many things had happened. The finding of the undersea colony off Yakan and then the submarine station off Israel where Moshe and Katashkina had started a new life and a new nation. Then, his finding and rescue of Quiroga and the events it had led to, including the discovery of the escape shaft of Howards and the consequent defeat of Howards. And now, almost as if it had been arranged, his arrival at the lock just before the fleeing Scone.
"Throw your weapons onto the floor of the shaft," he said. "Come up one by one. I'll let you through the lock in groups of three."
There was a clatter as a burper struck the rock floor. Scone followed it He raised his huge stone-statue face upwards, grinned slightly, and leaped. Broward, who had risen, stepped back, his gun held on the big man.
"They may not be of the same mind as you," Broward replied. 'Tell them to send Ingrid up. I want to be sure she's all right."
Scone shouted back down the shaft. In a few seconds, Ingrid was beside Broward. She was pale and shaking, but she managed to smile at him. In one hand she held Scone's burper.
A second man followed, then a woman.
Ingrid said, "Olga's a prisoner. They took her along when they came across her in the corridors. She doesn't want to go."
Broward motioned to the woman to step behind them. Scone said, "Wait a minute. We can't go without women."
"The tanks of the Zemlya have women," said Broward. "You can thaw them out."
Scone licked his lips and looked for a second as if he were going to jump Broward. But, seeing the expression on Broward's face, he stepped back.
Tongues of the Moon Page 16