“Of course, Lieutenant, if you men would like to follow me?”
She set off and the team followed, except for Stevenson who joined her at the head. Somerset cast him a sideways glance, noticing him shift the weight of the carbine in his arm. “Chivalry, Mister Stevenson?”
Stevenson smiled. “We may live in tough times, Miss Somerset, but it is not quite dead yet.”
“Well, as much I appreciate the sentiment,” she said and, with speed that surprised Stevenson, relived him of his weapon, which she promptly loaded, “I can look after myself.”
Laughter echoed in Stevenson’s helmet. He glanced back to see Bedford shaking his head, and offering out his Lee Metford carbine. Stevenson gladly accepted it, noting that Bedford removed his trusty Lancaster pistol from its holster. Miss Somerset was now some feet ahead, and Stevenson smiled ruefully at her back.
So you can, he thought.
5.
NATHANIAL WAS certain he was the first to hear it. A strange chittering sound ahead, as if someone was quickly snapping sticks together. It was not, however, a random sound. There was purpose to it. Multi-layered, as if…
“Captain!” Nathanial said, with a start. “I believe there is something ahead of us!”
Folkard and Ainsworth both pulled up short and listened. The sound was getting louder. Folkard turned to Ainsworth. “Stand ready,” he said, and armed his own weapon. Ainsworth did likewise.
The three men stood waiting, listening intently as the strange sound continued to approach. Nathanial had never carried a weapon in his life, but at this point he wished he knew how to use one. Since this was neither the time nor the place to take a crash course in firearm usage, Nathanial settled on holding his lantern aloft so that Folkard and Ainsworth could get a good view of whatever was approaching. They had their own lanterns, of course, but they were sitting on the tunnel floor, abandoned in favour of a more resolutely armed position.
The light from the lanterns cast shadows on the tunnel walls, and their first glimpse of the owners of the unearthly sound was the elongated shadow of some kind of protuberance. It seemed to have soft serrated edges, with a rather vicious looking hook at the end. More of the creature was revealed, and Nathanial was hardly able to credit his own eyes. Even from the shadow, distorted by the multiple lanterns, it was clearly the shadow of some kind of ant.
It was patently absurd. Even an ant standing directly in front of a lantern would not cast such a huge shadow, but this one…It came into view, and Nathanial swallowed in fear.
The ant stopped a few feet from them, tilted its head from side to side, its large compound eyes clearly regarding the armed men with caution. The ant stood at least five foot tall, and although a great deal shorter than Nathanial himself, he did not fancy the idea of coming into direct contact with the insect. Even Earth ants were deceptively powerful, their mandibles capable of cutting through creatures of a similar size. As a child he had once watched, in fascinated horror, as a trio of weaver ants collaborated to dismember a copper ant. It was one of the most singularly vicious things he had ever witnessed. He dreaded to think what an ant the size of a small man could do.
The dark-skinned ant was no longer alone. Five more of its fellows emerged from the shadows, all of them standing before the men, blocking the way.
Nathanial swallowed. “Captain?” he whispered.
“Stand easy, Professor, these creatures have not made a move to attack us. They just seem…curious,” Folkard said in a similarly hushed voice.
“I admire your detachment, Captain. Could these be the moon men we have heard rumour of?”
“Hardly seem anything like men to me,” Folkard pointed out. “And I assure you I am not ‘detached’. One false move and these ants will discover how attached I actually am.”
This comment reassured Nathanial, but the sudden sound behind them did not. Nathanial slowly turned his head. He wished he had not.
Another ant, this time copper in colour, stood there. Holding a rifle, which was aimed directly at them.
“Captain,” Nathanial said softly.
Folkard turned to look and brought his carbine to bear. He frowned at the gun in the ant’s claws. “That is not Navy issue,” he said.
Nathanial was not too sure what relevance that could have, and so he hurriedly asked the captain.
“It means these ants are most certainly allies of the Russians, Professor.” With that being so, Folkard lifted his rifle and aimed it directly at the copper ant’s head. “In the name of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy I order you to stand down.”
Nathanial doubted the wisdom of addressing the ant. Clearly it would not understand the words spoken, but, he supposed, Captain Folkard felt honour bound to issue a warning. He was, therefore, quite surprised when the insect replied in a twisted abomination of English.
“Not hurt we Selenites more!”
Chapter Six
Ambush in the Tunnels
1.
ONLY ANNABELLE talked as she and Stevenson led the way deeper into Luna, after all she was the only one who really could since she did not need to conserve oxygen, and she told them about recent events on Luna.
“After the previous test flight of my uncle’s propeller governor, it was a foregone conclusion that he would return to Luna. His interest was piqued by the mystery surrounding the glow. He wrote me many letters about this new obsession of his. He had heard that a Russian scientist, Vladimir Tereshkov, was also interested in this glow, and being the competitive man he is, Uncle Cyrus just had to get to Luna first. Alas, further development of the governor hit a few snags, and so he was not able to return to Luna before Tereshkov. Nonetheless, this did not deter him. My uncle is not easily put off.
“So, belatedly, he and his little team returned to Luna. Once again it was financed by the Tuscan Weekly Citizen, who wanted the scoop on the discoveries due to be made. He was accompanied by several experts, and a reporter…and, uh, me. My uncle had already triangulated the direction from which the glow came, and we travelled directly there. Traversing the gorge was not easy…”
At this, no doubt against his better judgement, Bedford enquired; “The gorge, Miss Somerset?”
Annabelle looked back at the lieutenant. He, as well as Miller and Platt, were a little distance back. He was strong and big shouldered, with a firm look about his moustached face. He had a very commanding presence, the look of a man who brokered no tomfoolery, and thus, naturally, someone whom Annabelle immediately felt a strong affinity with. Bedford put her in mind of her father.
“A chasm almost dead centre of the basin next to which I, uh, landed my uncle’s flyer,” she explained.
For a moment Bedford was silent, then he nodded abruptly. “That explains why the Sovereign left us. They must have seen this glow of which you speak, and gone to investigate. I assume Professor Stone was aware of the significance of the glow to your uncle?”
“I made him aware of such, yes, Lieutenant.”
“Very well. Please, proceed with your tale.”
“Thank you,” she said curtly, and resumed, but not before she noticed a slight smirk on the countenance of Mister Stevenson. “The gorge narrows the further down you go, but as you saw, the Annabelle is quite a small flyer and we were able to reach the bottom with minimal fuss. There the Russians were awaiting us. Tereshkov is a very resourceful man, but no less insane than the rumours suggest. He has paid handsomely for the loyalty of the okhrana quite well, and they are entrenched on this side of Luna. They also have secreted several lookout posts in the smaller craters.” At this she glanced back at Bedford. “They are most certainly aware of your presence.”
“And no doubt responsible for the attack by those Selenite creatures.”
“Very unlikely, Lieutenant. Even if the Selenites were aggressive, the Russians have treated them in ways that would never secure their co-operation. I really have no idea why they would attack you.”
“Perhaps they…” Stevenson began, then stopped. Literally, he ceased
his walking and looked around.
Annabelle stopped next to him. “What is it?” she asked, in a whisper, careful not to alert Bedford and the other two men who were nearing them now.
Stevenson frowned. “I do not know,” he said, his voice as low as Annabelle’s, “I had this…sensation. As if someone were breathing down my neck. I had it before, in your flyer, but this time…”
“There is no one else here but us.” She peered closely at his face, now dripping with sweat. “Perhaps the lack of oxygen…?”
Stevenson forced a smile. “Yes, that must be it.”
“Everything okay, Mister Stevenson?” Bedford asked.
“Yes, sir,” Stevenson replied.
“I just needed to stop for a moment,” Annabelle offered up quickly, and rubbed her legs. “My muscles are a little weak from lack of use.”
“I see. Well, as much as I have sympathy for your condition, Miss Somerset, we do not have the luxury of a respite. If we may continue on?”
“Yes, of course, Lieutenant.”
Annabelle, throwing Stevenson a furtive smile, which he quickly returned, set off back down the tunnel. Stevenson and the team followed once more.
“What were you about to say, Mister Stevenson?” Annabelle asked.
“What? Oh yes, I was going to ask if perhaps the Selenites viewed the Annabelle as some kind of prize?”
“Again, unlikely. My uncle made a study of them on his previous expedition to Luna, and we spent quite some time with them before the Russians…turned on us. They rarely venture onto the lunar surface; they find it too cold.” Annabelle shook her head. “Attacking you and venturing out of their caverns is very much out of character, and I am at a loss to explain the reason behind it.” She stopped walking and reached for the respirator covering her mouth. “I have noticed, however, that none of you appear to be terribly out of breath anymore.” She removed the respirator and took a deep breath, looking at Stevenson with a large smile.
Stevenson was the first to remove his own helmet and he too inhaled deeply. “Ah! Finally, fresh air!”
“We are now exactly a mile beneath the surface of Luna.” Annabelle’s smile faded. “Which is usually where the danger begins.” She cocked the carbine and offered a grim smile to Bedford and the rest of his team, now free of their helmets. “There are other things besides Selenites down here, and not all of them are friendly.”
2.
“AN INSECT that talks! This is fascinating.” Nathanial stepped past Folkard, only now having eyes for the large, rusty-looking ant before him.
“Professor,” Folkard said, reaching out an arm for Nathanial, “stand back! We are surrounded!”
Nathanial pulled against Folkard’s grip. “Captain, this is absolutely fascinating! Don’t you see, in some ways their evolution must have matched ours, how else could they have developed vocal chords? They clearly differ from the ants of our world.”
“Clearly, Professor, for I have never seen an ant the size of a small man on Earth! I have no truck with this theory of evolution, either. This creature is obviously a creation of God. Although,” he added, with a narrowed look at the ant, “perhaps the work of the Devil is closer.”
“Superstitious nonsense, Captain!” With an abrupt tug, Nathanial removed his arm and continued on, lantern held out before him. “You will not harm us, will you?”
The giant insect looked at him, with curiosity, Nathanial thought. “We hurt not. Selenites live peace.”
“Selenites,” Nathanial repeated. The word sounded familiar to him. “Of course!” he said, with a click of the fingers. He looked back at Folkard. The captain still had his carbine aimed at the copper Selenite, while Ainsworth continued to cover the darker ants that blocked their path up the tunnel. “Annabelle mentioned them to me in one of her letters. Doctor Grant met them on his previous expedition.”
The copper Selenite shuffled forward. “You know gooddoctor?”
“Good doctor? You mean Cyrus Grant?” The insect seemed to nod in response. Nathanial thought for a moment. “As opposed to the bad doctor…Yes! Tereshkov!”
“He hurt we Selenites. Gooddoctor and batch relation help us.”
Nathanial noticed that the Selenite had lowered its weapon. He smiled. “Yes, we are friends of gooddoctor. We have come to help him.”
“Friend Annabelle find you?”
“Erm, yes,” Nathanial said, and added to himself, in a manner of speaking.
The Selenite studied Nathanial for a moment. Was it possible that the insect was that adept at reading human facial expressions? Nathanial could not help but be excited by this revelation. Not only intelligent insects, but intuitive ones, too. Nathanial offered his best, and most trusting, smile. The Selenite made a strange buzzing sound, which was repeated by the darker Selenites further up the tunnel.
“We help you.” The Selenite offered up its rifle to Nathanial. “I K’chuk.”
“Excellent! I am Nathanial Stone, and this resolute gentleman is Captain Folkard. The man behind him is Able Seaman Ainsworth. We would be most happy of your help.”
Nathanial watched as K’chuk shuffled its way up the tunnel towards its fellows, brushing past Folkard and Ainsworth with a “sorry”. Polite, too! Was this a natural inclination, or something learned from exposure to humans? Nathanial could not wait to find out. K’chuk was now deep in conversation with the other Selenites. Nathanial walked over to join Folkard, who was looking at the Selenites with some bemusement.
“Professor, what just happened?”
“I believe we have got our first allies on Luna, Captain.”
“Good Lord!” Folkard looked to Nathanial and laughed.
3.
“ARE YOU certain that was a good idea, sir?”
Bedford looked back at the discarded atmosphere suits. “Necessary rather than good, Stevenson. If we are to encounter Russians it is well that we are not encumbered by the atmosphere suits. Fast reactions will be needed. Besides which, what use are they to us now?”
Stevenson nodded. “Perhaps, sir, but if we need to reach the Sovereign by the surface, then…”
“We will fair no less worse either way without oxygen.”
Bedford was not entirely sure he liked this new side of Stevenson. Since leaving the ship the young man had proven himself to be a very reliable and resourceful seaman, without doubt officer material. A fact of which Bedford was to inform Captain Folkard upon returning to the Sovereign, but now that Stevenson was taking to questioning decisions made by his commanding officer…Bad enough that Miller was proving his lack of suitably to be serving on the Sovereign. Perhaps the captain would like this new aspect of Stevenson more than he. It would not be the first time they had disagreed on how to command a ship and its crew, although the captain leaving an away team to fend for itself without even waiting on a report was a new development.
Something to which Bedford would be drawing Folkard’s attention once he returned to his ship.
Miss Somerset was still taking point on their journey, now with Platt by her side. Not that she needed protecting. For such a young lady, she seemed remarkably strong-willed and resourceful. A credit to her uncle. Bedford had to confess, if only to himself, that he was most impressed by her.
“Miss Somerset, if you would continue your story I would be most grateful. Clearly something untoward transpired.”
“Oh, indeed, Lieutenant. At first it seemed the Russians were quite trustworthy. Tereshkov was on the verge of a great discovery, although he was a little reticent to explain the exact nature of this discovery. Even now I am unsure as to what it is. He did take my uncle into his confidence, but Uncle Cyrus and I were parted before he had a chance to fully explain things to me. Regardless, from talking to the Selenites I have learned that there is something they consider holy at the heart of Luna itself, an ancient…uh, relic of some kind. I believe it is for this that Tereshkov is searching.”
“A relic?” Bedford rubbed his chin. “What interest could the
Russian okhrana have in a relic? I can understand how such a thing could hold the interest of a scientist like your uncle, but the okhrana?”
“I have pondered this, too, Lieutenant, and I can only infer that it is some force of power hitherto unknown to man.”
“Then we must not allow the Russians to get their hands on it.” There was no question about his mission now, Bedford decided. Before it was simply to rescue Miss Somerset, and then find another way to return to the Sovereign. Now…now it was different.
“Listen up,” he said, addressing his men, “I’m afraid, Mister Miller, you will have to come to terms with your role in this mission a lot quicker. Our primary mission now is to end the Russian presence on Luna. Whatever this relic is, it must not fall into Russian hands. The safety of the British Empire may depend on it.”
“But, sir, we are only a few men.”
Bedford regarded Stevenson. The young man did not appear to be afraid, and yet he seemed to be speaking like a coward all of a sudden. “I am certain that Captain Folkard will be heading into the heart of the Russian presence on Luna, so we will not be alone,” he said, with a tone that spoke of more certainty then he felt. In truth he had little faith in the captain right now, but regardless of his feelings, the away team needed to have that faith intact. “Indeed, we will see to it that the Russians undergo a two-pronged attack. Miss Somerset, I trust you know your way back to the Russian camp?”
Miss Somerset gathered herself together. There was no questioning in her eyes. “I do, Lieutenant. However, I agree with Mister Stevenson. We are but few; we will need some sort of assistance.”
“And just where do you propose we find such assistance?”
“There is a Selenite village nearby, if we…”
Miss Somerset stopped, as a distant sound echoed up the tunnel. It was an eerie, stridulous sound. More of those blasted Selenites!
“Are you leading us into an ambush, Miss Somerset?” Bedford asked, his pistol now pointed directly at Miss Somerset’s heart.
“Captain, I…” Miss Somerset shook her head. “This is absurd! I have already told you the Selenites are not your enemy. They are not warmongers.”
Journey to the Heart of Luna Page 10
