Stevenson knew he was playing with fire, not to mention endangering his entire naval career, but he had to step in and defend Miss Somerset. This he did, stepping directly in the line of fire.
“Lieutenant, Miss Somerset has given us absolutely no cause to suspect her of betrayal.”
“Ordinary Seaman Stevenson, you will stand aside, or you will be arrested and tried for treason, too.”
Stevenson’s brow furrowed. “Treason, sir? That is ridiculous. You are aiming your gun at a woman, a civilian. This is not fitting of a lieutenant in Her Majesty’s Navy.”
Bedford’s gun did not waver. “Then perhaps you are in collusion? Is that why you both stopped earlier? Setting up this ambush?”
“Sir, there is no ambush.” Stevenson indicated the tunnel behind Miss Somerset. “We do not know those Selenites pose a threat. Indeed, Miss Somerset insists otherwise.”
“And I am right,” she said. Miss Somerset stepped to the side, so she was once again in full view of Lieutenant Bedford. “I appreciate your support, Mister Stevenson, but I am quite capable of defending myself.”
“Of course you are,” Bedford said with a sneer.
Stevenson could no longer believe it. Bedford always seemed to be a firm man, perhaps more so than was necessary, but he had never given Stevenson reason to doubt him. Truly they had only served together for a matter of weeks, but nonetheless, the man before him was becoming less and less like the commanding officer Stevenson had come to know.
“Been well trained by your Russian paymasters, I’ll wager,” Bedford continued.
Fury, there was no other word for it, washed across Miss Somerset’s face like a tsunami. “Take back those words!” she verily hissed.
A shot was fired from Bedford’s pistol but Miss Somerset had anticipated it. She dived into a roll and came back up on her feet mere inches from Bedford. As she rose, she drove the butt of her carbine into Bedford’s jaw. Stevenson, clearly not as paralysed by the sudden action as the other men, stepped forward to intercede.
He barely moved an inch when he felt the unmistakable pressure of someone’s hand press firmly on his shoulder.
5.
K’CHUK EXPLAINED, in his own inimitable way, that he and his fellow Selenites had once been prisoners of the Russians, but he had escaped with Annabelle.
“Then Doctor Grant is not working with the Russians,” Folkard said.
Nathanial was not surprised to hear this, and said so. “Did I not inform you of such, Captain? Doctor Grant would not place his niece in danger intentionally.”
“Yet still, danger they found, Professor.”
Nathanial could not argue that point, and so he did not. Instead he listened more to K’chuk’s story.
The escape had transpired some time ago, and K’chuk and Annabelle had split up; she to send for assistance from Earth and K’chuk to try and free his people from the clasp of the Russians. The drones, as K’chuk called them, were being used for slave labour.
“Do you know where the gooddoctor is?” Nathanial asked. It seemed he had become the liaison between Folkard and the Selenites. Although he had not said anything, it was quite clear that despite his good humour, Captain Folkard was not entirely comfortable around the Selenites, who themselves were standing to one side, as if keeping guard.
K’chuk nodded his bulbous head. “Always know other Selenites. Gooddoctor with Selenite slaves.”
Nathanial did not bother to ask how K’chuk always knew where other Selenites were; he suspected there was much about them he would never understand. Although he surely wanted to know more. Perhaps he would discover more on the journey to Doctor Grant. He certainly hoped so.
“Can you lead us to Doctor Grant? We must affect a rescue.”
“And put an end to the Russian’s presence on Luna,” Folkard added for good measure.
Nathanial nodded. “Yes, that, too. We will free your fellows, K’chuk.”
“Now steady on, Professor. That’s a tall order. We have a very limited number of men at the moment…”
Nathanial shook his head and looked at K’chuk. “Please excuse us a moment.”
K’chuk bowed and shuffled his way over to his fellows. Once he was gone Nathanial turned to Folkard. “Consider, Captain, if you will. With the few men you have right now, which not counting those on the Sovereign and Bedford’s own small team leaves us three, you will not stand much of a chance against a fully entrenched Russian okhrana. We already know they have been here for some time, and clearly wield enough power to torture the Selenites and hold both Annabelle and Grant against their will. I am no fighter, Captain, so beyond the intellectual what practical use will I be?”
“You have acquitted yourself quite well so far, Professor, do not forget that.”
“Thank you, Captain, most gracious. Not entirely sure it is justified praise, but thank you nonetheless. So, at best that leaves us three. We will need help.”
Folkard looked at the Selenites. “More ants?”
“Certainly. If they are anything like their Earth cousins then they will be a whole lot stronger than they appear.”
“Yet still they have been easily subjugated by the Russians.”
Nathanial let out a sigh. “Yes, but K’chuk has already told us that they are not fighters. That does not negate their potential.”
At this Folkard raised an eyebrow. “And now you wish me to turn these peace-loving creatures into soldiers? An army?”
“I sincerely do not wish it, no, but I think it may be necessary. At the very least, if we can free the drones then we have more numbers. Do you honestly think that if we stand up against the Russians, the Selenites will stand by and do nothing? I believe every sentient being would fight to protect their home if it be needed.”
For a few moments Folkard just watched Nathanial, his eyes never leaving the younger man’s face. Then his lips parted into a beaming smile. “I quite agree, Professor, I just wanted to make sure that you understood the reasons for my future actions.”
Nathanial wished he could smile, too. He was not a pacifist by any means, but the idea of forcing people, even if they were giant ants, into fighting did not sit well with him. He did, however, agree in the necessity of it.
“However,” Folkard continued, “first things first. Mister Ainsworth!”
The able seaman appeared quickly and saluted his captain. “Sir!”
“Return to the Sovereign. I shall arrange with K’chuk to leave a small group of Selenites here. Apparently they are particularly good at locating each other, and I am counting on that ability. Report the current situation to Major Larkins, and have him return with the Royal Marine contingent. Professor Stone, K’chuk and I will proceed to the Russian camp. We will stir things up, but reinforcements will certainly be needed as soon as they can get there.”
“Very good, sir.” Ainsworth saluted once more then left the way they had come.
Nathanial watched him go, then looked to the captain.
“Shall we speak to K’chuk then, Professor? I think it is high time we really got our hands dirty.”
Nathanial looked at his bandaged hand. “Such as they are,” he said ruefully.
6.
A PIERCING sound reverberated throughout the tunnel, causing the humans to fall to their knees. Four Selenites, of the same hue as the drones with K’chuk, turned the corner and stopped. A fifth Selenite, this one a dark red in colour, walked through the middle of them and approached the humans.
Annabelle lifted her head. She had yet to visit the nearby Selenite village, but K’chuk had shown her how to recognise when she was near one. There were telltale signs in the strata of the tunnel walls, signs only the Selenites knew. She had known, immediately, that the village ahead was home to a queen. Not all Selenite colonies were run by queens, most of them were led by the same breed of enhanced Selenite as K’chuk, but throughout the sub-lunar catacombs there were a few queens, all of whom were well protected. The Selenite approaching her was one
such queen. The red, almost-translucent nature of her skin was the first indication, and the enlarged postpetiole, standing out like some over-inflated balloon at the rear of her body was the confirmation.
“What the devil happened?”
Annabelle looked to Bedford, who was slowly rising to his feet. The anger she had felt towards him was no longer there, and he looked at her with an almost embarrassed countenance. He reached down to help her to her feet.
“Miss Somerset, I really ought to apologise. I have no idea why I said those things.”
For her own part, Annabelle had no idea why she had responded so violently to his accusations about her role with the Russians. Certainly she had no love for them, and what they put her through to ensure the co-operation of her uncle…But she had been through much worse and had always refrained from such outpourings of hatred.
“It is nothing, Lieutenant. I believe none of us were acting ourselves. Save, perhaps, for Mister Stevenson.”
Annabelle turned to where she believed Stevenson to be, but he was not there. She looked back. The three men, Bedford, Platt and Miller, were now once again on their feet. Looking around, perplexed and perhaps a little fearful of the red Selenite before them, but most definitely present.
“Lieutenant Bedford, where is Mister Stevenson?”
“He is over…” Bedford stopped, glancing around the tunnel. As far as the eye could see there was no sign of Stevenson. “He was here but moments ago.”
Annabelle agreed. From the moment of the fight to now, barely a few seconds had passed. Surely not enough time for Stevenson to run away. She looked to the queen, and bowed her head politely. “Perhaps you can tell us what happened?”
The queen did not immediately respond, instead she just stood there, seemingly looking down on the humans. Then she spoke, her English more fluid than K’chuk’s ever was. “Come, follow me to safety. Drobates inhabit walls.”
“Drobates?” Bedford asked. Annabelle merely shook her head. It was not a name she had heard before.
The queen walked away. Before turning the corner she looked back at them once, then continued on, her retinue of drones following her. Bedford approached Annabelle.
“Miss Somerset, what is going on?”
“I confess that I do not know, Lieutenant. But I suggest we follow her, as ordered.”
“Ordered?”
“Yes. She is a queen, and she’s offering us her protection.”
Bedford was incredulous, but he soon pulled himself together and turned to his remaining men. “We have an audience with royalty, look sharp there,” he said, and led the way after the Selenites. Annabelle took up the rear. She looked around one final time before following.
Stevenson could not have simply vanished. It was impossible.
Chapter Seven
An Audience with Q’theletockus
1.
“I SIMPLY do not have a definitive answer, Miss Somerset,” Lieutenant Bedford said, which were the exact words Annabelle had expected to hear. “I can only assume it was a case of mountain sickness.”
Annabelle frowned. This was a phrase new to her. “Mountain sickness?”
“An analogy, for clearly we have climbed no mountains this day. Mountain sickness refers to the effects of breathing the rarefied air of great heights, although in this case I am referring to the unusual atmosphere content on these sub-lunar caverns. That, coupled with the limited supply of air remaining in my atmosphere suit, well…”
“It all conspired to bring out the wild man in you?” Annabelle offered, unable to keep a smile from her lips.
Bedford’s own smile was returned grimly. There was something of the Chiricahua about him, although he clearly had no Indian ancestry, and Annabelle was not entirely sure if she liked it or not. “I have no other reason that makes any kind of sense,” he said.
“Nor I. However it does not explain my extreme reaction, Lieutenant. I had ample supply of oxygen; I did not need to rely on residual traces within an atmosphere suit. As for the rarefied air of these caverns…I have been on Luna for some time, and I had not reacted in such a way until earlier.” Annabelle shrugged. “It is a mystery. As is the disappearance of Mister Stevenson.”
“Yes, I will confess that is something I cannot explain. I did not take him for a deserter.”
Annabelle shook her head. “He had no time to desert. He simply vanished.”
“That is quite impossible. I have seen many strange things since joining the Navy, but nothing that has given me a belief in magic. Since people do not simply vanish, he must have run away.” Bedford looked sideways with a sigh. Clearly he did not believe this of Stevenson either. “Perhaps your Selenite friends can explain things to us? They are native to this place after all.”
“They are drones, Lieutenant; they have no capacity for speech. However, their queen…”
“Clearly does. But where is she?”
They had been led to the Selenite village, a series of connected spherical caverns, and once in the first cavern they had been instructed by the queen to wait. This Bedford and Annabelle did, while Platt and Miller were requested to follow two Selenites to the food stores. Bedford gave them leave, and the two men followed the Selenites, who scaled the wall to a small hole which led to a hive. The Selenites had no trouble climbing the wall, their tarsal claws perfectly suited to the task. Miller and Platt had a bit more trouble, but soon found a way with Miller using his hands to lift Platt and then Platt pulling Miller up to him. The queen had watched this and made a shrill, unearthly sound, before she departed down a small slope which, Annabelle pointed out, led to a further hive and probably a nursery. She also felt pretty sure that the sound the queen had made was laughter.
The two of them had been alone for a good twenty minutes now, guarded by four Selenites; two by the main entrance of the cavern, and one each protecting the small entrances to the upper and lower hives. Clearly they were not that trusted yet, although they had not relieved the humans of their weapons. Perhaps word of Annabelle had spread throughout Luna? Annabelle thought this distinctly possible, since the Selenites were able to communicate with each other over great distances in various, inaudible ways.
“Perhaps she is deliberating?” Annabelle said. “If I am known, then you can be sure the Russians are equally known. The queen has already helped us once; perhaps she is now weighing up the pros and cons of helping us once again. This is, after all, a big decision.”
“That’s as may be, Miss Somerset, but aiding us in rescuing your uncle and putting paid to the Russians can only be good for her. After all, did you not say that her own people are held captive by the Russians, too?”
“Not necessarily, Lieutenant.” Bedford looked at her, confused. Annabelle continued. “There are many Selenite colonies throughout Luna, some have queens, others are led by retainers of knowledge, while others are mutually co-dependent on each other. There is nothing to say that the Selenites enslaved by Tereshkov are a part of this colony.”
“Nonetheless, Miss Somerset, they are Selenites.”
Annabelle was surprised by Lieutenant Bedford’s apparent naivety in this matter. He was a good deal older than her, and clearly had a distinguished career in the British Navy. He surely must have seen plenty in his time. Even Annabelle, with only nineteen years, had seen enough to know that one did not necessarily help another simply because they were of the same species. She thought back to her parents and the Chiricahua Apaches, and shook her head. She opened her mouth to draw Bedford’s attention to this, but sound from the entrance to the upper hive distracted her.
Platt and Miller had returned, carrying in their hands grey fungus. At the sight of it, Annabelle let out a groan. Bedford looked at her enquiringly, and she forced a smile. “Dinner is served, Lieutenant.”
“Capital!” Bedford said and got to his feet and clambered across the cavern to give Platt a hand down.
Annabelle did not wish to contradict him, he seemed so happy at the prospect of trying t
he lunar fungus. Perhaps he liked the taste of sour milk.
2.
“LUNAR BATS?”
Now Bedford had heard it all. He had tried some strange things that were considered food, but bats had never been on any menu he had sampled.
“According to my uncle, when burned to a crisp they taste like pork,” Miss Annabelle said. “Which, I think it is fair to say, is better than sour milk.”
“She has a point there, sir,” Platt interjected with a laugh.
Bedford ignored Platt’s lack of decorum for the moment. It did not seem to matter a great deal, since the four of them were sitting in a cave, with giant ants nearby, and just for now rank was unimportant. Soon they would be heading into the heart of the Russian camp, and it was good that his men, all two of them, understood that their commanding officer respected them. Even Miller. Discipline was one thing, but respect counted for a lot more when entering behind enemy lines. His methods may have been different to those of Captain Folkard, but they at least agreed on having the respect of the men under their command. Besides which, they had lost several men already and were thus even more dependent on each other for their continued safety.
“She has at that,” Bedford said, chewing once more on the crunchy fungus. “Still, it will do in a pinch and I have tasted much worse.”
Miller, who had tried very little of the fungus, was looking around the small cavern at the Selenites as they went about their business. They were scuttling from one hive to the next, occasionally looking at the humans. None of them moved in for any closer inspection, but that they were curious was obvious. “Sir, are we really going to get help from these ants?”
“Well, that is the rub, Mister Miller. What do you think, Miss Annabelle?”
This was the compromise. She had insisted on being called Annabelle, but as there was absolutely no likelihood of that happening Bedford had decided he could bend as far as “Miss Annabelle”; considering her age he did not think that breeched propriety too much.
series 01 01 Journey to the Heart of Luna Page 11
