Tongues of the Moon

"We got fifteen minutes to get away," said the sergeant. "Plenty of time to get to the other side of the Moon." "What's there?"

Broward paused at the entrance to the tube leading to the ship.

"Where will the... others be?"

"Just after you left, the drillers, looking for water, broke into a tremendous cavern. It not only had a big body of frozen water, it had space enough for all three bases to hide in and then some. So, when Scone heard about the Axe, he ordered everybody to hide there. We've been busy working our tails off, getting all the equipment down there, moving the lab stuff, all the rest, anything that could be moved and wasn't too big to go through the tu

"As soon as everything's ready, or even if it isn't, the bases are going to be blown up. The tu

"What if the Axe fleet leaves a garrison behind?"

"Scone says well worry about that when it happens. Please, sir, let's get going. I got my orders."

"Wait!"

Broward turned at the cry of a familiar voice to see Ingrid Nashdoi ru

Finally, when she had quit weeping, she said, "I disobeyed the orders. I waited here for you, hoping you'd come back in time. If you hadn't, I don't know what I would have done. Maybe just let myself be blown up with the base."

Broward looked at the nervous sergeant. "It's all right," he said. "She'll come with us."

"I don't know, sir."

"I do. We haven't time for anything else, anyway. Don't worry. I'll take the responsibility."

Within three minutes, they were in the ship and in stasis. The sergeant, at the controls, had lifted them up and was hurling them around the curve of the great body beneath. In ten minutes, they had entered under a great shelf of volcanic rock. A few seconds later, they were through a gigantic opening and within the cavern. The beams of the ship guided them to the side of the Zemlya, where the sergeant maneuvered until the entrance port locked onto one of the monster vessel's ports.

The port slid within the walls of the craft; there was a whoosh of air as pressure equalized between the two entrances.

"You go ahead and report, Sergeant," said Broward. "I have some checking to do here."

The sergeant said, "Yes, sir," and he left, but not without being able to keep a peculiar look from flitting over his features.

Looking after him, Broward wished now that he had not been given that half-hour hypnotic session by Katashkina. If all memory of the location of the underwater station had not been repressed, he could have seized this chance to take off with Ingrid and return to them. But he did not know where they were. He did remember what had happened during the trip down and back. He remembered being in the station. But, ten minutes after he had left the place in his craft, a post-hypnotic command had plunged deep into his unconscious anything to do with the whereabouts of the two. They were somewhere under the sea, but where?

As for the report of his venture to Scone, that, too, had been taken care of during the session. He had a very detailed and, he hoped, convincing story of the finding of the bomb, of the so-called 'accident,' of his return and the reasons for the delay thereof. Scone should have no reason to investigate. After all, Yamanuchi was now dead, and the goal of the trip, the bomb, had been secured.

Ingrid," he said, "let's get married. Now!"

Her eyes widened, and she said, "But how can we do that?"

"You do want to, don't you?"

"You don't have to ask."

"Then, we'll get the commander of the Zemlya to give his permission. That's all that's necessary. We get his permission; we record the marriage on the ship's log; that's that."

"But Scone is the commanding officer. And..."

"But he can't be contacted. The situation is the same as if we were aspace."

"Radman's the captain of the Zemlya. He's too cautious; he wouldn't do this unless he got the word from Scone. He'd be too suspicious because we're in such a hurry. He'd want to wait."

"Maybe you're right. Very well. Stay here. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Ingrid waited impatiently. She walked around the narrow cabin, looked into the storage hold, checked the air flow, and lit up one of the six cigarettes she owned, the last six on the Moon as far as she knew. By the time she had finished it, she saw Broward walking in through the port. Behind him were two soldiers.

He said, "We need two witnesses; one of them must be a commissioned officer. Allow me to introduce you to my friends Lieutenant Fielding and Corporal Garbon. They're willing to sign the ship's log, my ship, as witnesses. As commander, I'm privileged to marry anyone aboard who so wishes."

Ingrid laughed and kissed him and then kissed Fielding and Garbon.

"Let's celebrate later," said Broward. "Right now, on with the ceremony." He went to the instrument panel, pressed a button, and began to state, in the official language prescribed, his desire to marry, the date, the location, and all the details needed. Ingrid followed him. Afterwards, the two soldiers described their names, ranks, serial numbers, and the fact that they were witnesses to the marriage.

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.