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Even so, if the vessels at Clavius were any indication of the number that landed at the other bases, then half of the Martian fleet must still be somewhere far above the Moon. Scone had no time to continue his surveillance, for he was called away. (By this statement, Broward guessed that Scone's post was not within the big bubble. That is, if he were telling the truth. The rest of his story made Broward wonder if the first part had conformed to reality.)
The officer communicating with Scone had reported that the Chinese element had attacked the others. They were using lasers, machineguns, grenade lobbers, and handguns. The onslaught had been entirely unexpected—by the Russians, that is, for Scone had not trusted any non-Americans even at this critical time. So, the Americans on guard warned the others immediately, and the Russian contingents had received the full force of the attack. Fully half of them were casualties in the first two minutes. But, vicious as the Chinese had been, they must have been making an effort to save the women for themselves. A third of these escaped to the American lines—if it could be said that there was any such thing as a 'line' in that melee.
Scone, on hearing the news, did not hesitate. He pressed the button that sent pulses to the activation mechanisms of the three neutron bombs buried under the surface of each crater floor, of Clavius, Eratosthenes, and Fracastorius. For the second time within three weeks, a large proportion of the human race died. The soldiers and sailors of the Axe dropped where they stood. The beauty of this arrangement, as Scone made clear, was that the ships and equipment were left unharmed, available for use by the Moonmen.
When it was over, all the Oriental men were dead or too badly wounded to keep battling. Ten Chinese women, however, were captured. Their enemies also wanted sexual mates and breeding stock.
At this moment, Broward realized consciously what he had only felt before as an undefined lack. That is, no Chinese perso
By then, despite the fact that the assembly was a formal military one, the room was in an uproar. Many of the Russians present were weeping or crying out questions to Scone. Some, however, sat in their chairs and kept their faces impassive. Broward wondered if these were not having the same doubts as he, that Scone had been the aggressor and had struck a blow to get rid of his opposition. Whatever their thoughts, they were keeping them to themselves. They wanted to continue to live; perhaps, to get revenge if their suspicions were proven valid later on.
Broward felt sorry for them because they were human beings. But, as an American whose country had been
weakened by treachery and insidious cold-warfare, then violently conquered and savagely treated after defeat, he felt that they were getting what they deserved. If Scone had been treacherous and deadly, he had learned from masters in such.
Not that Broward approved of what he did. At this time, when so few men and women were alive and every one was needed, a blow against anyone was a blow to the whole species. Yet, he understood why Scone had acted so—if he were guilty.
Scone shouted above the tumult until he succeeded in quieting them.
"It has happened, and, regret it as we may, we ca
"If the Axe search very thoroughly, they're bound to detect this cave. But it will take much time. Time is what we need, and what we'll get. Time to send the planet-shaker bomb to Mars and a
Unless, thought Broward, they realize that what has happened to Scone's enemies here may eventually also happen to them. But, no, they would not know because the battle within the Moon had taken place after they left. Still, if they were as suspicious of Scone as he was of everybody else, they might refuse. Or, there might not even be anybody alive on the moon of Jupiter or the planet nearest the sun. The Axe might have taken care of them before they
converged on the Moon. A Russian, four seats from Broward, suddenly leaped up and screamed, "You treacherous dog! You pla
He pulled an automatic from his holster and fired at Scone. The big man dropped behind his table. Broward shoved Ingrid down on the floor and jumped at the Russian. The man had gone mad, his mind snapped, for he fired once again at the prone figure of Scone and then began to shoot at those nearest him.
The other Russians, perhaps fearing that the pistol shots meant that they were to die like the Chinese, pulled their weapons out. Those nearby, not too stu
Abruptly, it was all over. Most of the Russians lay silent But the melee had cost the others even more heavily. Fifteen Russian dead; twenty Americans and Europeans dead or badly wounded.
Broward, untouched by bullets, made his way through the shouting people until he found Ingrid. She was sitting on the floor, white-faced, and was staring at him with enormously wide eyes.
"You all right?" he said.
She shook her head to indicate that she was not harmed. He had to sit down then, for he found himself shaking violently. It was some time before he could control himself. "God," he moaned to Ingrid, "if this keeps up, we'll destroy ourselves." Ingrid started to answer but closed her mouth. She pointed, and Broward, looking in the indicated direction, saw Scone standing up on the platform behind his desk. His face was pale, but he did not seem to be wounded. The energy and authority he showed within the next few moments were not those of an injured man.
"You, Radman, detail men to arrest all Chinese, men and women. Put all Russians under arrest, too. Place them in the SA tanks!"
He was referring to the suspended amimation chambers in which it had originally been pla
"Don't worry," said Scone to the unvoiced questions of many. "Later, when we have defeated the Axe, we will remove the women from the tanks. And the men also will be released, but much later and one at a time so that we may evaluate their trustworthiness, their ability to integrate with us after they have been properly deconditioned."