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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 cha
"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 i
Beneath the shaft was a larger room and a tu
"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 tu
"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.