Authors: First on the Moon
His
vigil was rewarded a few moments later
when the
blobs
around Red Dog's base began moving in
the direction
of
the Aztec. It struck him that they couldn't
see the rocket
from their present position due to small
mtervening
hillocks,
although both Baker and
Charlie were clearly
visible.
He
decided the Aztec's
horizontal position had tipped
them to
its
identity while they were still space-bome.
One of the
Red Dog crewmen, obviously the leader, drew
ahead of his
companions. The other two seemed to
be struggling with
some object they carried between them. They
moved
close
together, halting from time to time. He
returned
his
gaze
to the rocket,
conjecturing that another crewman would have remained behind. If so, he was in
the space cabin. The ship seemed lifeless. The landing party approached a small
ridge overlooking the Aztec, bringing them closer to his lookout.
He
saw that the two men following the leader were having difficulty with their
burden. They walked slowly, uncertainly, pausing from time to time.
The.
lead
man started up the rocky
knoll overlooking the Aztec. His movements were slow, wary. He crouched near
the top of the ridge, scanning the plain beyond before waving to his companions
to follow. The gesture told Crag that their interphones were disconnected. The
crewmen near the base of the knoll started climbing, moving with extreme
difficulty. He watched them, wondering, until they reached the leader. They
stood for a moment scouting the plain, then two of the men crouched over the
burden they had lugged up the knolL
A
weapon, Crag guessed. He tried to discern its shape but failed.
A few moments later one of the men stepped back.
A puff of
white rose from the knoll. A trail of vapor shot toward the Aztec. A portable
rocket launcher! His eyes tracked the missile's flight
The
vapor trail terminated at its target. An instant later the Aztec disintegrated.
Black chunks of the rocket hurtled into the lunar skies, becoming lost to
sight. Within seconds only a jagged few feet of broken torn metal marked the
site of man's first successful landing on the moon.
Wow, what a weapon,
he thought. It didn't merely push a hole in
the Aztec. It disintegrated it, completely. That was one for Gotch. He filed
the thought away and watched.
The
figures on the knoll searched the scene for a long time. Finally they turned
and started back, carrying the rocket launcher with them. The act of saving the
weapon told him that Red Dog carried more rockets than just the single shot
fired—a disconcerting thought.
He
cautiously withdrew from his post and picked his way down the ridge toward
Bandit, moving as rapidly as
the rough terrain permitted. Everything now depended on the next move
of the Red Dog's crew, he thought. One thing was certain—there would be no
quarter shown. The ruthless destruction of the Aztec had set the pattern for
the coining battle of Arzachel. It was a declaration of war with all rules of
human warfare discarded. Well, that was okay with him.
He
was breathing heavily by the time he reached a spot overlooking Bandit. Nagel
had decompressed the cabin and they were waiting for him with the hatch open.
He crossed the clearing and a moment later was in the space cabin. He watched
the gauge until it was safe to cut off his suit pressure and open his face
plate. He looked at Richter; his face was blank. Tersely, then, he related what
had happened.
"I
sort of expected that," Prochaska said quietly
when
he had finished. "It was the logical-way."
"Logical
to attempt to murder men?"
Nagel asked bitterly.
"Entirely
logical," Crag interjected. "The stakes
are too
big for a few human lives to matter. At least
we've been
warned."
He
turned to Prochaska. "Disconnect Richter's
mikes
until this show's over."
The
Chief nodded. Richter stood quietly
by while his
lip
microphone was disconnected and withdrawn
from the hel
met. Nagel's face showed satisfaction at the
act.
but
Lark-
well's expression was wooden.
Crag said, "Defense of Bandit will be
under
Prochaska's
command." He looked grimly at his
second-in
-command.
"Your fort has one automatic
rifle. Make it count if
you
have
to use it." The
Chief nodded.
Larkwell
spoke up, "How about you?"
"I'll
be scouting with the other automatic rifle.
Stay
in your suits and keep ready. If they start to
bring up the rocket
launcher I'll signal. If that
happens
youll have
to get out
of
here, pronto. You'd better check your oxygen," he added as an afterthought
"If
they think we're dead ducks they won't be toting the launcher," Prochaska
said.
"We
hope." Crag exchanged his oxygen cylinder for a fresh one,
then
checked one of the automatic rifles, slipping two extra
clips in his belt. On second thought he hooked a spare oxygen cylinder to the
back straps. He nodded to NageL snapped his face plate shut and pressurized his
suit. When the cabin was decompressed, he opened the hatch, scanning the knoll
carefully before descending to the plain. He struck off toward the ridge
overlooking Red Dog. The ground on this side of the spur was fairly flat and he
made good time, but was panting heavily by the time he reached his lookout
point on the crest
CHAPTER 15
Crag sighted
the Red Dog party immediately—three figures
plodding in single file toward Drone Baker. He saw with satisfaction that they
had discarded the rocket launcher. He took that as a sign they believed the
Aztec crew dead. He found a halfway comfortable sitting position, and settled
back to await developments.
The
distant figures moved across the plain with maddening slowness. From time to
time he returned his eyes to the enemy rocket. It showed no signs of life. Once
he debated taking the gamble of trying to reach it, but as quickly discarded
the idea. Caught on the open plain and he'd be a gone gosling.
He waited.
After
what seemed a long while, the invaders reached a point overlooking Drone Baker.
One of the figures remained on a small rise overlooking the drone while the
other two separated and approached it from different directions. The tactic
disquieted him. It indicated that the newcomers were not entirely convinced
that they were alone in Crater Arzach-el.
After another mterminabh/ long time, the two
figures approaching the rocket met at its base. They walked around the rocket
several times,
then
struck out, this?
time
toward Drone Charlie. Their companion left his lookout
point and cut across the plain to join them.
Crag
squirmed uncomfortably. He was tired and hungry; his muscles ached from the
constriction of the suit. His body was hot and clammy, and perspiration from
his brow stung his eyes. He sighed, wishing he had a cigarette. Strange, he
hadn't smoked in over a year but all at once the need for tobacco seemed
overwhelming. He pushed the thought aside.
The
invaders were strung out in single file, moving in a direction which brought
them closer to his position. He shifted to a point below the crest, moving
slowly to avoid detection. Their path crossed his field of vision at a distance
of about half a mile. At the closest point he saw they carried rifles in
shoulder slings. He took this as another indication they suspected the presence
of survivors. The invaders stopped and rested at a point almost opposite him.
He fidgeted, trying to get his body into a more comfortable position.
Finally they resumed their trek. Before they
reached the drone they halted. One man remained in the cover of a spur of rock
while the other two separated and advanced on the drone from different
directions. Crag cursed under his breath. They certainly
Weren't
going to be sitting ducks. Perhaps it was just a precaution. Simply good
infantry tactics, he told himself, but it still raised a complication.
He
waited. The two invaders closed on the drone, meeting at its base. They
evidently decided it was abandoned, for they left within a few minutes walking
to join their waiting companion. After a short huddle they struck out in the
direction of Bandit. This was the move he had waited for.
He
withdrew to the lee side of the ridge and picked his way toward Bandit as
rapidly as possible, taking care not to brush against the sharp slivers of
rock. He drew near the rocket, thinlring that the open hatch would be a dead
giveaway. StilL there was no alternative. A fort without a gunport was no fort
at all. He climbed to a spot close to the crest of the ridge and peered back in
the direction of the invaders, startled to find they were nearer than he had
supposed. He hastily withdrew his head, deciding it was too late to warn the
others to abandon the rocket. If the invaders climbed straight up the opposite
side of the ridge, they conceivably could catch his crew on the open plain.
That made another complication.
He
scanned the ridge. Off to his right a series of granite spurs jutted from the
base rock in finger formation. He picked his way toward them,
then
descended until he found shelter between two rock
outcroppings which gave him a clear view of Bandit, He checked his automatic
rifle, moving the control lever to the semi-automatic position. The black
rectangle that marked Bandit's hatch seemed lifeless.
He waited.
Long
minutes passed. He cursed the eternal silence of the moon- which robbed him of
the use of his ears.
A cannon
could fire within an
inch of his back and he'd never know it, he thought He moved his head slightly
forward from time to time in an effort to see the slope behind him. Nothing
happened. His body itched intolerably from perspiration. He readjusted the
suit temperature setting, gaining a slight respite from the heat. All at once
he caught movement out of the comer of his face plate and involuntarily jerked
his head back. He waited a moment, aware that his heart was pounding heavily,
then
cautiously moved forward. One of the invaders was
picking his way down the slope in a path that would take him within thirty
yards of his position. The man moved slowly, half-crouched, keeping his rifle
cradled across his arm.
They
know, he thought. The open hatch was the giveaway. He anxiously searched
Bandit. No sign of life was visible. He gave silent thanks that the invaders
had not lugged their rocket launcher with them. Prochaska, he knew, would be
watching, crouched in the shadow of the hatch opening behind the heavy
automatic rifle. He estimated the distance between the base of the slope and
the rocket at 400 yards-close enough for Prochaska to pick off anyone who
ventured onto the plain.
He waited while the invader passed abreast of him and
descended to the base of the plain, taking cover in the rocks.
He halted there and looked back. A few moments later
Crag saw the second of the invaders moving down the slope
about a hundred yards beyond his companion. He, too
,
stopped near the base of the rocks. Where was the third
man? The same technique they used before, Crag decided.
He would be covering his companions' advance from the
ridge. That made it more difficult.
*
He
studied the two men at the edge of the plain. It looked like a stalemate. They
either had to advance or retreat. Their time was governed by oxygen. If they
advanced, they'd be dead pigeons. Prochaska couldn't miss if they chose to
cross the clearing. As it was, neither side could get a clear shot at the distance
separating them, although the invaders could pour a stream of shells into the
open hatch. But Prochaska would be aware of that danger and would have taken
refuge to one side of the opening, he decided. There was another complication.
The shells were heavy enough to perforate the rocket. WelL he'd worry about
that later. He moved his head for a better view of the invaders.