Ambush in the Tunnels
1.
ONLY ANNABELLE talked as she and Stevenson led the way deeper into Luna, after all she was the only one who really could since she did not need to conserve oxygen, and she told them about recent events on Luna.
“After the previous test flight of my uncle’s propeller governor, it was a foregone conclusion that he would return to Luna. His interest was piqued by the mystery surrounding the glow. He wrote me many letters about this new obsession of his. He had heard that a Russian scientist, Vladimir Tereshkov, was also interested in this glow, and being the competitive man he is, Uncle Cyrus just had to get to Luna first. Alas, further development of the governor hit a few snags, and so he was not able to return to Luna before Tereshkov. Nonetheless, this did not deter him. My uncle is not easily put off.
“So, belatedly, he and his little team returned to Luna. Once again it was financed by the Tuscan Weekly Citizen, who wanted the scoop on the discoveries due to be made. He was accompanied by several experts, and a reporter…and, uh, me. My uncle had already triangulated the direction from which the glow came, and we travelled directly there. Traversing the gorge was not easy…”
At this, no doubt against his better judgement, Bedford enquired; “The gorge, Miss Somerset?”
Annabelle looked back at the lieutenant. He, as well as Miller and Platt, were a little distance back. He was strong and big shouldered, with a firm look about his moustached face. He had a very commanding presence, the look of a man who brokered no tomfoolery, and thus, naturally, someone whom Annabelle immediately felt a strong affinity with. Bedford put her in mind of her father.
“A chasm almost dead centre of the basin next to which I, uh, landed my uncle’s flyer,” she explained.
For a moment Bedford was silent, then he nodded abruptly. “That explains why the Sovereign left us. They must have seen this glow of which you speak, and gone to investigate. I assume Professor Stone was aware of the significance of the glow to your uncle?”
“I made him aware of such, yes, Lieutenant.”
“Very well. Please, proceed with your tale.”
“Thank you,” she said curtly, and resumed, but not before she noticed a slight smirk on the countenance of Mister Stevenson. “The gorge narrows the further down you go, but as you saw, the Annabelle is quite a small flyer and we were able to reach the bottom with minimal fuss. There the Russians were awaiting us. Tereshkov is a very resourceful man, but no less insane than the rumours suggest. He has paid handsomely for the loyalty of the okhrana quite well, and they are entrenched on this side of Luna. They also have secreted several lookout posts in the smaller craters.” At this she glanced back at Bedford. “They are most certainly aware of your presence.”
“And no doubt responsible for the attack by those Selenite creatures.”
“Very unlikely, Lieutenant. Even if the Selenites were aggressive, the Russians have treated them in ways that would never secure their co-operation. I really have no idea why they would attack you.”
“Perhaps they…” Stevenson began, then stopped. Literally, he ceased his walking and looked around.
Annabelle stopped next to him. “What is it?” she asked, in a whisper, careful not to alert Bedford and the other two men who were nearing them now.
Stevenson frowned. “I do not know,” he said, his voice as low as Annabelle’s, “I had this…sensation. As if someone were breathing down my neck. I had it before, in your flyer, but this time…”
“There is no one else here but us.” She peered closely at his face, now dripping with sweat. “Perhaps the lack of oxygen…?”
Stevenson forced a smile. “Yes, that must be it.”
“Everything okay, Mister Stevenson?” Bedford asked.
“Yes, sir,” Stevenson replied.
“I just needed to stop for a moment,” Annabelle offered up quickly, and rubbed her legs. “My muscles are a little weak from lack of use.”
“I see. Well, as much as I have sympathy for your condition, Miss Somerset, we do not have the luxury of a respite. If we may continue on?”
“Yes, of course, Lieutenant.”
Annabelle, throwing Stevenson a furtive smile, which he quickly returned, set off back down the tunnel. Stevenson and the team followed once more.
“What were you about to say, Mister Stevenson?” Annabelle asked.
“What? Oh yes, I was going to ask if perhaps the Selenites viewed the Annabelle as some kind of prize?”
“Again, unlikely. My uncle made a study of them on his previous expedition to Luna, and we spent quite some time with them before the Russians…turned on us. They rarely venture onto the lunar surface; they find it too cold.” Annabelle shook her head. “Attacking you and venturing out of their caverns is very much out of character, and I am at a loss to explain the reason behind it.” She stopped walking and reached for the respirator covering her mouth. “I have noticed, however, that none of you appear to be terribly out of breath anymore.” She removed the respirator and took a deep breath, looking at Stevenson with a large smile.
Stevenson was the first to remove his own helmet and he too inhaled deeply. “Ah! Finally, fresh air!”
“We are now exactly a mile beneath the surface of Luna.” Annabelle’s smile faded. “Which is usually where the danger begins.” She cocked the carbine and offered a grim smile to Bedford and the rest of his team, now free of their helmets. “There are other things besides Selenites down here, and not all of them are friendly.”
2.
“AN INSECT that talks! This is fascinating.” Nathanial stepped past Folkard, only now having eyes for the large, rusty-looking ant before him.
“Professor,” Folkard said, reaching out an arm for Nathanial, “stand back! We are surrounded!”
Nathanial pulled against Folkard’s grip. “Captain, this is absolutely fascinating! Don’t you see, in some ways their evolution must have matched ours, how else could they have developed vocal chords? They clearly differ from the ants of our world.”
“Clearly, Professor, for I have never seen an ant the size of a small man on Earth! I have no truck with this theory of evolution, either. This creature is obviously a creation of God. Although,” he added, with a narrowed look at the ant, “perhaps the work of the Devil is closer.”
“Superstitious nonsense, Captain!” With an abrupt tug, Nathanial removed his arm and continued on, lantern held out before him. “You will not harm us, will you?”
The giant insect looked at him, with curiosity, Nathanial thought. “We hurt not. Selenites live peace.”
“Selenites,” Nathanial repeated. The word sounded familiar to him. “Of course!” he said, with a click of the fingers. He looked back at Folkard. The captain still had his carbine aimed at the copper Selenite, while Ainsworth continued to cover the darker ants that blocked their path up the tunnel. “Annabelle mentioned them to me in one of her letters. Doctor Grant met them on his previous expedition.”
The copper Selenite shuffled forward. “You know gooddoctor?”
“Good doctor? You mean Cyrus Grant?” The insect seemed to nod in response. Nathanial thought for a moment. “As opposed to the bad doctor…Yes! Tereshkov!”
“He hurt we Selenites. Gooddoctor and batch relation help us.”
Nathanial noticed that the Selenite had lowered its weapon. He smiled. “Yes, we are friends of gooddoctor. We have come to help him.”
“Friend Annabelle find you?”
“Erm, yes,” Nathanial said, and added to himself, in a manner of speaking.
The Selenite studied Nathanial for a moment. Was it possible that the insect was that adept at reading human facial expressions? Nathanial could not help but be excited by this revelation. Not only intelligent insects, but intuitive ones, too. Nathanial offered his best, and most trusting, smile. The Selenite made a strange buzzing sound, which was repeated by the darker Selenites further up the tunnel.
“We help you.” The Selenite offered up its rifle to Nathanial. “I K’chuk.”
“Excellent! I am Nathanial Stone, and this resolute gentleman is Captain Folkard. The man behind him is Able Seaman Ainsworth. We would be most happy of your help.”
Nathanial watched as K’chuk shuffled its way up the tunnel towards its fellows, brushing past Folkard and Ainsworth with a “sorry”. Polite, too! Was this a natural inclination, or something learned from exposure to humans? Nathanial could not wait to find out. K’chuk was now deep in conversation with the other Selenites. Nathanial walked over to join Folkard, who was looking at the Selenites with some bemusement.
“Professor, what just happened?”
“I believe we have got our first allies on Luna, Captain.”
“Good Lord!” Folkard looked to Nathanial and laughed.
3.
“ARE YOU certain that was a good idea, sir?”
Bedford looked back at the discarded atmosphere suits. “Necessary rather than good, Stevenson. If we are to encounter Russians it is well that we are not encumbered by the atmosphere suits. Fast reactions will be needed. Besides which, what use are they to us now?”
Stevenson nodded. “Perhaps, sir, but if we need to reach the Sovereign by the surface, then…”
“We will fair no less worse either way without oxygen.”
Bedford was not entirely sure he liked this new side of Stevenson. Since leaving the ship the young man had proven himself to be a very reliable and resourceful seaman, without doubt officer material. A fact of which Bedford was to inform Captain Folkard upon returning to the Sovereign, but now that Stevenson was taking to questioning decisions made by his commanding officer…Bad enough that Miller was proving his lack of suitably to be serving on the Sovereign. Perhaps the captain would like this new aspect of Stevenson more than he. It would not be the first time they had disagreed on how to command a ship and its crew, although the captain leaving an away team to fend for itself without even waiting on a report was a new development.
Something to which Bedford would be drawing Folkard’s attention once he returned to his ship.
Miss Somerset was still taking point on their journey, now with Platt by her side. Not that she needed protecting. For such a young lady, she seemed remarkably strong-willed and resourceful. A credit to her uncle. Bedford had to confess, if only to himself, that he was most impressed by her.
“Miss Somerset, if you would continue your story I would be most grateful. Clearly something untoward transpired.”
“Oh, indeed, Lieutenant. At first it seemed the Russians were quite trustworthy. Tereshkov was on the verge of a great discovery, although he was a little reticent to explain the exact nature of this discovery. Even now I am unsure as to what it is. He did take my uncle into his confidence, but Uncle Cyrus and I were parted before he had a chance to fully explain things to me. Regardless, from talking to the Selenites I have learned that there is something they consider holy at the heart of Luna itself, an ancient…uh, relic of some kind. I believe it is for this that Tereshkov is searching.”
“A relic?” Bedford rubbed his chin. “What interest could the Russian okhrana have in a relic? I can understand how such a thing could hold the interest of a scientist like your uncle, but the okhrana?”
“I have pondered this, too, Lieutenant, and I can only infer that it is some force of power hitherto unknown to man.”
“Then we must not allow the Russians to get their hands on it.” There was no question about his mission now, Bedford decided. Before it was simply to rescue Miss Somerset, and then find another way to return to the Sovereign. Now…now it was different.
“Listen up,” he said, addressing his men, “I’m afraid, Mister Miller, you will have to come to terms with your role in this mission a lot quicker. Our primary mission now is to end the Russian presence on Luna. Whatever this relic is, it must not fall into Russian hands. The safety of the British Empire may depend on it.”
“But, sir, we are only a few men.”
Bedford regarded Stevenson. The young man did not appear to be afraid, and yet he seemed to be speaking like a coward all of a sudden. “I am certain that Captain Folkard will be heading into the heart of the Russian presence on Luna, so we will not be alone,” he said, with a tone that spoke of more certainty then he felt. In truth he had little faith in the captain right now, but regardless of his feelings, the away team needed to have that faith intact. “Indeed, we will see to it that the Russians undergo a two-pronged attack. Miss Somerset, I trust you know your way back to the Russian camp?”
Miss Somerset gathered herself together. There was no questioning in her eyes. “I do, Lieutenant. However, I agree with Mister Stevenson. We are but few; we will need some sort of assistance.”
“And just where do you propose we find such assistance?”
“There is a Selenite village nearby, if we…”
Miss Somerset stopped, as a distant sound echoed up the tunnel. It was an eerie, stridulous sound. More of those blasted Selenites!
“Are you leading us into an ambush, Miss Somerset?” Bedford asked, his pistol now pointed directly at Miss Somerset’s heart.
“Captain, I…” Miss Somerset shook her head. “This is absurd! I have already told you the Selenites are not your enemy. They are not warmongers.”
Bedford looked up the tunnel, past Miss Somerset. The sound of the Selenites was still some distance away, more than enough time to expose a traitor. “Then what possible assistance can they offer us?”
4.
STEVENSON HAD been watching Bedford ever since he had decided they should discard their atmosphere suits. He could not place his finger on what, but something was different about the lieutenant.
As best as they could tell, Miss Somerset had been perfectly open and honest with them about what had transpired on Luna before she had cause to send out a distress heliograph, and her view on the Selenites seemed to be informed and truthful. Stevenson saw no deception on her face. She showed no fear about the fast approaching Selenites, even if the team from the Sovereign did have reason to feel otherwise, but to call her a traitor…
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.