Chapter 10: One Stroke for Freedom

In that subterranean chamber of the Moon, where the angry red of still deeper fires flared fitfully; where winged demons, like evil creatures of a drug-crazed dreamer’s mind, darted shrieking through the sulphurous air, it was a slender, blue-eyed girl who took control of events.

She it was who, when the explosions of detonite had ceased, saw the fall of a body from high above. She saw it strike upon a mound of dead Moon-beasts; saw the homely, human features as the body rolled to the floor; and it was she who threw herself upon it protectingly when one of the enemy wounded dragged his broken wings trailing across the stone that he might reach that human face with his distended claws.

“A man!” Anita Haldgren screamed. “It’s a man--help me!” And Chet was beside her in an instant to drag the limp body to safety.

“Spud!” he shouted. “It’s Spud O’Malley! He never went back! He came down here to save us!”

He grabbed up the gun where it had fallen; saw the empty magazine; then flung himself down beside the unconscious figure of Spud while he tore at the fastenings of the second weapon.

“His suit!” he shouted to the girl. “Get his suit! It’s there where he fell! Bring yours and mine, too!”

He was hardly able to gage his own strength here where all weights were one-sixth of their equivalent on Earth. He stooped and swung the chunky body of Spud across his shoulder as easily as he would have lifted a child. And, having done it, he was entirely at a loss as to where to go.

Across the great room was a throng of leaping, flapping things; more were pouring in from open doors. Chet stood hesitant and bewildered, until Anita spoke.

“Come!” she called, and darted toward a narrow entrance.

The clamorous shrieking from the horde of Moon-beasts marked their swooping assault upon the two, and Chet paused to send them three shots that checked the advance. Then, with the body of Spud held tightly, he sprang where Anita had gone.

She was waiting, but gave Chet no chance to question her. “Come!” she commanded again, and ran on as before. But, as Chet gained her side, she offered between gasping breaths an explanation.

“Five years they kept us ... like animals in a cage ... but there was a place ... a sacred place ... they let us go there ... And they let us make signal lights from outside ... they called it magic.

“And now Frithjof has escaped ... he will go to the sacred room ... only there would he be safe...”

They had turned and twisted through narrow passages. Anita, it seemed, was plotting a course through less frequented thoroughfares of this strange city. But they came at last to a vast auditorium into which they peered from a half-opened door.

The room was of preposterous size, and Chet marveled at the minds that had conceived and wrought so tremendous an undertaking. And he saw plainly in his own mind the throngs of serene-faced beings who must have folded their white wings softly about them to gather there for worship. But more plainly still he saw the jostling, squealing crowd that was there that instant before his eyes.

Hundreds of them--thousands, it might be--and the sound of their shrill voices made hideous echoes from the high-flung ceiling of the great hall. The dry rustling of their leather wings was an unceasing rush of sound.

Some who seemed to be leaders stood above the rest on a platform which formed the base of a terraced formation against the far wall of the room. Even at a distance Chet could see and wonder at the simple beauty of that place of metals and jewels where the great ones of an earlier race had once stood.

Back of those who harangued the crowd the terraces built themselves up to a pyramid against the rock wall; and on either side, opening upon the platform base, was a doorway of noble proportions, whose metal doors of burnished reds and browns were closed.

“The sacred room,” whispered Anita, “beyond those doors. Frithjof has closed them. He is there. I know it--I know it!”

Chet was still holding the body of O’Malley. Only his choked breathing showed that he still lived, but now he stirred and struggled in Chet’s grasp, while he struck out blindly and hoarse sounds came from his throat.

Chet clapped one hand over the pilot’s mouth. “For the love of heaven, Spud,” he said fiercely, “be still! Don’t speak--don’t say a word! It’s Chet--Chet Bullard! I’ve got you, we’re all right!”

The pilot’s struggles ceased, and Chet eased him to the floor where he sat still gasping for breath; the fumes from that place of death had been strangling in his throat.

Beside him Chet heard the girl repeating in softest tones the name she had heard for the first time.

“Chet--Chet Bullard! How odd a name! But I love it--I couldn’t help but love it.”

In the great room were some who had turned toward the sound of Chet’s scuffling; they were walking slowly toward the half-opened door.

“Come!” said Anita Haldgren again, and fled like a slender, golden-haired wraith down the narrow hall.

More twisting passages until Chet was hopelessly lost. But he no longer needed to carry O’Malley, who was running beside him, and he had implicit faith in the girlish guide who went before. He was not surprised when they came after many detours to a narrow door of wrought metals in white and gold, whose inset designs were worked in glowing jewels.

Nor was he surprised when the door opened in response to a series of knocks from Anita’s hand that spelled SOS in the code he knew, and a man, whose long hair and beard hung about a face as handsome as that of a Viking of old, stood motionless in that doorway.

But the surprise of that flaxen-haired giant can be only imagined when a young man whom he had never seen on Earth or Moon stepped forward from his sister’s side with outstretched hand.

“I am Bullard,” said the slim young man, “Master Pilot of the World--or at least that was my rating up to the time I left in search of you. And now, Pilot Haldgren, we’ve a ship outside, and, if you’d care to go back with us--”

And with equal casualness the blond Viking replied: “You came in search of us! You saw our signals! After all this time! Yes, we shall be glad to go back with--we shall be glad--yes--”

But his deep, rumbling voice broke into something like a sob, and he turned with outstretched arms to stumble blindly toward his sister, who buried her face in his torn and ragged blouse.

“You came in search of us--you came through space just to find and rescue us!” Haldgren, it seemed, could not recover from the effects of this unbelievable fact. He was gripping hard at the hand of Chet Bullard, while his other great arm was thrown about the shoulders of Spud O’Malley.

“But now that you are here, what is to be done? Every exit will be guarded; we are shut off from the outer world by a hundred locked doors and by thousands of those beasts.”

He took his arm from Spud’s shoulder to point toward the great doors, beyond which was a rising clamor of shrill sound.

“They will break in here soon; they would have been here before had they known of the old lost entrance of the priests that Anita and I found. We’re as bad off as ever, I am afraid. There will be no holding them now.”

“I can hold some,” said Chet, and touched his weapon. Haldgren nodded his shaggy head.

“Some, but not many of the thousands we must face before ever we fight our way through to the outer world. No, my friend Bullard, that will never save us; we are doomed!”