One Against the Moon (16 page)

Behind them, at the base of the cliff, they now heard Von Borck's roaring. "
Teufel!
" he was calling. Then suddenly from where the madman stood, there beamed out a flash of yellow light. A flashlight, thought Robin, he had a flash.

The beam passed rapidly over the cave wall seeking the escapers. Once or twice they froze against the side as it passed over them, dashing on as soon as it was gone. Then Von Borck's light caught them, held them.

"Keep running," yelled Peter, "it's not far now!"

The two kept up. Then there was a sharp report below them and something went
spang
on the rock wall near Robin. A bullet ... the mad rocket pilot was firing at them.

Now they simply raced on, ignoring the German's wild shots. "Here we are!" gasped Peter and seemed to melt right into the cliff face. Robin saw the black opening in the next second and tumbled into it, to be caught by his brother's arms.

For an instant they stood there in the darkness, catching their breath. Then a light appeared in Peter's hand, and Robin saw that he held an electric torch there, part of his space-suit equipment. The beam illuminated a narrow, dark tunnel leading steeply upward apparently through the solid rock.

"This way!" said Peter and started off. Robin followed him on into the narrow path that would lead him at long last to the surface of the Moon.

The tunnel was very narrow, a mere crack in the wall, and Robin was hard put to squeeze through in a couple of spots. But it was not too long and, in a few minutes, Robin felt from the change in air and echo that it had opened out into a wider area.

Peter's flash confirmed this. They were in a small air-pocket bubble several yards wide. They crossed this while Peter searched along the floor. He stopped, pointed down.

"We go down again, through this hole in the floor. There's a short drop of only a few feet, but be careful."

Peter stepped over to the hole, sat down, and eased himself out of sight. Robin looked down, could see the floor of another cave just below. He dropped his pack through and squeezed down.

Here they were in a sort of shallow flaw running lengthwise, and they had to walk in a crouched position to keep their heads from bumping the low ceiling.

Robin wondered how Peter knew which way to go, but looking carefully, he realized that his brother was only following the trail of his footsteps made on arriving—for there was a thin coating of dust on this floor that showed the trail.

"How did you ever find this passage?" asked Robin, his voice echoing flat and high in the passage.

"Saw the sealed cleft top running across the bottom of this crater. Found a spot near it where some sort of gas was hissing out. Went down it, and simply followed every lead that pointed in the direction of the cleft." Robin knew that behind this reply undoubtedly lay a lot of sweat and agony. Peter had made the trip carrying an unconscious body with him!

The low passage ended in a small cave-bubble. A break at the top of this was the next line of direction. Peter had simply dropped down on his arrival, but they waited to catch their breath. They would have to jump for it.

"Do you suppose Von Borck is following us?" asked Robin while waiting.

Peter shook his head. "I doubt it. First, we'd probably have been able to hear him coming. Second, he'd still know enough to go get his space suit before following us. Third, he won't remember anything of this trip and will have to find his way."

Rested, Robin gave Peter a boost, hoisting him as high as he could to the top of the cave-bubble. Peter jumped the short distance remaining, catching a grip on the edge of the hole in the cave ceiling. He pulled himself up, then dropped his nylon cord down for Robin to grasp and help himself up.

Up above there was still another small bubble, broken on one side. A whole series of broken bubbles lay revealed, and they walked along this section gingerly. This area was greatly cracked and seamed. It was clear to them that there was a possibility of a fall-in.

Beyond that group they came to another break leading upward, and again they moved on. Now Robin found himself breathing very heavily. "I'm getting very tired," he gasped at last.

Peter stopped. They were still in the break and a severe slope was rising before them. "It's the air pressure. It's getting quite low already. You've been used to the low pressure of the bubbles below, as you tell me, but we are close to the surface and the limited amount of air sealed in this particular bubble-system is thinning beyond the safety point. We'll have to go slow and rest often. I don't want to have to use our oxygen supplies until we are at the limit of our natural abilities."

Robin finally caught his breath, felt power returning. Now the two pushed on, going very carefully and slowly, with rests every few steps.

The steep rise ended at a narrow opening. Peter paused here, motioned to Robin to join him. "This is the crisis point," he said. "Listen."

Robin strained his ears. He was aware of the pounding of his heart struggling for oxygen. He was aware of a ringing in his ears from the low pressure. But now he heard over that a thin whistling, a high, steady rustling whistle coming from somewhere across the narrow, long cave he was looking in upon.

"What is it?" he whispered.

"A most unusual phenomenon," whispered Peter back. "The only thing that keeps the air in all this subterranean region from being sucked away to the surface. It's a volcanic current of hot gas, racing through this long channel at tremendous speed. It must come up from somewhere in the still-warm interior; it must be rushing to some vast cold spot below. But it serves as an effective curtain cutting off the stale air on this side from the near-vacuum of the surface. Its density, velocity, and heat perform the miracle."

Peter shone the lamp across and down the cave. The passage cleared a long, tunnellike channel which ran down into darkness on one side and away into equal darkness on the other. Only a few yards across from them he could see the gray surface of the wall. There seemed to be nothing else except the whistling noise.

"Edge along the wall here carefully," said Peter, and started off. He kept one shoulder rubbing the wall near them and walked carefully down the passage.

Robin edged out, following him closely. He felt no movement of air, yet he detected a faint trace of warmth on his outer side. Somewhere, invisible to him, that cataract of volcanic air was flowing. Was it a few feet or a fraction of an inch? He could not tell.

The wall bellied wider a little, allowing a chance to get farther away from the unseen wind. Peter was waiting here. "I think we'd better adjust our space equipment now. We have a short way to go, then we'll have to fight our way across that air blast. There's an opening to the surface at one point nearby. Once we cross the wind and get to it, we'll be outside."

Robin let down his pack. Peter examined Robin's equipment again, looking worried. He shook his head once or twice. "I hope it works out all right, but some changes will have to be made."

He took the big bladder Robin had constructed as an air bag. "This won't work, but it will come in handy in a different way." He took Robin's pocket knife and began to cut the big sack apart to make thin long strips of leather. When he had finished with that, he looked over at Robin and said:

"Now you'll have to wind these strips around you as tight as you can. Begin as high up on your chest as possible, and go on down. Wind them around your arms and legs, around your fingers, if possible. Don't undress, but wind the strips over your clothes. Make them tight. I'll help you."

As they worked to do so, Peter explained further. "Having an air helmet is not enough for space. The pressure of your blood and the gases in your system will make it impossible for you to breathe or move, if your body is not tightly encased. A real space suit like mine is pressurized, built with a layer of air pockets all over, which increase their pressure in proportion to the decrease outside. But if you don't have this pressure, even having air around your head will not help. So make those bandages tight, as tight as you can without stopping your breathing completely."

They worked on, winding the leather around and around, until Robin felt as if he were being encased in a strait jacket, felt like a living mummy. Strips were wrapped around his fingers under his gloves, his gloves fitting over them and further strapped.

Next Peter strapped one of his three oxygen tanks to Robin's back. "I hope this will work well enough to keep you breathing until we reach the rocket. Fortunately you made your helmet deep enough to come down far over your shoulders. I can work this air tube up high enough for you to grasp the end in your mouth. The air will force its way into your lungs. You'll have to struggle to force your exhalation out of your nose. It's difficult, especially the first time, but you'll have to cope with it."

As he held the helmet preparatory to putting it over Robin's head, he gave him some last-minute instructions. "We won't be able to communicate once I get this on you. You've no radio and your mouth will be full anyway. So listen carefully.

"The rocket is about a hundred yards away. I'll lead the way, and I'll tie this cord around your waist so you won't lose me. Follow me as close as you can. There's a possibility that your glass plate may fog up or ice over from the water vapor inside your helmet. If it does, hang on to the cord and keep moving after me! But don't stop ... and don't give up! All set?"

Robin's heart was beating fast, he felt strange and stifled in his bindings. This was the zero instant. He nodded, held out his hand. Peter grasped it, shook it. "When you're all set, follow me across the wind stream. It's powerful—don't let it throw you."

Robin put the end of the air tube in his mouth. Peter pushed the homemade helmet down over his head, secured it tightly, almost painfully, until no space was left for air to escape. Then Peter reached behind Robin to the small tank strapped there and turned a petcock.

Instantly Robin started to choke as he felt something being rammed down his lungs. He caught himself, recognizing that his lungs were being forcibly inflated. He struggled to get control of his diaphragm to expel the excess air pressure. He managed finally to do so, feeling a whiff of air rush through his nostrils. He fought a bit more with the unpleasant current, felt himself getting a grip on it.

Through the plate of his helmet he saw Peter watching him anxiously. Then Peter rapidly tied the nylon cord around his own waist, let it out a few feet, and tied the other end around Robin's. Peter snapped shut the visor of his own helmet, touched the air controls of his own suit, and nodding to Robin, stepped out into the tunnel.

Robin followed closely, conscious of the tight, restricting bands, still fighting the unpleasant pressure of the air tube blowing down his lungs. Peter walked a few steps, pointed a gloved hand across the passage, shone his light.

There was a narrow black gap across there. Through it Robin caught a glimpse of bright white specks—the stars!

Then Peter made a dash, seemed to be picked up by a giant hand and whirled wildly across the passage. The cord tightened and Robin jumped into the space to avoid being pulled off his feet.

He was struck at once by a terrific onrush. A hot, violent blast slammed into him. He lost his footing, felt himself being hurled headlong into a furious tornado. The cord leaped out, and Peter pulled on it hard. Robin swung about, fetched up against the other side of the wall of the cave with a bang, was pulled to his feet before he had even started to fall, and was propelled right through the gap in the wall.

Suddenly all was still. The whistling of the wind, the roar of the current as it struck him, had vanished. Only the sucking and rushing of the oxygen in his own helmet could be heard. He was outside, on the surface of the Moon at last!

The gap opened from the wall of a cliff. Above him, the cliff soared to become a mountainous edge of a deep, wide crater. He turned his head, but Peter was impatient. He felt the pull of the cord, turned and followed Peter, who was moving away from the crater wall in long, low strides, strides that ate up distance like an Earthly giant in seven-league boots. Robin adjusted his pace, followed closely.

For a while he forgot his personal danger and simply gazed around at the fabulous moonscape. The crater's other wall was maybe a dozen miles away, but the thin air—the almost indetectably tenuous air that clustered at the bottom of this crater made the distance seem nothing. He could even make out details of the far edge.

And yet this section of the Moon was in the night-time. The sun had passed it by. It should have been dark, pitch-dark, by the logic of the interplanetary space. Yet it wasn't. Everything instead was bathed in a cold greenish-blue light that covered the surface like the glow of a half-dozen full moons.

He looked up. Directly in the center of the sky overhead was the source of the radiation. A great glowing ball of green and blue and white, a ball with a misty aura surrounding it, a globe that struck Robin instantly as familiar. It was the Earth. The home world, seen in all its glory, a giant full-moon Earth, continents and islands clearly outlined, a glory of pale colors, poles agleam with dazzling white ... it was a sight that momentarily stopped Robin in his tracks, hypnotized with wonder.

The cord pulled him out of it, and on he dashed, looking about him in the pale Earthlight.

The surface was thick with cosmic dust, here and there the rounded domelike surface of a congealed volcanic bubble. Cracks crossed and crisscrossed the surface, and Peter and he had to bound across many of them. He saw rising slightly above the surface a long rill of whitish substance, racing across the crater bottom. With a start he realized that that must be the glasslike roof of the great cleft he had so recently escaped from.

Above, the sky was nearly black and myriad stars shone bright from the distance. The outlines of the surrounding mountains walled in the two boys as if they were pygmy boxers in a gargantuan ring.