News From Elsewhere (15 page)

They were within four hundred yards of the hemisphere before there was any sign of activity. Then suddenly a large shape, oddly human, appeared momentarily in the doorway of the strange building. It hesitated, disappeared again, reappeared almost instantaneously, and began running toward Holt at a tremendous speed.

As it came clear into the sunlight, the three men saw that it was completely encased by metal. Its arms, legs, and thick, jointed body dashed dully as the strange being rapidly advanced.

Although it was nine feet high and uncannily human in shape, the human beings who now confronted it saw with a sudden shock that the outline between its shoulders was smooth and flat. The creature had no head.

Holt’s arm jerked sharply, and a grenade flashed toward his macabre adversary, who was now only a hundred and fifty yards away. The monster continued on his course without any attempt at evasion.

The explosion made no sound, but a dull shock wave carried even to the tractor, now four hundred yards to the rear.

The grenade had been aimed well, in spite of the monster’s speed. It dropped about ten yards behind him. The blast would have tom a human being to bits, but that metal-covered body merely sailed through the void another half-dozen yards, picked itself up, and continued its rapid advance. Holt lifted his arm to hurl another grenade, but he was too late. Something glittered in the monster’s hand. For a split second a thin pencil beam of intense radiance flashed on.

With involuntary cries of horror, Jackson and Captain Harper saw Holt fall in a heap. Even at that distance it was easy to see that his body had been cut clean in two.

Instantly the creature, seeing one enemy destroyed, turned toward Jackson. For a moment it was still—a perfect target—and Jackson did not waste the opportunity. Two grenades in rapid succession flew toward their target even as the strange being ran to attack. Realizing intuitively that the creature would run straight at him, Jackson purposely let one of the grenades fall short.

Leaving the first grenade well behind, the monster ran full into the second explosion. For a moment it seemed to hang suspended—a tableau of complete surprise—then arms and legs and body hurtled up into the void, and fell separately.

Wasting no time inspecting the damage, Dr. Jackson turned immediately toward the metal hemisphere. Two more headless monsters had appeared. They seemed to be setting up some sort of apparatus.

Meanwhile Captain Harper slammed the tractor into top speed and drove crazily toward the target. Less than three hundred yards away he stopped suddenly and, having depressurized the tractor, went straight through the airlock, knocking his headpiece heavily against the hiduminium door.

One well-timed leap brought him up into the crow’s nest beside the rocket bombard. Hastily aligning the rough sights, he pressed the detonator button.

His aim was too high. Fifty pounds of high explosive sailed harmlessly over the objective. But even as he feverishly reloaded, he saw Jackson moving forward out of the corner of his eye.

The geologist ran quickly to within throwing range, hurled two more grenades, and fell flat on his face. The first one didn’t explode, but it would have made no difference, since it was about thirty yards short. The second, however, fell only eight or nine yards away from the two beings. Even as one of them raised the strange, glittering weapon in his hand, the grenade exploded, blowing him and his companion over backwards and flattening their apparatus.

Far from being mortally wounded, the two creatures picked themselves up with astonishing speed. One of them 
ran for his hand weapon, which was lying on the lava bed a few yards away, while the other quickly tried to reconstruct his small tripod and its ominous-looking cylinder.

But by this time Harper had not only reloaded, but forced himself by supreme act of will to take slow and measured aim—realizing, perhaps, that the issue depended entirely on his next shot.

The heavy rocket grenade sped straight toward the hemisphere. For a terrible moment it seemed as if the charge would not detonate. Then there was- a silent flash, and the lunar tractor shuddered violently. The sudden cloud of dust fell almost as rapidly as it had risen.

When it cleared, Captain Harper saw that the metal hemisphere and its strange occupants were utterly destroyed. All that remained was a jagged, smoking debris of twisted metal.

For a moment the two survivors remained perfectly still. Then Dr. Jackson picked himself up and began to walk unsteadily toward what had once been Dr. Holt. With slow, jerky movements, Captain Harper climbed down from the rocket bombard and made as if to join him. Suddenly he collapsed. Dr. Jackson turned and ran to him.

“I . . . think it’s a . . . slow leak,” gasped Harper over his personal radio. “Pressurize . . . pressurize tractor . . . for God’s sake!”

Jackson picked him up and staggered to the tractor. He pushed Harper through the airlock, climbed in himself, slammed the sealing door, and turned on the air cylinders to full.

The leak must have been infinitesimal, for the Captain recovered almost immediately.

“Thanks,” he said shakily. “It’s a bloody awful feeling, isn’t it?”

“They haven’t yet invented the words to describe it,” remarked Jackson grimly. “You’ll have to stay in the tractor till we get back.”

“Blast! We ought to do something about Holt, but my brain isn’t working clearly. Any suggestions?”

“None worth having. ... You saw what happened?”

Harper nodded. “Our headless friend gave him something that makes h/v bullets seem like baby toys. . . . We ought to take a look at him, though.”

“Would that be wise?” asked Jackson slowly.

“You mean because of radio activity?”

“Among other things.”

“What about the remains of their outpost, then? I’ll drive the tractor in close. I shouldn’t think the H.E. will have left anything in a sufficiently dangerous concentration. What do you think?”

“It’s worth the risk. We might learn something useful about them.”

Harper started the tractor and let it move slowly forward toward the area of devastation. He switched off the motor about twenty yards from the wreckage.

“You know something?” said Jackson as he prepared to go through the airlock. “In a way, we’re lucky. This is the second little bit of history we’ve been privileged to make.”

“How do you mean?”

“That character who dropped Holt then charged at me,” said Jackson, “was quite peculiar. I was nearer to him than you were. I saw him fall apart.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Only that he wasn’t made of frogs and snails and puppydogs’ tails,” replied Jackson with irony. “You know, Captain, I think we must be the first human beings to do battle with a bunch of lethal robots. The fact that we took those three apart is quite significant, really.”

“Good God!” exclaimed Harper.

Dr. Jackson turned and went through the airlock. Presently he was poking about among the glaring, sunlit wreckage.

The crisis was over, but at Base One it took some time for the atmosphere of high tension to die down. Two men of the first expedition had died, and the whole moon project had been on the edge of failure. Only a slow and intensive search of the entire base area and the foothills of Tycho convinced the four survivors that at least there was no more immediate danger. Eventually they felt justified in returning to normal routine.

It was several terrestrial days later that Professor Jantz took the opportunity afforded by Dr. Jackson’s absence 
on a survey expedition to do some work of his own in the small underground laboratory. He was absorbed in the spectroscopic analysis of quantities of fine black dust.

When Captain Harper found him, the professor was engaged in electronically heating a minute pile to incandescence.

“Which sample are you working on now?” asked Harper conversationally.

Professor Jantz displayed the pleasure of a child who has discovered something altogether wonderful in his Christmas stocking. “The third sample from cavern fourteen,” he explained happily.

“How’s it going?”

“My dear Harper, this is a perfect specimen of bituminous carboniferous coal of the type known as fusain. There is a wonderful abundance of microspores and macrospores. My theories, I may say, are confirmed up to the hilt. When I get back to Earth, I shall read a paper to—”

“What does it mean in plain language?” interrupted Harper.

“It means quite simply that the moon was once teeming with estuarine swamps. It means that billions of years ago the moon was a riot of evolving life forms. In short, we have accumulated enough evidence to shake modem as-trophysical theory right to its foundations.”

“Why isn’t there any surface evidence of all this?”

“Because as the moon began to lose its atmosphere, the intensifying sunlight generated spontaneous combustion. Half the so-called meteoric dust is the ashes from what must once have been tremendous smoldering graveyards.”

Harper grinned. “So now you’ll be able to blast the armchair astronomers.”

“I most certainly shall. I have enough data to make most of my illustrious colleagues feel that the time has come for them to enter mental institutions.”

Captain Harper took a couple of folded typewritten sheets from his pocket. “I really hunted you out to show you the message I intend to transmit back to Organization Headquarters. If there’s anything you wish to add, you’d better say so. I shall have to send it in the next hour or so.”

Professor Jantz took the sheets and read them quickly:

From: Harper, Captain of Advance Expedition, Lunar Base One.

To: Executive Council, Expedition H.Q., Earth

Since the destruction of the robot-manned outpost, Jackson and Pegram have made an extensive survey of the ground within a radius of one hundred miles of base. They have discovered no more alien tracks, other than those originating from the hemisphere, and no further signs of independent activity. We are confident, then, that it is safe for the second moonship to depart on schedule, and feel that the equatorial expedition may be undertaken in face of environmental hazards only.

We have examined the debris of the robot outpost, and have drawn the following conclusions:

1)    The robots are not indigenous to the moon, since their construction would demand resources and a highly developed life form of which there is no evidence.

2)    Their construction is beyond the present developments of human science.

3)    Since their outpost was exposed and unpressurized, the three so-called coffins appear to have been the “hibernation” chambers and electrical charging-beds of the robots during the lunar night. Evidence of their electrical potential was obtained before the outpost was destroyed.

4)    Assuming that the three previous hypotheses are substantially correct, we believe that at some time the moon received an extraterrestrial expedition which left the robots for observational purposes and scientific investigation.

5)    Since the robots took the initiative in attacking us, it is probable that their creators conditioned the machines to react aggressively to any phenomena that might be interpreted as interference.

6)    Bearing in mind that the robots were apparently equipped with space radio, it is probable that they originated within our own solar system.

The full arguments in support of these views will be submitted in Dispatch Eight. It remains for me to add 
our unanimous belief that the extraterrestrial expedition will ultimately return to discover the fate of its mechanical outpost. It is hoped that by that time human beings and equipment will be present on the moon in sufficient force to fulfill our aims irrespective of interference or cooperation.

Professor Jantz looked up from the typewritten sheets. “I think you’ve given our main conclusions admirably,” he said. “The rest can wait until we have time to prepare a* full report. As soon as I’ve finished with these samples, I’ll put my own notes in order for you.”

“It’s about time Jackson and Pegram were back,” remarked Harper, stuffing the sheets back in his pocket “I’ll give them a call on the transceiver.”

He went out, leaving the professor to continue his work. For another two hours, Jantz was able to go on with his analysis of the samples from cavern fourteen without being disturbed.

Then Captain Harper returned. “They got back safely,” he announced.

“Good, good. Now we can relax for a few hours.”

“They want us to go up to the surface,” said Harper. “They say there’s something worth seeing.”

“More samples!” exclaimed the professor delightedly. “Where the devil did I put my headpiece?”

Presently the two men made their way through the airlock and clambered up the metal ladder set against the walls of the fissure. They reached the surface to see Jackson and Pegram standing by the lunar tractor.

“Have you found something interesting?” called Jantz hopefully over his personal radio.

“Yes,” replied Jackson, raising his arm. “Look around.”

Everywhere the shadows were stretched to unimaginable lengths, and the rolling lava plains, softened now in oblique sunlight, were beginning to assume the dark contours of a lunar twilight. The scene was desolate, grotesque, and in its own fashion altogether beautiful.