"I got a line for you to Scone," said the sergeant. "It's a private one."
Broward took the phone and said, "Broward here, sir."
"Did you get the bomb?" said Scone. He sounded as if every second counted.
"Yes, sir. Only Yamanuchi isn't with me." There was a pause, then Scone said, "What happened?" "We had an accident while we were getting the bomb out."
"Very well. You can give me the details later. When we have time. Just now the important thing is that you did get back with the bomb... even if you are late. Another half hour, you wouldn't have made it. The Axe would have had it, or they would have destroyed you and the bomb before they knew what a valuable prize you would have made."
"They're on the way here?"
"Yes. One of our autoscouts flashed the warning. A big fleet. Too big for us. So, we're evacuating."
"Where are we going, sir?"
"The sergeant will give you the proper instructions. Thanks for coming through with the bomb, Broward. But I knew that if anyone could do it, you could."
There was silence; he had been cut off. He wondered if Scone was not disappointed that the accident had happened to Yamanuchi instead of to him. More than probably. But the man of stone would accept the fact as a fact and would make his plans accordingly.
"We got fifteen minutes to get away," said the sergeant. "Plenty of time to get to the other side of the Moon." "What's there?"
Broward paused at the entrance to the tube leading to the ship.
"Where will the... others be?"
"Just after you left, the drillers, looking for water, broke into a tremendous cavern. It not only had a big body of frozen water, it had space enough for all three bases to hide in and then some. So, when Scone heard about the Axe, he ordered everybody to hide there. We've been busy working our tails off, getting all the equipment down there, moving the lab stuff, all the rest, anything that could be moved and wasn't too big to go through the tunnel.
"As soon as everything's ready, or even if it isn't, the bases are going to be blown up. The tunnel will be plugged up for a little distance so the Axe won't know one's been made. We're hoping they'll think the bases were destroyed by Axe agents or missiles. Or that they'll think we decided we couldn't hold them and blew them up before we took off for Mercury or Ganymede or parts unknown."
"What if the Axe fleet leaves a garrison behind?"
"Scone says well worry about that when it happens. Please, sir, let's get going. I got my orders."
"Wait!"
Broward turned at the cry of a familiar voice to see Ingrid Nashdoi running towards him. He took her into his arms and kissed her while her tears ran and she clung tightly to him.
Finally, when she had quit weeping, she said, "I disobeyed the orders. I waited here for you, hoping you'd come back in time. If you hadn't, I don't know what I would have done. Maybe just let myself be blown up with the base."
Broward looked at the nervous sergeant. "It's all right," he said. "She'll come with us."
"I don't know, sir."
"I do. We haven't time for anything else, anyway. Don't worry. I'll take the responsibility."
Within three minutes, they were in the ship and in stasis. The sergeant, at the controls, had lifted them up and was hurling them around the curve of the great body beneath. In ten minutes, they had entered under a great shelf of volcanic rock. A few seconds later, they were through a gigantic opening and within the cavern. The beams of the ship guided them to the side of the Zemlya, where the sergeant maneuvered until the entrance port locked onto one of the monster vessel's ports.
The port slid within the walls of the craft; there was a whoosh of air as pressure equalized between the two entrances.
"You go ahead and report, Sergeant," said Broward. "I have some checking to do here."
The sergeant said, "Yes, sir," and he left, but not without being able to keep a peculiar look from flitting over his features.
Looking after him, Broward wished now that he had not been given that half-hour hypnotic session by Katashkina. If all memory of the location of the underwater station had not been repressed, he could have seized this chance to take off with Ingrid and return to them. But he did not know where they were. He did remember what had happened during the trip down and back. He remembered being in the station. But, ten minutes after he had left the place in his craft, a post-hypnotic command had plunged deep into his unconscious anything to do with the whereabouts of the two. They were somewhere under the sea, but where?
As for the report of his venture to Scone, that, too, had been taken care of during the session. He had a very detailed and, he hoped, convincing story of the finding of the bomb, of the so-called 'accident,' of his return and the reasons for the delay thereof. Scone should have no reason to investigate. After all, Yamanuchi was now dead, and the goal of the trip, the bomb, had been secured.
Ingrid," he said, "let's get married. Now!"
Her eyes widened, and she said, "But how can we do that?"
"You do want to, don't you?"
"You don't have to ask."
"Then, we'll get the commander of the Zemlya to give his permission. That's all that's necessary. We get his permission; we record the marriage on the ship's log; that's that."
"But Scone is the commanding officer. And..."
"But he can't be contacted. The situation is the same as if we were aspace."
"Radman's the captain of the Zemlya. He's too cautious; he wouldn't do this unless he got the word from Scone. He'd be too suspicious because we're in such a hurry. He'd want to wait."
"Maybe you're right. Very well. Stay here. I'll be back in a few minutes."
Ingrid waited impatiently. She walked around the narrow cabin, looked into the storage hold, checked the air flow, and lit up one of the six cigarettes she owned, the last six on the Moon as far as she knew. By the time she had finished it, she saw Broward walking in through the port. Behind him were two soldiers.
He said, "We need two witnesses; one of them must be a commissioned officer. Allow me to introduce you to my friends Lieutenant Fielding and Corporal Garbon. They're willing to sign the ship's log, my ship, as witnesses. As commander, I'm privileged to marry anyone aboard who so wishes."
Ingrid laughed and kissed him and then kissed Fielding and Garbon.
"Let's celebrate later," said Broward. "Right now, on with the ceremony." He went to the instrument panel, pressed a button, and began to state, in the official language prescribed, his desire to marry, the date, the location, and all the details needed. Ingrid followed him. Afterwards, the two soldiers described their names, ranks, serial numbers, and the fact that they were witnesses to the marriage.
Garbon brought a thin flask out from under his uniform and opened it. The others held out three thimble-sized cups, and he filled each with Scotch. Then he poured one for himself, and all looked to Broward.
He lifted his cup and said, "A toast to the new bride. May she have a long and happy life and bear many fine and happy children."
"Wait a minute," said Fielding. "You forgot to toast the Union."
"The Union of the Soviet World Republics?" said Broward. "I toast the Union. The Union of Man. May it have a long and happy life."
Afterwards, there were jokes, some of them very Rabelaisian and all about newly married couples. Ingrid blushed at some of them, and this pleased Broward, though he would have found it difficult to say why. Then, abruptly, Fielding handed him the flask and the two soldiers left. Quickly, Broward closed the port. He turned to Ingrid, took her in his arms, and said, "It's not the time or place I would have picked for a honeymoon. But you will have to admit it's unique."