Journey to the Heart of Luna - Andy Frankham-Allen [52]
“Are you quite all right now, Professor?”
The look Stone gave Folkard left little room for misinterpretation. “Peaceable ants? Something tells me turning the Selenites into soldiers will be a lot easier than either of us thought.”
“Well, I shan’t grumble too loudly, Professor, K’chuk did save my life, and in effect yours. How do you think you would fair on Luna without me, surrounded by Russians?”
“A fair point, Captain. Nonetheless…”
“What if K’chuk turns on us?” Folkard looked back at the Mole Drill. K’chuk was inside the vehicle now, as fascinated by the interior as Professor Stone was about the Selenites as a whole. “We do not know for certain, but something in me tells me to trust him. He has had ample opportunity to strike if he had a mind to.”
Stone nodded his agreement. “Very well, we have come too far to turn back now. And I was warned about the dangers of this mission. Let us make haste then.”
Folkard turned and walked back towards the Mole Drill. “Haste is unlikely, Professor. A Mole Drill is not made for speed, but rather for power. With enough coal it is essentially unstoppable.”
“What puzzles me, though, Captain, is why the Russians would need such a vehicle. Luna is littered with tunnels and caverns. What need is there to create more?”
“A question to which we will soon learn the answer. I speak a little Russian; perhaps it is enough to get some answers from our captive.”
Together they entered the Mole Drill, and Folkard looked at the man in question. The sub-lieutenant was bound with rope, a dirty rag, no doubt used to wipe the coal-dust off the driver’s forehead, served as a gag. His decapitated comrade had been secreted away in a burrow in the cavern; it had been freshly dug by K’chuk, who claimed that often times Selenites created such burrows to store food. The smell would not last long, it would soon join the usual sub-lunar stench which, Folkard began to realise, was probably rotting meat in other burrows. He was no expert on ant culture, but he did know that meat-eating ants existed, and most likely the same applied for the Selenites. He stepped closer to the prisoner.
“You will talk, tovarish, or my little friend over there will make a meal out of you, too.” Folkard nodded towards K’chuk who was standing on the raised platform next to the coal chamber. The Russian’s eyes widened in horror. He may not have spoken English, but he understood the meaning.
“I not kill. Only to save,” K’chuk said.
Folkard walked over to K’chuk and said in a whisper; “I understand that, K’chuk, but we do not wish our captive to be a party to that information. We need to know what the enemy is planning to successfully rescue your brethren.”
K’chuk was silent, his bulbous head tilting from side to side. Then he nodded. “Understand, friend Folkard.”
“Superb. Professor Stone?”
Stone, who was looking around the large interior, turned to Folkard. “A fascinating vehicle,” he said.
“I am glad you think so, since it is time for you to learn how drive it.”
“Me?” Stone was quite incredulous.
“Of course, what other person is there? I will be busily engaged in extracting information from this retrograde. K’chuk will help you.”
Stone swallowed and stepped past Folkard. The professor did not rate their success in this endeavour, and in truth Folkard had his doubts, too, but the basic operations of a Mole Drill were simple enough and the professor was a smart man. As Stone climbed the ladder to the raised level, Folkard pulled the lever that activated the door winch. Soon they would be behind enemy lines, and then they would learn first-hand what they were up against.
Folkard found he was rather looking forward