Journey to the Heart of Luna - Andy Frankham-Allen [60]
For a moment it seemed as if K’chuk did not understand, then he nodded slowly. “Friend Folkard plan. K’chuk make Selenite army.”
Annabelle smiled. “A good job you have done of it, too.” She looked over at the elevator scaffold. “Can you work that thing?”
“Yes, I see men work machine.”
“Brilliant. Would you care to join me? I have to find Nathanial, and free my uncle.”
At first K’chuk did not move, but when he did it appeared to be with great reluctance. “They go to Heart. This bad.”
Annabelle was still unsure what this Heart was, this holy relic of the Selenites, but as she suspected her uncle was up to his neck in it. Sometimes, she reflected, as she and K’chuk advanced on the elevator, Uncle Cyrus needed saving from his own curiosity.
4.
MILLER AND K’ovib drew closer to one of the tents, while Bedford and the rest of the Selenite army proceeded to storm the largest of the tents, gunning down Russians as they did so. A guard stood at the entrance of the tent, his rifle at the ready. He seemed to be itchy, as if unsure whether to join the battle or remain at his post. This, to Miller, indicated that he was guarding something important.
Lieutenant Bedford had not said so, but it was clear his opinion of Miller was incredibly low. Not that Miller could blame his commanding officer. So far he had performed miserably. He had done his best, but he was beginning to realise that he was simply not cut out to be in the Navy. He had wanted to be, to make his parents proud, but he had no stomach for this kind of life.
He could still hear his father, as they visited Camden Market, looking for cheap paints, that a career in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy was something to be proud of. Father would have loved to serve the British Empire, but his gammy leg prevented this. Young Joseph Miller could do all the things his father never could. It was such an imploring speech that Miller had enlisted the next day.
He was determined to prove his worth, at least until this mission was over, then he would seek to be discharged from active duty.
Whatever the guard was protecting, Miller felt sure Bedford would want to know about it.
He and K’ovib now stood at the edge of the tent, hidden from the guard’s line of sight. Beside him the Selenite was making some strange noises. He turned to look, his eyes widening in horror. K’ovib was tensing himself, just like Miller had seen that Selenite in the compound do.
“No!” he hissed quietly. “K’ovib, no. Self sacrifice will not be necessary. I can handle this one man quite efficiently.” At least, he hoped he could.
He peered around the corner. The guard was looking away. Careful not to make any sound on the gravelly ground, Miller edged along the tent, his rifle ready. Just then the guard turned. His mouth dropped open in surprise at the site of the barrel aimed directly at him. The surprise lasted but seconds. The guard quickly brought his own rifle up, but Miller pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened.
Cursing his own stupidity, Miller realised he had forgot to reload his rifle. The Russian started laughing, keeping his own gun trained on Miller’s heart.
Miller just saw red, remembering all those who had laughed at him on the streets of Camden, mocking him because of what he did. As soon as the guard threw back his head in laughter once again, Miller cast his weapon aside, grabbed the barrel of the Russian’s rifle with one hand and struck out with his other. The guard, clearly not expecting a fist in his face, staggered backwards. It was the momentary distraction Miller needed. A second later both men were on the floor, rolling about in the dust and trading