Journey to the Heart of Luna - Andy Frankham-Allen [62]
Fifteen carbines were directed at the Russian poruchik.
“Lieutenant Bedford,” Major Larkins of the Royal Marines said with a smile, “we were coming to give Captain Folkard a hand.”
Bedford nodded, noticing with some confusion that Able Seaman Ainsworth stood with the marine compliment. “Well, now you are here, your team can help me clean up the mess in the Russian camp,” Bedford said, and looked down at the Russian. “You lost, old chap, accept it.”
6.
MISTER BROOKER had explained that his men had been captured by the Russians who had outgunned the cutter with their ironclad. He further explained Miller’s marvellous rescue attempt. Bedford was suitably impressed; perhaps the young man would make a good naval officer one day after all.
“Very well, Petty Officer Brooker,” Bedford said, once the report was finished. He turned to Major Larkins. “Major, take your marines, and these men here,” Bedford indicated the cutter crew, “and secure the bottom of that gorge. I believe between myself, Mister Platt and K’ovib we can keep things under control here. We have our Selenite army.”
Larkins smiled at that, saluted, and turned to his men. Orders were given, and the twenty-strong, fully armed garrison from the Sovereign set off in the direction of the gorge.
A shot echoed.
Bedford set off at a run, knowing exactly where the shot had originated. It seemed clear that as the highest ranking soldier, Poruchik Kondrashov was in charge of the Russian okhrana, no doubt ordered to report directly to Tereshkov, and as such it seemed prudent to keep him separated from the rest of the Russians.
Bedford stopped within a foot of the wounded man.
It was as he feared. Bedford truly wanted to believe that young Mister Miller was up to the task of standing guard of a tent. Alas no.
Miller now lay on the dusty ground, the flap of the tent behind him now splattered with his blood. Bedford crouched down, inspecting the gaping wound in Miller’s chest.
Miller coughed, spaying blood in Bedford’s face. “Sorry, sir. Took me by surprise…he…”
“Do not be sorry, Mister Miller, I am certain you did your best.”
Miller shook his head. “No…never wanted this. Wanted to be…” He gasped, more bloody spittle dripping out of his mouth. “Painter,” he finally said, and breathed his last.
7.
BEDFORD SEARCHED for Poruchik Kondrashov, but the lieutenant knew the camp better than he. He eventually stopped by the bore drill, which was no longer active, and watched the Selenites herd more Russians away.
Bedford looked up at the whirring sound. One of the small, one-man aerial flyers was powering up. Bedford smiled and removed his Lancaster, walking forward slowly. He aimed the gun at the man in the flyer cockpit.
Just where did Kondrashov think he was going to go? By now the marines would have secured the gorge. Even the Russian ironclad was trapped, the Sovereign would make sure of that.
“Poruchik!” Bedford shouted above the noise.
As expected Kondrashov looked back, all ready to gloat. The smile never left his face, not even when the bullet smashed through his forehead, dead centre. His body slumped over the controls and the flyer took off, heading straight for the black rocky wall.
“That was for you, Mister Miller. Every shot counts,” Bedford said, as he holstered his gun.
Chapter Ten
The Heart of Luna
1.
NATHANIAL WONDERED just how deep the lift shaft went. He had left his pocket watch in his cabin on the Sovereign, so could not readily tell how long they had been descending, but if he had to make a guess he would have said they had been on the lift platform for a good fifteen minutes. His ears had popped a little time back, a sure indication of the depth they were travelling. The shaft itself was clearly not a naturally occurring thing, evidenced by the wooden slats along the four walls of the shaft, held in place by support beams. This confirmed his previous theory that once Tereshkov had discovered the glow he had brought in the Russian okhrana,