Official Edgar Rice Burroughs Tribute and Weekly Webzine Site Since 1996 ~ Over 15,000 Web Pages in Archive ![]() MOON MAID AT THE EARTH'S CORE by ANDY NUNEZ ![]() CHAPTER SEVEN - THE BLACK ACES OF DOOM I was at a lost to figure how I had been so surprised. Lightning was nowhere to be found and Giuseppe lay still, his chest barely moving. I knew that I must have been exhausted, so deeply asleep that I had not heard the enemy's approach. I sat up slowly, and the pistol never wavered from my head. I noted that its wielder had the same corn silk-type hair as Ee-la-nah, save that his was closely cropped with a short, comma-shaped forelock. Pale blue eyes drilled into me as steady as the black steel of the pistol. I noticed that it was slender, probably no more than .30 caliber. Glancing past him, I saw an odd object next to my aircraft. I suddenly wished that Giuseppe was awake, because the thing looked like a pocket dirigible. It was a plump torpedo, painted black like the mystery aircraft I had shot down. Below the rigid gas cells was a cabin that ran the length of the ship, tapering in the rear until it melded into a framework of rudder and elevators. Two engines powered the ship, jutting from the rear half of the cabin. For all its complexity, I doubt the ship was a hundred feet long. Slowly, I held up my hands in surrender. As I did so, Salome arose from behind my captors and pointed me out over the shoulder of the one who held the pistol. "There," she hissed. "He is the one who tried to assault me." "That's a lie!" I said, purpling. "I don't know who you fellows are, but this woman is a lying tramp. As soon as her mate here was incapacitated, she threw herself at the first available man, which was me. I guess she helped you sneak up on me." "We ask the questions here, if you don't mind," the man said. "Take that pistol." One of his men grabbed my gun. At that point, I did not have a Pellucidarian word for "pistol". The leader used a word, his lackey grabbed my pistol, so I learned it by inference. Another man snatched up my carbine. They were all armed with the tiny machine pistols. One fellow did have another weapon slung over his shoulder by a strap that had several clips attached to it in a bandolier fashion. They were not what I expected of the population of Pellucidar. With their fairly modern weapons, they seemed as alien as I. "Now," the leader continued. "We can conduct this in a reasonable manner. The woman claims you assaulted her. She intercepted us upon landing and told us her story, claiming you were asleep. She was a great deal of help." "She claims she is from the moon, also," I said. "I don't love her, and don't want her. I love another, a slave girl named Ee-la-nah." If the leader could have grown paler, he would have. His luminous eyes widened. "Ee-la-nah is alive?" He demanded. "I don't know," I said. "She was kidnaped by a Mahar and it took her to Phutra. This woman treated her like dirt." "You have served the cause well," the leader said to Salome. "You delivered this enemy of the people to me. Here is your reward." He whirled on her and his pistol spoke once. A small crimson hole appeared in Salome's forehead and she collapsed to the sward. The leader returned to face me without further regard to her corpse. "She was a liar and a traitor," he stated, face as calm as if he had changed records on a Victrola. "You can't trust that sort of woman. I believe your story." "Well, you didn't have to kill her," I said. "Shooing her off to fend for herself would have been good enough." "I suppose it would be more merciful to have her try to escape being torn apart by some creature," he smirked. "You will take me to Phutra. You will also show me how to fly your ship. It is much better than those we possess. If you cooperate, and Ee-la-nah is rescued, then you shall live to serve the Race. Failure will result in a fate similar to that offal behind me." "Where are you from?" I demanded. "What do you want with Ee-la-nah?" He smiled at me, bringing the barrel of his pistol so close to my nose that I could feel its heat. "Remember, I ask the questions. It can do no harm to tell you, since you will not escape. We are males of the Race. Unlike that lying wench I dispatched, we are actually from the moon. For untold sleeps we have labored, taming the herds that roam our world, using up any available space when our population increased. We have had to be clever, far cleverer than these half-wits down here. We thought of machines to dig into our world, to light underground living chambers, to allow the Race to expand. "We have grown until we threaten the grazing lands of the herds that sustain us. We must find new living space. We have chosen the lush forests and plains here. As for Ee-la-nah, she is to be my mate." I was stunned by this revelation. Salome had lied from the start. She was not from the moon, but Ee-la-nah! My anger for the pasty little man before me grew until I felt I could break him and his companions into little pieces. If I twitched the wrong way, though, I knew he would not hesitate to shoot me. "A last question, since you have been gracious. What is your name, man of the moon?" "Jehoida, if you must know. Now, we must hurry to save my mate." No sooner did he speak these words than a savage growl split the warm air of Pellucidar. I looked to see Lightning break from the trees in an express train charge. Four of the moon men turned toward him, and Jehoida pointed his little pistol. It was the break I was looking for. I slugged him right across the back of his blonde head and his pistol went flying. The guy who grabbed my carbine turned on me and gave me a swat. I have to say one thing for these moon men. They might be short but they sure are fast. He clipped me good and I went backward over Giuseppe, who groaned loudly and reached up his hands to grapple with me. The action got pretty confusing, and when I got to my feet, three of the moon men were dead, the rest gone, including Jehoida. The guy with my carbine was still screaming until Lightning closed is fangs through his throat. I slung on my carbine, found my pistol and three of the slender machine pistols of the moon men. The reminded me of those broom-handle Mausers that the Nazis used. Giuseppe had come to enough to figure out what was going on. He looked around and despaired. "Dio Mio!" he exclaimed. "What has happened? Salome!" He crawled to her and cradled her to his chest. "Oh, my dolce amore, what have they done to you? You know, Byron, we never spoke of love, but we were like mates, yes. Who are these beasts, that they shoot innocent women?" It was hard for me to bite off a remark about Salome's innocence, but for Giuseppe's sake, I did so. Without revealing her vile betrayal, I told him what had happened. "Are you strong enough to stand?" I asked. "Yes, I think so. We must bury Salome." He tried to pick her up, but his strength failed. "No time," I explained. "I'll carry her into the glider and we can wrap her up there. We've got to get out of here before that bunch regroups and comes back shooting." I wrapped Salome in furs and carried her body to the shattered glider. I laid her down in the rear section as gently as I could. I tried to think of some words to say over her, but all I could say was something about her not deserving to be shot in cold blood. I went back to Giuseppe, who had composed himself enough to stand. I handed him one of the little pistols and we got to the plane. Beside it was moored the little dirigible from the moon. Giuseppe examined its design quickly and checked its fuel tanks. He felt that its fuel would probably burn in the p-38, so we topped off with it. Briefly we considered making off with the dirigible, but Giuseppe was in no shape to fly it, so I took several clips of ammunition and some loose instruments, then set it on fire. We got the P-38 going and I revved the engines good before trying to get through the tall grass. It snatched at the wheels and the props sent up blizzards of cut grass, but we got off the ground. Lightning used the time to lick the blood from his paws. I examined the map. Phutra and Sari lay in opposite directions. I immediately thought of going to Phutra and told Giuseppe. "I know you want to save her," he said, "but there is something bigger here. These moon men, the Race, they call themselves, are planning mischief. A settlement, and invasion, something. This Emperor of Pellucidar in Sari, David Innes, he must know what is going to happen. You have said he has guns, yes?" "Yes, but they are simple muskets. He has no airplanes." "Even more so that we must tell him, so he can prepare. But, he does have one airplane, si?" "Not that I know of. He had one that flew backwards, I think." "He has yours." Behind us, the dirigible's gasbags blew up in a spectacular fireball. Obviously, helium was hard to find on Pellucidar's moon. My emotions battled with my good sense, and I finally yielded to the latter. Turning the nose of the P-38, I headed back toward Sari, the capital of David Innes' empire. It was tougher for me to put distance between myself and my beloved than anything I had previously gone through. All the untold weeks building the distillery and refining the aviation fuel was nothing in comparison. I had to remind myself that I was at war again, and that my needs were outweighed by the needs of people I had never met. Still, I felt a kinship with them, a solidarity to their cause. The map was crudely drawn, but it took little effort for me to spot Sari. It was unlike either Korsar or the Mahar city. The majority of buildings were still huts, but through them ran the black ribbon of a railroad. Several large buildings lay in an orderly design of streets, and they looked much like those of an American city. Farther beyond I saw factories trailing plumes of smoke into Pellucidar's previously unsoiled air. Korsar had its Old World Charm, the Mahar city is monolithic underground splendor, but Sari was a hodgepodge of culture spanning millennia. I took one circle around the city, watching people scurry around as I passed over. I took note of one building that reminded me of one of those Norman Rockwell country schoolhouses, complete with a large playing field beside it. The playing field was what really drew my interest. It was the flattest surface I had encountered since entering the earth's core, and I made another pass to line up with it. Giuseppe pointed and I saw that the initially surprised residents were coming together in clumps. As I dropped lower to make my landing. I saw that some clumps were dressed in heavier clothing and carried what looked like long-barreled rifles. I came in level, and almost had to abort when the landing gear had trouble deploying. I assumed it was from grass stuck in the wheel wells. They went down at the last second and I taxied in, making the smoothest landing since that U-boat shot me up. The hard-packed earth was a perfect runway. I turned the plane to face the city and switched off the motors. As the blades stopped turning, I threw back the canopy. "Wave and smile," I suggested. "Those rifles look pretty deadly." "I can barely stand and you want me to smile, much less wave?" Giuseppe sighed. "What about Lightning? His smile is frightening." "We'll have to hope he isn't hungry," I said. "Come on. They might start shooting if we don't hurry." I climbed out slowly, hands high when I wasn't holding on to the plane, and moved slowly, yet easily. I smiled the whole time. By now, a cordon of muscular warriors who carried rifles similar in pattern to British Enfields from the last century surrounded the plane. They wore armor that looked like it was made of jointed pieces of thick hide and carried iron axes at their hips. "I am here to see David Innes," I said in a clear voice, still smiling. The cordon blinked as Lightning slinked down and rubbed his tawny flank against my leg. One man, several inches taller than me, stepped from behind the ring of warriors. He was older and more thickly built than the others, and dark hair swirled across every exposed part of his body. He carried no rifle, but instead hefted a double-headed iron axe whose blades were wider than the size of my hand from wrist to fingertips. His face was stern, but no angry. "Are you Jason Gridley?" the man rumbled. "He is the only man to fly one of these things and know David Innes." "No, I am not," I admitted. "My name is Byron Jasper Wells. I am an American, like David Innes, and I have grave news for him. This is my friend Giuseppe, and my pet tarag Lightning." "Truly you must be from the same place as David Innes, to have such a machine and command a tarag. I am Ghak, called by some the Hairy One. I will take you and your friend to David Innes. He is currently meeting with a delegation from Thuria, and also has a guest from Zoram. Come!" I did as he bade, confident that after my meeting, we would find a way to defeat the invaders from the moon and rescue my love from the clutches of the Mahar. |


