He found himself dozing now and again, and he was regretting that stew he had left untasted. Real Terra-style food—fresh—hot— No rations!
“What’s the matter?”
Kana’s head jerked and his eyes opened. But Hansu’s shout had not been directed at him. The inquiry was addressed to the driver in the bubble control seat on a transport which had come to a stop beside them. They were locked in a line of stalled transports and passenger joppers. The Blademaster got a garbled answer Kana could not hear. His face tensed.
“There’s an inspection point ahead—not a regular one.”
“Looking for us, d’you think, sir?”
“Might be. We’ll hope that they’re only after a hot runner.”
A hot runner, one of the undercover dealers in illegal foods and drugs, was the type of criminal at which most Terran police drives were aimed. And if the Combat Police were in search of a runner, every jopper and transport in that line would be inspected, every man would have to produce identification. One glimpse of their armlets, of the uniforms they wore under the coveralls and they would be scooped up at once. Then too, they might be the objects of this general hunt.
“Can we get out, sir, turn off somewhere?”
The Blademaster shook his head. “If we tried that now, we’d give ourselves away at once. Wish I knew who was in command at this post. It might just make a difference—”
If Deputy-Commander Matthias was part of some mysterious organization fighting for Terran freedom, as Hansu had hinted, there must be others of a like mind scattered through the whole system of Combat. And so the Blademaster might claim the assistance of such a one—if he were on duty here. But the chance was extremely slim.
There were men walking along the edge of the highway, moving up to see what was holding up the traffic. Hansu watched them and then stepped out of the jopper. When he joined the others he affected a heavy limp which quite cloaked the trained Swordsman’s usual springy stride.
Kana ventured out into the neighboring field in an attempt to see what lay ahead. It was a temporary inspection post all right; the bright silver helmets of the police winked in the sun. But this was late afternoon. And with dark— If they did not have to pass that post until dusk— He turned to survey the fields, assessing the countryside for a promise of freedom.
Ahead they were setting up camp lights—stringing them along the road for about a quarter mile. But that illumination would not reach to where the jopper now stood. Then the steady beat of a machine brought his head around. So that was how they would keep the trapped in line until they had a chance to sort them out! A police coaster skimmed along the row of vehicles.
With eyes which had been trained from early childhood to evaluate such problems, Kana watched the three-man machine pass. He timed it with his watch. Yes, it looked as if they were on a regular beat. It was the most elaborate trap to catch a hot runner that he had ever seen. Which argued that either runner was in the super class—which Kana did not believe, for those captains of undercover industry did not travel, they hired others to take the risks—or the police were after other game. What other game? Them?
Some of the drivers who had gone forward were now returning, loud in their complaints. Apparently none of them had had any satisfaction from the police. Hansu was with them.
“There’s a coaster on patrol along the road, sir,” Kana reported.
“Yes.” The Blademaster motioned for him to climb back into the jopper. “We’ll have to do some thinking and fast.”
“Are they really after a hot runner, sir?”
“I believe that they are after us.”
Kana was suddenly cold. “But why, sir?” he protested. “Terra police wouldn’t pick us up on C.C. orders—not without a secondary warrant from Combat—and it would take them more time to get that.”
“Don’t ask me why or how!” Hansu’s irritation spilled over in that bark. “But we’re going to be kept from meeting Matthias—that’s my bet!”
“And whoever is able to do that,” Kana said, “has influence enough to call out the police. It’s only a matter of time before they pick us up, sir. Unless in the dark—”
“Yes, it is getting dark. That’s one point in our favor. They’re searching every person to the skin up there.”
And they were wearing Mech uniforms they had no means of discarding or destroying now.
Hansu snapped open a small compartment and pulled out the district map which was part of every jopper’s equipment. He traced road markings with a finger tip and then leaned his head on the back of the seat and closed his eyes, a deep frown line between his brows. The sun was almost gone, but still the line of vehicles before them had not moved. More and more of the drivers were gathering in the fields and words of argument carried through the air. Now and then one of them went back to his jopper or transport, probably to ring in to his employer on a speecher and report his non-progress.
“Can we make it, sir, even in the dark?” Kana asked at last.
“Get away from here—yes—I’m sure of that. But reaching Prime—that’s another matter. If they are searching for us they must have Prime sealed as tight as a lifting spacer. Karr, what did they teach you in ancient history about the pre-Blow-up cities?”
Though he couldn’t see how ancient history was going to get them out of this, Kana obediently recited the few facts which had stuck in his mind for five years.
“The Old Ones built tower buildings—and they were open to the weather—no bubble domes. Wonder that the winds didn’t wreck them—”
“What about underground?”
Underground? It was because the towers were unusual that he remembered them. During the nuclear wars most of the survivors had lived underground. There was nothing ancient about that mode of life. There had been one lecture during his training, delivered on a hot afternoon when he had wanted to be elsewhere with a Zacathan he admired more than the droning Terran instructor. Under the ground—
“They traveled under the ground sometimes, didn’t they, sir? Through tubes running under their cities.”
Hansu gave a curt nod. “What are those drivers doing?”
Kana surveyed the scene in the field from his side vision plate. “Building a fire, sir. I think they’re going to open their emergency rations.”
The Blademaster tore the map loose from its holder. “We’ll join them, Karr. Keep your mouth shut and your ears open. And watch that police coaster. We want to know when to expect its passing.”
Though some of the drivers still grumbled, most of them now looked upon the halt as an unexpected gift of free time. Having reported in on the speechers they no longer felt any sense of responsibility. There was a general air of relaxation about the fire as they opened their rations.
“Yeah, I’m driving a time job,” announced a tall, red-haired man, “but if the C.P. says stop, I stop. And the boss can just argue it out with them. He said I should try to make time on the road if we ever get away from here.”
One of his companions in misfortune shook his head. “Don’t try the river cut-off, it’s not too good at night. Since this new section of highway was opened, they don’t run a breakdown crew along there and there’ve been cave-ins.”
Hansu insinuated himself into this group, assuming a protective covering of manner so that he might have spent most of his adult life pushing one of the transports. Another example of a good AL man at work, Kana decided. On Fronn the Blademaster had met Venturi and Llor as an equal, here he was adapting to another clan with strange tribal customs of its own.
“This river road”—he addressed the red-head—“is it a short cut to Prime?”
“Yeah.” The driver gave him a measuring look. “You new on this haul, fella?”
“Just been assigned to Prime. I’m driving a jopper from the west, don’t know this country—”
“Well, the river road’s not so good if you don’t know it. It’s an old one—parts of it pre-Blow-up—or so they say. Last summer there was a pack of fellas outta Prime digging around there, uncovered some old stuff, too. But it does save you twenty-thirty miles. Only it’s posted as unsafe—”
“Unsafe!” echoed one of the others. “It’s a trap, Lari. I don’t care what the boss says, you’d better not run it in the dark. I’ve not forgotten that cave-in we saw. Big enough to pull a wheel out of the trans. That’s what brought those digging fellas out—they had such a time filling it in they thought maybe there was a room or something underneath.”