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The stars are ours by Andre Norton

Kimber volunteered no more information and Dard did not ask. In fact he half forgot it during the next few hours as he was shown that strange honeycomb fortress, blasted out of the living rock, which served the last of the Free Scientists as a base. Kimber was his guide and escort along the narrow passages, giving him short glimpses of Hydro-gardens, of strange laboratories, and once, from a vantage point, the star ship itself.

“Not too large, is she?” the pilot had commented, eyeing the long silvery dart with a full-sized frown. “But she’s the best we could do. Her core is an experimental model designed for a try at the outer planets just before the purge. In the first days of the disturbance they got her here-or the most important parts of her—and we have been building ever since.

No, the ship wasn’t large. Dard frankly could not see where all the toiling inhabitants of the Cleft were going to find berths on her, whether in the suspended animation of hibernation or not. But he didn’t mention that aloud. Instead he said:

“I don’t see how you’ve been able to hide out without detection this long.”

Kimber grinned wickedly. “We have more ways than one. What do you think of this?” He drew his hand from his breeches pocket. On his dark palm lay a flat piece of shining metal.

“That, my boy, is gold! There’s been precious little of it about for the past hundred years or so—governments buried their supplies of it and sat tight on them brooding. But it hasn’t lost its magic. We have found many metals in these mountains and, while this is useless for our purposes, it still carries a lot of weight out there.” He pointed to the peak which guarded the entrance to the Cleft. “We have our trading messengers and we fill hands in proper places. Then this is all camouflaged. If you were to fly across this valley in a ‘copter, you’d see only what our techneers want you to. Don’t ask me how they do it—some warping of the light rays-too deep for me.” He shrugged. “I’m only a pilot waiting for a job.”

“But if you are able to keep hidden, why ‘Ad Astra’?”

Kimber rubbed the curve of his jaw with his thumb.

“For several reasons. Pax has all the power pretty well in its hands now, so the Peacemen are stretching to wipe out the last holes of resistance. We’ve been receiving a steady stream of warnings through our messengers and the outside men we’ve bought. The roundup gangs are consolidating—planning on a big raid. What we have here is the precarious safety of a rabbit crouching at the bottom of a burrow while the hound sniffs outside. We have no time for anything except the ship, preparing to take advantage of the thin promise for another future that it offers us. Lui Skort—he’s a medico with a taste for history—gives Pax another fifty to a hundred years of life. And the Cleft can’t last that long. So we’ll try the chance in a million of going out—and it is a chance in a million. We may not find another earth-type planet, we may not ever survive the voyage. And, well, you can fill in a few of the other ifs, ands, and buts for yourself.”

Dard still watched the star ship. Yes, a thousand chances of failure against one or two of success. But what an adventure! And to be free—out of this dark morass which stunted minds and fed man’s fears to the point of madness—to be free among the stars!

He heard Kimber laugh softly. “You’re caught by it, too, aren’t you, kid? Well, keep your fingers crossed. If your brother’s stuff works, if the Voice gives us the right course, if the new fuel Tang concocted will really take her through—why—we’re off!”

Kimber seemed so confident that Dard dared now to ask that other question.

“She isn’t very big. How are you going to stow away all the people?”

For the first time the space pilot did not meet his eyes. With the toe of his shabby boot Kimber kicked at an inoffensive table savagely.

“We can stow away more than you would believe just looking at her, if we are able to use the hibernation process.

“But not all,” Dard persisted, driven by some inner need to know.

“But not all,” Kimber agreed with manifest reluctance.

Dard blinked, but now there was a veil between his eyes and the sleek, silver swell of the star ship. He was not going to question farther. There was no need to, and he had no desire for a straight answer. Instead he changed the subject abruptly.

“When are you going to try to reach the Voice?”

“As soon as I hear from Tas—“

“And what do you wish to hear from Tas?” came a voice from behind Dard. “That he has succeeded in making sense of gibberish and ‘kicking legs’ and all the rest of the fantastic puzzle this young man has dumped into his head? Because if that is what you wait for, wait no longer, Sim! The sense has been made and thanks to Lars Nordis and our messengers,” Kordov’s big paw of a hand reached up to give Dard’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “we can now take off into the heavens at our will. We wait only for your part of the operation.”

“Good enough.” Kimber started to turn when Dard caught his arm.

“Look here. You’ve never been to the Temple of the Voice.”

“Of course not,” Tas cut in, “Is he completely crazy? Does one thrust one’s hand into raw atomic radiation?”

“But I have! Maybe I can’t work your computations but I can guide you in and out. And I know enough about the official forms to—“

Kimber opened his mouth, plainly to refuse, but again the First Scientist was too quick for him.

“Now that makes very good sense, Sim. If young Nordis has already been there—why, that is more than any of the rest of us have done. And in the disguise you have planned the risk is less.”

The pilot frowned and Dard prepared for an outright refusal. But at last Kimber gave a half-nod. Tas pushed Dard after him.

“Go along with you. And mind you bring him back in one piece. We can do many things among us, but he remains our only space pilot, our only experienced astrogator.”

Dard followed Kimber along rock passages, back through the maze of the Cleft dwelling to a flight of stairs crudely hacked from the stone. The stairs ended in a large room holding a ‘copter which bore all the markings of a Pax machine.

“Recognize it! This is the one which you played tag with out in the valley. Now—get into this and hurry!”

From the ‘copter he took a bundle of clothing which he pitched over to Dard. The boy put on the Peaceman’s black and white, buckling around him as a finishing touch a belt supporting a hand stun gun. Although the clothes were large the fit was good enough to pass in the half-light of evening. And they had to visit the Voice at night to have any chance at all.

He took his place gingerly beside the pilot inside the ‘copter. Overhead a cover had rolled back so that the sky was open to them. As Dard secretly gripped tile edge of his seat Kimber took the controls. And Dard continued to hold on as the machine started the slow spiral up into the air.

5: NIGHT AND THE VOICE

DARD SURVEYED the country over which the ‘copter flew. It required only a few minutes to cover the same rugged miles across which he and Dessie had fought their way. And he was sure that he saw traces of that trip left on the snow below.

The machine skimmed over the heights which concealed the cave. And then, for the first time in crowded hours, Dard remembered Sach. It was down this very slope that the messenger had led the chase.

“You’ve heard from Sach?” He was anxious to be reassured concerning that small, wary man.

But Kimber didn’t reply at once. And when he did, Dard was aware of the reservations in his tone.

“No news yet. He hasn’t reported at any of our contacts. Which reminds me—“

Under the pilot’s control the ‘copter swung to the right and headed away from the path Dard had followed into the hills. He was unreasonably glad that they were not going to wing over the charred ruins of the farmhouse.

Instead, within a short space, they were circling another farm, one in much better condition than the farm which had sheltered the Nordis family. In fact, the buildings gave such an air of Pax-blessed landsman prosperity that Dard wondered at Kimber’s visiting the place. Only a man with the brightest of prospects under the new rule would dare to keep his buildings in such good repair. And the volume of smoke curling fatly from the chimney spoke of unlimited warmth and food, better conditions than anyone but a staunch supporter of the Company of Pax could attain.

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