Yet Kimber set the ‘copter down without hesitation on a stretch of packed snow not too far from the house. Once down however the pilot made no move to leave the machine.
The house door opened and a man wearing the good farm homespun of an “approved” landsman-another Folley by all outward signs—crossed the yard. For one wild moment Dard was inclined to doubt the man beside him, being still more uneasy when the round plump face of the landsman was thrust close to the window of the ‘copter.
Pale blue eyes in a weather-beaten face flicked over them both, and Dard did not miss the fact that they widened a fraction as they passed from Kimber’s impassive face to his flashy uniform. The landsman turned and spat at a hound that approached, showing white teeth and growling.
“Time?” he asked.
“Time,” Kimber returned. “Get moving on tonight if you can, Harmon.”
“Sure we’ve been packin’ some stuff already. Th’ boy’s got th’ road cleared—“
Then those blue eyes slid back to Dard. “Who’s th’ youngster?”
“Nordis’ brother. He got in with the Nordis girl. Lars is dead—raid.”
“Yeah. Heard a rumor they all were—that th’ roundup got ‘em. Glad to know that ain’t th’ truth. Well-be seein’ you—“
With a wave of the hand he headed back to the house. And Kimber took them aloft.
“I didn’t think—“ Dard began. Kimber chuckled.
“You didn’t think a man such as Harmon would be one of us? We have some mighty odd contacts here and there. We have men who drove ground trucks and men who were first rank scientists—before the purge. There’s Santee—he was a non-com of the old army—he can read and write his name—and he’s an expert with weapons—to us he’s as important a part of the Cleft as Tas Kordov, who is one of the world’s greatest biologists. We ask only one thing of a man—that he believes in true freedom. And Harmon is going to be more important in the future. We may know how to grow hydro-style—you had a meal or two with us and know that—but an honest dirt farmer will be able to teach us all better tricks. Added to that Harmon’s been our biggest ace in the hole all along. He and his wife, their son, and their twin girls—they’ve been playing a mighty hard role for more than five years—doing it splendidly, too. But I can well believe that he welcomed my news that it is over. Double lives are tough going. Now, back to work.”
The ‘copter wheeled and flew due west into a sky now painted with sunset colors. It was warm inside the cabin, and the clothing about his thin body was the finest he had worn in years. Dard relaxed against the padded cushion, but far inside him was a warming spark of excitement, an excitement no longer completely darkened by fear—Kimber’s confidence in himself, in the eventual success of their mission was comforting.
Below ran a ribbon of road, and by the churned snow, it was a well-traveled one. Dard tried to identify landmarks. But, never having seen the country from above, he could only guess that they were now being guided to town by that same artery which had tied Folley’s holding and the tumbledown Nordis place to the overgrown village which was the nearest approach to a pre-Burn city.
Another farm road, rutted and used, cut into the main road and its curve was familiar. It was Folley’s! And it had seen considerable travel since the storm. He thought briefly of Lotta-wondered if she had gone back to the message tree with some food for Dessie as she had promised. Dessie!
Dessie!
Hoping he could keep from revealing to Kimber his own secret problem, the one which had gnawed at him ever since he had seen the star ship, he asked a question:
“I didn’t see any children in the Cleft.”
Kimber was intent upon flying; when he answered it was with a faint touch of absent-mindedness:
“There’re only two. Carlee Skort’s daughter is three and the Winson boy—he’s almost four. The Harmon twins are—ten, I think—but they don’t live in the Cleft.”
“Dessie is six—almost seven.”
Kimber grinned. “Bright little trick, too, isn’t she? Took to Carlee right away—after we had persuaded her you were going to recover. Last I heard she’d taken command in the nursery quarters. Carlee was surprised at how sensible she was.
“Dessie’s a pretty big person,” Dard said slowly. “She’s old for her years. And she has a gift, too. She makes friends with animals—not just tame ones—hut the wild ‘things. I’ve seen them come right up to her. She insists that they talk.”
Had he said too much? Had he labeled Dessie as one so far outside the pattern that she would not “fit” into a ship’s company where a farmer was considered important? But surely, a child’s future was worth more than an adult’s! Dessie must be considered—she must be!
“Carlee thinks she is quite a person, too.” That was certainly noncommittal enough. But, although he did not know Carlee, her approbation was comforting to Dard. A woman, a woman with a little girl of her own, would see that another little girl would get a fair break. As for him—self-resolutely he refused to think ahead for himself. Instead he began to watch the twilight-cloaked road and think of the problem immediately before them.
“The ‘copter park is at the back of the Temple. And you can’t fly over the building-nothing crosses the sacred roof.”
“Then we circle. No use taking chances. Park well guarded?”
“I don’t know. Only Peacemen get inside. But I’d think that in the dark, and with this machine—“
“We could brazen it out? Let us hope they don’t ask for any recognition signals. I’m going to try to land as close to the edge as I can and in the darkest part—unless they have floodlights—“
“Town lights!” Dard interrupted, intent on the sparks of yellow. “The Temple is on that rise to the south. See!!”
It was easy enough to see. The lights of the town houses were small and sickly yellow. But above and beyond them were concentrated bars of vivid blue and startling white, somehow garish and out of place against the purple-blue of the sky. Kimber circled.
The Temple occupied about a third of the rise which bad been leveled off to form a wide platform. Behind the building itself was a floodlit space in which they could see a row of ‘copters.
“Ten down there,” Kimber counted, the lighting of the instrument panel showing the planes and hollows of his face. “You’d think they would have more. This is a center for their control and they don’t do much raiding by night. Or at least they haven’t in the past.”
“They may now. They struck our place at night.”
“Anyway, the fewer the better. Look, that’s a nice long shadow—one of their floods must have burnt out. I’m going to see if I can bring us down in it!”
They lost speed, it was something like coasting, much like floating, Dard decided. Then the lights arose about them and a second later the undercarriage made contact. They didn’t bounce. Kimber shook hands with himself vigorously, in congratulation.
“Now listen, kid,” the pilot’s voice was a faint murmur.
“That’s a stun gun you have in your belt. Ever use one?”
“No.”
“It doesn’t require training to point it and push the button. But you’re not to do that unless I give the word, understand? You have only two charges and I have the same in mine-we can’t afford to waste them. Nothing—absolutely nothing must happen to prevent our interview with the Voice!” There was a passionate determination in that. It was an order, delivered not only to Dard, but to Destiny or Fortune herself. “Afterward we may have to fight our way out—though I hope not. Then the stun guns will be our hope. But we’ve got to use bluff to get us in!”
The Peacemen hoarded the remains of pre-purge invention, Dard noted as he matched his steps to Kimber’s across the park at an unhurried pace, but their maintenance of such appliances was not promising. Several of the flood- lights were out and there were cracks in the concrete under his boots. There couldn’t be too many techneers left in the slave-labor camps of the Temple gangs. Some day no ‘copter would rise from this park, no light would burn. Had the leaders of Pax thought of that, or didn’t they care? The old cities built by the techneers were rubble fit only for bats and birds. Now there were only grubby villages slipping back and back, with the wilderness edging down across the field to nibble at man’s building.
So far they had not met anyone, but now they approached the western gate of the Temple and there was a guard. Dard straightened his shoulders, lifted his chin summoned that arrogance of bearing which cloaked a Peaceman as tightly as the gaudy uniform. Kimber had the right presence. He strode along with a damn-devil air suitable to a Laurel Wearer. Dard did his best to copy that. But the boy couldn’t quite suppress a half-sigh of relief when the guard did not attempt to stop them and they crossed the threshold unchallenged.