“And now,” the man moved a step or two in Dard’s direction, “what do you expect me to do with you?”
Dard moistened dry lips with a nervous tongue. He had not considered that, without Lars and what Lars had to offer, the mysterious underground might not wish to burden themselves with an untrained boy and a small child. Grim necessity was the law among all the present outlaws, and useless hands coupled with another mouth to feed were not wanted. He had a single hope ….
Lars had been so insistent about that word pattern that Dard dared now to believe that he must carry his brother’s discovery in that memorized design of lines and numbers. He had to believe that and impress the importance of his information upon this messenger. It would be their passport to the underground.
“Lars had finished his work,” Dard schooled his voice to conversational evenness. “I think you need the results—“
The man’s head jerked. And now he did put away that oddly shaped gun.
“You have the formula?”
Dard took a chance and touched his own forehead. “I have it here. I’ll deliver it when and if I reach the proper persons.”
The messenger kicked moodily at a lump of snow. “It’s a long trip—back into the hills. You have supplies?”
“Some. I’ll talk when we’re safe—when Dessie is safe—-“
“I don’t know—a child-the going’s pretty tough.”
“You’ll find we can keep up,” Dard made a promise he had no surety of keeping. “But we had better start now—there’s just a chance that they may be after us.”
The man shrugged. “All right. Come ahead-the two of you.”
Dard handed the bag of supplies to the other and took Dessie’s hand. Without another word the man turned to retrace the way he had come and the other two followed, keeping as well as they could to the trail he had broken.
They traveled on all that night. Dard first led and then carried Dessie, until, after one halt, the guide waved him on and raised the little girl to his shoulder, leaving Dard to stumble along unburdened. They rested at intervals but never long enough to relax, and Dard despaired of being able to keep up the pace. This messenger was a tireless machine, striding as might a robot along some hidden trail of which he alone knew the landmarks.
At dawn they were close to the top of a rise. Dard pulled himself up the last of a steep slope, panting, to discover the other waiting for him. With a jerk of his thumb the man indicated the crest of the divide.
“Cave—camp—“ he got out the two words stiffly and put Dessie down. “Can you make it by yourself?” he asked her.
“Yes,” her hand sought his confidently. “I’m a good climber.”
There was a hint of smile, an awkward smile, pulling long forgotten muscles about his tight mouth. “You sure are, sister!”
The cave was fairly deep, the narrow entrance giving little hint of the wide room one found after squeezing through. It was a revelation to Dard as the guide snapped on a hand beam from a tiny carrying case he took from a ledge by the entrance. This was, the boy gathered, a regular camping place used by the underground travelers. He sank down on a bed of leaves and watched their companion pull out a black box, adjusting a dial on its side. Within seconds they began to feel the heat radiating from it. Free Scientist equipment all of this—all top contraband. Dard had dim pre-purge memories of such aids to comfort,
Dessie gave a sigh of pure content and curled up as close to that wonder as she could get. She watched with sleepy eyes the owner of this marvel break open a can of soup and pour its half-frozen contents into a pan which he set on top of the heating unit. He rummaged through the bag of supplies Dard brought, grunting at the scantiness of the pitiful collection.
“We didn’t have much time to pack,” said Dard, finally irritated by the other’s unspoken contempt.
“What brought them down on you?” the man asked, squatting back on his heels. He had the strange gun out, checking the clip which carried its charge, squinting down its few inches of barrel.
“Who knows? There was a landsman—he wanted the farm. He was the one who shot Lars.”
“Hmm—“ The man peered into the now bubbling soup. “Then it may have been only a routine raid after all—sparked by just general malice?”
That, Dard gathered from his tone, was the answer more desired by this stranger. And his own thoughts went back to the last evening in the farm house when Lars had made his announcement of success. The raid had followed too aptly—almost as if Lars’ discovery at all costs had to be prevented from reaching those who might make use of it. What had Lars been working on, and why was it so important? And did he, Dard Nordis, actually know anything about it?
“What’s your name?” Dessie eyed their companion over the cup of soup he had poured for her. “I never saw you before—-“
For the second time that shadow smile appeared on the guide’s lips.
“No, you never saw me, Dessie. But I’ve seen you—several times. And you may call me Sach.”
“Sach,” she repeated. “That is a funny name. But this is very good soup, Sach. Is this a celebration?”
He looked startled. “Don’t know about its being a celebration, Dessie. But it is going to be a day of sleep for all of us. We still have a long way to go. Suppose you bed down over there and close your eyes.”
Dard was nodding over his own supply of food and a very short time later followed the same orders.
He awoke with a start. Sach was stooping over him, his grimed hand over Dard’s mouth as he shook him by the shoulder. As soon as he saw the awareness in the boy’s eyes, he dropped down on one knee to whisper:
“There’s a ‘copter circling—been up and around overhead for a half hour. Either we’ve been trailed or they’ve found out about this cave and put a watch on it. Now you listen and get this straight. What Lars Nordis was doing means more than life to the Cleft Dwellers. They’ve been waiting for the results of his last tests.” He paused and in quite a different voice as if repeating some talisman added two words Dard had once heard from Lars “Ad Astra.” Then in a harsh command he continued, “They’ve got to have it and have it quick. We’re some five miles from the valley. Set a line straight to the peak you can see from this cave entrance and keep to it. Give me a good start and watch. If the ‘copter follows me, then it’s okay for you to make a break to reach the peak. Keep undercover all you can. There’s only one long stretch where you cross the river that you have to be in the open.”
“But you—-“ Dard was trying to pull his sleep scattered thoughts together.
“I’ll go down slope the opposite way. If they are suspicious of this hiding hole and are watching it, they may take out after me. And I’ve played this type of hide and seek before, I know the game. You watch from the entrance while I go—now!”
Dard followed him to the narrow opening where Sach lingered just within the shadow listening. Now Dard could hear it too, the faint whine of a ‘copter beating through the cold afternoon air. It grew to a steady drone, passed overhead, and faded. Sach still waited. Then he gave a curt nod to Dard and melted away.
The boy crawled to the very edge of the concealing overhang. Sach by some trick had won a good ten feet down slope. It would be difficult for anyone sighting him now to guess just where he had appeared from. He slid down, in only enough hurry to suggest that he was bolting from a position he considered dangerous.
Now the ‘copter was on its way back-either on a routine sweep or because the dark figure of Sach had been sighted. He leaped into the shelter of a pine grown thicket, but not soon enough to escape detection. The ‘copter circled down. There was a loud crack awaking echoes from the surrounding rocks. Somebody had shot at the fugitive.
“Dardie!”
“It’s all right,” the boy called reassuringly over his shoulder into the cave. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Sach had probably wormed his way down to the edge of the deep woods. The ‘copter made another smaller and tighter circle and came closer to the ground, to allow three men to leap into the snow. Before they could gain their feet and their balance a pencil of green light beamed a tight ray at one. He screamed and threshed the snow into a high shower of drift. The others threw themselves flat but continued to snake toward the wood from which that attack had come, and the ‘copter swooped to spray death into the silent trees. Sach had not only drawn the attention of the trackers, he was using every means of keeping it on him. The ‘copter soared above the trees, westward, away from the cave. When the two men broke into the brush undercover Dard watched them out of sight.