DARD CHEWED mechanically on food which now had no savor. As Kimber
forked a thick slice of ham he spoke to the pilot:
"Shall I give the girl instructions, sir?"
Kimber swallowed. "Very well. Be sure she gets it straight. I
don't propose to sit around here waiting for a couple of days. Let
her tell the repair master they may find us at the 'copter. We'll
go back there after we thaw out. But get her started right
away—the sooner she leaves the sooner they will come for us."
Dard went out into the farmyard. Lotta was saddling a horse. As
his boots squeaked on the snow she looped up.
"Where's Dessie? Wotta you done with her?"
"She's safe."
Lotta studied his face before she nodded. "That's the truth,
ain't it? You really want I should go to town? Why? You ain't no
Peaceman—"
"No. And the more you can delay your trip in, the better. But
Lotta—" he had to give her some protection. If later she were
suspected of aiding their escape her fate would not be pleasant.
"When you get in and report at the Temple, tell them you are
suspicious of us. We'll be gone from here by then."
With her chin she pointed to the house. "Don't you trust her
none. She ain't my ma—Folley wasn't really my pa, neither. My pa
was kin and Folley, he wanted the land pa left so they took me in.
Don't you trust her none at all— she's worse'n Folley was. I'll
ride slow goin' in, and I'll do like you say when I git there.
Lissen here, Dard, you sure Dessie's gonna be all right?"
"She is if we can get back to her. She'll have a chance to live
the way she ought to—"
The small eyes in the girl's pasty face were shrewd. "And that's
a promise! You git outta here and take her too. I'll make up a good
story for 'em. I ain't," she suddenly smiled at him, "I ain't near
as dumb as I look, Dard Nordis, even if I ain't one of your
kind!"
She scrambled awkwardly into the saddle and slapped the ends of
the reins so that the horse broke into a trot.
Dard went back to the house and sat down at the table with a
better appetite. Kimber broke off man-sized bites of apple tart,
and between them he addressed his junior.
"Now that it's day, I've been thinking that we may be able to
check the bus over ourselves. You, woman," he said to their
unwilling hostess, "can you direct them on to join us if we don't
return?"
Dard pressured Kimber's foot with the toe of his boot in
warning. And received a return nudge of acknowledgement.
"Which way you goin'?" she asked. Dard thought that some of her
deference was gone. Was she beginning to suspect that she was not
really entertaining two of the new lords of the land?
"North. We'll leave a trail, have to backtrack on your own.
Suppose you put us up some grub so we'll have something at noon.
And just send the repair crew along."
"Yes, noble sirs."
But that acknowledgement was almost grudging and she was spending
a long time putting aside some pieces of cold meat and bread. Or
did his jumpy nerves make him imagine that, wondered Dard.
A half hour later they left the house. They kept to the lane and
then to the road leading north until a grove cut off their path
from any watcher. It was then that Kimber faced west.
"Where now?"
"There's a trail farther on that doubles back up into the
hills," Dard informed him. "It cuts across the old woods road near
that tree where I met Sach."
"Good. I leave the guide duty up to you. But let's move! That
girl may make a quick trip in—"
"She'll delay all she can. She knows—"
Kimber's lips shaped a soundless whistle. "That will help—if
she is working for us."
"I told her that it meant saving Dessie. Dessie's the only one
she cares about."
The warmth, good food, and short rest they had had at Folley's
gave them heart and strength for the trail ahead. After two false
tries Dard found the woods road. Along it there was an earlier
trail breaking the snow, made by Lotta, he guessed.
Kimber set an easy pace, knowing the grueling miles which still
lay ahead. They took a lengthy rest at the rude lean-to by the
message tree. The woods were unnaturally still and the sun
reflected from patches of snow, making them squint against the
glare.
From the message tree on it was a matter of following the
traces he himself had helped to make. Luckily, Dard congratulated
himself, there had been no more snow and the broken path was easy
to follow. But both were tired and slowed against their will as
they slogged their way toward the heights which held the cave.
There they could rest, Dard promised his aching body. They paused
to eat, to breathe, and then on and on and on. Dard lost all track
of time, it was a business of following in a robot fashion those
other marks in the snow.
They had reached the lower slopes of the rise which would take
them to the cave when he leaned against a tree. Kimber's face,
stark and drawn, all the easy good humor pounded out of it by
fatigue, was in outline against a snowbank.
It was in that moment of silence that Dard caught the distant
sound—very faint, borne to them by some freak of air current—the
bay of a hunting dog running a fresh and uncomplicated trail.
Kimber's head jerked up. Dard ran his tongue around a dry mouth.
That cave up there with its narrow entrance! He wasted no breath on
explanation, instead he began doggedly to climb.
But—there was something wrong about the stone before them.
Maybe his eyes—snow blindness—Dard shook his head, trying to
clear them. But that different look remained. So that he was partly
expecting what he found when he reached the crest. Sick, shaken to
the point of nausea, he stared at the closed door of the
cave—closed with rocks and something else—and then he reeled
retching to the other side of the hill top.
He was scrubbing out his mouth with a handful of snow when
Kimber joined him.
"So, now we know about Sach—"
Dard raised sick eyes. The pilot's mouth was stone-hard.
"Left him there like that as a threat," muttered Kimber, "and a
warning. They must have discovered that this was one of our regular
posts."
"How could anyone do that?"
"Listen, son, somebody starts out with an idea—maybe in the
beginning a good one. Renzi wasn't a crook, he was basically a
decent man. I heard his early speeches and I'm willing to agree
that much he said was true. But he had no—well, 'charity' is the
best word for it. He wanted to force his pattern for living on
everyone else, for their own good, of course. Because he was great
and sincere in his own way he gained a following of honest people.
They were sick of war and they were terribly shocked by the Big
Burn, they could readily believe that science had led to evil. The
Free Scientists were too independent—they made closed guilds of
their teams. There was a separation between thinking and feeling.
And feeling is easier to us than thinking. So Renzi appealed to
feeling, and against the aloofness of science he won. He was joined
by other fanatics, and by those who want power no matter how it
comes into their hands. Then there have always been some human
beings who enjoy that sort of thing—what we just saw over there.
They're lower than animals because animals don't torture their own
kind for pleasure. Fanatics, power lovers, sadists—let them get a
tight hold on the government and there is no room for decency. The
best this world can hope for now is a break in their ranks, an
inner struggle for control.
"This type of fight against freedom of thought and tolerance has
happened before. Centuries ago there was the Inquisition in the
name of religion. And during the twentieth century the dictators
did the same under political systems of one kind or another.
Fanatic belief in an idea—a conviction that an idea or a nation is
greater than the individual man—it has scourged us again and
again. Utter power over his fellow men changes a man, rots him
through and through. When we are able to breed men who want no
influence over each other—who are content to strive equally for a
common goal—then we'll pull ourselves above that—" He gestured to
that pitiful thing now hidden from their eyes. "The Free Scientists
came close to reaching that point. Which is why Renzi and his kind
both hated and feared them. But they were only a handful—drops lost
in a sea. And they went under as have others before them who have
followed the same vision. Nothing worse can he done to man than
what he has done to himself. But listen to this—"
Kimber's head was high, he was watching that peak which guarded
the distant Cleft. Now he repeated slowly:
"'Frontiers of any type, physical or mental, are but a challenge
to our breed. Nothing can stop the questing of men, not even Man.
If we will it, not only the wonders of space, hut the very stars
are ours!' "
"The stars are ours!" echoed Dard. "Who said that?"
"Techneer Vidor Chang, one of our martyrs. He helped to bring
the star ship here, ventured out on the first fuel research and—But his words remain ours.
"That's what we've geared our lives to, we outlaws. It doesn't
matter what a man was in the past—Free Scientist, techneer,
laborer, farmer, soldier—we're all one because we believe in
freedom for the individual, in the rights of man to grow and
develop as far as he can. And we are daring to search for a place
where we can put those beliefs into practice. The Earth denied
us—we must seek the stars."
Kimber started down slope. Dard caught up to point out the ruse
which he had used with Dessie and which might now baffle the
hounds. They found a higher ledge and made a more perilous dive, so
that Dard landed on pine boughs and spilled to the earth with a
jolt which drove the breath out of his lungs until Kimber pounded
air back into him.
To his surprise the pilot did not keep to cover now. The night
was falling fast and they could not hold their present pace without
rest. But Kimber plunged on until they came to the open space
flanking the river. There the pilot brought out the same flat disc
with which he had cut their way out of the temple barrier, and
hurled it out into the open.
A column of green fire shot from it up into the night, standing
steady for at least five minutes. In the dusk it made a good show,
turning the surrounding snow and the faces of the fugitives verdant
as it burned.
"Now we wait," Kimber's voice held a faint shadow of the old
humor. "The boys will be down to pick us up before Pax can
connect."
But waiting was not so simple when each minute meant the
difference between life and death. They swallowed the last of the
food and bedded down between two fallen trees at the edge of the
clearing. The flame died down, but a core of green glow would
continue to shine for several hours, Kimber said.
A wind was rising. And its wails through the trees did not drown
out the distant yapping of the hounds. Dard fingered his stun
gun—two charges for him, one in Kimber's weapon. Little enough
with which to meet what panted on their trail. The trailers would
be armed with rifles.
Kimber stirred and then scuttled on hands and feet out from
their shelter. From the night sky a dark shape came down—a 'copter.
But the pilot summoned Dard to meet with it. A door opened and he
was shoved into the machine by his companion. Then as they were airborne Dard rested his head against a cushion, only half hearing the
excited questions and answers of the others.
When he awoke the whole wild adventure of the past forty-eight
hours might only have been a dream, for he was back on the same cot
where he had rested before. Only now Kimber was not with him. Dard
lay there, trying to separate dream from reality. Then a clang
which could only have been an alarm brought him up. With clumsy
hands he pulled on the clothes lying in a heap on the floor and
opened the door to peer out into the corridor.
Two men, pushing before them a small cart, crossed its lower
end, The cart wheel caught on the edge of a doorway and both men
cursed as they worked swiftly to pry it loose. Dard padded in that
direction, but before he could join them they were gone. He
followed as they broke into a trot and started down a ramp leading
into the heart of the mountain.
This brought them to a large cave which was a scene of complete
confusion. Dard hesitated, trying to pick out of the busy throng
some familiar face. There were two parties at work. One was
carrying and wheeling boxes and containers out into the narrow
valley where the starship was berthed. And in this group women
toiled with the men. The second party, which had been joined by the
men with the cart, was wholly masculine and all armed.
"Hey, you!"
Dard realized that he was being hailed by a black-bearded man
using a rifle as a baton to direct the movements of the armed
force. He went over there, only to have a rifle thrust into his
hands and to be urged into line with the men taking a tunnel to the
right. They were bound for a defense point, he decided, but no one
explained.
The answer came soon enough with a crackle of rifle fire. What
had once been the narrow throat-valley leading into the Cleft
proper had been choked up by a fall of tumbled rock and earth
cemented by snow, broken in places by the protruding crown or roots
of a small tree. Up this dam men were crawling, dragging after them
an assortment of weapons, from ordinary rifles and stun guns to a
tube and box arrangement totally strange to Dard.
He counted at least ten defenders who were now ensconced in
hollows along the rim of the barrier. Now and again one of these
fired, the sound being echoed by the rock walls to twice its normal
volume. Dard clambered over the slide, cautiously testing his
footing, until he reached the nearest of the snipers' hollows. The
man glanced up as a rolling clod announced his arrival.
"Get your fool head down, kid!" he snapped. "They're still
trying the 'copter game. You'd think that they'd have learned by
now!"
Dard wormed his way along until he rubbed shoulders with the
defender and could look down into the weird battlefield. He tried
to piece out from the wreckage there what had been happening in the
hours since he and Kimber had returned.
Two burnt-out skeletons of 'copters were crumpled among rocks.
From one of them thin wisps of vapor still spiraled. And there were
four bodies wearing black and white Pax livery. But as far as Dard
could see there was nothing alive down there now.
"Yeah. They've all taken t' cover. Trying to think up some trick
that'll get us away from here. It'll take time for 'em to get any
big guns back in these hills. And they don't have time. Before they
can shake us loose the ship's going to blast off!"
"The ship's going to blast off!" So that was it! He was now one
of an expendable rear guard, left to hold the fort while the starship won free. Dard studied the rifle he held, with eyes which did
not see either the metal of barrel or wood of stock.
Well, he told himself savagely, wasn't this just what he knew
was going to happen—ever since that moment when Kimber had
admitted with his silence that all those in the Cleft would not go
out into space?
"Hey!" a hand joggling his elbow snapped his attention back to
the job at hand. "See—down there—"
He followed the line set by that dirty finger. Something moved
around the wreckage of the 'copter farthest from the barrier—a
black tube. Dard frowned as he studied its outline. The tube was
being slued around to face the barrier. That was no rifle—too
large. It was no form of gun he had seen before.
"Santee! Hey, Santee!" his companion shouted. "They're bringing
up a burper!"
A man scrambled up and Dard was shoved painfully against a tree
branch as the black beard took his place.
"You're right—damn it! I didn't think they had any of those
left! Well, we've got to stay as long as we can. I'll pass the word
to the boys. In the meantime try a little ricochet work. Might pick
off one or two of that beauty's crew. If we're lucky. Which I'm
beginning to think now we certainly ain't!"
He crawled out of the hollow and Dard got thankfully back into
station. His companion patted down a ridge of dirt on which to rest
the barrel of his rifle. Dard saw that he was aiming, not at the
ugly black muzzle of the burper, but at the rock wail behind the
gun. So—that was what Santee meant by ricochet work! Fire at the
rock wall and hope that the bullets would be deflected back against
the men serving the burper. Neat—if it could be done. Dard lined
the sights of his own weapon to cover what he hoped was the proper
point. Others had the same idea. The shots came in a ragged volley.
And the trick worked, for with a scream a man reeled out and
fell.
"Why don't they use that green gas?" asked Dard, remembering his
own introduction to the fighting methods of the Cleft dwellers.
"How do you think we crashed those 'copters, kid? And the boys
got a couple more machines the same way out by the river. Only
something went wrong when they triggered the blast to seal off the
valley this way. And the gas gun—with a couple of very good
guys—came down with this underneath."
For a space the burper did not move. Perhaps the defenders had
wiped out its crew with the ricochet volley. Just as they were
beginning to hope that this was so, the black muzzle, moving with
the ponderous slowness of some big animal, eased back into
concealment. Dard's partner watched this maneuver sourly.
"Cookin' up something else now. They must have had a guy with
brains come in to run things. And if that's so, we're not going to
have it so good. Yahh!" His voice arose sharply.
But Dard needed no warning. He, too, had seen that black sphere
rising in a lazy course straight at the barrier.
"Head down, kid! Head—"
Dard burrowed into the side of the hollow, his face scratching
across the frozen dirt, his hunched shoulders and arms protecting
his head. The explosion rocked the ground and was followed by a
scream and several moans. Dazed, the boy shook himself free of
loose earth and snow.
To the left there was a sizeable gap in the barrier. With a
white patch halfway down—not snow but a hand buried to the wrist
in the slide the explosion had ripped down.
"Dan—and Red—and Loften got it. Nice bag for Pax," his fellow
sniper muttered. "Now was that just a lucky shot—or do they have
our range?"
The forces of Pax had the range. A second ragged tear was sliced
across the rock and earth dam. Before the stones stopped rattling
down, Dard was shaken out of his crouch roughly.
"If you ain't dead, kid, come on! Santee's passed the word to
fall back, to the next turn of the canyon. On the double, because
we're going to blow again, and if you get caught on this side—it's
your skin!"
Dard tumbled down the barrier behind his guide, falling once and
scraping both sleeve and skin from his forearm in the process.
Seconds later eight defenders, their sides heaving, their dirty
faces haunted and drawn, gathered around Santee and were waved on
down the canyon. Santee himself stood counting off seconds aloud.
At "ten" he plunged his hand down on the black box beside him.
There was a dull rumble, less noise than the burper shots had
made. Dard watched in a sort of fascinated horror as the whole
opposite cliff moved majestically outward into space before it
crashed down to make a second and taller wall. The stones and earth
had not ceased to roll before Santee was leading his force up it to
dig in and face the enemy. Once more Dard lay in wait with a rifle,
this time alone.
The burper sounded regularly, systematically pounding down the
first barrier. But, save for that, there was no sign of Pax
activity. And how long would it be before they brought the burper
up to this assault? Then would the few left retreat again and blow
down another section of the mountain?
There was a flicker of movement down at the first barrier, and
it was answered by a shot from the defense. A second later more
shots, all down by the battered dam. Dard guessed what had
happened; wounded and left behind, one of the Cleft dwellers was
firing his last rounds to delay the victors. The flurry of fire was
only a prelude to what they were waiting to see—the black snub
nose of the burper rising above the rubble.
DARD CHEWED mechanically on food which now had no savor. As Kimber
forked a thick slice of ham he spoke to the pilot:
"Shall I give the girl instructions, sir?"
Kimber swallowed. "Very well. Be sure she gets it straight. I
don't propose to sit around here waiting for a couple of days. Let
her tell the repair master they may find us at the 'copter. We'll
go back there after we thaw out. But get her started right
away—the sooner she leaves the sooner they will come for us."
Dard went out into the farmyard. Lotta was saddling a horse. As
his boots squeaked on the snow she looped up.
"Where's Dessie? Wotta you done with her?"
"She's safe."
Lotta studied his face before she nodded. "That's the truth,
ain't it? You really want I should go to town? Why? You ain't no
Peaceman—"
"No. And the more you can delay your trip in, the better. But
Lotta—" he had to give her some protection. If later she were
suspected of aiding their escape her fate would not be pleasant.
"When you get in and report at the Temple, tell them you are
suspicious of us. We'll be gone from here by then."
With her chin she pointed to the house. "Don't you trust her
none. She ain't my ma—Folley wasn't really my pa, neither. My pa
was kin and Folley, he wanted the land pa left so they took me in.
Don't you trust her none at all— she's worse'n Folley was. I'll
ride slow goin' in, and I'll do like you say when I git there.
Lissen here, Dard, you sure Dessie's gonna be all right?"
"She is if we can get back to her. She'll have a chance to live
the way she ought to—"
The small eyes in the girl's pasty face were shrewd. "And that's
a promise! You git outta here and take her too. I'll make up a good
story for 'em. I ain't," she suddenly smiled at him, "I ain't near
as dumb as I look, Dard Nordis, even if I ain't one of your
kind!"
She scrambled awkwardly into the saddle and slapped the ends of
the reins so that the horse broke into a trot.
Dard went back to the house and sat down at the table with a
better appetite. Kimber broke off man-sized bites of apple tart,
and between them he addressed his junior.
"Now that it's day, I've been thinking that we may be able to
check the bus over ourselves. You, woman," he said to their
unwilling hostess, "can you direct them on to join us if we don't
return?"
Dard pressured Kimber's foot with the toe of his boot in
warning. And received a return nudge of acknowledgement.
"Which way you goin'?" she asked. Dard thought that some of her
deference was gone. Was she beginning to suspect that she was not
really entertaining two of the new lords of the land?
"North. We'll leave a trail, have to backtrack on your own.
Suppose you put us up some grub so we'll have something at noon.
And just send the repair crew along."
"Yes, noble sirs."
But that acknowledgement was almost grudging and she was spending
a long time putting aside some pieces of cold meat and bread. Or
did his jumpy nerves make him imagine that, wondered Dard.
A half hour later they left the house. They kept to the lane and
then to the road leading north until a grove cut off their path
from any watcher. It was then that Kimber faced west.
"Where now?"
"There's a trail farther on that doubles back up into the
hills," Dard informed him. "It cuts across the old woods road near
that tree where I met Sach."
"Good. I leave the guide duty up to you. But let's move! That
girl may make a quick trip in—"
"She'll delay all she can. She knows—"
Kimber's lips shaped a soundless whistle. "That will help—if
she is working for us."
"I told her that it meant saving Dessie. Dessie's the only one
she cares about."
The warmth, good food, and short rest they had had at Folley's
gave them heart and strength for the trail ahead. After two false
tries Dard found the woods road. Along it there was an earlier
trail breaking the snow, made by Lotta, he guessed.
Kimber set an easy pace, knowing the grueling miles which still
lay ahead. They took a lengthy rest at the rude lean-to by the
message tree. The woods were unnaturally still and the sun
reflected from patches of snow, making them squint against the
glare.
From the message tree on it was a matter of following the
traces he himself had helped to make. Luckily, Dard congratulated
himself, there had been no more snow and the broken path was easy
to follow. But both were tired and slowed against their will as
they slogged their way toward the heights which held the cave.
There they could rest, Dard promised his aching body. They paused
to eat, to breathe, and then on and on and on. Dard lost all track
of time, it was a business of following in a robot fashion those
other marks in the snow.
They had reached the lower slopes of the rise which would take
them to the cave when he leaned against a tree. Kimber's face,
stark and drawn, all the easy good humor pounded out of it by
fatigue, was in outline against a snowbank.
It was in that moment of silence that Dard caught the distant
sound—very faint, borne to them by some freak of air current—the
bay of a hunting dog running a fresh and uncomplicated trail.
Kimber's head jerked up. Dard ran his tongue around a dry mouth.
That cave up there with its narrow entrance! He wasted no breath on
explanation, instead he began doggedly to climb.
But—there was something wrong about the stone before them.
Maybe his eyes—snow blindness—Dard shook his head, trying to
clear them. But that different look remained. So that he was partly
expecting what he found when he reached the crest. Sick, shaken to
the point of nausea, he stared at the closed door of the
cave—closed with rocks and something else—and then he reeled
retching to the other side of the hill top.
He was scrubbing out his mouth with a handful of snow when
Kimber joined him.
"So, now we know about Sach—"
Dard raised sick eyes. The pilot's mouth was stone-hard.
"Left him there like that as a threat," muttered Kimber, "and a
warning. They must have discovered that this was one of our regular
posts."
"How could anyone do that?"
"Listen, son, somebody starts out with an idea—maybe in the
beginning a good one. Renzi wasn't a crook, he was basically a
decent man. I heard his early speeches and I'm willing to agree
that much he said was true. But he had no—well, 'charity' is the
best word for it. He wanted to force his pattern for living on
everyone else, for their own good, of course. Because he was great
and sincere in his own way he gained a following of honest people.
They were sick of war and they were terribly shocked by the Big
Burn, they could readily believe that science had led to evil. The
Free Scientists were too independent—they made closed guilds of
their teams. There was a separation between thinking and feeling.
And feeling is easier to us than thinking. So Renzi appealed to
feeling, and against the aloofness of science he won. He was joined
by other fanatics, and by those who want power no matter how it
comes into their hands. Then there have always been some human
beings who enjoy that sort of thing—what we just saw over there.
They're lower than animals because animals don't torture their own
kind for pleasure. Fanatics, power lovers, sadists—let them get a
tight hold on the government and there is no room for decency. The
best this world can hope for now is a break in their ranks, an
inner struggle for control.
"This type of fight against freedom of thought and tolerance has
happened before. Centuries ago there was the Inquisition in the
name of religion. And during the twentieth century the dictators
did the same under political systems of one kind or another.
Fanatic belief in an idea—a conviction that an idea or a nation is
greater than the individual man—it has scourged us again and
again. Utter power over his fellow men changes a man, rots him
through and through. When we are able to breed men who want no
influence over each other—who are content to strive equally for a
common goal—then we'll pull ourselves above that—" He gestured to
that pitiful thing now hidden from their eyes. "The Free Scientists
came close to reaching that point. Which is why Renzi and his kind
both hated and feared them. But they were only a handful—drops lost
in a sea. And they went under as have others before them who have
followed the same vision. Nothing worse can he done to man than
what he has done to himself. But listen to this—"
Kimber's head was high, he was watching that peak which guarded
the distant Cleft. Now he repeated slowly:
"'Frontiers of any type, physical or mental, are but a challenge
to our breed. Nothing can stop the questing of men, not even Man.
If we will it, not only the wonders of space, hut the very stars
are ours!' "
"The stars are ours!" echoed Dard. "Who said that?"
"Techneer Vidor Chang, one of our martyrs. He helped to bring
the star ship here, ventured out on the first fuel research and—But his words remain ours.
"That's what we've geared our lives to, we outlaws. It doesn't
matter what a man was in the past—Free Scientist, techneer,
laborer, farmer, soldier—we're all one because we believe in
freedom for the individual, in the rights of man to grow and
develop as far as he can. And we are daring to search for a place
where we can put those beliefs into practice. The Earth denied
us—we must seek the stars."
Kimber started down slope. Dard caught up to point out the ruse
which he had used with Dessie and which might now baffle the
hounds. They found a higher ledge and made a more perilous dive, so
that Dard landed on pine boughs and spilled to the earth with a
jolt which drove the breath out of his lungs until Kimber pounded
air back into him.
To his surprise the pilot did not keep to cover now. The night
was falling fast and they could not hold their present pace without
rest. But Kimber plunged on until they came to the open space
flanking the river. There the pilot brought out the same flat disc
with which he had cut their way out of the temple barrier, and
hurled it out into the open.
A column of green fire shot from it up into the night, standing
steady for at least five minutes. In the dusk it made a good show,
turning the surrounding snow and the faces of the fugitives verdant
as it burned.
"Now we wait," Kimber's voice held a faint shadow of the old
humor. "The boys will be down to pick us up before Pax can
connect."
But waiting was not so simple when each minute meant the
difference between life and death. They swallowed the last of the
food and bedded down between two fallen trees at the edge of the
clearing. The flame died down, but a core of green glow would
continue to shine for several hours, Kimber said.
A wind was rising. And its wails through the trees did not drown
out the distant yapping of the hounds. Dard fingered his stun
gun—two charges for him, one in Kimber's weapon. Little enough
with which to meet what panted on their trail. The trailers would
be armed with rifles.
Kimber stirred and then scuttled on hands and feet out from
their shelter. From the night sky a dark shape came down—a 'copter.
But the pilot summoned Dard to meet with it. A door opened and he
was shoved into the machine by his companion. Then as they were airborne Dard rested his head against a cushion, only half hearing the
excited questions and answers of the others.
When he awoke the whole wild adventure of the past forty-eight
hours might only have been a dream, for he was back on the same cot
where he had rested before. Only now Kimber was not with him. Dard
lay there, trying to separate dream from reality. Then a clang
which could only have been an alarm brought him up. With clumsy
hands he pulled on the clothes lying in a heap on the floor and
opened the door to peer out into the corridor.
Two men, pushing before them a small cart, crossed its lower
end, The cart wheel caught on the edge of a doorway and both men
cursed as they worked swiftly to pry it loose. Dard padded in that
direction, but before he could join them they were gone. He
followed as they broke into a trot and started down a ramp leading
into the heart of the mountain.
This brought them to a large cave which was a scene of complete
confusion. Dard hesitated, trying to pick out of the busy throng
some familiar face. There were two parties at work. One was
carrying and wheeling boxes and containers out into the narrow
valley where the starship was berthed. And in this group women
toiled with the men. The second party, which had been joined by the
men with the cart, was wholly masculine and all armed.
"Hey, you!"
Dard realized that he was being hailed by a black-bearded man
using a rifle as a baton to direct the movements of the armed
force. He went over there, only to have a rifle thrust into his
hands and to be urged into line with the men taking a tunnel to the
right. They were bound for a defense point, he decided, but no one
explained.
The answer came soon enough with a crackle of rifle fire. What
had once been the narrow throat-valley leading into the Cleft
proper had been choked up by a fall of tumbled rock and earth
cemented by snow, broken in places by the protruding crown or roots
of a small tree. Up this dam men were crawling, dragging after them
an assortment of weapons, from ordinary rifles and stun guns to a
tube and box arrangement totally strange to Dard.
He counted at least ten defenders who were now ensconced in
hollows along the rim of the barrier. Now and again one of these
fired, the sound being echoed by the rock walls to twice its normal
volume. Dard clambered over the slide, cautiously testing his
footing, until he reached the nearest of the snipers' hollows. The
man glanced up as a rolling clod announced his arrival.
"Get your fool head down, kid!" he snapped. "They're still
trying the 'copter game. You'd think that they'd have learned by
now!"
Dard wormed his way along until he rubbed shoulders with the
defender and could look down into the weird battlefield. He tried
to piece out from the wreckage there what had been happening in the
hours since he and Kimber had returned.
Two burnt-out skeletons of 'copters were crumpled among rocks.
From one of them thin wisps of vapor still spiraled. And there were
four bodies wearing black and white Pax livery. But as far as Dard
could see there was nothing alive down there now.
"Yeah. They've all taken t' cover. Trying to think up some trick
that'll get us away from here. It'll take time for 'em to get any
big guns back in these hills. And they don't have time. Before they
can shake us loose the ship's going to blast off!"
"The ship's going to blast off!" So that was it! He was now one
of an expendable rear guard, left to hold the fort while the starship won free. Dard studied the rifle he held, with eyes which did
not see either the metal of barrel or wood of stock.
Well, he told himself savagely, wasn't this just what he knew
was going to happen—ever since that moment when Kimber had
admitted with his silence that all those in the Cleft would not go
out into space?
"Hey!" a hand joggling his elbow snapped his attention back to
the job at hand. "See—down there—"
He followed the line set by that dirty finger. Something moved
around the wreckage of the 'copter farthest from the barrier—a
black tube. Dard frowned as he studied its outline. The tube was
being slued around to face the barrier. That was no rifle—too
large. It was no form of gun he had seen before.
"Santee! Hey, Santee!" his companion shouted. "They're bringing
up a burper!"
A man scrambled up and Dard was shoved painfully against a tree
branch as the black beard took his place.
"You're right—damn it! I didn't think they had any of those
left! Well, we've got to stay as long as we can. I'll pass the word
to the boys. In the meantime try a little ricochet work. Might pick
off one or two of that beauty's crew. If we're lucky. Which I'm
beginning to think now we certainly ain't!"
He crawled out of the hollow and Dard got thankfully back into
station. His companion patted down a ridge of dirt on which to rest
the barrel of his rifle. Dard saw that he was aiming, not at the
ugly black muzzle of the burper, but at the rock wail behind the
gun. So—that was what Santee meant by ricochet work! Fire at the
rock wall and hope that the bullets would be deflected back against
the men serving the burper. Neat—if it could be done. Dard lined
the sights of his own weapon to cover what he hoped was the proper
point. Others had the same idea. The shots came in a ragged volley.
And the trick worked, for with a scream a man reeled out and
fell.
"Why don't they use that green gas?" asked Dard, remembering his
own introduction to the fighting methods of the Cleft dwellers.
"How do you think we crashed those 'copters, kid? And the boys
got a couple more machines the same way out by the river. Only
something went wrong when they triggered the blast to seal off the
valley this way. And the gas gun—with a couple of very good
guys—came down with this underneath."
For a space the burper did not move. Perhaps the defenders had
wiped out its crew with the ricochet volley. Just as they were
beginning to hope that this was so, the black muzzle, moving with
the ponderous slowness of some big animal, eased back into
concealment. Dard's partner watched this maneuver sourly.
"Cookin' up something else now. They must have had a guy with
brains come in to run things. And if that's so, we're not going to
have it so good. Yahh!" His voice arose sharply.
But Dard needed no warning. He, too, had seen that black sphere
rising in a lazy course straight at the barrier.
"Head down, kid! Head—"
Dard burrowed into the side of the hollow, his face scratching
across the frozen dirt, his hunched shoulders and arms protecting
his head. The explosion rocked the ground and was followed by a
scream and several moans. Dazed, the boy shook himself free of
loose earth and snow.
To the left there was a sizeable gap in the barrier. With a
white patch halfway down—not snow but a hand buried to the wrist
in the slide the explosion had ripped down.
"Dan—and Red—and Loften got it. Nice bag for Pax," his fellow
sniper muttered. "Now was that just a lucky shot—or do they have
our range?"
The forces of Pax had the range. A second ragged tear was sliced
across the rock and earth dam. Before the stones stopped rattling
down, Dard was shaken out of his crouch roughly.
"If you ain't dead, kid, come on! Santee's passed the word to
fall back, to the next turn of the canyon. On the double, because
we're going to blow again, and if you get caught on this side—it's
your skin!"
Dard tumbled down the barrier behind his guide, falling once and
scraping both sleeve and skin from his forearm in the process.
Seconds later eight defenders, their sides heaving, their dirty
faces haunted and drawn, gathered around Santee and were waved on
down the canyon. Santee himself stood counting off seconds aloud.
At "ten" he plunged his hand down on the black box beside him.
There was a dull rumble, less noise than the burper shots had
made. Dard watched in a sort of fascinated horror as the whole
opposite cliff moved majestically outward into space before it
crashed down to make a second and taller wall. The stones and earth
had not ceased to roll before Santee was leading his force up it to
dig in and face the enemy. Once more Dard lay in wait with a rifle,
this time alone.
The burper sounded regularly, systematically pounding down the
first barrier. But, save for that, there was no sign of Pax
activity. And how long would it be before they brought the burper
up to this assault? Then would the few left retreat again and blow
down another section of the mountain?
There was a flicker of movement down at the first barrier, and
it was answered by a shot from the defense. A second later more
shots, all down by the battered dam. Dard guessed what had
happened; wounded and left behind, one of the Cleft dwellers was
firing his last rounds to delay the victors. The flurry of fire was
only a prelude to what they were waiting to see—the black snub
nose of the burper rising above the rubble.