“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—”