Tunnels 02, Deeper

intimidated.
    "My name is Drake. I'm not in the habit of picking up outcasts from the Colony," he said, and then paused. "Sometimes, with the wrecks and the broken-down, those that have been tortured or are too weak to last for long... I bring about an early release." With a grim smile, he swept his hand around the belt until it came to rest on a large scabbard on his hip. "It's the kindest thing to do."
    As if he had made his point, he withdrew his hand from the knife. "I want straight answers. We've been tracking you, and there is no backup , is there?" He glared at Will, who remained silent.
    "You, the big one, what's your name?" He turned to Chester, who shifted uneasily on his feet.
    "Chester Rawls, sir," the boy answered in a tremulous voice.
    "You're not a Colonist, are you?"
    "Er... no," Chester croaked.
    "Topsoiler?"
    "Yes." Chester looked down, not able to withstand the stare from the cold eye any longer.
    "So how did you come to be down here?"
    "I was Banished."
    "Along with the best of them," Drake said, twisting around to regard Will. "You, the brave -- or very idiotic -- one. Name?"
    "Will," he answered evenly.
    "What are you, I wonder. You're more difficult. You move and look like Colonist rank and file, but there's also a touch of the Topsoil about you, too."
    Will nodded.
    Drake continued: "Which makes you somewhat unusual. You're patently not an agent for the Limiters."
    "Who?" Will asked.
    "You've just seen them in action."
    "I've no idea what Limiters are," Will mumbled insolently at him.
    "A specialist detachment of the Styx. They've been cropping up all over the place lately. Seems the Deeps have become a bit of a habit with them," Drake said. "So, you don't work for them."
    "No, I bloody don't!" Will replied, so emphatically that Drake's eye seemed to flicker marginally wider, with what could have been surprise. He sighed and crossed his arms, tugging reflectively at his chin with one hand.
    "Thought as much." He stared at Will, shaking his head. "But I don't like it when I can't understand something right away. I rend to act rashly... get rid of whatever it is. Tell me, boy, quickly, who and what are you?"
    Will decided he'd better do as the man ordered and provide him with an answer. "I was born in the Colony and my mother got me out. Got me to the surface," he said.
    "So when did you go Topsoil?"
    "When I was two, she--"
    "Enough," he interrupted, holding up a hand. "I didn't ask for your life story," he growled. "But that smells right. And it makes you an... an oddity." He looked past the boys, to the darkness behind them. "I suggest we take them back. We can decide what to do with them later. Agreed, Elliott?"
    A smaller figure, no taller than Will, stepped into view with the stealth of a cat. Even in the poor light they could see the curves of her body under the loose-fitting jacket and pants, clothes similar to those Drake was wearing. She had a sandy-colored scarf, a shemagh , wound around her face and up over the top of her head, obscuring all her features except for her eyes, which did not once look in the boys' direction.
    She was carrying a rifle of some kind. She swung it before her and, digging the butt into the ground, leaned against it. It looked heavy, with a thick pipelike barrel on which, midway along, was attached a chunky sight of some description that glinted dully, like unpolished brass. The weapon was almost as tall as she was, and seemed impossibly cumbersome for a girl of her slight frame.
    The two boys held their breath, waiting for her to speak, but after a couple of seconds she merely nodded, then swung the chunky rifle onto her back again as if it weighed no more than a length of bamboo.
    "Come along," Drake said to them. He made no move to put on their blindfolds again, but left their hands bound. With just the faintest glow from Drake's miner's light to show them where he was, they followed his broad-backed form as he piloted them through an unremittingly monotonous landscape. Despite the lack of landmarks, he seemed to know unerringly which direction they should be taking. After many more hours of this desertlike terrain, they arrived at the edge of the Great Plain at the mouth of a lava tube. They filed down this at some speed. It was almost, Will thought, as if Drake had the ability to see in the dark.
    Now in the enclosed space of the tube, they watched the indistinct outline of Drake's head as he went, but on the occasions when Will and Chester glanced