The captain leaned forward. “I don’t want warnings. I want to know why most of my human troops died in the last assault and only two of the rats did.”
The rat twitched his nose and looked thoughtful. “Methinks the two were a bit slow? Or mayhap too busy tail-twisting to notice? It can happen, or so I’m told.” The rat sounded regretful. “Now, I have decided. I don’t just want grog this time. I believe ’tis tradition to demand your daughter’s hand in marriage, but to be honest, I fear she may have inherited your homely face and bad complexion. And while your nose is a more attractive length than that short little stump that doth do most humans service, you lack a tail entirely, unless ’tis hidden in your trousers. So: you’ll give me Ariel. And a gill of liquor per man whose life I’ve saved. Twice that for your own, even though I daresay ’tis not worth half as much,” said the rat, head on one side and rubbing his paws thoughtfully, for all the world like a merchant at a market stall.
The captain and sergeant gaped at the rat. “Wh-what do you mean . . .” stuttered the captain.
The rat held out his paws. “‘Tis clear enough. I know marriage is not something we rats have hitherto aspired to. But I have despaired of ever winning her affection. And from what I can gather this ‘marriage’ thing is just the ticket for an ugly fellow like me.” He looked at the sergeant quizzically. “Woman are then bound to ‘serve, love and obey,’ when married, aren’t they?” he asked. “It says so in The Taming of the Shrew.”
Sergeant Mary Marcowitz missed. But only because she moved fast enough to harden her slowshield.
“I meant, what do you mean about saving our lives?” snapped the captain.
“Why, what I said, sirrah,” said the rat. “The others said that the Maggots disposed so efficiently of you humans in the last assault that they thought they would let this burrowing clean you out of here too. They’re going to leave you to this lot.”
“You mean . . . there’s a mine?”
“Aye. Ariel said ’twas unsporting not to tell you. But at length ’twas decided you wouldn’t listen anyway.” The sergeant and the captain were already out, yelling for action stations.
The sergeant headed for the rat quarters, where she found the rats about to depart.
“Traitors!” she screamed.
* * *
The outer door opened, and Fitz heard the unmistakable sound of someone snapping to attention. A recognizable chilly voice spoke. “At ease, Sergeant. I believe you have Private Fitzhugh here.”
“Yes, sir! The prisoner is in cell two, sir.”
“I’ll speak to the man alone, Sergeant. He’s to be released. There was a misunderstanding,” said the major.
“Sir.”
The sergeant led Major Ogata through, clattered the keys and let the major into the cell. The sergeant walked off back to his desk. Ogata waited carefully until he’d gone. Fitz decided that two could play the waiting game.
“I made a mistake,” said the officer quietly. As usual, he allowed almost no trace of expression into his face or voice. “I should have recognized the name. You’re free to go, and there will be no mention of this on your record.” Now he allowed a glimmer of a smile to appear. “You won’t be called as a witness in the assault case. Nor will your affidavit be rewritten. Somebody else might recognize the name, and they might not be quite so slow.”
Fitz was not feeling too fast himself. “Uh. Thank you, sir.”
The major nodded. “Special Gazette item 17 of 11/3/29 still stands. But I wouldn’t bet on the legislature not repealing it, and not making that retroactive, if they discovered you. Talbot Cartup is a powerful man. He controls the Police Special Branch handling colony security, you know.”
Fitz hadn’t—but then it wouldn’t have made any difference anyway. “He’s alive, sir?”
Ogata raised his eyebrows. “You’re pretty cool, Fitzhugh. I think so. I’m afraid I haven’t followed up on his well-being. However, it appears that Private Margolis will live. In fact I have just been to the military hospital where—as the local enforcers can’t get to him, and he thinks he’s dying—he has confirmed your testimony.”