“So,” he concluded, “if the force field comes down, I want you lads ready to get in there. That’s the only hope those boys on the loose in there have got. Besides anything else, they’ll know more about the inside of a scorpiary than any man alive. I’ll cut you some orders. They’ll be fakes, but . . .”
“Screw the orders, man,” said Van Klomp. “If the field doesn’t come down we go on sitting on our tuchis, doing displays at parades. If it does . . . we probably won’t be answering any questions. We’ll try to get to them, but I’ve only got sixty men.” There was a momentary hesitation; then: “Fitzy, you’re in for the high jump, unless this goes right and your dear general decides he’s going to claim the credit.”
“So I’m for the high jump. This could just be the big chance, Bobby. Now, if you do go in, you just hold on. I’m not hanging around for the court-martial. Ariel and I are on our way to the front. We’ll push the troops along.”
“You still got that mad rat? You want a chopper ride to the front?”
Ariel jumped at the phone. “And fuck you too, Van Klomp!”
Fitz grinned. “The chopper would solve a lot of problems. And I warn you, I’m jealous. Ariel obviously wants your body.”
“I’ll have a chopper with you in fifteen minutes. You’d better get your satellite boykie to report to me.” The man on the other end of the line paused. “Good luck, Fitzy.”
“Yeah,” said Fitz quietly. “And sorry to drag you into this shit, Bobby.”
There was another longish pause. Then Major Robert Van Klomp replied, also in a quiet voice, quite unlike his normal bellow. “This is supposed to be the Army’s elite unit, Fitz. I just hope to God I’ve finally got a chance to prove it. Now, I’m going to stir asses out of sacks. Go to it, my boy.”
The lump in his throat stopped Fitz saying goodbye. It was possible he’d just sentenced an old friend to death.
Chapter 35: What address were we looking for?
The trailer slewed wildly. So did the tractor driver. So did the tractor. Instead of completing the turn the right-hand front wheel went over the edge of the spiral downramp next to the well.
Chip looked back at the hitch-wishbone. It would snap now. Well, it’d probably only been the C-clamp and the wire he’d wound around the porcupine-weld that had held it together for so long across very rough terrain. And there was no time to do anything now. The tractor and the trailer were not going anywhere—except possibly over the edge and all the way down.
“All off!” shouted Bronstein. “Cut the stuff we need off the trailer and toss it over the edge. We’re going to have to run.”
“Alas, I cannot run,” complained the Korozhet. “My poor spines are so cramped from this bag. Abandon me! Virginia and I will hide here and the rest of you can draw pursuit.”
“No,” said Siobhan, “We must look after you. We’ll lower you down first.”
Chip cut the Crotchet’s bag free with a single swipe of the Solingen. “Come on. You’re the only one who claims to know where we’re going. Grab me that rope, Ginny. I’ll get him down quick.”
“But I do not wish to be lowered.” The Korozhet clacked his spines at him. “I will run.”
“Tough shit.” Chip pulled the rope through the top loops of cargo net.
“Methinks we rats will abseil with you,” Melene comforted, while rolling a drum of diesel to the edge.
Doc, bent nearly double under a bag of alcohol bottles, agreed. “Yes. We have to use original ideas. I was going to lower these bottles. Once I have done that the logical thing is for us rats to abseil down too. We are needing to go down, Madam Korozhet, you said. . . .”
Chip swung the alien over the edge and began lowering. Siobhan flew down alongside her.
Meanwhile, Bronstein was furiously organizing, and Eamon was fiddling with last-minute touches on a trip wire attached to the limpet-mine on the jammed trailer. Chip saw O’Niel pat their doomed steed with a gentle wing. “You’re a foine, foine device,” the bat said thickly. “Eamon, you’ll be seeing it be quick, will you now?”