“Whoreson. Back through that tunnel where I nearly stuck fast like a cork? Ah, well, what must be done, must be done.” Fal didn’t sound too dejected by the idea.
“Which will serve no purpose, and is what they have begged us not to do,” said Bronstein sternly.
“Sometimes a rat has to make up his own mind. I just wish I hadn’t squeezed through that tunnel first, just to squeeze back,” said Nym. “At least Fal could just suck his gut in . . .”
“Or we can go ahead and do exactly what the Korozhet wanted us to do.” Bronstein knew that was dirty pool. But she was playing to win. “When we came out earlier we found our way to above the brood-Magh’. The thinkers. We could go and bring the roof down on them. That would avenge Chip and Ginny. And if they really are the group-mind . . . it could even save our human comrades.”
“Whoreson Achitophel!” said Pistol explosively. “Well, come on then. What are you bats waiting for? Move out, move out! We don’t need this rope. We can chimney up this shaft.”
“No, Pistol. We have to put this to the vote. It will leave us without explosives for our flight,” said Bronstein.
“I’ faith,” Fal grunted. “Next you’ll be wanting a sacred bullet, Bronstein.”
Sarcasm, as always, passed right over Bronstein’s head. “No, a show of hands will do.”
“If I show you my hands, I shall fall off this ledge,” said Doll. “Besides I can’t see anything. I agree with Pistol.”
There was a chorus of yesses. Even the galago nervously agreed. With a goal before them, the rats suddenly showed that they could manage the shaft. They just hadn’t been ready to try before.
Doc, of course, put his finger on the crucial question. “It occurs to me that you could have told us this before.”
Eamon cleared his throat. “I am to blame.”
“Usually, but that’s because you guzzle so much sauerkraut,” said Pistol, from higher up the shaft.
But even Pistol’s deflationary cracks weren’t going to deprive Eamon of the joys of a histrionic confession.
* * *
Eventually, even the galago told him to shut up. Risking damage to life and limb was better than listening to any more bat soul-searching.
* * *
A second scorp had followed the first over the narrow bridge. In his mild dose of Korozhet chemically induced hysteria, Chip thought the scorps moved even more tentatively than the humans. The group walked forward into the heart of the scorpiary.
The mushroom hothouse had been brightly colored. This place was just plain garish. It was startling enough to send Chip into the giggles again. And that was enough to set Ginny off also. The two humans came into the presence of the group-mind laughing until the tears ran down their faces. After all, there is nothing quite like laughing in the face of death. Of course, it would have been a good idea to look behind them while they did this.
* * *
In the ceiling the sound of their laughter stopped work. Now the entire crew was peering anxiously down.
“Whoreson!” said Pistol admiringly. “They must be stand-up fall-down drunk.”
Melene looked at the way the two clung to each other. She smiled.
And then, behind the laughing two came the shock of the rats’ lives and the horror of the bats: the Korozhet.
“Whoreson! we have to get down there,” said at least three rats, led by Fal.
The little galago agreed. “Indeed, señor rat! But . . . how do we get past the grid?”
“What grid?” asked Fal. “Come on, we need to open this hole a bit more.”
The galago looked startled. “The light grid? You cannot see it?” Fluff squinted down into the chamber. “I believe humans could not see it either. She is too far into the ultraviolet for humans to see, and obviously also for the bats. Look, the projector, there she is.”
He pointed to a device on the far side of the room. “Señor Shaw, he had one too. A special Korozhet device, very expensive, for the detecting of flying objects. This looks very similar.”