“Go!” Chip pushed.
“I can’t,” she said, fear in her voice.
Chip could see why. The creature in her way had obviously escaped from a tank—it was alternate rows of tentacles, pincers and spines. And big evil eyes.
The Korozhet flicked the thing aside with a spine. Chip was justifiably grateful.
The Maggots were a lot more interested in their problem with the tank than with a fast leaving bunch of aliens. The newcomers dogtrotted warily past them without any obvious moves from the paddle-palps. The bats scouted ahead as they moved down the long hall full of tanks. Big hungry eyes gazed from the weedy water of the tanks. Occasionally a tentacle would wave from the water.
“You okay, Phylla?” Chip asked when he had the breath.
“I’ve stopped the bleeding.” The rat-girl’s voice was subdued. “But I think I’ve lost half my tail too.”
That was serious. Not only was the tail a major part of the rat’s balance, but it was a rat’s sex symbol, the equivalent of nice legs, a large bust . . . or well-filled trousers to a human. Chip guessed the rat-girl would rather have lost a limb or an eye.
* * *
“That trick of yours with the flamethrower may have turned out for the best,” said Eamon, grudgingly. “We’ve come out nearly at the place we set the charges. No Maggots in sight. All we’ve got to do is go up a level. Then across six hundred yards and we’re out.”
The Korozhet sighed. “You’ll have to leave me, good human, Miss Virginia . . . my spines can take no more. Leave me. Save yourselves.”
Virginia was shocked. “But we can’t leave you.”
“Indeed you must! Save yourselves,” said the alien, nobly.
Chip looked at Prickles. Carrying it like they had before would slow them down terrifically. He pulled his shirt off, ripping a button in his haste. He tied the two sleeves together, then cut two slits into the material near the tail. He laid it on the ground. “Get onto that, Crotchet.”
The Korozhet twitched spines at him. “I do not understand . . .”
“Just do it!” shouted Chip, pulling the hammer from his belt loops. Whether it understood, or was intimidated, the Korozhet complied. “Right. Now we’ve got a stretcher, let’s go. Take the sleeves . . . Miss Shaw.”
For the first time since they’d rescued the Korozhet, they were able to really get a move on.
“Maggots coming!” shouted Siobhan.
They legged it. At first the Magh’ gained on them. Then they began to drop back. “Unfit, these Maggots,” said Melene.
“They cannot run for long. They respire through booklungs, which are less efficient than yours,” the carried Korozhet explained. “They accumulate oxygen in the respiratory system slowly during normal sluggish movement, and use it rapidly in bursts of speed.”
Bronstein fluttered in front of them. “Here we are, comrades. Up . . . Where are you rats going?”
“Span a bit of wire,” said Nym. “There is a narrowing back there around that last corner.”
Doll sniffed. “If we go up one layer, up that air flue . . .”
“Take this cord up, bat. We’ll have to haul the Korozhet.”
Virginia looked at the narrow hole in the wall. “We go in there?”
Chip pointed. “In there and up. Somehow. See that hole there? That’s full of explosives.”
Siobhan came along, shooing rats. “For what are you still waiting then? Up! Up! Eamon has already started the timer. We’ve got barely a minute now.”
The galago bounced off her shoulder and across to the far wall. “Come, Virginia, mi gorgeous, it is easy.”
With obvious trepidation she entered the hole, putting a foot across onto the far wall, into the hole Chip had punched with the cold chisel. Chip followed. He edged up the flue, his back on the inner wall, his feet braced against the outer, and a long way down between his knees. It was not sweet, knowing that a detonator was ticking away inside the hollow-block wall underneath his feet. If he moved fast, he’d fall. If he didn’t move fast, he’d fly. He crawled out onto the next level with relief. Virginia was already trying to haul up the shirt bundle with her precious Korozhet tutor in it. Chip added his muscle to the task, and, accompanied by bats, the Pricklepuss arrived.