“What do you mean ‘no’? It’s decided.” Behan’s tone was as snappish as the words.
Chip looked at Behan with distaste. Of all the rats and bats, even surly Eamon, Behan was the only one Chip genuinely disliked. The bat was a camp follower if there ever was one. “I mean there is no way I am taking Pricklepuss screaming-mee-meemy on a sneak back through the Magh’ tunnels. We go over, and one mistimed shriek or squeak and I’ll let go of the ropes.”
Siobhan shook her head at him. “Don’t be ridiculous, Chip. Tell him, Bronstein.”
“I don’t want to interfere,” said the bat.
Chip almost choked. Bronstein? Not want to interfere? Ha! So she didn’t like the idea either. He wondered why she didn’t simply ride roughshod over it, then, like she always did.
He decided it must be more bat politics. Chip knew that Bronstein was neck deep in one crazy bat faction, whereas Eamon was a mover-and-shaker in the other. Knowing Eamon, the shaking was probably done with a nice firm grip on someone’s throat. Well. Bronstein had backed him up often enough. He’d be glad to be her hired lance for a change.
Chip folded his arms across his chest and said: “You can’t do it without me. And I won’t do it. And that’s final.”
Knowing Bronstein was solidly behind him, Chip stood as firm as any pylon, through all the threats, imprecations and cajolery. The truth was that he held the trump cards. Without him to do the camel work, carrying the food, carrying the Korozhet, doing the dexterous work like cutting holes, they couldn’t do it. And Bronstein must have wanted his support badly, because, after not saying anything—would wonders never cease?—she fluttered out while the argument raged.
Eventually he won. “Look. We aren’t being chased. We can follow the space between the mounds back towards the front. The mounds are much lower there, and not as steep. We can do three a night. The bats can fly the line up—it’s thin and light enough for them to carry—the rats and the galago follow, and when they’re up, they haul up a decent anchor, and then a rope. Miss Shaw and I climb up, using the rope as a safety line. We’ll use those sliding prussik loops—you know, those knots that slide one way, that Nym was telling me about, the ones we didn’t need to use getting out last time. Then we haul Old Crotchet up. Lower him down the other side. Easy. Whereas if we cut our way through, we’re bound to get caught sooner or later.”
Then, just when he’d won, the Crotchet turned the whole thing on its head. “I have been thinking. Miss Virginia, and other good allies in this fight against the vile Magh’ scourge, the human male is right. We could escape. But should we? We have within our spines’ grasp the most stunning victory. We should not seek to save ourselves, but indeed, strike a blow for our peoples! Never before has a battle-capable group stood within the force field. We can strike at the brood-heart itself! We can strike a brave, heroic blow for Humanity!”
Chip snorted. At least he knew where he stood as to allies. He could just see the bats striking a brave blow for the sake of Humanity. As for the rats, they had a sensible grunt attitude towards volunteering, never mind volunteering for suicide missions. “Oh, that’s really a fine idea, Mr. Pricklepuss,” he said sarcastically.
“Okay!” piped Siobhan. “So we’re all agreed, then?”
Chip was startled to realize she wasn’t being sarcastic. Then his startlement turned to outright shock when all the other rats and bats immediately chorused their own support for the Crotchet’s loony scheme. For all the world, they sounded like fanatic enthusiasts!
“All right then,” he said coldly. He played his trump card. “I’ll just go and find Bronstein and tell her that the Korozhet has decreed that we all go on a suicide mission.”
He stormed out to find her. She’d put a stop to this nonsense!
Bronstein was on her favorite terrace, peering into the distance. Before Chip could tell her how ridiculous everybody was being, she turned on him. “Do you find me inclined to enforce my will on others?”