“Could just have been an accident, sir.” The corporal’s tone showed how much he hoped he was wrong.
“How much money do you want to put on it?” asked Fitz. His fearsome smile hadn’t wavered an inch.
“Don’t bet with him,” said Ariel from her pocket perch. “He cheats.”
The major snorted. “I thought you were on my side, Ariel.”
Ariel looked up at him and fluttered her rat-eyelashes. “I am, darling, but Johnny Simms gives me chocolates too.”
Fitz assumed a stern expression. “He’s trying to usurp your affections. I’ll have his stripes.”
The corporal just grinned. The odd-looking trio moved through the corridors at a speed they hadn’t mustered for six months.
“Where is Captain Dulache, by the way?” Fitzhugh’s smile was now utterly sharklike.
“Off sick again, sir,” said the corporal, his voice carefully bare of expression. “A strained leg muscle, I believe.”
“Ah. Such a pity we’ll miss his wise counsel.” Fitzhugh clucked his tongue. “Brutal sport, polo.”
Chapter 25: Once more into the breeches.
Debris rained down around the tractor. The shower included small items like the three-ton shed roof which narrowly missed them, and tiny things like whole slowshielded Maggots. It also included big things, in small pieces—like the whole of the hilltop. The bats dived for shelter and clung under the trailer. Chip wished he could do the same. Instead he was obliged to hunch his shoulders, think turtle thoughts, and keep steering around the fallen rocks.
Fal, clinging now to the wheel arch, looked back at the crown of leaping flames around the once-winefarm and sniffed, his dark eyes clouded with sorrow. “The waste is very great,” he intoned tragically.
* * *
The moon was down, hidden behind the mound-walls, with only the high ground of the far ridge still bathed in its brightness.
None of them saw the hole until Behan cried a warning. “Stop!”
Chip dropped the blade as his foot found the clutch. With a screech and sparkstream they halted. The front of the tractor hung over the edge of a vast crater where the road had once been. Now the blade had nothing to act as a brake on . . . and they were rolling slowly forward. With eyes like saucers, Chip frantically fumbled for reverse gear. With a jerk that nearly stalled the tractor, they backed off.
Fortunately they went back a good nine yards from the crumbling lip before the trailer jackknifed. Still more fortunately, Chip was riding the clutch. The impact pushed his foot flat, and stopped them from breaking the hitch.
There was just enough space to edge forward and around the crater. After struggling across the earth and tar debris, they were able to get back onto the road.
“That’s it,” said Chip with finality. “We’ll have to slow down. We just can’t travel that fast.” The back of his shirt was wringing wet, for all that it was a cool night. “Second gear, and that’s max.”
They pressed on, much slower now. A few minutes later the first bat returned.
“Chip, you’ve got to go faster,” Siobhan pleaded, tugging at his shoulder with a wing-claw. “Maggots are coming in diagonally. They’ll get ahead of us if you don’t move it up.”
He ignored her.
She put her wings over his eyes.
He swatted her away. “Will you stop that! I can’t go any damn faster! I dare not. Goddamn headlight batteries are dying.”
“And the Maggots are coming to cut us off. Choose, Bezonian,” said Pistol, peering into the dark. Even with only one eye he could still see better than Chip. After that last incident all eyes strained to see the dark road.
“I can’t see properly,” said Chip, angrily. “Are you going to tell me where to drive?”
Pistol nodded “Yes. Methinks that’s a fine concept.”
“Are you fucking mad?”
“We cannot continue with this drive in the darkness,” the Korozhet piped up. “It is not safe!”
“You’re right,” agreed Siobhan.
“Yes!” Chip opened the throttle. “We might be hurt or killed. Oh, thank heavens Professor Crotchet is here to guide us.”
“Methinks there is no need to be sarcastic to the Professor,” reproved Doll severely. “He’s just trying to look after all of us, because you can’t see where you’re going.”