Chip, Ginny and Fluff stared at the bizarre scene. Some seventy yards away the tunnel seethed with Maggots. Some of them were rather decoratively spray painted . . . particularly across the eyes. And Maggots were shredding Maggots. The blinded ones blundered into the rest. Contact initiated attack; attack spawned counterattack.
Siobhan fluttered in. “Ah, you’re out. The next passage is wider. Behan’s gone on to be checking it out further up the main passage.”
Chip thumped the horn, which brayed obligingly. “All aboard! All aboard. Settle your bets, Gentlerats and Ladies. Let’s go!”
Indeed, it was a good time for it. The group-mind had obviously figured out what was happening, and the painted-eyed Maggots were lying down, allowing the others to come through. Chip already had the tractor in first gear, and Virginia was off, chainsaw in hand, chivvying the rats from their argument about who’d won.
It was just as well she’d taken the chainsaw, and that she’d already pull-started it. One of the Magh’ was a sprinting type. While all around its companions staggered and ripped off legs in the rows of snares the rats had set up, this one came through. It was lightly armored, but fast.
Virginia barely had time to shove the chainsaw in the Maggot’s face and squeeze the trigger. The chainsaw was either inside the Maggot’s slowshield or it didn’t have one. The creature grabbed at it with its long chelicerae. The blade screamed through pincers and the biting mouthparts and on into the creature’s head, spraying the three set-on-rescue rats with Maggot juice.
The Maggot fell, losing control over its legs, nearly dragging the racing saw out of Virginia’s hands. It ripped through the carapace instead. Virginia managed to stay erect—barely—panting, a dead Maggot at her feet.
“Come on, Ginny!” Melene, Nym and Doc dragged at her.
She stood frozen in shock.
Chip had leapt off the tractor along with Fluff. The tractor was left to decide on its own course, guided by nothing but a net full of squalling, protesting Korozhet. Truth to tell, the mindless machine was actually doing better without Chip interfering with its steering.
He grabbed Ginny, and pressed the chainsaw cutoff. The next thing Virginia knew she was over Chip’s shoulder, still clutching her chainsaw, as he staggered off after the tractor. Fluff clung to her shoulder and chittered anxiously into her face.
“Put me down!” she shouted. “They’re coming!” But Chip just staggered determinedly on.
Claws reached for her . . .
. . . and Ginny got a near-face education into why the rats were this war’s equivalent of natural-born samurai. Fal and Pistol took the first one, tag style, with that apparent lack of effort which sets the masters apart from the tyros. Then the bats joined the attack. Between aerial mastery and rat fangs the far bigger Maggots were outclassed.
* * *
Chip had seen Nym sprint for the tractor. The mechanically-inclined rat must have gotten it out of gear. It had only been puttering along anyway, but it slowed now. A few more steps and he’d be there.
Next thing, Nym appeared on the top of the trailer and flung a Molotov over their heads. Ginny’s clamor for Chip to put her down finally got through to him. He did and dived for the tractor. “Come on! Up everybody, up!” He scrambled into getting it going again.
With a jerk they were moving forward. He risked a glance back, nearly hitting the wall. “All on?”
He caught sight of Ginny wacking at a Maggot with the shovel he’d put on the trailer. He should have thought of that earlier, when they were stuck.
“Yes! Let’s GO!” someone yelled.
“Okay! Second gear! Let’s go go go!” And they surged away.
“Next left, Chip,” shouted Siobhan. “And be watching where you’re driving!”
“You’re getting as bad as Bronstein,” he grated, over-revving and, by way of a grating venture into first, changing into third.
They did the corner very well. On two wheels—well, three, if you counted the trailer. There was an annoying lot of screaming.
“Stop!” shouted Bronstein.
“All right. All right. I’ll take it slower!”
“No, you fool! I mean ‘stop.’ Barbed wire must be deployed, and then we’ll blow this entry down. Use up the rest of that leaking bag.”