THE MAGGOTS, who came in a seemingly endless stream past the open cell where Ginny and Chip lay, were all of a closely related kind. They all had hooked feet which enabled them to run up and down the brood-racks with terrific speed. Many had long injection-like mouthparts, or odd little plate-shaped palps. They weren't warriors, or even particularly dangerous looking. It was very apparent that their main interest was the brood and that as long as Chip and Ginny lay there and didn't interfere . . .
But orders apparently came down from on high, which overrode the pressing instinctive need to see to the grubs. Chip and Ginny were prodded to their feet by hard but fairly harmless palps, and herded along. They were pushed down the newly-chewed passage.
The wall through which the diggers had burst, Chip noticed, looked just the same as all the other walls. It was obviously a hidden hard plug the Magh' had in the tower wall. In one place there was a crack in the tunnel through which fine sand was still seeping. It should have been obvious, thought Chip. Of course they would have a way in for just such an emergency as the tunnel to the brood-heart being dropped.
At the head of the passage waited a troop of seventy scorps. Obviously, ordinary Maggots didn't go into the brood chamber.
Chip thought that they'd die right there. But the scorps parted to allow them to walk forward into the middle of the warriors. Then they found themselves forced to walk up. And up. Past Maggots clearing blast damage with Maggotlike efficiency. Then they stopped. By the time Chip and Ginny realized that they'd stopped because the scorps needed to reoxygenate, another troop had arrived.
Chip's legs wished they'd been given a chance to reoxygenate too. He'd not realized there could be anything worse than abseiling down this lot . . . until he had been forced to walk back up it. He didn't have the breath to talk. A glance showed him that Ginny was in an even worse state. Limping. Panting.
The Maggots kept them separated. He couldn't even get close to her to give her an arm. A quivering sting menaced him when he tried.
And then they came to the level with the bridge to the tower. Here they had to wait, and could at last catch their breath. Another party was coming across the newly rebuilt narrow tracery of spars.
"Professor!" Ginny shrieked in delight.
The Korozhet, bold as brass, and a lot more red and prickly, spined along calmly between an escort of Maggots.
Chip noticed that while the Magh' pressed close to Ginny and himself, they kept their distance from that damn Crotchet.
"My dear Virginia!" exclaimed the Korozhet. "I am so relieved to see you safe and well. I was just on my way to try to rescue you! I have negotiated your release into my custody. You will be safe, Virginia, safe!"
Her mind was at war, fighting a terrible internal battle. She'd been so glad to see him. Relieved and happy. And then, unbidden, had come the questions. Her mind, or something in her mind, said that the questions were wrong, impossible. Yet they kept recurring, recurring.
But if the Professor could get them out of here . . .
"Can you get Chip and me free, Professor?" she asked.
"Yes, Virginia. I have used my status as a fellow exoskeletonite to convince the Magh' that we are just civilians caught up in the tide of war. Innocent bystanders. That you were lead astray by evil companions."
She shouldn't have laughed . . . but after what they'd done, at his urging! "So Chip and I can go?" she said incredulously. "But you were . . ."
The Korozhet clacked its spines. "Alas, the other human is a combatant. A prisoner of war. He will have to remain. I have begged for clemency for him, of course. The Magh' have assured me he will be kept prisoner under the most gentle of conditions, given the best of slops . . ."
"Ah, bullshit, Pricklepuss," sneered Chip.
It might still have gone differently if the Professor hadn't been advancing and Magh' hadn't stood aside. That had allowed Chip to move next her. To put a gentle hand on her shoulder. And to allow her to loop an arm around his waist.
"Virginia, cease clinging to the human and come with me!" ordered the Korozhet. "It is a troublemaker. A lower life-form, one of those Vat-bred creatures."
She looked at the red, spiny alien. She couldn't bring herself to say "No." But she shook her head and clung more tightly to Chip.
The Expediter had had a long and trying time of it since these stupid, irritating humans had "rescued" it from its bath. And, of all the annoyances, that human soldier had been the worst. And now he had made one of the Overphyle's implanted slaves resist! The Expediter was suffering from a lack of gamete discharge. She knew this made her extremely short tempered. . . .
There was only one cure for rebellious slaves, and that was killing them. But the resources attached to the Virginia slave were just too valuable to dispose of lightly. As sole "heir"—such an odd notion!—to the humans' largest chunk of wealth, the creature could be very valuable to the Expediter. As long as the wretched thing was under proper control . . .
The Expediter struggled with rage. It had been pleasant to deal with that rat who had dared to overcome the soft-cyber conditioning. She had also vented some of her rage on the bat, who had chosen to come into the tunnel at the wrong time. But she was still angry. Furious, in fact.
These Earth-creatures were poor slaves. They used their natural sophistry to disobey. Well, commands issued in English they could still twist and misinterpret. It was a language fraught with imprecision. But the Expediter could order in Korozhet. That was the default language and allowed no chance for disobedience. Her ocelli focused on the scruffy little Vat-soldier. This one had done worse than any of them. He'd laughed at the Overphyle! He had dared to use derogatory terms!
"You know," said Chip, "the difference between you and a car full of sh . . . officers, is that the car has the little pricks on the inside."
The human soldier should never have made that comment. The Expediter was sensitive about her spine-length. She finally lost her temper completely.
Chip had survived an inordinate time in the trenches, fighting warrior-Magh'. They were fast. Really fast. The main reason he was still alive was that he was one of those lucky individuals with naturally fast reactions. The Expediter had only killed rich, middle-aged humans before. This was different. Chip saw the spines come up. He grabbed Ginny and dived across the back of the nearest scorp.
The hissing harpoon darts went home . . . into the scorp.
The Expediter was too late to stop the first toxin pulse. And it saw Chip reach for his belt. Fools! The Magh' hadn't even disarmed them! Magh' regarded bodies as weapons, and had yet to truly come to terms with the alien propensity for sharp-edged or heavy artificial tools of destruction. If the Vat creature still had his four-pound hammer, the heavy tool would smash right through her calcareous test. At a time like this, it was best to cut and run. She could grow new harpoons.
In a cloud of gas, the Expediter severed her harpoons and legged it away on fast-flexing spines.
The hiss . . .
"Hold your breath!" shouted Chip. He hoped the gas might affect their guards, but it didn't seem to, or, perhaps, they were holding their breath too.
Chip and Ginny were thrust forward again.
Eventually, they just had to breathe. The air simply tasted of Maggot-pong, but Chip found himself feeling a bit odd, and slightly light headed. Ginny kept swaying into him. Not that he really minded that, of course. Actually, after a few seconds, the whole incident seemed like a good joke. The two of them started giggling. Chip even found himself chuckling about the fact that the stinking Crotchet could run at least as fast as a man and could climb perfectly well.
It was a good bridge to cross slightly stoned, even if that wasn't quite the safest way it could be done. There were no sides and the two of them could barely walk abreast. And the scorps weren't even following. So the two them stopped midway for a bit of lip-and-tongue gymnastics. They got rather distracted. Quite distracted, actually. Eventually a scorp had to come and prod them on. They crossed the rest of the way hugging each other, occasionally swaying into the outstretched chelicerae.