Eric Flint: Rats, Bats and Vats

The others were moving in on the Magh'mmm, intent on the slaughter, when Chip caught sight of the Korozhet spining forward. Whatever that device of rods and odd metal was, it said gun to Chip. He dived at Ginny, knocking her down and sending Fluff flying, somersaulting butt over teakettle. The bolt seared through Chip's shoulder.

"Help!" shrieked Ginny.

The rats and bats turned to aid her…

And could not.

The Expediter spined forward, focusing spine-tip ocelli on the prey. She was quite safe. The human soldier was down. The others all had soft-cyber implants. The soft-cyber slaves could not possibly override the most basic programming logic in their implants: You will not attack a Korozhet.

The Expediter took careful aim at Virginia.

And a tiny bellowing creature leapt at the gun.

Fluff could not attack the Korozhet. Not even though he wanted to, to the absolute core of his small being. Not even if it was going to kill Virginia. But the gun was a different matter. And arboreal primates are strong. Those tiny almost human hands have a very, very powerful grip.

The Expediter threshed and struggled in real fear, trying to pull the gun free. How could the slave? How could it! The laser pistol fired in a continuous stream of light… far above its target. Striking, without provocation, the wall. A wall laced with thick cables.

The fourth of July on Old Earth had never produced such fireworks. Fragments of Magh' adobe shrapnel splattered around the chamber. Everyone, even the surviving Magh'mmm, dived for cover.

Everyone but the Korozhet. She had always feared Chip's four-pound hammer. She should have made sure he still had it. The Jampad had no Korozhet conditioning either. The Jampad flung the hammer with such force that it shattered the Korozhet's testa explosively. Fragments of hard shell, red spines, and sticky greenish ichor puddled onto the floor.

Eric Flint

Rats, Bats amp; Vats

Chapter 46:

Tan-tarah-tarah!

"UM." THE COMMUNICATION officer looked very nervous at having to face Fitz. "Sir. I just received a strange radio message in from HQ, sir. Um. They're ordering your immediate arrest. Sir."

Fitz took a deep breath. Well. It had been inevitable.

Then his bangstick… fell over.

A laser beam had just cut a vital cable some twenty-seven miles away.

"It's a GO! GO! GO!" Fitz shouted, picking up the bangstick on the run.

The mousy lieutenant was carried along with the storming tide of three thousand men and seven thousand rats. The bats overhead didn't push.

When the initial unresisted charge was deep into Magh' territory, Fitz smiled at the panting lieutenant. "When this is over, you can find me and arrest me."

"If the stupid bastard is still alive," said Ariel.

The lieutenant started to say something, but Fitz had already turned away and was yelling orders.

Henry M'Batha had never hit anyone in his life before. He studied his split knuckles. That hand was damn sore. And the radio operator was squalling for security. It felt like he might have dislocated something.

He shook his head. There was no time for worrying about pain now. That's why he'd pulled that stupid officious by-the-rule-book son-of-a-bitch radio operator out of his chair and flattened his face. He had to raise the paratroop major now. The Magh' force field always reflected light on certain frequencies.

Right now it wasn't.

He could work radio comms as well as that idiot in the corner.

"Major."

"Yah, boykie?

"The force field is down, Major!"

Van Klomp nearly deafened him. "YES!" Then he said, "Try and get hold of Fitz. Tell him we're on our way. And keep me posted on any new developments. We should jump in about half an hour."

"Uh. Major. I think I may be just about to get hauled away by security. The radio op didn't want to let me call you. Things… got a bit physical."

Van Klomp gave a volcanic amused snort. "Let me talk to him, boykie."

The radio operator could hardly not have heard. Van Klomp made radio redundant. "The major wants to talk to you," repeated Henry.

"You're for it, M'Batha," snarled the radio-op, holding his nose gingerly. "They'll confiscate your share for this."

But he took the headset. Van Klomp boomed at him. "What's the name, Sonny?"

"Operator Chirik."

"Well, Shirk, you know who I am." It was not a voice you made a mistake about. Everybody in the colony knew the larger-than-life Van Klomp. "Henry is just doing his job. You make trouble for him and I'll come and pay you a visit."

"He hit me!" protested Chirik.

"Yah. The boykie was ordered to call the moment he had the news. You stopped him. If it had been me… I'd have killed you, boeta. Over and out." And the booming voice was gone.

The radio-op sat feeling his nose. Finally he said, in a more reasonable tone of voice, "What the hell is going on?"

M'Batha eyed him speculatively. "Sorry about the nose. I think I've dislocated my thumb, if it is any comfort to you. Listen, is that cousin of yours still with the newspaper? How would you like to give her the biggest story of her life?"

The radio-op grunted. "That's not what I'd like to give her, but. .."

"Well, maybe you'll get lucky after this story," offered Henry.

The radio-op gave a smile. "Tell. But let me pull that thumb of yours first."

Eric Flint

Rats, Bats amp; Vats

Chapter 47:

All is lost.

CHIP'S SLOWSHIELD would have killed her if he hadn't somehow managed to roll clear, trying to reach the Korozhet.

Instead Ginny had been hit by a piece of falling Magh' adobe, just as she'd tried to stand up. He too was showered with fragments which, of course, just hit his shield.

But Ginny swayed and crumpled. Her glasses, caught by a shard of Magh' adobe, flew off her head. And Chip, helpless in his hardened slowshield, had to watch her fall. He saw another piece of adobe-twice the size of her head-miss her and smash her glasses to glass-dust.

The moment he could move, he dived across to her, oblivious to the agony from his own shoulder. He tried to lift her. His arm failed him, and his hand was wet with blood.

"DOC!" he screamed. But Doc was deep in the butchery of the Magh'mmm. The pure ones did not defile themselves with slowshields. The pseudo-chitin of their carapaces was soft. The shrapnel from the laser disaster had reduced their number still further. And not for countless millennia had Magh'mmm had to fight for themselves. It was pure carnage. Rat and bat heaven.

Chip was left with poor Ginny's bleeding head on his lap. He didn't dare to try pressure to stop the bleeding. Her skull might be fractured. Oh God, how it bled!

He was supremely unaware of the tears streaming down his face. Then her eyes opened. "Lie still. Lie still, love. Don't try to move." His voice cracked.

Ginny just remembered something hitting her head. The hammer-blow and the pain. Opening her eyes was involuntary. Chip, above her, was merely a blur. But his voice was recognizable… he'd called her his love. Her head was chaos and confusion. She closed her eyes again. Pain. Pain-and worse.

A terrible, terrifying woolliness enveloped her. Her mind was cotton, hay… and rags, rags of memory. Precious, precious memories. She opened her eyes. The blurring, if anything, was worse. She strained to focus. His face swam briefly into view. Dirty, covered in dark stubble, and tear tracked. Homely as hell. She loved him so much she thought her heart would burst. He blurred away again, into pain…

She tried desperately to think, and slipped away into a feathery limbo that she strained furiously against.