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for more than a man to pass. A blocky, thick skull protruded, upthrust tusks
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gleaming in the dim nighttime illumination. Triple orbs shone like lanterns as
they made a slow inspection of the empty corridor. The head vanished and a low
snuffling that sounded like muffled conversation came from the cavity. It was
cut off by a single grunt. Two massive, furred forms squeezed like paste from
the hole into the station.
Geeliwan contemplated the alien surroundings and shivered slightly at the
unaccustomed chill in the air, while Ruumahum sampled it for something other
than temperature.
"Hear no giants, see no giants," Geeliwan murmured in the gentle guttural
rasp of the furcot folk.
"Many are near, behind these walls," replied Ruumahum in a cautioning
tone. After a final, thorough sniff to- pinpoint a very faint, but
unmistakable scent, he said, "This way."
Hugging the metal walls and cloaking themselves in shadow, the furcots
padded silently down the corridor they had entered, turned a corner into
another. A last corner turned, and they drew back at the sight of the single
giant seated before the final door. The giant was not moving.
"He sleeps," Geeliwan murmured tightly.
"Behind him the scent is steady," agreed Ruumahum.
Leaving the corner they padded toward the portal. Ruumahum located the
crack at the door's base. Triple nostrils breathed in the smell of person.
Inside the door Born had not moved from his sitting position on the
floor. At the gentle snuffling from outside, his eyes came fully open again.
Losting was stretched out asleep on the far side of the chamber, but came
awake as Born moved.
"What is-?"
"Quiet." Born made his way to the door on hands and knees. Dropping his
face to the floor, he sniffed once, then whispered cautiously, "Ruumahum?"
There was an affirmative grunt from the other side. "Open the door. If
possible, quietly."
The furcot growled. "There is a guard."
The low conversation finally woke the man in question. Despite the nap,
the man was good at his job. He came awake instantly, already prepared for the
fantasized jailbreak. What he was not prepared for was the sight of a grinning
Geeliwan, massive tusked jaws opened to display a formidable array of gleaming
cutlery, breathing into his face. The man fainted.
Geeliwan's head dipped down and sniffed.
"Is he dead?" inquired Ruumahum.
Geeliwan snorted a reply. "He sleeps deeply." The furcot joined his
companion in studying the doorway. "How does this open. It is not like the
doors the persons have made in the Home."
Born's whisper reached them from under the sealed entrance. "Ruumahum,
there is a handle near you, shaped like the grip of a snuffler. You must move
it down and then pull to open the door. We cannot do so from inside."
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The big furcot examined the protrusion carefully. Gripping it in his
teeth, he turned his head according to Born's instructions. born neglected to
mention that the handle would stop, however, at the proper place. There was a
pinging sound, loud in the quietness.
"It came off, Born," Ruumahum reported, spitting out the metal.
Losting rose and took a couple of steps toward the back of the room.
"I've had enough of this place, mad-on-the-hunt. Come now if you will." Giving
Born no time to argue, he ordered, "Open the door, Geeliwan, now!"
Geeliwan rose on his rear feet, his head nearly touching the corridor
ceiling. Falling forward, he pushed simultaneously with fore- and mid-paws.
There was a groan, accompanied by a pinging sound like the broken handle had
made, only much louder. The pre-formed section of alloy bent at the middle and
folded over into the room, hanging loosely by its bottom hinge.
Born and Losting leaped over the barrier and followed the furcots down
twists and turns in the corridor neither man remembered. Distant mutters and
shouts of confusion rose around them like a nest of Chollakees. All at once a
man confronted them, appearing at the end of the corridor like a bad memory.
He reached for his belt-even as his jaw dropped-and started to pull something
small and shiny from it.
Ruumahum hit him with a paw in passing. The glancing blow lifted the man
off his feet and slammed him against the wall. He was still crumpling to the
floor as they passed.
The furcot rumbled terribly, "This place needs killing," and showed signs
of returning to finish off the guard.
Born argued otherwise, and they ran on. "Not now, Ruumahum. These
creatures kill without thinking. Let us not fall prey to the same frailty."
Ruumahum muttered under his breath, but led on.
Moments later they reached the wide corridor that encircled the station.
Both Born and Losting had their axes out now, but there was no need to use
them. The station was still half asleep, the source of the disturbance behind
them as yet unknown.
Another minute and they were at the hole Ruumahum and Geeliwan had ripped
in the station floor. Ruumahum led the way. Born jumped in after, feet first,
followed by Losting. Geeliwan was right behind.
Like a flotilla of fluorescent bees, lights around the station began to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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