“We don’t breathe, not in the sense you mean it,” the creature replied. “What gases we require we obtain in our eating. There is as much gas in the rock we consume as in anything else. We just do not require constant respiration.”
Left alone shortly afterward, they were thankful to get out of their suits. The Torshind, who had no such problems, left its crystal crab shell and explored rapidly.
“No locks,” it reported to them. “Heavily bugged, of course, but I find nothing threatening. It is my opinion that, if the Bozog remain neutral and don’t warn our adversaries, we can surprise them shortly after they enter the airlock.”
The Yugash had used its crystal tentacles to draw a rough floor plan, and Wooley surveyed it critically.
“I disagree,” she responded. “There is too much danger of hitting a Bozog, and that we can’t afford. No, this second chamber across the way is obviously for them. I would suggest we let them in, allow the Bozog to leave, then hit them as quickly as possible, before they even have a chance to unsuit.”
The Torshind considered it. “A bit more risky,” it pronounced, “but politics is politics.”
Bozog, the Launch Site Five Hours Later
The Ortega party looked at the block structure with more relief than apprehension. They had been in their suits for several days; they were smelly and itchy. Even Trelig and Burodir were uncomfortable: they needed an occasional rinse of water, and it had been the same water over and over for some time.
Their number was greater, too; two large Dillians, two Makiem, plus Renard, Vistaru, and the Ghiskind made for an unwieldy assortment with different needs and comfort levels. All were out of their element.
The Bozog stopped near the airlock. “The others are inside, in their own apartment,” it warned. “They are out of their suits and have had a long time to prepare. They will do nothing as long as I am with you, of that we’re certain—it would force us to take a hand. However, once I leave, you are all on your own. I will tarry as long as possible to give you as much chance as you can, but after that it’s up to you.”
They understood perfectly, and were grateful that it bothered. The two Dillians pulled pistols and acted as guards; they would cover the others until they themselves could be guarded.
There was no sign of the Yaxa party when they entered, went down a well-lit corridor, and through a top-hinged panel to their rooms. As they passed a similar panel on their right, the Bozog’s rear spot had formed a shaky tentacle and pointed silently, then receded back into the orange mass.
They understood. The enemy was there, ready, and less than twenty meters down and across the hall from them.
The Bozog did in fact linger with small talk for a while, allowing Vistaru, Renard, and the Makiem to unsuit and choose their weapons. Renard unpacked his tast and took a pistol in his other hand.
“I hope I remember which hand has which,” he whispered in a half-joking tone he didn’t feel. “It’d be a hell of a thing if I blew up the gun and shot the tast.”
Trelig and Burodir checked out their own hand weapons. The centaurs managed to get out of their suits before the Bozog felt it had to leave. With a cheery, noncommittal farewell, it oozed out the panel, leaving them inside.
“Best to let them come to us,” the Ghiskind said as low as possible. “Dillians to either side of the door. Makiem in the far corners. Agitar with me in the middle, just forward and a little out of direct fire from the door. Vistaru, can you fly in here?”
She tried it. She could and it felt wonderful to rise up and dart about, although her wings hurt like hell from their recent inactivity. She had a Lata pulse-pistol in her tiny hand, and now her wicked red-and-black-striped stinger oozed with venom.
“Now what?” Renard asked tensely.
“We wait,” Trelig whispered from his corner. “As long as necessary.”
Time passed. It wasn’t productive, nor comfortable; they were all tired. The tension, too, was having its effect, developing into a sense of numbing lethargy.
Renard was sitting down now, pistol only half-pointed forward, shaking his head. Vistaru, too, was relaxing.
“Why don’t they just come and get it over with?” he grumbled. “I figured they’d hit us as soon as the Bozog left.”
“There are a lot of devious minds there,” Trelig pointed out. “I’m sure that that was their first plan, but it will have been refined into something a lot more diabolical by now. This waiting is almost certainly part of it—designed to get us to let down our guard.”
“It’s working,” his wife grumped from the other corner. “I can hardly keep my eyes open.”
“Look who’s talking about devious minds,” Renard said wryly, looking over his shoulder at Trelig. “I’ve been told that nobody holds a candle to you in that department.”
“Stop that!” the Ghiskind ordered. “It will simply get us killed if we start in on one another. Why do their job for them?”
“Relax,” Faal the Dillian cautioned. “Remember, we outnumber them. Chang and her mate are no threat, they won’t even be in on it. That’s just three of them against seven of us.”
Renard suddenly stirred and jumped up, looking around.
“What is it?” several of them said at once.
He looked around, a slightly puzzled expression on his blue devil’s face. “I’m not sure,” he responded carefully. “Something funny. You know how aware I am of electrical things. I’d swear the lights flickered for a moment, then became brighter.”
They were all suddenly awake again, and tense, even though none of the others felt what he did.
Against the brightness of the lights, none had noticed a strange shape, faded almost to invisibility, flow under a room partition that was only two or three centimeters off the ground, and silently move along the baseboard toward the door until it reached the big male centaur, Makorix, standing pistol at the ready.
It flowed into the body of the Dillian, instantly striking at nerve centers, paralyzing movement. The Dillian brain was related to the human brain, and the Dillian central nervous system was a good compromise between human and horse. The Torshind had become familiar with equine movements while transporting Mavra and Joshi to Yugash; except in size Yulin’s Dasheen brain was very close to the Dillian brain. The Torshind had no trouble locating the correct spots.
Slowly the hand holding the pistol moved and readjusted. A thumb kicked the little control lever up two notches. The energy density would be greatly lowered, but still enough to paralyze; the beam would now be much wider.
The barrel moved ever so slightly away from the door toward the left of the room, where Renard, Vistaru, and Burodir sat waiting.
Suddenly Vistaru noticed the new targets. “Look out!” she screamed, and took off straight up.
Renard’s reflexes were tremendously fast; he kicked off on his powerful goatlike legs, soaring into the air as Makorix’s pistol fired.
The beam sprayed the room, and struck the Ghiskind and Burodir full on. It had no effect on the Yugash, but the great female frog gave a strangled croak and pitched forward.
Suddenly, the door exploded as a huge orange shape burst through it, followed quickly by a squat, humanlike powerfully built form, shooting wide scatter bursts.
Vistaru reached Makorix in an instant and knocked the pistol from his hand. The Dillian reached up for her with a snarl, and she obliged, stabbing him with her stinger.
The centaur gave a surprised cry, then collapsed in a heap.
Faal, hardly comprehending what was happening or why, swung her pistol at the orange shape and was gunned down almost immediately by Yulin.
Renard had lost his tast and had almost run straight up the wall in his escape from the initial shot; fully charged, he whirled and leaped for the orange shape, but the Yaxa saw him and spit a thick, brown fluid, catching him in midleap. It burned like fire when it hit and he plunged helplessly to the floor.