“One or two,” McMicking said, reaching into the briefcase and pulling out a familiar set of nunchakus. “Here—Fayr let me keep this as a souvenir.”
“Amazing the sort of things that end up in a banker’s briefcase,” I commented, taking the nunchakus and tucking one of the sticks in ready position under my arm. Even with a weapon, I was going to have my work cut out for me.
And not just with the walkers, either. The four remaining Shonkla-raa were on the move too, their layered tunics flapping in the breeze as they charged toward us.
“No one ever said it was the banker’s briefcase,” McMicking pointed out. “I just slipped it over his neck in the crowd and the Shonkla-raa came to the correctly wrong conclusion. They really do need to learn to ask the right questions.”
“And to take an occasional roll call?”
“And to work out the bugs in their overlapping chain of command structure,” McMicking agreed. “With five of them giving orders to different groups of walkers, I figured I could slip into the group without anyone noticing. Go easy on that squeeze bottle, by the way—that’s chili sauce, full strength, courtesy of the station gift shop. You want to put the walkers out of action, not blind them outright.”
“Right,” I said, glancing back at Hardin and Losutu. “You think they’ve got enough of a lead yet?”
“Give it another couple of seconds,” McMicking said. “Our long-nosed friends are nearly through the crowd.”
They were, too, I saw, their legs pumping hard as they caught up to the walkers’ leading shock front. I half expected the Shonkla-raa to simply charge straight through the crowd in their wrath, scattering Humans and aliens to all sides.
But even in their fury at McMicking and me they weren’t stupid enough to waste allies that way. The line of running walkers opened smoothly up in front of each of the Shonkla-raa in response to their telepathic orders, letting the faster Fillies through. “I hope you’re not expecting them to run themselves too ragged to whistle their happy little tune,” I warned.
“Not exactly,” McMicking said. “What’s over there with the drudges?”
“An open service hatchway,” I told him. “What we do once we’re there, I haven’t a clue.”
He grunted. “Well, the Spiders have already proved themselves useful today,” he said. “I’m willing to see what else they’ve come up with. Okay, here we go. Your job is take out anyone still standing.”
I frowned. Still standing?
And as the four Shonkla-raa closed to within five meters, McMicking thrust the open banker’s briefcase toward them, sending a clattering wave of hundreds of clear plastic marble-sized spheres bouncing and rolling across the floor toward them.
The Shonkla-raa didn’t have a chance. They hit the rolling hazard at a dead run, their feet flying as the ground suddenly slid out from under them. Three of the Fillies went down instantly, slamming hard onto torsos and backs, the impact sending more of the marbles scooting off in all directions. The fourth was fighting to stay upright when my nunchaku slammed across the side of his head, putting him down with the others. Behind the sprawled Shonkla-raa, the incoming wave of walkers hit the marbles, and Humans and Juriani and Halkas joined the Fillies in twisting and thudding helplessly to the ground.
And then, even as I aimed my nunchaku toward the next Shonkla-raa in line, he rose half up onto his hands and screamed.
It was a scream unlike any I’d ever heard from a Filly, loud and ululating and enraged, and it froze me in my tracks as effectively as the thunderclap from a stun grenade. With a supreme effort I shook off the paralyzing effects and raised my nunchaku again—
The blow went wide as McMicking grabbed my arm. “Time to go,” he snapped, shooting a healthy glob of chili sauce from his own squeeze bottle into the Filly’s eyes. “More company coming.”
I looked over at the station buildings as I abandoned my attack and headed after McMicking. Pouring out of the café and gift shops were more Fillies, at least two dozen of them, all heading our way.
The next time you come after me, I’d told the late Usantra Wandek at Proteus Station, you’d better bring all of you.
Someday, I really should stop delivering challenges like that.
“I hope,” McMicking called over his shoulder, “that the Spiders have one hell of an ace up their sleeves.”
“Me, too,” I said grimly, my heart sinking as I did a quick reassessment of the situation. The drudges, I’d already noted, were about a hundred meters away. Losutu and Hardin had covered over half that distance, and even though they were slower than McMicking and me they would make it to the access hatchway well before either what was left of the line of walkers or the new wave of Shonkla-raa. The timing for McMicking and me was a little iffier, but unless the Shonkla-raa were significantly faster than the standard Filly—which they very well could be—we ought to make it all right.
Which still left the question of what we were going to do once we got there.
We’d covered about half the distance, and Losutu and Hardin had reached the drudges and were slowing to a somewhat uncertain stop, when the wind in my face suddenly disappeared.
I frowned as I realized the strangeness of that. The wind was caused by me running through the air. I was still running. How could the wind stop?
I was still trying to figure it out when the wind started up again.
Only now it was blowing against the back of my head. As if I’d unknowingly started running backward, or as if the station air itself was on the move.
And with a horrified jolt, I understood.
Shifting my attention from the drudges and hatchway, I peered down the long axis of the station. In the distance, nearly masked by the Coreline’s own coruscating multicolored light show, I could see the faint ring of flashing red warning lights around the far end of the station.
The Spiders had opened the atmosphere barrier.
“McMicking!” I called.
“I know,” he called back. “Save your breath for running.”
I grimaced as the wind at my back began to intensify. Save my breath for running, and for survival.
I don’t know when the Shonkla-raa figured it out. Probably not long after I did. Possibly even before. But as the wind started to edge toward gale strength I heard the command tone filling the station becoming fainter. Not just from the rapidly thinning atmosphere, but also because the Shonkla-raa also recognized their need to conserve air and were alternating the command tone between them, each Filly whistling for only a few seconds at a time before passing it on to the next.
Losutu and Hardin were still standing by the open hatchway as McMicking and I ran up to them. “The air!” Losutu barked frantically, the words almost inaudible in the turbulent wind blowing against him. He jabbed a finger at the end of the station.
“We know,” McMicking shouted back. “Get into the airlock—now.”
“There are air tanks down there,” I added.
It took another half second for that to penetrate. Then Losutu’s face brightened with sudden hope, and he grabbed Hardin’s arm and jumped them both through the hatchway.
“Hang on,” I called as McMicking started to follow, my eyes on the frozen drudges looming over us. Up close, they looked even more precariously balanced than they had from a distance, leaning over the airlock hatchway as if they’d been turned to statues just as they were about to fall in.…
On impulse, I jumped up beneath one, grabbing one of the inward-leaning legs at the top of my arc. A second later, I landed with a thud beside a startled Losutu as the drudge crashed down across the hatchway above me, its tangled legs neatly blocking half of the airlock opening.
McMicking was nothing if not a fast learner. I’d barely recovered my balance when he landed a couple of meters away from me, bringing the other drudge down across the rest of the gap. “We need to tether them!” he called.