If Nask wasn't just blowing off steam—and if he could persuade the PatthDirector General to back him up—the Patth certainly had it within theireconomic power to make life miserable for the Kalixiri.
"Ixil?" Nicabar prompted quietly.
His voice seemed to break the spell. "Yes," Ixil said, turning back. "Goahead.
I'll take the rear."
Seconds later, the three of us were moving along a well-lit but desertedcorridor. There was still no music; nor, as we moved along, could I hear anysounds at all other than our own. "What did you do, scare away all the patrons when you came in?" I murmured.
"Something like that," Nicabar murmured back.
"I hope you scared away the Iykams, too," I said. "Nask implied he had a wholetroop of them guarding the building."
"He did," Ixil said grimly. "Everett and I dealt rather more permanently withthem while the Patth were distracted with you and Nicabar."
"And where is Everett?"
"On guard in the main club area," Ixil said. "It's right up here on theright."
We rounded a corner, to find ourselves at the edge of a garishly decoratedwiggle floor, its flickerlights still playing to its departed clientele, ascattering of spilled drinks and a couple of lost scarves adding color to thefloor itself. Beyond the wiggle floor, surrounding it on all three sides otherthan the one we were on, were the drinking and conversation areas, consistingof a collection of close-packed tables. Most of them sported abandoned bottlesand glasses, with the disarrayed chairs around them evidence of just how rapidlythe club's clientele had departed. The arrangement of lights had put most of theconversation area into deep shadow, a fact I didn't care much for at all.
Especially given that there was no sign of Everett. On guard or otherwise.
Nicabar had made the same observation. "So where is he?" he murmured.
"I don't know," Ixil said as we hugged the corner. "Maybe he went outside forsome reason."
Or maybe the Patth or Iykams had spirited him away, I didn't bother to add. Ifso, the evening was still a long way from being over. "Where's the door?" Iasked.
"There's an emergency exit behind that cluster of orange lights in thecorner,"
Nicabar answered. "It opens onto an alleyway just off one of the majorstreets."
"Let's hope he's out there," I said. "After you."
Silently, Nicabar headed off, angling across the wiggle floor toward theorangelights he'd pointed out. We were about two-thirds of the way across the wigglefloor, pinned like moths in the glow from the flickerlights, when I caught aglimpse of movement from behind the mass of darkened tables to our left.
"Watch it!" I snapped, jabbing a finger that direction.
But my warning was too late. There was the muted flash of a plasma-boltignition, and with a gasped curse Nicabar dropped to one knee, his gun firingspasmodically toward the area where the shot had originated.
"Damn," I snarled, jumping to his side and pulling him flat onto the floor asIxil's plasmic opened up from behind me, laying down a spray of cover fire.
"Shoulder," Nicabar bit out from between clenched teeth, his voice almostinaudible over the rapid-fire hiss of Ixil's plasma fire and the louderthree-millimeter rounds from his own gun. "Not too bad. Can you see him?"
I couldn't, though I could make out vague movements back in the shadows as ourunseen assailant apparently repositioned himself for his next shot. Butwithout a weapon that could reach that far it didn't much matter whether I could seehim or not. Instead, I darted to the edge of the wiggle floor, grabbed the nearesttable, and half shoved, half threw it to where Nicabar was firing.
And then, even as the table skidded with a horrendous screech into a positionwhere he could use it for cover, there was another plasmic flash from just to the right of our attacker's direction, this one accompanied by a startlinglyforlorn sort of squeak. "I got him," a hoarse voice croaked. "Come on—I gothim!"
"Stay here," Ixil ordered quietly, pushing me unceremoniously into the coverof the table beside Nicabar. Before I could do more than flail around for balance he heaved himself up from his prone position on the floor and was gone, chargingin a broken run across the open area with a speed and agility that weresurprising in a being of his size and bulk. Pix and Pax had already made itacross the floor, and I caught a glimpse of them as they disappeared among themaze of tables and chairs on that side. I held my breath, watching Ixil run, waiting in helpless agony for the shot that would take him down.
But that killing shot didn't come; and then he was there, ducking down andusingthe tables for maximum cover as he headed in. Abruptly he stopped. I held mybreath again—"Come on," he called, waving toward us as he holstered hisplasmic.
"It's Everett. He's hurt."
I felt like saying who isn't, but with an effort I managed to restrain myself.
Helping each other, with the added incentive of not knowing whether anotherattacker might be lurking in the shadows somewhere, Nicabar and I made itacross the wiggle floor in record time.
It was indeed Everett, lying beside a tangle of chair legs, and he was indeedhurt. A single plasmic burn, a pretty severe one, in his left thigh just abovethe knee. "I must have been looking the wrong way at the wrong time," heexplained, managing a wan smile as Ixil carefully tore the charred pant legawayfrom the wound. "Sorry."
"Don't worry about it," I said, taking his plasmic from him and making a quickbut careful survey of the area. If there were more attackers lying in wait, theywere being awfully quiet about it. "None of the rest of us are exactly in mintcondition at the moment, either. Where's the chap who was shooting at us?"
"He's over there somewhere," he said, nodding to the side.
"I see him," I said, stepping over to a misshapen bundle on one of the chairsa couple of tables away from Everett's position. The bundle turned out to beanother of the ubiquitous Iykams, this one lying draped across the seat with aplasmic still hanging loosely from his hand. Cause of death was obvious: aclose-range plasmic burn in his back. "Nice shooting."
"Thanks," Everett said, the word cut off by a hissing intake of breath as Ixilfinished with the charred cloth. "I'm sorry I didn't get him sooner—I've beendrifting in and out of consciousness. I didn't even know he was there until hetook that shot at you. How bad is that burn, Revs?"
"Hurts like hell, but I don't think there's any serious damage," Nicabar said.
He was on one knee beside Everett, rummaging around in the medical pack lyingon the floor beside him. "So how come they left you here alive after they shotyou?"
"I don't know," Everett confessed. "I'm just glad they did."
"Ditto," I said. "Can you walk?"
"Do I have a choice?" Everett countered. He dug into the med pack, pushingNicabar's hands impatiently out of the way, and came up with a couple of burnpads. "I presume you know how to apply one of these," he said to Nicabar as hehanded him one of the pads.
"I've had more practice than I care to remember," Nicabar grunted, pulling thecharred shirt material away from his shoulder with stoic disregard for thepain.
"What about you, McKell?" Everett went on as he opened his own pad andarrangedit carefully over his burn. "I seem to remember you being the one we werecharging in to rescue in the first place."
"I'm all right," I assured him. "I could use a painkiller for my head, buttheyhadn't started on the really rough stuff yet. Aside from Ixil, I think I'mprobably in the best shape of all of us."
"I wouldn't tempt fate that way if I were you," Nicabar warned. "Everett?"
"I'm ready," Everett said, wincing once as he pressed the edges of the padfirmly into place against his leg. "Though I may need some help until theanesthetic takes effect."