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hanging by both hands now, legs stretched down. She sprang, sailed up along
the wall, gripped his ankles and swarmed up him, the antigrav field again
enclosing both of them. -Moments later she d worked her knees over a grid bar,
had the belt back around Ticos. Breathing hard, he pulled himself up beside
her and reached for the control device.
Fogging up down there, all right! he wheezed. Can t see the door. Might
alert a few more monsters, eh?
Any you can without killing us. Somebody outside the room must know by now
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that the execution plans had hit a snag. Clinging by knees and left hand, Nile
placed the UW s muzzle against one of the grid casings that should have a
force screen generator beneath it, held the trigger down. The beam hissed and
spat. The casing glowed, turned white. An incredible blending of stenches rose
about her suddenly, closing her throat, bringing water to her eyes. She heard
Ticos splutter and cough.
Then the casing gave. Something inside shattered and flared. Wind roared in
above Nile, salty and fresh.
Up and out, Ticos! Screen s gone! She hauled herself up, flung an arm across
the ledge. Her shoulder tingled abruptly. Nerve charge! Parahuans in the lab.
. . . Below her, Ticos made a sound of distress. Straddling the ledge, she
squinted down, saw him blurrily. He d dropped the control gadget, was clinging
to the grid with both hands, shaking in hard convulsions. Heart hammering,
Nile reached for him, caught his arm, brought the low-weight body flopping
over the ledge and into the growth outside the window. He grasped some
branches, was steadying himself, as she turned back.
Half the lab below was obscured by stink-fog emissions, whirled about by the
wind. There was an outburst of desperate hootings one or more Parahuans had
run into a specimen which wasn t bothered by smells. She had glimpses of bulky
shapes milling about, blinded by the fog. They should also be half-strangled
by it. But at least one of them had seen Ticos up here long enough to take aim
with a nerve gun. . . .
The greasy mist swirled aside from a section of floor where four glassy
containers stood on a low table. Nile had seen what was inside them when she
came into the lab. The top of the nearest container splintered instantly now
under the UW s beam. She shifted aim. The startled organism in the shattered
container already was contracting and expanding energetically like a pump. A
second container cracked. As Nile sighted on a third one, a Parahuan reeled
out of the stink-fog cloud, swung a big gun up at the window.
She ducked back behind the ledge. No time for gun duels. And no need. Two of
the containers were broken and she d seen jets of pale vapor spurting from
both. The specimens in them were called acid bombs, with good reason. Nobody
in the lab at present was likely to leave it alive and certainly no one coming
in for a while was going to get out again in good enough condition to report
that the captives had fled by way of the force screen window.
She aimed along the room s ceiling to a point where the central lighting bars
intersected. Something exploded there, and the lab was plunged into darkness.
Nile swung back from the window, the stink-fog s reek wafting about her. Ticos
was leaning against branches, clinging to them, making abrupt jerking motions.
How badly are you hit? she asked quickly.
He grunted. I don t know! I m no weapons specialist. What did hit me?
Something like a neural agitator?
In that class. You didn t stop a full charge, or you wouldn t be on your
feet. With the climb-belt, I can carry you. But if you can move
I can move. I seem able to hold off some of the effects. If I don t slow you
down too much.
Let s try it out, Nile said. They shouldn t be after us immediately. Let me
know if it gets too -difficult. . . .
Her bundle was in the niche of floatwood where she d left it. She opened it
hastily. Ticos stood behind her, clinging to the vegetation, bent over and
gasping for breath. Nile was winded enough herself. They d scramb-led straight
up from the roof of the blockhouse into the forest, cut across south of the
sea-haval rookery, clambered down again toward the lagoon. It hadn t been a
lightweight dance along the branches for her this time. Her muscles knew
they d been working. Even so, Ticos, supported by the climb-belt, had been
pushed very hard to keep up with her. He wasn t equipped with dark-lenses,
wasn t sufficiently skilled in the use of the belt; and at intervals the nerve
gun charge he d absorbed set off spasms of uncontrollable jerking and shaking.
There were antidotes for the last, and no doubt the Parahuans had them. But
there was nothing available here. He d have to work it out. Another five or
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ten minutes of climbing might do it, Nile thought. It had better do it: she
knew now Ticos had lost half his reserves of physical energy since she d seen
him last. If the effects of the alien weapon corresponded at all closely to
those of its humanly produced counterparts, a more central charge should have
killed him quickly. The load he d stopped might still do it, though that
seemed much less likely now.
She fished the pack of dark-lens gel from the pouch, handed it to him. Better
put on your night eyes.
Huh? Oh! Thanks. I can use those.
A series of shrill whistles rose from the lagoon. Ticos head turned quickly.
Sounded almost like one of your otters!
It was. Sweeting. Nile had heard intermittent whistling for the past several
minutes, hadn t mentioned it. The wind still drowned out most other sounds.
She pried the end of the buti stem open with her knife. Got the lenses in
place?
Yes.
Then let s see how fast you can put on a coat of buti. We might have a
problem here rather soon.
Ticos took the stem, began rubbing sap hurriedly over his clothes.
Parahuans? he asked.
Perhaps. Something seems to be coming this way along the lagoon. That was
Sweeting s warning signal. Did you know your friends had a tarm here?
I ve seen it. Ticos tone held shock, but he didn t stop working. You think
that s what s
It s more likely to be the tarm than Parahuans.
What can we do, Nile?
Buti seems to be good cover if it doesn t see us. The thing got close to me
once before. If it comes this far, it probably will find our trail. I ll go
see what Sweeting has to tell. You finish up with the buti. But don t smear
the stuff on your shoe soles yet.
Why not?
I think we can lose the tarm here. It may not be too healthy by now anyway.
He looked up briefly, made a sound that was almost a laugh.
More Tuvela work?
This Tuvela has little helpers. Nile switched on the otter-caller, moved
quickly toward the lagoon. At the edge of the water she stood glancing about,
listening. Nothing significant to be seen. The blurred snarling of engines
came for a moment from the general direction of the blockhouse. Then Sweeting
broke the surface below her.
Nile, you watch out! Tarm s coming!
Nile rejoined Ticos moments later. The tarm was -approaching through the
floatwood above water level. It might be casting about for their trail, or
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