Lost and found_ a novel - Alan Dean Foster [79]
And still they had not encountered or seen a single one of their captors since entering the accessway that encircled the enclosures. Busy the Vilenjji must be, as she had told them, rounding up the more easily recapturable of their fellow abductees. As they emerged from beneath the thick overhang of the enclosures, Walker could not keep from glancing upward. The misery of those being reimprisoned must be beyond measure, he knew. He could imagine how he would feel if, after a few hours of freedom, he suddenly found himself immobilized and dumped back into his own small enclosure.
Maybe before they were retaken, he thought hopefully, a few of the other escapees had managed, like Braouk at the rampway, to sow a little pain and hurt of their own among the arrogant Vilenjji. It gave him considerable pleasure to imagine the latter slumping to and fro, manipulating their capture devices and weapons as they struggled to retrieve every one of their prisoners. If Sque was right, it would take them some time.
Eventually, though, with no destination in mind and no access to weapons, each and every fleeing captive would eventually be returned to its enclosure. No doubt there would ensue the equivalent of a prison lockdown as the Vilenjji repeatedly counted heads. No matter how many times they repeated the count, they would find four of their captives missing. At which point all the resources of the great ship would be mobilized to find them.
Sque seemed to think they could avoid recapture for some time. Walker did not see how that was possible, but was willing to countenance the fact that a K’eremu might be able to envision possibilities he could not. He certainly hoped so. As they turned down the corridor and headed toward what looked like another blank, solid wall, he knew that without her expertise the Vilenjji would probably pick him up inside an hour. Able to squeeze into smaller hiding places, George might last a day or two longer. Braouk they would find right away—perhaps not to their immediate satisfaction. Remembering the fight at the top of the rampway, Walker experienced a surge of bloodthirsty satisfaction that appalled him. Briefly. He did have some regrets, though.
He regretted not being able to participate more actively in the dismemberment of the last two Vilenjji.
At their approach, a doorway materialized in the wall. Why shouldn’t it? he mused. Only authorized personnel, only authorized Vilenjji, roamed the manifold corridors of the ship. Their very presence authorized their access. Following Sque, they entered another dimly lit passageway. It was narrow, high enough to accommodate the tall Vilenjji, just barely wide and high enough to admit Braouk. As the Tuuqalian ducked slightly to clear the entrance, the door re-formed behind them.
Ahead lay softly humming machinery that was indifferent to their presence, a passage so extensive that he could not see its terminus, and the mysterious but not necessarily unknowable bowels of the Vilenjji ship.
12
His presence not required for the capture at hand, Pret-Klob stood back and observed thoughtfully as the two desperate zZad skittered backward on the ceiling. Suction pads on the ends of their feet allowed them to find a purchase on virtually any surface, while their six multijointed limbs gave them great flexibility. Off to one side, Arud-Tvet was recording everything for future use.
Not a united company of materialistic individuals inclined to waste any opportunity that might lead to profit, the Vilenjji had turned the mass escape from the holding enclosures into an opportunity to learn a great deal more about their inventory. They were not panicked. The only urgency that lent itself to the rounding up of those who had taken flight arose from a desire on the part of their captors to ensure that none of the escapees came to any harm, lest their asking price have to be lowered.
There was some concern because the Tuuqalian was still among the unrecovered.