Quest for the Well of Souls - Jack L. Chalker [86]
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