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heading toward definite destinations. Usually they lead to other structures.
This one makes no sense. It just sort of winds off uncertainly to no place.
Compared to your usual Alaspinian road or passage, this one's constructed like
somebody's small intestine."
"What do you expect to find at the end of it?" Flinx asked her.
She shrugged and smiled hopefully. "Storeroom, if we're lucky. Iridium temple
masks, city treasury, anything else valuable the Mimmisompo priests wanted to
hide and protect. Maybe even a religious scepter. They usually used
crysorillium, and sapphire to decorate those scepters. Might even have some
opalized diamonds."
"No doubt all of great scientific value," mused Flinx.
She threw him a warning look. "Don't criticize, Flinx, until you've had to
spend ten years on useless projects presided over by pompous asses with
well-connected parents. Remember, I'd rather be doing some worthwhile research
on my home planet. For me, this is a means to an end."
"Sorry," Flinx admitted. "I was-"
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September broke in. "Apologies later, lad," he declared, rolling over to take
up the trigger of the Mark Twenty. Angry hoots were drifting up the tunnel
toward them. "Here they come again."
But the big man's concern was premature. The hooting came no nearer, though it
continued not far from them.
September peered over the top of the shielding wall, "Probably having a final,
violent disagreement over tactics," he theorized pleasantly. The hooting grw
louder, and Flinx thought he heard sounds of fighting.
"Sounds lice they're plenty angry at one another, Good! A couple of the
warrior-primes are squabbling. They might end up fighting each other. Otoids
have short tempers. It's been known to happen."
Hasboga nodded confirmation. "A few reports of natives attacking miners and
outposts and ending up by massacring each other have been substantiated." She
looked almost excited. "The only thing the
Otoids hate worse than themselves are human or thranx interlopers. We might
have a chance!"
"Lopers, mopers, lazy daze," came a high-pitched verse from behind them.
"Moping, moping, eating maize ... oh say can you see the canticle me."
September glanced briefly back at Ab. The alien was amusing himself at the far
end of the excavation by, juggling rocks with his four hands. Something struck
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the giant, and he eyed Flinx appraisingly.
"How about sending out your property as a decoy?' It would tell us if they're
too busy with each other to bother us." He hurried on before Flinx could
reply. "There's a chance the Otoid will be so fascinated by him that they'll
take him for a prize- he's got four eyes, to our two apiece- and they ll leave
without risking any more dead.
"No," an angry Flinx replied. He said it firmly, so that there would be no
mistake about it.
That did not keep September from arguing. "Why not, lad? You've admitted he's
a burden on you.
He's obviously madder than a bloodhyper and no good to anyone, and he might
even slip through, depending on how many shafts he can take."
"Ab," Flinx responded very slowly, "is an intelligent creature."
September snorted. "It might save our lives."
"He's completely helpless," Flinx continued tightly, "totally dependent on our
judgment.
Furthermore, Ab trusts me. I wouldn't send him out there" -he gestured down
the tunnel-" any more than I would a crippled cat."
"I was afraid of that." September sighed, looking over at Hasboga.
"Our young lad is an idealist."
"Don't be too sure of yourself, September," Flinx warned him. "Idealism's an
affliction I can put aside when I have to."
"Take it easy, lad," September cautioned him. "Isili, what say you, woman?"
Hasboga turned to stare at her associate, then looked across to Flinx. "The
creature is the boy's responsibility and property," she declared, her gaze
never wavering from Flinx's face. "We still don't know if the abos are
fighting among themselves. Let's wait and see what they do. I'm not ready to
vote for anything drastic until we start running out of food and water. Ab
stays, if that's the way the youth wants it."
"Musical, musical, think time contusional," rhymed Ab, happily ignorant of the
state of his fate and unaware that it had just been informally decided.
"We'll wait on then," September agreed, giving in gracefully. "I just don't
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