He crawled out of his various hidey holes and followed the spy. As much as possible, they stayed in the deep shadows cast by the northering sun, and slipped from hummock to hummock where there was no shade. Just before they got to the first of the wounded, Scriber said something more, the scariest words of the afternoon. "Hey,
复件 (19) air max2, don't worry. I've read all about doing this sort of thing!" A mob of frags and wounded is a terrifying, mind-numbing thing. Singletons, duos, trios, a few quads: they wandered aimlessly, keening without control. In most situations, this many people packed together on just a few acres would have been an instant choir. In fact, he did notice some ######ual activity and some organized browsing, but for the most part there was still too much pain for normal reactions. Wickwrackrum wondered briefly if -- for all their talk of rationalism -- the Flenserists would just leave the wreckage of their troops to reassemble itself. They'd have some strange and crippled repacks if they did. A few yards into the mob and Peregrine Wickwrackrum could feel consciousness slipping from him. If he concentrated really hard, he could remember who he was and that he must get to the other side of the meadow without attracting attention. Other thoughts, loud and unguarded, pummeled him: ... Blood lust and slashing ... Glittering metal in the alien's hand ... the pain in her chest ... coughing blood, falling ... ... Boot camp and before,
复件 (64) air max1, my merge brother was so good to me ... Lord Steel said that we are a grand experiment.... Running across the heather toward the stick-limbed monster. Leap, tines in paw. Slash the monster's throat. Blood spouts high. ... Where am I? ... May I be part of you ... please? Peregrine whirled at that last question. It was pointed and near. A singleton was sniffing at him. He screeched the fragment off,
复件 (63) air max, and ran into an open space. Up ahead, Jaque-what's-his-name was scarcely better off. There was little chance they would be spotted here, but he was beginning to wonder if he could make it through. Peregrine was only four and there were singletons everywhere. On his right a quad was raping, grabbing at whatever duos and singles happened by. Wic and Kwk and Rac and Rum tried to remember just why they was here and where they was going. Concentrate on direct sensation; what is really here: the sooty smell of the flamer's liquid fire ... the midges swarming everywhere, clotting the puddles of blood all black. An awfully long time passed. Minutes. Wic-Kwk-Rac-Rum looked ahead. He was almost out of it; the south edge of the wreckage. He dragged himself to a patch of clean ground. Parts of him vomited, and he collapsed. Sanity slowly returned. Wickwrackrum looked up, saw Jaqueramaphan just inside the mob. Scriber was a big fellow, a sixsome,
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复件 (30) air max1, but he was having at least as bad a time as Peregrine. He staggered from side to side, eyes wide,
复件 (100) air max1, snapping at himself and others. Well, they had made it a good way across the meadow, and fast enough to catch up with the whitejackets who was pulling the last alien member. If they wanted to see anything more, they'd have to figure how to leave the mob without attracting attention. Hmm. There were plenty of Flenserist uniforms around ... without living owners. Peregrine walked two of himself over to where a dead trooper lay. "Jaqueramaphan! Here!" The great spy looked in his direction, and a glint of intelligence returned to his eyes. He stumbled out of the mob and sat down a few yards from Wickwrackrum. It was far nearer than would normally be comfortable, but after what they'd been through, it seemed barely close.
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