Still, it could have been worse, Chip admitted. The alien Korozhet had brought the human colonists advance warning of the impending Magh' invasion. And they'd helped defend the capital city of George Bernard Shaw against the first Maggot probes. Even if their FTL ship could not help the humans further-due, according to the Korozhet, to malfunctioning engines-at least they'd brought warning to the colony.

More than that, actually. The Korozhet also had slowshields, and the wondrous soft-cyber implants which had uplifted the rats and bats. The genetic engineers of the colony had "built" the rats and latterly the bats, to flesh out the ranks of the pitifully small human army. Instant genetic uplift was beyond them-but the implants solved that. Yes, the Korozhet had been glad to provide that advanced technology to the colonists-for a price.

And the price was steep, too. The Korozhet had no interest in anything humans had-except a few rare minerals, specialized agricultural products and some small animals which they said were useful medicinal products. It had meant removing precious farmland from food production. Which, in turn, had meant a leaner and even less savory diet for the colony's Vats. Needless to say, in his remaining time as a sous-chef, before he was conscripted, Chip had not noticed any decline in the quality of the Shareholders' cuisine at Chez Henri-Pierre.

He thrust the sour memory aside. The reality of the moment was more than enough to sour anyone.

Chip stared into the distance. "The front lines are a good few miles back that way. We could try to hide back there and break out when the force field goes down for the next push."

One of the rat-girls chittered distress. "Agreed. Our obvious course now-is-to hide." Chip could hear the exhaustion in Melene's voice, and accepted the reality behind it. They had to rest, and soon. The rats had speed, not stamina.