Daunt shouted, "No!" Then four blobs of goo splashed simultaneously against Paulette’s ravaged armor, scattering sticky beads all over her body. Dozens of droplets found their way through holes in the armor, holes burned by the previous round of shots. Paulette sucked in her breath, then screamed, "Shit! Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!"

"Don’t say that!" Ramos bellowed. Shoving past Tic, she yelled furiously at the robots, "Stop, you’re stabbing us. Stop, you’re making us bleed!" Festina: doing the only thing left. "Grab my waist," Tic barked at me. "I can parachute you down to the next level."

"And run out on everyone else?"

"Save yourself, damn it!" Ramos called over her shoulder.

"Yes, go! Now!" That came from Daunt; he’d thrown himself forward the moment Paulette was hit, and now stood between her and the androids. The androids had stopped their advance, all four of them standing across the tunnel like a wall, giving their jelly guns another few seconds to pressurize. They seemed in no hurry; they had us all in range.

"Faye!" Tic said. "Grab me! There’s no time left."

But there was.

Flickering into existence from nowhere, a tube of light appeared in the tunnel. Purple. Blue. Green. One end of the tube opened wide, straight in front of me. The rest of it stretched back up the shaft, floating weightless in the air, over the heads of the androids and on into the distance. In some spots, the tube narrowed to the breadth of my arm; in others, it widened to fill the whole tunnel, its diameter fluctuating from moment to moment, shimmering peacock tinsel.

Tic gasped in surprise. "Xe?"

"No, it’s a Sperm-tail," Ramos told him. "Escape route."

Before I could react, she slammed me hard across the shoulders and knocked me into the tube.

I’d shot through transport tubes before, but never in the unprotected flesh. To ride Bonaventure’s up-sleeve, you always got put into stasis: sit down in a transport capsule, wait for the stasis field to ‹bink› on, and next thing you know, an attendant says, "Welcome to North Orbital Terminus." No jolt, no bump, no sensation of passage.

But this time, I wasn’t in stasis.

Forward — I flew helpless-forward through the tube. When it compressed, I compressed. When it expanded, I did too. Bones didn’t crunch, even as I squeezed through tight spots a centimeter across or ballooned out fat several meters wide… but I felt it all, felt my body pulled like plasticine, twisted-kneaded-sculpted to match the peacock tube’s shape. The forces working me were blandly impersonal, crushing me, then rolling me out pastry-style; yet beyond all that wrenching and wringing I got the feel of a tangible sentience. Something that knew me. Something that felt queer-familiar.

Who? What?

But no time to mull over questions. Suddenly I was spat clear out of the tube, onto a scratchy heap of carpet moss — one of those thin beds that grew along the edges of the tunnel. As soon as I rolled to my feet I could see the surface only a few paces in front of me. Gray daylight seeped down from the outside world, mixing with the purple, blue, green glow of the peacock tube that stretched back into the mine…

"Waaaaah!" Tic cried, spurting out of the tube. His gliders were half-spread; he shot forward through the air, nearly flying straight out of the tunnel before he managed to stop himself. As he landed, he sputtered a ripping-blue dictionary of Oolom words I’d never heard before — vocabulary that somehow didn’t come up when I’d learned the language in junior school.

I’d have to ask him what the words meant. Always eager to learn, our Faye.

Paulette squirted next from the tube, landing bang near my heels. Before I could help her, she forced herself to her feet; but then she got the wobbles and had to catch her balance against the tunnel wall. "Stay back!" she croaked as I stepped toward her. "You’ll get burned."

Smoke still streamed off her. The armor had so many wet gummy patches smeared across its surface, there couldn’t be any place safe to touch her. I reached out anyway, but she jerked away, and growled, "Don’t be witless. I can walk."

She stumbled forward, heading outside. I called to Tic, "See that she gets to the skimmer. I’ll wait for…"

Festina barreled out of the tube. Before she even touched the floor, she had tucked into somersault position; she rolled silvery-smooth with the impact of landing and was on her feet in a split second, fists up in a boxer’s guard position.

"Gone through Sperm-tubes before?" I asked.

"Too many times," she said. "Now move. I’ll wait for Daunt."

I didn’t budge. If Daunt needed one person to help him, he might need two.

He came through three seconds later, armor smoking with acid. The androids must have got off another round of jelly shots before he escaped. Where he landed, the carpet moss began to smolder; but he pushed himself up, and said, "I’m all right. Let’s go."

I turned for one last look at the peacock tube. It was gone, vanished, who knows where. But from far down the tunnel came the slam, slam, slam of android feet running full tilt toward us. "Move!" Ramos shouted, giving my shoulder a shove. But I had figured that out for myself.

When we’d walked in from the skimmer, it had seemed like a short trip. Running back was a whole lot farther.

Paulette did her best, but she couldn’t move near as fast as the rest of us. Now and then, stabs of pain made her groan — trying to race in that burning armor must have brought skin into contact with spots where the acid had eaten through. We could tell she was in blazing agony, no matter how she fought to hide it. She staggered forward, doing no better than a slow jog while the rest of us on foot kept pace with her.

Tic circled overhead keeping pace too, but Daunt ordered him to bolt full speed for the skimmer. "Get it open, get the engine running. That’s what we need." I could see Tic wanting to argue; but someone had to get the skimmer ready, and he could zip ahead faster than us Homo saps. Proctors don’t waste time fighting the necessary — he trimmed his gliders for maximum speed and shot forward toward the lakeshore.

Muffled thumps sounded behind us; the androids had reached the surface and were thudding across the carpet moss. "Damn," I muttered. I’d hoped the robots might be programmed not to come out into daylight — that the bad guys, whoever they were, worried about the robots being seen. Apparently not. The androids’ highest priority was eliminating us witnesses.

"Leave me," Paulette gasped, teeth clenched against the pain. "Ridiculous everyone dying."

"No one’s going to die," Daunt told her. But he was speaking for the sake of form: the skimmer was too far away, the androids too close. We weren’t going to make it.

Xe, Xe, Xe, I thought desperately. Peacock, whatever you are, we need you again.

No response.

Looking around for a weapon or something to use as a shield, I noticed Ramos wasn’t with us anymore. She’d stopped back a ways and was fiddling with something in her hands.

"What are you doing?" I yelled.

She didn’t answer, still concentrating on whatever she was holding. The second she finished with it, she wheeled back toward us, running. "Hope it’s still in range," was all she said as she caught up with us.

Paulette stumbled on. The rest of us kept right at her back, ready to stand as a barrier between her and the androids.

The androids: getting nearer. Two in front, two farther behind. The front pair pulling within jelly-gun range. Raising their pistols…

Roaring out of the sky, a sleek black missile speared down at the two robots like holy vengeance. One of Festina’s probes. She must have signaled it to forget about its search pattern and come save our butts. I could feel the probe’s triumphant glee a split second before it hit; then I was thrown off my feet by the earthquake impact of the missile ramming home, smashing the androids to metal confetti against the rocky ground.