Harvest Time

17 - Rats

Below us, the eleven intact rats were clustered together, plugged into their feeding column. As before they were stacked either two or three high, the vertical spaces between their bodies hardly any more than a hand's breadth. Because their height was little more than a third of our own, it made access to the crowns of those on top relatively easy – provided they remained idle, of course.

I glanced past them to the masher. There was fresh gore sliding down the inside of its glass surface.

"I'll do it," Emla whispered, adding, "Don't argue – I'm lighter and better at climbing," when my mouth opened to do just that.

I removed the backpack from my shoulders, opened it and pulled out some rope. Emla shrugged off her backpack but, while mine contained food and weapons in addition to the rope, hers was filled with plastic sheets: ones we hoped would lead back to Nervanna, others that represented possible new worlds to explore, and a good number of sheets that were blank other than the grids already marked on them, ready to record new patterns. One also contained the coordinates for Earth.

We tied one end of the rope to the guard rail of the walkway as close to where the rats slept as we dared. The rope had been knotted every few inches and Emla had practised climbing and descending it for the past few days back in the forest. The end dangled about half an arm's length above the floor. Below us, the rats slept. I tied another piece of rope around myself and anchored it to the walkway behind me, the intention being to allow extra leverage for me to haul Emla up should any of the rats awaken.

Emla swung her legs over the edge and started the descent. I kept my eyes on the rats, listening and looking for the slightest movement. After a few seconds, Emla's feet touched the ground and my heart was in my mouth. With one hand touching the rope, she leaned towards a rat, her hand passing just above its upper casing to enable her fingers to reach the four-studded dome that each rat possessed upon its crown. One stud on the dome could be identified by the larger nut on the bolt that held it in place. With only a couple of inches between her body and that of the rat, Emla pressed the stud and it clicked home noisily enough to echo around the entire depot. I stopped breathing for a moment, but the rats remained static.

According to the manual that we had given Elcanah, depressing that particular stud should disable a rat for a couple of hours. However, a timing mechanism would automatically pop the stud back out again enabling the rat to resume normal operation.

"Is there a way to turn them off permanently?" Emla had asked.

"Possibly," Elcanah said, "but it took me long enough to figure this bit out."

Emla released the rope and approached the second stack of rats. She paused before reaching out to press the identical stud on the top one. She pressed down slowly and the resultant click was less audible.

To reach a third rat, she had to walk further away from where the rope hung. She seemed to take forever, her bare feet making no noise that I could hear. The stud was eventually pressed and stayed down. Emla beamed a quick grin back up at me. The three rats whose studs she had pressed were those sitting on top of two others. The fourth stack was only two rats high, easier to access but further away. A few seconds later, Emla had pressed the top one's stud as well.

Now it became more difficult.

The tops of the remaining seven rats were covered by those perched on top of them, leaving only a small gap into which Emla could insert her hand. She leaned over to peer between the two rats of that furthest stack and squinted. Then, squatting slowly, she inserted her hand between them and I held my breath.

There was no click and Emla withdrew her hand to peer in once more. She reached in a second time and then I heard the click. This time it echoed in a different way, possibly because it was underneath the upper rat, but it was enough to make Emla freeze in place as well.