And when an outpost was attacked, there was just one thing to do — only one thing that was expected of it. To inflict as much damage as possible and fall back in good order. To fall back in good order.
There were more of them now. They had sawed or chewed or somehow achieved a rathole through the locked front door and they were coming in — closing in to make the kill. They squatted in rows along the floor. They scurried up the walls and ran along the ceiling.
Crane rose to his feet, and there was an air of confidence in the six feet of his human frame. He reached a hand out to the draining board and his fingers closed around the length of pipe. He hefted it in his hand — it was a handy and effective club.
There will be others later, he thought. And they may think of something better. But this is the first skirmish and I will fall back in the best order that I can.
He held the pipe at the ready.
‘Well, gentlemen?’ he said.