Death World(科幻战争)-第5部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！


insects；　as　did　simultaneous　shots　from　Greiss；　Woods　and　Donovits。　But　there　were　too　many　of
them。　The　cloud　seemed　hardly　to　have　lessened　in　size。
Myers　and　Storm　had　flung　their　packs　to　the　ground；　and　they　pulled　out　the　constituent　parts　of
a　heavy　flamer。　They　clicked　them　together；　then　Storm　steadied　the　bulky　weapon　while　Myers
aimed　it　at　the　swarm。　The　first　explosion　of　fire　singed　the　ends　of　Muldoon’s　hair；　and　lit　up　one
flank　of　the　insect　cloud；　sending　them　streaking　to　the　ground　as　dying　embers。　Muldoon　hurled
himself　face…first　into　the　undergrowth；　giving　Myers　a　clearer　second　shot　that　took　out　the　bulk　of
the　remaining　swarm。
There　were　still　more　than　a　dozen　insects　crawling　over　Muldoon；　but　he　rolled　and　crushed
those　that　couldn’t　take　flight　in　time。　The　others　rushed　to　stamp　on　the　rest；　or　to　skewer　them　with
blades。　Myers　and　Storm　aimed　one　final；　precautionary　blast　of　flame　at　the　ground　from　which　the
swarm　had　risen。　Then　the　Catachans　surrounded　Muldoon　where　he　lay　on　his　back。　He　blinked　up
at　them；　flushed　and　chagrined；　his　face　pimply　with　insect　bites。
25
“What　the　hell　do　you　think　you’re　doing；　Muldoon？”　barked　Greiss　without　sympathy。　“You
know　better　than　to　disturb　an　insect　nest。　You　didn’t　see　it？”
“I　saw　it；　sergeant；”　said　Muldoon。　“I　was　giving　it　a　wide　berth；　but　the　bugs　came　out　fighting
all　the　same。”
“They　must　be　sensitive　to　vibrations　in　the　ground；”　guessed　Donovits。　“Or　to　body　heat—
though　that’s　less　likely　in　this　climate。　But　why　would　they　attack　if　their　nest　wasn’t　directly
threatened？”
“Just　antisocial；　I　guess；”　said　Greiss；　reaching　down　to　help　Muldoon　to　his　feet。　“You　feeling
alright；　Sharkbait？”
“Like　a　walking；　talking　colander；”　said　Muldoon　ruefully。　“They　took　chunks　out　of　me　all
over。　I　got　them　in　my　boots；　under　my　backpack；　in　my　collar…”
“Show　me；”　rapped　Greiss。
The　sergeant　spent　the　next　few　minutes　examining　Muldoon’s　bites。　Lorenzo　knew　why。　On
Catachan；　there　was　a　creature　known　as　the　vein　worm；　which　burrowed　into　its　victim’s　flesh　and
laid　its　eggs　in　his　bloodstream。　Greiss　intended　to　make　sure　these　alien　insects　had　left　no　similar
surprises　in　his　trooper。　When　he’d　satisfied　himself　on　that　count；　he　asked　Muldoon　to　tell　him
how　many　fingers　he　was　holding　up；　checking　for　toxins　that　may　have　begun　to　cloud　his　senses。
Muldoon　answered　correctly；　and　Greiss　rewarded　him　with　a　grim　smile；　and　clapped　him　on　the
arm。　“You’ll　live；”　he　concluded。　“Probably。”
“Do　you　think　we　can　get　on　now？”　asked　Mackenzie；　impatiently。
They　proceeded　more　cautiously　after　that；　with　Woods　and　Donovits　taking　over　cutting　duty　up
front。　As　soon　as　Woods　sighted　a　second　nest　in　among　the　creepers；　they　all　fell　back；　and　Myers
and　Storm　readied　the　flamer。　“What　are　you　waiting　for？”　cried　Mackenzie。　“Just　torch　the　damn
thing！”　But　the　troopers　turned　to　Greiss　for　confirmation　of　that　order；　and　the　grizzled　sergeant
shook　his　head　and　reached　for　a　stick。
He　flung　it　at　the　hive；　and　once　again　a　cloud　of　black　insects　darkened　the　air。　Myers’　finger
twitched　on　his　trigger；　ready　to　unleash　a　stream　of　fire　should　any　man　be　threatened。　The　insects；
however；　didn’t　seem　to　have　detected　the　watching　Catachans。　They　buzzed　around　for　a　while；
finding　no　one　upon　whom　to　expend　their　wrath；　and　then　settled　resentfully　back　into　their
disturbed　home。
“What　the　hell　was　the　point　of　that？”　demanded　Mackenzie。　“You　just　wanted　to　provoke　those
things？”
“To　observe　’em。”　Greiss　corrected　him。　“Anyone　else　see　what　I　saw？”
“The　red　flower　over　there；”　spoke　up　Donovits。　“The　insects　were　giving　it　a　wide　berth。”
Greiss　nodded。　“Let’s　find　out；　shall　we？”
He　followed　Donovits’　pointing　finger　to　a　delicate　red　flower　sprouting　from　the　trunk　of　a　tree。
It　had　eight　perfectly　formed　petals；　and　it　ost　beautiful　thing　Lorenzo　had　seen　on
this　world　so　far。　That　left　him　in　no　doubt　that　it　was　dangerous。
Greiss　found　another　stick；　and　poked　the　head　of　the　flower　with　it。　Immediately；　its　petals
snapped　shut　like　a　vice；　gripping　the　stick　so　strongly　that　he　couldn’t　pull　it　free。　He　tried　to　uproot
the　flower　with　a　yank；　but　its　hold　on　the　tree　behind　it　was　just　as　tenacious。　It　was　crying；　letting
out　a　shrill　wailing　sound　that；　after　a　few　seconds；　bored　into　Lorenzo’s　ears　like　a　drill。
Greiss　whipped　out　his　fang；　and　sliced　the　head　of　the　flower　from　its　stem。　Immediately；　the
wailing　ceased　and　the　red　petals　flopped　open。　Greiss　turned；　and　displayed　the　decapitated　head　to
the　others。　“Doesn’t　seem　too　dangerous　on　its　own；”　he　commented；　“but　watch　one　of　these　things
doesn’t　grab　your　ankle。　It　might　just　hold　you　still　long　enough　for　something　bigger　to　come
along。”
26
A　flutter　of　wings　drew　everyone’s　attention　upwards。　A　shadow　flitted　between　the　trees；　and
was　gone。　A　bird　of　prey；　Lorenzo　surmised；　answering　the　flower’s　alarm　call；　put　off　by　the
number　of　strangers　present　and　by　the　fact　that　none　of　them　were　immobilised。
“Now；”　said　Greiss。　He　flipped　the　flower　head　onto　the　insect　nest；　and　withdrew　to　safety
again。　This　time；　there　was　a　distressed　quality　to　the　displaced　insects’　humming—and　a　definite
direction　to　their　flight。　Within　a　minute；　they　were　all　gone；　deeper　into　the　jungle。
Donovits　nodded。　“They　didn’t　like　that。　The　flower　probably　preys　on　the　insects；　so　they’ve
learned　to　detect　its　scent　and　avoid　it。”
“All　right；”　rapped　Greiss；　“everyone　spread　out；　look　for　more　of　these　flowers。”
Mackenzie’s　nostrils　flared。　“I　think　you’re　forgetting　who’s　giving　the　orders　here；　sergeant。”
“If　you’ve　got　a　better　idea；　commissar。”　Greiss　shot　back。　“Now’s　the　time　to　speak　up。”
“Sergeant；”　protested　Hotshot　Woods；　“you　expect　us　to　wear　flowers　in　our　hair　now？”
“In　your　hair；　in　your　lapel；　down　your　trousers；”　growled　Greiss；　“I　don’t　care　what　you　do　with
’em；　Hotshot；　just　as　long　as　you　wind　up　smelling　right。”
As　he　joined　the　search；　Lorenzo　noticed　that　Muldoon　was　looking　a　bit　woozy。　The　trooper
pulled　himself　together　when　he　saw　he　was　being　observed；　and　he　smiled　grimly。　“Dizzy　spell；”
he　said；　apologetically。　“I　think　those　damn　bugs　sucked　a　few　pints　of　blood　out　of　me。　I　just　need　a
minute…”
Lorenzo　kept　an　eye　on　Muldoon　after　that；　and　realised　he　wasn’t　the　only　member　of　the　squad　to
be　doing　so。　He　was　usually　more　zealous　than　any　of　them；　with　the　possible　exception　of
Woods—always　scouting　ahead　with　a　gleam　in　his　eye；　a　feral　smile　on　his　face　and　his　night
reaper　in　his　hand。　Now；　however；　he　lagged　behind；　finding　the　going　tough。　They　all　had　plant
tendrils　grasping　and　tearing　at　their　heels；　of　course—but　Muldoon　was　the　only　man　particularly
troubled　by　them。　He　lost　his　footing　a　number　of　times；　and　almost　fell；　but　Lorenzo　knew　better
than　to　offer　assistance　where　it　wasn’t　requested。
Muldoon　was　swigging　too　freely　from　his　bottle；　too；　the　other　Catachans　were　taking　it　steady；
not　knowing　when　they　might　find　fresh　water。
“You’re　worried　about　him；　aren’t　you？”　said　a　low　voice　beside　Lorenzo。　It　was　Braxton。
He　shrugged。　“What　do　you　think？　You　ever　come　across　bugs　like　that　before　on　Rogar？　Seen　a
man　bitten　by　one？”
“A　few　times；　yes。　Didn’t　seem　to　do　any　lasting　harm。　I’ve　never　seen　a　swarm　attack　like　that；
though。”
Lorenzo　nodded。　“Bugs　carry　diseases；”　he　said　knowledgeably。　“Sharkbait　might　get　lucky—or
he　might　get　sick。　Real　sick；　real　soon。　Or　real　dead。　That’s　why　Old　Hardhead　had　us　take
precautions。”　They　had　all　teased　sap　from　the　stems　of　the　red　flowers；　rubbed　it　into　their　faces
and　hands。　“New　world；　new　rules—and　there’s　only　one　way　to　learn　what　they　are。　Sharkbait
knows　that　as　well　as　the　rest　of　us　do。”
“Why　do　you　call　him　Sharkbait？”
“Before　my　time；”　said　Lorenzo。
Dougan　fell　into　step　beside　them。　“Poseidon　Delta；”　he　grunted。　“We　had　to　cross　a　swamp；　but
there　was　a　catch。　The　mother　of　all　marsh　sharks。　It　hunted　by　radar；　could　detect　a　ripple　on　the
surface　from　ten　kilometres。　The　span　of　its　jaws　was　wider　than　you　are　tall。　Sharkbait—he　was
just　Trooper　Muldoon　then—took　a　Sentinel　in。　You　saw　them　at　the　camp：　armoured　hunter…killer
machines。　Chainsaws；　flamers…　We　use　them　when　we　don’t　exactly　care　about　being　subtle。　But
this　Sentinel　got　its　leg　jammed　in　the　mud；　came　crashing　right　down。　And　the　marsh　shark　was
there；　of　course；　peeling　back　the　outsides　of　the　crew　compartment　like　a　tin　opener。　It　got　Reed；
swallowed　him　whole。　But　Muldoon…
27
We　were　firing　our　lasguns　from　the　bank。　The　shots　just　glanced　off　this　monster；　gave　it　no
more　than　a　bad　case　of　sunburn。　Muldoon　was　lying　there；　pinned　by　the　wreckage；　going　under；
and　this　shark　was　rearing　over　him；　coming　in　for　the　kill。　We　thought　he　was　a　goner。　Then；　calm
as　you　like；　he　just　reached　into　its　mouth；　slung　a　whole　pack　of　frag　grenades　down　its　throat。
We　didn’t　even　hear　the　explosion；　the　damn　thing’s　hide　was　so　thick。　But　suddenly；　it　was
thrashing　and　groaning　like　it　had　the　worst　case　of　bellyache　in　history。　Then　it　went　down。　Greiss
and　me；　we　went　in　and　pulled　Muldoon　out　of　the　mud。　He　was　lucky　not　to　have　lost　an　arm—or　a
head。　If　that　shark　had　snapped　its　teeth　shut　just　a　fraction　of　a　second　sooner…　I　don’t　recall　a
discussion。　We　all　knew　‘Sharkbait’　Muldoon　had　earned　his　name；　that　day。”
“That’s　important　to　you　people；　isn’t　it？”　said　Braxton。　“Earning　your　name。　I’ve　heard
Hotshot；　Old　Hardhead—and　they　call　you　Steel　Toe；　right？”
“Another　story；”　said　Dougan；　“for　another　day。”
“And　‘Sly’　Marbo？”
“Never　been　quite　sure　about　that　one；”　Dougan　confessed；　“if　it’s　an　earned　name　or　a　given
name　or　just　something　he’s　picked　up　along　the　way。　Seems　to　suit　him　fine；　though。　What’s　with
all　the　questions；　son？”
“Eagle　&　Bolter；”　said　Braxton。　“Just　wanted　a　bit　of　background　info　for　my　piece。　Everyone
knows　what　you　Jungle　Fighters　do；　but　no　one　really　knows　all　that　much　about　you。　I　thought；　if　I
could　tell　them　what　life’s　like　where　you　come　from—Catachan；　right？—there　might　be　a　few　less；
uh；　misunderstandings。”
Dougan　nodded。　“A　word　of　advice；　son。　Not　everyone　likes　to　talk。　Oh；　stick　around　long
enough　and　you’ll　hear　all　the　old　war　stories；　all　right—but　you　start　probing　someone　like　Old
Hardhead　about　his　past；　and　he’s　liable　to　probe　you　in　return。　With　his　bayonet；　in　your　guts。”
Braxton　fell　silent　for　a　time；　after　that。　But　it　wasn’t　long　before　he　turned　to　Lorenzo；　and
asked　the　question　the　Catachan　had　been　dreading。
“So；　what’s　your　earned　name；　Lorenzo？”
“Don’t　have　one。”　Lorenzo　said。　Not　that　he　had　anything　to　be　ashamed　of。　“Not　yet。”
Armstrong　was　the　first　to　hear　them。　He　froze；　listening；　and　the　others　did　the　same　one　by　one。
Footsteps；　crashing　through　the　undergrowth。　A　guttural　grunt　that　could　only　have　been　formed
by　a　larynx。　There　was　somebody　nearby。　Several　somebodies—and　not　bothering　to　hide　their
presence。　Braxton　turned　to　Lorenzo；　and　mouthed　silently；　“Marbo？”　Lorenzo　shook　his　head。
A　second　later；　the　Catachans　had　melted　into　their　background—and　Lorenzo　saw　the
confusion　in　Braxton’s　face　as　he　turned　to　find　himself　standing　alone。　Lorenzo　himself　had　slipped
behind　a　tree　trunk　and　was　hugging　its　contours。　Muldoon　had　chosen　the　same　hiding　place；　and
was　crouched　down　beside　him。　From　close　up；　Lorenzo　could　see　that　Muldoon　was　running　a
fever。　His　bandana　was　soaked　with　sweat；　and　his　breathing　was　hoarse　and　ragged。
Storm　lay　flat　on　the　ground　nearby。　He　had　arranged　a　few　creepers　across　himself；　breaking　up
the　lines　of　his　body　so　that　its　patterns　blended　perfectly　with　those　of　the　foliage。　From　any　further
away；　and　most　other　angles；　he　would　have　been　invisible。　Indeed；　to　Lorenzo；　the　rest　of　the
Catachans　were　invisible。　He　could　make　out　only　one　other　outline—that　of　Commissar
Mackenzie；　trying　to　conceal　himself　behind　a　blossoming　nettle　plant。
Guardsman　Braxton　caught　on；　and　ducked　under　cover　himself。
More　footsteps；　and　the　rustling　of　leaves。　Whatever　was　out　there；　they　were　coming　closer。
Eight　or　nine　of　them；　Lorenzo　now　estimated。　Too　small；　too　nimble；　to　be　the　muscular；　lumbering
orks。　Gretchin；　most　likely。　Genetic　cousins　to　the　orks—smaller；　weaker；　subservient；　but　far　more
cunning。　If　they　realised　they　were　outnumbered；　they　were　likely　to　scatter　and　run；　take　word　to
their　masters。
28
There　was　no　urgency　to　their　movements。　Chances　were；　they　didn’t　know　they　had　enemies
nearby。　The　gretchin　were　probably　just　out　foraging—but　they　might　get　lucky。　Thick　as　the　jungle
was；　they　wouldn’t　see　the　Catachans’　trail　of　severed　tendrils　and　uprooted　plants　unless　they
stumbled　right　onto　it。　It　sounded　to　Lorenzo；　though；　like　they　were　within　a　bloodwasp’s　length　of
doing　just　that。
Suddenly；　somebody　slammed　into　him　from　behind。
Lorenzo　was　taken　by　surprise；　winded。　No　mean　feat—but　then　this　attack　had　come　from　the
last　direction　he’d　expected。　From　a　comrade；　a　man　he’d　entrusted　with　his　life　countless　times；　and
who　was　now　bearing　him　down　into　the　dirt；　eyes　ablaze　with　madness；　a　black　knife　raised　to
strike　at　Lorenzo’s　throat。
Muldoon　was　trying　his　best　to　kill　him。
And　he　was　screaming　with　incoherent　fury　as　he　did　so—a　sound　that　could　hardly　have　failed
to　reach　the　gretchin’s　ears。
29
CHAPTER　FIVE
Muldoon　was　bigger　and　stronger　than　Lorenzo；　and　certainly　heavier。　Lorenzo　was　pinned　to　the
ground　by　his　weight；　the　jungle　grass　now　growing　above　his　head；　rough　against　his　neck　and　his
cheeks。　His　right　arm；　and　his　Catachan　fang　in　its　sheath；　were　trapped　under　Muldoon’s　knees。　All
he　could　do　was　strike　out　with　his　left　elbow；　knocking　his　attacker’s　knife　hand　aside。
Muldoon’s　night　reaper　was　smaller　than　Lorenzo’s　fang；　but　just　as　deadly。　Its　blade　was
triangular；　shaped　to　leave　a　large　entrance　wound　that　wouldn’t　clot—and　knowing　Muldoon　it　was
almost　certainly　poisoned。　Probably　with　the　venom　of　a　jungle　lizard。　He　was　always　the　first　of　the
Catachans　to　turn　a　deathworld’s　threats　to　his　advantage。
Lorenzo　kicked　out　with　both　feet；　trying　to　unseat　Muldoon；　but　Muldoon　knew　too　well　how　to
spread　his　weight　to　maintain　his　balance。　That　knife　hand　was　coming　around　to　strike　again。
Muldoon　loomed　over　Lorenzo；　his　unshaven　features　crazed　with　blind　fury；　his　eyes　wide；　white；
unblinking。　There　was　no　point　talking　to　him；　in　appealing　to　reason。　He　was　too　far　gone。　There
was　no　way　to　know　what　was　going　on　in　Muldoon’s　head；　what　those　insect　bites　were　making
him　see；　but　Lorenzo　would　have　laid　odds　he　didn’t　even　recognise　his　old　comrade　right　now。　He
was　fighting　his　own　daemons。
He　couldn’t　afford　to　hold　back。　He　found　Muldoon’s　face　with　his　free　hand　and　dug　his
fingernails　into　his　eyes。　Momentarily　blinded；　Muldoon　threw　back　his　head　and　let　out　an
uncharacteristic　howl　of　pain　and　rage。　Lorenzo　pulled　his　right　arm　free；　twisted　out　of　the　path　of　a
badly　aimed　knife　blow　and　seized　Muldoon’s　wrist　in　his　left　hand。　He　tried　to　shake　Muldoon’s
grip　on　his　weapon；　but　his　fingers　were　locked　around　its　haft。　As　Muldoon　lashed　out　again；
Lorenzo　guided　his　thrust　and　buried　the　night　reaper’s　blade　in　the　ground　beside　his　head。
If　Muldoon　had　been　in　his　right　mind；　he　would　have　abandoned　the　knife　until　it　was　safe　to
retrieve　it。　Working　on　primal　instinct；　however；　he　only　knew　the　night　reaper　was　a　part　of　him；
his　most　important　possession；　and　he　all　but　forgot　about　Lorenzo　as　he　struggled　to　reclaim　it　from
the　unyielding　earth。　Lorenzo　crawled　out　from　beneath　him；　and　tackled　him　side…on。　He　hurled
blow　after　blow　at　Muldoon’s　head；　praying　each　time　that　the　next　one　would　be　the　one　to　put　him
down；　knowing　he　was　made　of　sterner　stuff　than　that。　He　was　afraid　he　wouldn’t　be　able　to　stop
him　without　inflicting　a　lasting　injury。
Lorenzo　could　have　drawn　his　own　knife。　He　could　reach　it　now。　Against　any　other　foe；　he
would　have　done　it。　He　would　have　ended　this。
Blood　rushed　in　his　ears；　dulling　his　senses。　He　could　hear；　though；　that　the　rest　of　his　squad　had
broken　cover。　They　were　slashing　and　beating　their　way　through　the　jungle；　regardless　of　the　danger
from　hostile　flora　or　more　insect　hives；　toward　the　gretchin。　The　creatures　couldn’t　help　but　hear
them　coming；　and　they　turned　and　fled　back　up　the　path　they　had　cleared　for　themselves。
Muldoon　must　have　been　in　pain；　near　senseless；　but　he　was　fighting　back。　Lorenzo　would　have
expected　no　less　from　him。　Fortunately；　his　fever　slowed　his　reaction　time；　and　Lorenzo　ducked　the
worst　of　his　punches。
Help　came；　at　last；　in　the　form　of　Dougan。　The　older　trooper　knew　his　bionic　leg　slowed　him
down；　and　so　it　was　natural　that　he　should　have　been　the　one　to　stay　behind。　Dougan　came　up
behind　Muldoon；　and　tried　to　restrain　him　while　Lorenzo　knocked　the　wind　out　of　him　with　a　double
jab　to　the　solar　plexus。　He　remembered　head…butting　a　Validian　Guardsman　the　previous　day；
30
finding　his　stomach　soft　and　yielding；　in　contrast；　hitting　Muldoon　was　like　driving　his　knuckles　into
rock。
Muldoon　let　out　another　animal　roar；　and　broke　Dougan’s　hold。　Lorenzo　held　back　for　an
instant；　waiting　to　see　what　he’d　do。　Muldoon　looked　wildly　from　one　of　his　comrades　to　the　other；
realising　he　was　surrounded。　His　eyes　flicked　towards　his　night　reaper；　still　buried　in　the　ground；　but
it　was　too　far　away。　Muldoon　reached　into　a　pouch　of　his　bandolier　and　pulled　out　a　demolition
charge。
b；　he　popped　out　the　charge’s　pin。
Lorenzo　and　Dougan　hit　him　at　the　same　time；　from　opposite　sides。　Dougan　was　trying　to
wrestle　the　charge　out　of　Muldoon’s　hand；　but　his　grip　was　as　resolute　as　that　on　his　night　reaper　had
been。　Lorenzo’s　survival　instinct　was　telling　him　to　dive　for　shelter；　but　he　wasn’t　about　to　abandon
Muldoon　while　there　was　the　slightest　chance　he　could　be　saved。　He　added　his　strength　to　Dougan’s；
taking　one　of　Muldoon’s　fingers　in　each　fist　and　forcing　them　open。
The　demolition　charge　dropped　out　of　Muldoon’s　hand。
Lorenzo　had　to　dive　for　it；　cradling　his　palms　to　give　the　explosive　device　the　softest　landing　he
could。　In　so　doing；　he　left　himself　exposed；　and　Muldoon　punished　him　with　a　brutal　kick　to　the
face。　Lorenzo　felt　his　lip　splitting。　He　rolled　with　the　blow；　and　was　back　in　the　grass　again；　his　own
blood　on　his　tongue。　But　Dougan　was　keeping　Muldoon　busy；　keeping　him　from　pressing　his
advantage；　and　Lorenzo　had　the　charge　with—he　estimated—less　than　a　second　to　spare　before　it
went　up。
He　hoisted　himself　onto　one　elbow；　took　a　fraction　of　that　second　to　orient　himself；　to　check
where　the　others　were；　then　he　put　all　the　strength　he　had　into　an　overarm　throw。　The　demolition
charge　seemed　to　have　barely　left　his　hand；　arcing　towards　the　treetops；　when　it　burst　and　showered
him　with　hot　shrapnel。
Dougan　had　locked　an　arm　around　Muldoon’s　throat；　and　was　holding　on　despite　his　kicking　and
screaming。　Lack　of　oxygen　had　an　effect　on　the　frenzied　trooper　at　last；　and　Muldoon’s　eyelids
fluttere