"Barbell to Barhop," he whispered, "I'm ready to go."
"It's only been five minutes."
"I know. But I rest pretty fast, too. Let's move out."
There were a few seconds of silence, then Captain Greer said: "All set, Barbell. Move out."
Stanton got to his feet and walked toward the stairway that led up to the next level. Minutes later, he was in another tunnel exactly similar to the first one, walking southward again.
But now he was more careful. He watched the ground carefully, making sure that he didn't step on anything that would snap or rattle. The Nipe was still quite a distance away—three-quarters of a mile, or so—but taking the chance that the beast couldn't hear him might be deadly dangerous. The robot rat that he was following led him along a path that had been unobtrusively cleared of rubble by the robot rats over a period of months, but the robots weren't the only rats in the place. He kept his eyes on the path.
A while later, the voice in his ear said: "A hundred yards to go, Barbell."
"I know," Stanton whispered. "He hasn't moved?"
"No. I'll yell if he does. You don't need to talk any more. His ears might pick up even that whisper."
He hasn't moved, Stanton thought. Not for all this time. Not since I came down into his private domain. All this time, he has been sitting motionless—waiting. Wouldn't it be funny if he were dead? If his heart had stopped, or something. Wouldn't that be absolutely hilarious? Wouldn't that be a big joke on everybody? Especially me.