[ Not just a murderous salad, then. A fucking smart one, damn it all to hell. Miles yelps in surprise as the catwalk tilts; he falls a few dangerous feet before managing to cling onto one of the side rails. Miraculously he keeps his grip on the knife too, though it costs him a long cut on his palm from gripping the jagged metal too hard. His feet are mere inches from the writhing mass of plant now below him.

Is Bel having any success in their side? Miles twists his head to look down. Yes - and no. The roots have jerked Bel back right at the moment when they've exposed what looks like the right patch of wiring. Miles lets out a stream of curses in thick, guttural Barrayaran. He has to get Bel's legs free now or they're both dead.

With another spectacularly vulgar curse, Miles doesn't just let himself drop - he hurls himself down knife first, aiming to plunge his knife deep into the roots grabbing Bel. And then he's going to hope that Bel can get the system working before the plant makes a meal of him. No escaping that mass of plant matter without the culling system now... ]