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DUN’S NIGHTMARES WOKE him again, but not with a foretelling. At least not one that he could recognize as one. What he remembered was a fragmentary clash of noises and smells and gods knew what else. The only cogent reminder of his cycles rest was the banging headache he woke with and the ache in his guts.
The others were bustling around readying to break camp. Upon stirring, Dun found a small leaf wrap thrust into his hand.
“Nice, thanks,” Dun said.
“Make the most of it. We need to eat them before they spoil,” Tali said. “My pack got drenched and loads of stuff got wet. Bottled stuff is okay, but we’re going to be really stretched for food.”
“Back to weeds and rats then, yum,” Padg said.
“Hopefully, it won’t come to that,” Myrch said.
“Why do you know something we don’t?” Dun said.
“Maybe. I think I’ve got an idea.”
“Oh, gods.” Padg sighed. “It always starts like that.”
“Going to tell us what this adventure might entail?” Tali said. “No, thought not.”
“Why spoil a good surprise?” Myrch said.
They shouldered their packs and slid down the pipe, splishing back into the shallow stream in the bottom. They settled into a steady pace, making good time. They walked in silence, lulled by the noise of the trickle. Dun noticed the pipe widened gradually as they walked. When they stopped for their next break, the stream in the bottom of the pipe seemed shallower, slower somehow.
“Nothing to hunt or forage here,” Padg said after a cursory search.
“No,” Dun said, “not a scent of anything except that water and the pipe.”
“The pipe smells a bit plasticky here though,” Tali said.
“Doesn’t help us catch fish,” Dun said.
“Plastic fish?” Padg said.
Dun sniggered.
Tali said, “Yeah, I’m laughing, but I’m still hungry. I can’t fix Padg’s sense of humor, but I have a couple of things left. Give me a few clicks.”
While they leaned against one wall of the pipe to stay out of the water for a while, Tali mixed from her remaining bottles. There was a strong smell of crushed grass and maybe milk. Dun couldn’t swear that he found it enticing.
“Here.” Tali handed him a bottle. “It's not fantastic, but it’s got energy in it and bulk so it’ll stave off the hunger for a bit at least.”
They passed the bottle around, making some kind of noise from each in turn as they drank. Myrch refused and drank from some kind of faintly bitter smelling flask of his own.
“So we’re going where again?” Padg said.
“I didn’t say,” Myrch mumbled around another gulp of whatever he was drinking.
“No, so you didn’t,” Padg said, hoping Myrch would fill the space. He didn’t.
“Machine-folk,” Dun said simply.
Myrch paused mid-swig and then continued drinking.
“It’s obvious,” Dun said. “Partly by how far we’ve traveled, but also by how hedgy you are about any questions.”
He paused. “Not so much that you’re bothered that we know we’re going there, we always were, but something else.”
“Oh?” Myrch said.
“You’re worried about something when we get there? You don’t like seeming like you don’t know what’s going on. And you don’t.”
“Yeah?”
“No. You kind of know where we’re going, but you don’t know what we’re going to find when we get there.”
“Have you finished?” Myrch said.
“Not quite.” It was Dun’s turn for the bottle, and he sipped slowly before passing it on. “Have now. Shall we go?”
“Let’s.”
***
DUN COULDN’T TELL WHEN the pipe had turned into a corridor. He guessed a while back. They’d walked nearly another whole cycle, stopping little. With no dry rations left, there was little left to stop for. Between his buzzing head and growling stomach, he really hadn’t been admiring the architecture. But it had definitely changed. Now he’d thought it, he pinged out with his air-sense. Definitely changed from round section to square section and smoother. Not just a utilitarian pipe anymore, but first a smooth tube, and then a smooth corridor. And made from what? Smooth to the touch but not without texture. A nap even, smoother one way than the other. Brushed metal then? Not cool either. Or warm. Ambient. Not a trace of rust or wear in the pipe where the water still trickled underfoot.
“You’ve sensed it too then?” Padg said at the sound of Dun’s running fingertips along the wall.
“Yeah...”
“What do you make of it?”
“Civilization to be sure. Someone lives here. Or did. Nothing here feels accidental, natural.”
Then, as if from nowhere, a breeze began behind them. From still air, very slowly building to a strong, steady force.
“I don’t think that’s natural either,” Tali said.
“No,” Padg said, “not gusting.”
“And listen. That whine again.”
The very faint high-pitched squeak that seemed to be the life-blood of the rat-machine was back. A different, resonating noise this one, but way up there in the so-hard-to-hear-you-nearly-can’t-register.
“I wonder if...” Dun said and edged closer, trying to cock an ear to hear better, make more out of it.
“STOP!” Myrch barked. “Take one step backward.”
That was harder to do than Dun imagined. It was almost like the wind was forcing him forward, toward the noise. He dug his heels in and backed away. He bumped Padg on the way backward, who grabbed his arm.
“What is it?” Padg said, responding in kind to the tone of Myrch’s command.
“Very dangerous,” he said. “Got a glass stopper from one of your bottles, Tali? Preferably one you won’t need to use again.”
“Sure,” she said, proffering a bottle, stopper first to Myrch. He took the stopper, leaving her holding the rest of the bottle.
Myrch hurled the stopper toward the noise.
The stopper ricocheted off the wall of the tunnel with a clang.
“What the hells is that thing?” Padg said.
“A fan. An enormous great fan. From what I can tell it fills the corridor. If we’d have bumbled into it... Well, you’re bright, folks,” Myrch said.
“How do we get past it?” Dun said.
“I don’t know,” Myrch said. “I don’t know.”
