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“THIS HOLE IS GETTING hot,” Dun said
“Oh, hello sleepy. Not dead then?”
“Mostly not, no.”
The bolt hole they’d chosen was under a metal grille. The square tube underneath was vertical for about ten strides then made a sharp right angle underneath them, at least giving them a floor to stand on. Warm air blew from wherever the duct originated, swirling the existing air in the pipe exchanging the usual warm metal smell for the one that was in the space when they arrived. Everything around the duct and the end of the mad battlefield they’d found themselves on smelled faintly sweet and musky. They couldn’t be all that far from the Habs massive ornamental garden then, or at least not so far that the breeze above couldn’t waft scents at them.
Dun sat up and stretched what limbs he had room to stretch. Above him, Padg clambered up the duct, “Are we off, then?” Dun asked.
“No, keep your fur on, just checking what the situation is up there.” More scrambling followed.” It sounds quiet,” Padg said, “which is worrying.”
“You Air-sense much up there?”
“No, I’ve not lifted the grille up yet, on account of not wanting to get my head shot off.”
“You’ve become a real moaner in your old age,” said Dun. A small stone clanged down the duct and dinged off his head. “Ow.”
“Yess!” hissed Padg, chuckling.
“Child.”
“Make your mind up,” Padg said as he scrabbled back down, “I’m either young or old. Pick your insult and stick with it. You feelin’ any better?”
“My hand’s pretty mangled up where I caught it in the rope tackle. I think the rest of me’s in one piece. I can at least move the other bits of me.”
“Hmm,” said Padg. “That presents us with an immediate challenge then. Can you climb?”
“Not really one-handed. I figure that duct doesn’t have much in the way of stairs.”
“Oddly, no. Maybe I’d better go find this plant.”
“Seriously?”
“What?”
“You can’t smell the difference between a turd and a tulip!”
Padg went quiet. They both knew it was true. Although he had a sense of smell, his primary assets really were Air-sense and hearing, followed shortly by sarcasm. Charming and amusing though Dun found all that, the facts still stood out—climbing that duct was going to be nigh on impossible. His right hand was burned as well as broken from the rope fall. Totally out of action.
Padg slumped to the floor, “I’m open to suggestions.”
“Start with this,” Dun nudged Padg in the ribs. Padg was about to reply in kind before he realised Dun’s good hand held something that smelled of bread. “It’s all right, there’s one each.”
“Where the hells did you find those?”
“I snagged them on our way out from the Bureau. Amber’s pretty keen to feed everybody up at those briefings, I hate to let her down.”
“Why yes, that would be rude!” After a moment of appreciation Padg said, “Oh wait, I might have something to wash it down here.” He rummaged in his rucksack. “Ha-ha!” Dun heard the cheerful sound of a flask un-bunging, gulps and then the unmistakable squeak of a cork being pushed back into place. “Here!” Dun winced as the flask was poked into his ribs. It was worth the minor suffering. Whatever was in the flask was strong and clean and sugary.
“Nice,” Dun said as he wiped his whiskers with the back of his hand.
“Bamboo spirit,” said Padg. “I won it in a bet from some folk from Riverside. Should dull the pain a bit if nothing else.”
“If I drink enough of it, will it spirit me out of the hole?”
“Ha ha ha, no.” Padg had another swig before he threw the flask back to Dun. “Oh Padg, Padg, Padg. You’ve all the brains of a cave moth.”
“I’ve always said so.”
Padg ignored that and ploughed on, “Come over here.” Dun did but wasn’t sure what to expect. “There we go! That’s how we get you out. You’ve got a tail fella.” Padg tugged on the ‘tail’ for emphasis. Dun felt at his waist where the pull had come from. Of course. The remains of the rope that Padg had cut above where Dun’s hand had got jammed had been trailing behind them since. There were only ten strides or so of rope but ten strides of rope would be plenty. “Let’s get that untangled, eh?” said Padg, setting to work unknotting, unwinding and uncleating until enough was free to examine it properly. “I reckon there’s twelve good strides here. We can bodge something with that I’m certain.”
In another thousand clicks, they had. Padg was to tie the rope to the grille once he’d gotten topside and checked they were alone. Then if he lifted the grille, he could use that as leverage to lift Dun at least part of the way up off the floor. With the extra purchase, Padg reckoned he could pull Dun the rest of the way. Dun thought, a feat of brute strength when they were both so tired was unlikely, but as soon as he could wedge himself across the duct, he could shuffle and pull himself up if he could find the mouth of the pipe.
Well, it was a start. At least now they had a plan. As they started to climb, the scent of the plants from the garden became headier and more intense.
