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“CHAARRGE!”
Weapons clashed again and the scent of blood and sweat hung heavy in the air. It was loud even up on the higher balcony where the decisions about the battle were being made. It had a fine Air-sense vista out over the whole cavern, even if now it required a little poking through the foliage that had been put in as a screen for any keen Duchy snipers taking pot-shots from below.
“If we don’t break their blockade, we’re never going to get out to find the plants,” said Dun mournfully.
Padg was humming quietly to himself, leaning over the balcony and inhaling the scent of racta from his cup.
“I don’t know how long Myrch has,” said Dun. Although he’d started to get used to the idea that the vat was truly a being larger than the sum of its parts, he still couldn’t help but think of it as Myrch. Once his odd human friend had been set adrift in the fluids of that strange room and it transpired that he was far from laid to rest, his being the loudest and most coherent voice of the entity that called itself OneLove, meant that Dun had always called the being Myrch. It sounded like Myrch. That was easier to sit with, somehow.
And then there was Tali. Padg had already downed two fist-sized houbous stuffed with savoury mushrooms so far. Dun couldn’t get his stomach to settle at all. Tali. How many times was it possible to lose someone and then find them again before ones sanity started showing through the cracks? Was it really her, or were they all reading too much into the fact that they were talking to a machine-person that was very good at lists? The only person Dun knew who had that level of knowledge after having travelled through so much of the Dark was Tali. Sari was good, but her medicine knowledge focused largely on the healing arts. Tali knew everything. And somehow, some of it was still there.
Padg seemed to have leaned out over the edge of the balcony, searching for something, “You lean your head out too far that way and some Duchy hot shot’s going to blow it off.”
“I doubt it from this far away.”
“Those sound like excellent last words.”
“Come here a minute and see if this is a thing or not,” said Padg. Air-sense could be remarkably unreliable at long distance, where pressure and airflow spread out in a large space. Dun dutifully followed to his friend’s side. “Just lean out there to your right and up and tell me do you think there’s a ledge up there.” Padg was indicating a place on the large expanse of wall that made up the imposing home of the Bureaucracy—somewhere above them and towards the end of the cavern, where it tapered and headed towards the gate to below, where Dun and Padg’s home had been so long ago.
“Oo-kay,” said Dun, putting down his vervain tea. He headed to the balcony rail and started to push his way through the dust-vines curtaining the edge. He leaned his head out.
“You’ve got to lean a fair way before you’ll Air-sense it,” said Padg.
“Great,” Dun groaned. “If this is a wind-up, that tea’s going straight over your head.”
“Fair.”
A loud crash and distant cheering came from below the balcony. The Air-sense picture was being stirred by running and shouting from below. Screams came from the doorway to the Bureau offices.
“Hurry. Up.”
“It’s hard to sense, and you’re putting me off,” Dun groaned. “Oh, hold on. Yeah, there is something.”
“Told you.”
Dun huffed as he came back in, dragged back onto the safety of the balcony by Padg. “I’m getting too old for this.”
“Rubbish,” said Padg. “Well?”
“There definitely is something, about a hundred longstrides farther into the cavern and higher up, maybe two floors. It doesn’t seem like a balcony though, it’s too narrow.”
“Wanna check it out anyway? I’ve got an idea.”
Dun well knew that Padg’s idea was necessitated by the fact that the main entrance of the old Bureau at its base, faced out into the middle of the huge cavern that was now the home of the Duchies, the Collective and the Folks who called Gantrytown home. But other than passages connecting them to Gantrytown, which were abandoned, the main way out into the hab cavern that didn’t involve a trip under via the sluices was through the gate. The Grey and Red Duchies had combined forces to blockade the only way in and out. And the only route to the pond where one of their target plants, Nicotinia, grew.
As they left the room, they met Tuf coming towards them from the barracks on the same floor, “What in the hells is happening down there?”
“The crashing?” said Dun, “beats me.”
“Weapon?” said Padg.
“That’s my fear too,” Tuf, scuttled towards the balcony. Screaming still issued from there and the downward stairwell.
“We need to move now,” said Padg, “if we’re not going to get roped into this.”
“Don’t we want to? There’s not much point in bringing potions back to save Myrch if the Duchy kill him before we do.”
“What are they gonna do?” said Padg. “Drink him? Turn the heating up and let him evaporate?”
“They’ve already poisoned him.”
“Yeah, and if we get a move on, it won’t work. Amber and Myrch are big. folk... people... whatever, they can look after themselves for a couple of spans while we do this. No-one else can because no-one else except us know he’s been poisoned.”
“Okay, you put a good case.”
“Damn straight I do. Come on!” Padg led them past the stairwell where runners were coming up, to the adjacent climbing flight.
“You sure?” said Dun.
“No. Come on!” Padg bounded up the spiral metal stairs, his claws clicking on the treads. “How many floors up did you think it was?”
“Two? Certainly, more than one,” said Dun.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Keep going then. Not past one floor yet.”
Unused staircases in Dun’s experience were uncomfortable to climb. The usual adaptations of extra boxes or woodwork making the treads a better height or making half-treads between the existing metal treads were absent here, due to the lack of use this stairwell had. It was an uncomfortable and exhausting climb.
“’Kay, that’s one floor,” said Padg between pants.
“Nnnngh,” said Dun. “Wuh... wait... ten... clicks...”
“Okay, old man. I’ll wait.”
Dun was too out of breath to muster an insult in return and bent over, panting with hands on knees. There were loud shouts of ”Medic!” from beneath them.
“Shreds!” Padg nudged him. “Good to go?”
“Uh-huh, let’s go,”
They began the last climb and stumbled out of the stairwell into a corridor that smelled of dust. Padg set off at a lope along the passage.
“Hold on a click,” said Dun, “don’t we want to check these doors here first?”
“Nope,” said Padg, “it’s way further along than that. Let’s start about five doors in and if we’ve checked ten doors and found nothing, then we’ll come back.”
Dun noted the tone of Padg’s voice, the brooks-no-argument tone. He walked quickly, but not so quick that he wasn’t keeping a whisker for anything that might catch them out in this scarce-used corridor.
“Gotcha!” said Padg as Dun caught up.
“Balcony?”
“No, some weird thing with wooden doors. It opens out, though.” Creaking followed and then the inward waft of Air-sense as the two bodies of space intermingled after having been separated for gods knew how long. “How secure is that door?”
“Average?”
“Okay, let’s do this the hard way.” Padg unshouldered his pack and rustled on the inside. Next came loud banging of metal against metal.
“What—” said Dun.
“Pitons,” said Padg between bangs. “If. That. Door’s. Old. I. Don’t. Want. To. Trust. Our. Lives. To. It.”
Dun waited until the banging stopped, then the rustling of ropes and the clinking of climbing gear. Padg stopped, “What?”
“You’ve missed this, haven’t you?” asked Dun.
“What, abseiling into a war-zone to save the world from itself—again?” He screwed some clips together, re-shouldered his pack and stood in the open window. “I might have, yeah.”
Then he leaned backwards on the rope and was gone from Dun’s Air-sense.
