Then he became aware of the device that Gammage had given him, that which must locate the tapes. It was buzzing, loudly enough to sound beyond the pouch where he carried it. Heartened by that, he redoubled his efforts and his choice moved, rolling with greater ease once he got it started, trundling forward to the door. There Furtig maneuvered it into position across the threshold so the opposed leaves, if attempt to close those did, would be held apart by its bulk. Only when it was set in place did he scramble over it.
There was a light bar within on the ceiling, so he could see before him a narrow aisle of drawered containers such as were always used for tape storage. Hooking his fingers in the pull of the nearest, he gave it a jerk. The drawer rolled open to display boxes of record tapes. Furtig was amazed by the number. If each of these—he glanced down the double row of containers—held as many as this one drawer, this was just such a storehouse as Gammage had long hoped to find.
Furtig slipped along the aisle, opening one drawer after another. But before he reached the end of that short line, he could see that the racks within were more and more sparsely filled. And the last section of drawers on the very end were entirely empty. Even so —this was a find to rejoice over.
Transportation— Furtig leaned against the far wall, looked back to the wedged door. That was a new problem. He had brought a bag, now tightly rolled in his belt, which would hold three or four double handfuls of tape cases. But how could he know which in this storehouse of wealth were those that mattered the most? There was nothing to do but make a clean sweep, transport everything here, at least into a hiding place of his own choice—which could mean somewhere along the ducts—until it could be carried back to Gammage.
Furtig went into action, filling the bag, climbing into the duct to dump its contents, returning to fill and climb again. He was beginning to tire. His effort at dragging Ku-La along the duct told when added to this. But he kept to his task, making sure he left nothing behind in any drawer he emptied.
It took ten trips, and at the end he was shaking with fatigue. By rights he should move that machine back, try to reseal the door, cover his tracks so that no prowling Ration could be guided to the treasure trove he had to cache in the duct. But he simply could not summon the strength to accomplish all that. Instead he swung up for the last time, lay panting there until he could bring into his heavy, aching arms energy enough to reset the grill.
About him lay the tape cases in a drift which rattled and rolled as he moved. And he knew that he dared not leave them so near the spot where he had found them. So he began once more, this time not only filling his bag but pushing before him an armload of loose tapes, taking what he could back along the duct.
When he reached the meeting of the ways where he had left Ku-La, he heard a stirring. .
“You-have-found—“ Ku-La’s whisper was stronger, or did Furtig only imagine that because he hoped it was so?
“Yes. But I must bring these here.” Flinging out his arm, Furtig sent the cases spinning, hastily emptied his bag. He wasted no more breath on explanation but set to retrace his way. How many such trips he made he did not know. Furtig only understood that he could allow himself no long pause to rest for fear of not being able to start again. But in the end he lay beside Ku-La with the tide of cases piled up like a wall about them.
Something pushed against his forearm persistently. He roused enough to shove it away, to discover that it was the water container he had left with Ku-La. Furtig pulled it to him, opened it, and allowed himself two reviving mouthfuls.
Revive him those did. But now hunger awakened in turn. He hunched up as well as he could in those cramped quarters to get at his supply pouch. In turn he was heartened when Ku-La accepted some of the dried meat he pressed into his hand. If the other could eat, perhaps he was not as badly off as Furtig had earlier feared. If Ku-La could move on, help him-self somewhat, their return did not seem such an in-surmountable problem as Furtig had thought it.
But he did not suggest that move as yet. Having eaten sparingly and drunk even more sparingly, Furtig settled himself full length, pushing aside the welter of tape cases to stretch out in what small mea-sure of comfort he could achieve, and took the rest he knew he could no longer do without.
How long he dozed he did not know. But he awoke, aroused by a clicking near to hand. His body tensed, his hand crept to the butt of the Demon weapon. The tapes!
“You wake?” Ku-La spoke. “I count our find—“
Furtig realized that the other must be piling the cases into some sort of order. For when he put out his hand he discovered that those he had shoved aside were gone. But—“our find”? Did Ku-La think to claim that which Furtig by his own efforts had brought out of danger? When Furtig had succeeded where the other had failed?
Save that this was no time for quarreling. Neither one would have any chance to claim anything if they did not get out of here. He was sure, in spite of the partial recovery Ku-La appeared to have made, that the other could not retrace Furtig’s way in. Which meant either that Furtig must leave him here—with the majority of the tapes—or find another way out for them both.
They lay in this wider space, the junction of three ducts. Two would lead them nowhere they could go, which left the third. It was the left-hand way, which might or might not carry them deeper into Ratton territory. He said as much.
“Your way in—“ began Ku-La.
“There would be a hard climb back. It was difficult to descend and I had use of both hands.”
“While those gray stinkers have left me the good of only one!” Ku-La interrupted. “But you can return—“
“With a chance that the Rattons have already marked the route?” Furtig countered. “I cannot carry you—or more than a few of the tapes. Should I leave all easy prey for them?”
“The tapes being the more important. Is that not so, warrior?” Ku-La asked quietly. “Tell me, why did you risk so much to free me from the Rations? You could not have known then that I had information about the tapes. And I am no clansman or litter brother of yours; we have shared no hunting trail. This is not the custom of your tribe, any more than it is of mine, or so I would guess.”
Furtig told him the truth. “I do not know, save I could not leave any of the People, clansman or stranger, to the Rations. Or perhaps I have listened to the Ancestor—“
“Ah, yes, your Ancestor. I have heard of his strange thoughts—that all the People, clan upon clan, must draw together in a long truce. One of his messengers spoke so to our Elders. But we could not see the wisdom in that—not then.”
“There has been a change in your thinking?” Furtig was interested. Did Gammage indeed have a strong enough message to convert those with whom he had no kin tie? When his own clan would not listen to him?
“In my thinking, though I am no Elder. You did not leave me to die under Ratton fangs. Though earlier I left you and your kin brother so. And you took the knowledge I had given you and returned with what you found. Yes, one begins to see the worth in your Ancestor’s, suggestion. Together we have done something that neither might have succeeded in alone.”
“Save -that we have not yet succeeded,” Furtig pointed out. “Nor shall we until we are safely back in that portion of the lairs held by the People. And with what we have found. Now we must do just that.”
In the end Furtig made a blind selection from the tapes, knotting as many as he could into the bag. The rest he stacked around the duct walls. This hollow of a three-way meeting was as good a place as any to store them. Having done this, he tried his powers of concentration for the last time, tried to contact Foskatt.
There was no way of knowing whether he got through. In fact the farther he was in space and time from his contact, the more he doubted the worth of their communication. With Ku-La he ate and drank again. There was very little water-left now—he was not sure it would last long enough to carry them both to some source for more. But he would not worry about that until it became a matter of real concern. Rather he must keep his mind on what lay directly before him.