by TTA Press
She had floated gently away with sixty-nine minutes of oxygen and no way of getting back. It gives all of us the shivers. Just thinking about it reminded me how much I wanted to go home. If I found someone I could trust to take over my work I’d be on the next shuttle back to Earth. Sure, I’d miss the view, but I could live with that.
“We have stronger lines now,” I said, “checked and replaced regularly. Two lines is fine for tourists, but it slows us down.”
“My way’d be quicker though, even with secondary lines.”
Caldwell took over. She didn’t appreciate the implication her site was dangerous.
“Interesting idea, Murray, but you’re thinking like an Earthworm. There’s not enough manoeuvrability in your spacesuits to be able to work with the main steelwork in the way. Plus, I designed this order to keep you near the others. Your inexperience is much more dangerous than working without a secondary line. You’ll do everything as a full team until I say otherwise.” Caldwell turned to the Gaffer. “That clear, Rasmus?”
“Perfectly, Construction Manager.”
“Way to go, nearly-nineteen,” said Diego once the door hissed closed behind Caldwell.
* *
Two weeks on, we finally split the team. The Gaffer and Diego went off to fit struts at the hotel end of the truss, while Murray and I checked and tightened nuts along its bottom chord. It was real monkey work.
I took a brief break to admire the Earth. Vivid patches of blue showed through heavy cloud cover. Murray didn’t stop. She was working steadily, using her podger like a pro, movements well adapted to the lack of gravity. Even Diego no longer doubted she’d done construction work before. I was beginning to think she was made of the right stuff.
“Must have been hard for you, getting made redundant,” I said, on a suit-to-suit channel for privacy.
“Yeah,” she said, not breaking her rhythm. “Mum’d lost her job too. Granddad looked after us, but he died last year…” She faded out. I turned to look at her, giving her the chance to continue if she wanted. She didn’t.
“Something’s bugging me,” she said, full-volume again. “These are Boltefast nuts and bolts. The construction models spec SureEng.”
“‘SureEng OEA’. That’s Or Equal and Approved. These are approved.”
“Who picked Boltefast? Would it be the Gaffer?”
I didn’t hesitate. I’d faced tougher questioners than this kid. Plus, I was interested to see if she’d follow up.
“Probably. He’s answerable for costs once a project’s on site. Or it could have been Head Office.”
“And who approved it?”
“Angela Caldwell, most likely.”
She nodded and dropped the subject, only to come back to it the next day.
“I still don’t get the equal and approved thing,” she said. I was pleased she was bright enough to keep asking the right questions, although I was glad we were talking suit-to-suit again. I hoped I was the only one whose ear she was bending.
“Those brands,” she said. “I looked them up. The Boltefast are lower grade. They’re not equal to SureEng. Their shear strength is lower.”
“Lower but high enough.”
“Who says?”
“If Caldwell approved them, Caldwell says.”
“It’s your initials on the change request.”
“Then I made the suggestion and Caldwell approved it. It’s pretty routine.”
She stayed quiet for a moment, pulling out a bolt and looking at it. She was getting pretty good at fine manipulation wearing gloves.
“They’re cheaper,” she said. “Who makes the saving?”
She’s nearly there, I thought, willing her to work it out. I didn’t answer. When she spoke again, she seemed to have changed the subject.
“There was this guy I worked with before,” she said. “His wages went further than everyone else’s. He had the latest tech, ate out a lot, nice clothes. I liked him. Always got the first round in at the pub.”
“Uh-huh?” I said.
“His sister-in-law, see, she ran a galvanising firm. Hot dip and powder coating. We used her on almost all our contracts. Must have been good.”
I knew then she was the one – my ideal successor. She confirmed it with her next question:
“Do you think Boltefast is good in the same way?”
“Yes,” I said, looking straight at her, “I’d say it’s good in exactly that way.”
She nodded. Time to put my exit strategy into action.
“I’m thinking of requesting retirement,” I said. “I’m too old to be wielding a podger. But, I need someone up here to take over the paperwork.”
“Doesn’t the Gaffer deal with it?”
“He’s never been interested. I’d prefer to pass it on to someone else. Someone who’d keep me in the loop, as it were.”
“That person would be taking a risk, wouldn’t they? Perhaps half the risk?”
“I wouldn’t say half. Eighty:twenty, perhaps?”
“Sixty:forty,” she countered.
“It takes time to build up contacts,” I pointed out. “Eighty:twenty for the first three years, seventy:thirty when you finish your apprenticeship.”
“Hey!” called the Gaffer, on the open channel. I looked up and he was coming our way. “You two are getting behind. Problems, Peggy?”
“No, nothing,” I said.
“Girlie?”
“Nah.”
“Get a move on, then.”
We finished the shift in silence. I was happy to let her mull it over.
* *
“Is it true Caldwell got those scars working on the London Olympic stadium?” asked Murray.
We’d just come in from a shift, a couple of days after I made my offer to the kid. I was waiting for her reply, confident it’d be yes. Who doesn’t want to earn a little extra on the side?
Construction was a day ahead of schedule, the Gaffer was whistling happily, and Diego had gone easy on Murray for a few hours.
“That’s the rumour,” I said. “Must be forty years ago. How’d you hear? She doesn’t talk about it.”
“One of the tourists.” The Gaffer stopped whistling and turned to look. We weren’t supposed to fraternise.
Murray continued. “Old guy. Used to be a labourer.”
“What were you doing in the hotel?” asked the Gaffer.
“He came over here,” said Murray. “Wanted to see how we did things.”
“More to the point, what’s a labourer doing in the hotel?” asked Diego. “Won the lottery?”
The Gaffer and I laughed. Murray shook her head.
“Nah, he’s been saving all his life. Always dreamed of going into space, he said.”
“What’d he know about Angela Caldwell?” I asked.
“He worked on the stadium too. He was off sick when one end of the lower tier collapsed. She was apprenticing with the steelwork gang. Eight people were killed. They pulled Caldwell out of the rubble two days later.”
Diego whistled. “No wonder she likes space.”
Diego and the Gaffer had finished changing. Murray was going slowly; I guessed she wanted to talk.
“I need a volunteer to check the oxygen tanks,” I said.
“That’ll be you, nearly-nineteen,” said Diego, suddenly out the door, the Gaffer right behind him. I sat down and waited to hear what was on Murray’s mind.
“He was nice, that old guy,” she said. “I hadn’t thought about the tourists. What if there’s an accident?”
“There won’t be.”
“But what if something fails?”
“It won’t. Everything’s checked. I wouldn’t let anything past if I wasn’t completely confident.” I was lying, but not much. There’s always the possibility of component failure. My specification changes only increased the chances a little.
“He’s probably someone’s granddad.”
“He’s perfectly safe,” I snapped. “Talking to tourists is likely to get you in trouble. So is gos
siping about Caldwell.”
She looked guilty at that. I took pity on her.
“You can head off,” I said. “I’ll do the tanks.”
I should have known better than to be soft on an apprentice. She knew I’d be occupied for at least half an hour. She used the time to grass me up to Caldwell.
Of course, Caldwell came straight to me afterwards.
“Whistleblowing!” I said, disappointed. I hardly believed it; Murray had seemed so promising.
“How much does she know?” asked Caldwell. I shrugged.
“She obviously hasn’t worked out your role.”
“Let’s keep it that way. Arrange a safety infraction tomorrow and I’ll fire her on the spot. Once she’s been shipped home in disgrace no-one will believe her.”
Easy for Caldwell to say; she wasn’t at risk of exposure. I was sure I could come up with a better solution.
* *
“Here, clip in, Murray,” I said, holding out a prepared line.
Diego sailed through the door. “I’ll take that one. Nearly-nineteen’s not ready yet.”
He was right; Murray hadn’t fully sealed her suit.
“You’re not suited up,” I said, pulling my hand back, “and she’ll only be a moment.”
“So get another line ready quickly,” said Diego, taking the line and clipping his suit in before I could think of a reason to stop him. He was finished and waiting to go well before Murray.
“Taking your time, nearly-nineteen?” he taunted.
“Get lost.”
“Enough!” said the Gaffer. “You two are working together today. I need Peggy with me on the central connector point. Diego, no messing around, understand? Peggy, I want a second line for girlie here.”
The Gaffer’s order was a relief. I’d drawn a blank trying to come up with a reason for Diego and Murray to swap lines. I broke out two extra lines and checked them.
“No need for me,” said Diego.
“Safety handbook applies to you too,” I said, throwing one his way.
“First I’ve heard of it,” he said.
“Just clip in.”
“Nah, remember what Caldwell said? I’m in no danger so long as nearly-nineteen’s fully restrained.”
Murray ignored him and clipped in, doubly safe, to my frustration.
“Leave it,” said the Gaffer, punching the airlock code. Diego laughed, and lobbed his secondary back to me. I considered calling him back. I could say I’d spotted something wrong with his line. I nearly did it…but I needed to act before Murray was sent Earthside.
I decided. A warning would do the job. It was a shame; I’d always liked Diego. But, Murray needed to be taught a lesson about telling tales.
I watched them as best I could from the opposite end of the truss, but I was still looking the other way when the trouble came. The first I knew was Murray shouting for help over the open channel. The Gaffer looked round, swore once, and headed towards them.
Diego was without a line, moving steadily away from the station. As I watched, Murray flung herself after him. She got her trajectory wrong, would have missed him by a mile even if her line had been long enough.
“Murray,” I said. “There’s nothing you can do. Come away now.”
She didn’t reply. She’d pulled herself back in and was fiddling with her line. She launched towards Diego again, this time with her secondary line attached to the end of her primary to give herself more length. She’d got the reach, but her angle was still wrong. She tried to correct mid-jump. It didn’t work.
She pulled in, sighted more carefully, and pushed off. It was an elegant dive, with the heading exactly right. Diego held out his arms. She got to within two meters, the line snapped tight, and she stopped.
“Nearly,” said Diego, softly.
She held position, looking at him as he drifted off. She said nothing. He relaxed his arms, but didn’t turn away. I could see Murray reflected in his visor.
It seemed a long while before the Gaffer’s voice interrupted.
“Grace, you did good, but pull in now. We’re going to try and grab him using R-3. I need you out of the way. Diego?”
“You really think an arm pick-up might work, Gaffer?”
“I’ve gone through it with the operator on duty and she’s confident. Fifty pounds says it’ll work.”
Murray was shaken and wary as I helped her back inside. I watched the footage of the rescue later – as did most of the Earth’s population. It looked like a slow-motion ballet. Murray’s dive turned her into a hero.
* *
Angela Caldwell avoided me that evening and the next day. I engineered an encounter outside her bunkroom, but all she said was “I’m not going to be sent Earthside over this, Peggy,” and pushed past. A highly visible accident wasn’t what she’d had in mind, especially as we couldn’t pin it on Murray. Murray the hero.
We were kept in for a shift while Caldwell inspected every piece of kit we used, as per post-incident guidelines. The following morning everything was back to normal – a new sort of normal.
“Psych has given you a sick note for the week,” said the Gaffer to Diego. “Why not use it?” They were both suiting up.
“And let you lot mess up the build? No chance.”
“Think you’re irreplaceable do you, Diego?” said Murray.
“Too right,” said Diego. “You’re barely competent with that podger, Grace.”
Murray grinned. “At least I don’t wander off half-way through a shift.”
They both laughed.
The Gaffer put his visor down. “Let’s go, then. Diego, you’re with me to finish the central connector. Peggy and Grace, you’re together. Secondary lines for everyone.”
There were no complaints.
“Diego and I are doing another interview tonight,” said Murray as we worked.
“You’re quite the media stars.”
“Yeah, everyone loves a heroic failure, especially when there’s a happy ending.” She was quiet for a while. Then: “They love an honest whistleblower too.”
She hand-tightened a nut, as comfortable with delicate movements in her gloves as she would be bare-handed. I thought hard. I’d missed my chance to get rid of her; negotiation was my best option. If she talked I’d be in serious trouble.
“The media might like whistleblowers, but bosses don’t,” I said. “You’ve made a good start here. Why spoil it?” She stopped working. I pushed on. “What about Diego? If you go public tonight, he’ll be associated with you. It’ll end his career too.” I paused to let it sink in. “How about we increase your cut to thirty percent from the start and say no more about it?”
“You tried to kill me!”
“Thirty-five.”
“I want you out of here.”
“That’s the plan. Thirty-five, and I move groundside as soon as I can.”
“No.”
I turned away and tightened a couple of nuts, giving time for her confidence to falter. “I won’t go any higher than thirty-five,” I said, my back to her.
“No,” she repeated. “You meant that line for me and the others saw it. What will Caldwell do when I tell her it wasn’t an accident?”
It was a good question. Caldwell had plenty to hide, but this was outside her comfort zone. I didn’t know what she’d do. Still…
“You’re missing something,” I said.
That shut her up. I wish I could have seen her face as the penny dropped.
“Caldwell’s in on it,” she said, a statement rather than a question.
She moved away from me, turning to look at the point where her lines clipped onto the rail. I was close enough to reach out and unhook them. I hoped she was scared. If I was lucky she’d quit before the end of the day and my problems would be solved.
I wasn’t lucky.
* *
I retreated to my bunk to watch Murray and Diego’s interview. I couldn’t bear to be in the common area while they were broadcasting.
&
nbsp; It was sick-making stuff: Diego joking about how he’d misjudged Murray at first and Murray all forgiveness.
I wished I dared switch off.
It seemed every Earthworm with a connection had a question to ask, and Murray wanted to talk to them all. She even got in a tribute to her dead granddad, who taught her right from wrong.
The longer it went on, the more tense I got. I held my breath each time Murray spoke. She chatted and laughed.
Finally, the flow of questions stopped. The pair said their goodbyes and signed off to the world. I breathed a premature sigh of relief.
The broadcast continued on the staff network. Diego moved away from the camera. Angela Caldwell came into shot.
“We have a special announcement,” Caldwell said. I didn’t like the complicit look that passed between her and Murray. “Grace, would you?”
Murray smiled.
“We all know how much Peggy Varus deserves to be rewarded for her work.” I swear the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end when I heard my name. “I’m delighted to announce she’s been promoted to a management role at Head Office. Congratulations, Peggy!”
My orders came through seconds later. I’d been allocated a groundside desk job without any opportunities for creativity. Congratulations were hardly appropriate, although everyone chimed in with good wishes over the open channel.
A second message pinged in almost immediately. Caldwell would be taking on my construction duties until a replacement arrived, with all paperwork being handled groundside in the meantime.
My head was spinning. Caldwell hadn’t used a podger in a decade. And, how did she and Murray plan to keep their scam – my scam – secret with Head Office nosing into everything?
* *
I turned up for the start of the next shift as usual and offered my services to the Gaffer. I needed to find out what the situation was.
I still hoped Murray and Caldwell would buy my silence with a cut. I’d salted away some money, but not enough for comfort. I needed that ongoing income, or I’d never retire.
“I’ve rejigged the programme from today onwards,” announced Caldwell. It was news to me. I looked at the Gaffer. He knew about it.
“What’s going on?” I asked, as casually as I could. Diego and Murray had yet to arrive.