“Why am I not surprised?” Heikki muttered, and reached to pop the other jitney’s door. “All right,” she said, more loudly. “We’ll meet you at the station, then.”
The jitney slowed as they approached the Station Axis. Heikki glanced past Djuro, through the righthand window, and saw the fluted pillars that marked the entrance to the station itself. Between and behind them, she could just make out the broad dull grey band that was the edge of the airtight hatch that would seal off the area should the outer skin ever be breached. She shivered a little, remembering the stories she had read all her life about the disaster of EP1. When the fifth PDE had failed, its crystal apparently shattering, the collapsing warp had triggered a wildfire reaction in the generators that had blown a hole through the shell and sent a plasma plume racing the length of the axis. There had been some survivors, even so, sheltered in the cars of the train that had been ready for the second and third tracks, and in the panic someone had tried to reopen the hatches that had sealed automatically. The mechanism, already damaged, had opened just far enough to breach the tube’s integrity, and then the outer door had collapsed as well. The same scenario had been repeated throughout the station, despite attempts to preserve discipline; in the end, only the docks and the two most distant pods had survived undamaged. EPl’s economic development had been set back fifty years, shifting power permanently into the Loop’s Northern Extension, and consolidating EP4’s position as the richest of all the points. Heikki smiled rather bitterly to herself. If anyone should put up a memorial to the disaster, it was EP4. Still, despite the loss of life and property, EP1 had, in the end, been very lucky: the new station at the other end of the warp, the one that would have been EP15, had been completely destroyed. Scientists were still arguing whether it was the chain reaction destruction of the station’s crystal, and the resultant the plasma plume, coupled perhaps with faulty safety equipment, or some as-yet-unidentified property of the warp itself that had destroyed the station, but there was no denying the fact of that destruction, FTLships still occasionally translated back into normal space near the site of the abortive station, and brought back photographs of the exploded spheres, their broken edges curling like the petals of a flower, that were slowly compressing into a new planet for that distant sun.
It was not a pleasant thought, and Heikki shook herself unobtrusively as she reached to pop the door. Fortunately, neither of the others had noticed her momentary preoccupation, and she swung herself out of the jitney with her usual grace. Nkosi’s jitney drew up to the platform behind them, and the pilot levered himself out, then turned back to help Alexieva from the compartment. Heikki lifted a hand in greeting, and glanced back to collect the others.
“Which track, Sten?”
Djuro held up three fingers. Heikki nodded her acknowledgement, and started for the entrance, the others trailing behind.
The station itself was crowded, and there was the usual confusion at the gates while travellers sorted out their tickets and their destinations. Heikki bit back a curse, and gestured with her free hand for Djuro, who held the tickets and had an unfailing eye for the fastest-moving gate, to go ahead of them. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nkosi put his arm around Alexieva’s waist and pull her close. They negotiated the crowd without difficulty, and were checked only briefly at the gate. The attendant on duty in the overseer’s box didn’t even glance down while the computer scanned their tickets and then opened the padded barrier. They swept through in a group, and the barrier thudded closed again just in time to cut off a skinny girl in bright metallic facepaint. She gave them a cheerful leer, and swung away.
Alexieva frowned, staring after her. “Does that happen often?” she asked.
“Often enough,” Nkosi answered, already turning toward the tunnel-like entrances to the platforms themselves, but the surveyor hung back, staring at the place where the skinny girl had become lost in the crowd.
“But what if she gets through? Does somebody lose their ticket?”
“Sometimes,” Nkosi answered briskly, “but more often not. They—the free riders—always pick on people who don’t know the Loop, so the railroad is willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.”
“It can make you miss your train,” Heikki said dryly. “I think we’d better hurry.”
“You are right,” Nkosi said, contritely, and swept Alexieva ahead of him toward the tunnels.
The sign above the righthand entrance was a steady yellow, the destinations and departure time spelled out in black against it: the string of capsules was at the platform, but passengers were not yet allowed aboard. Heikki led the way through the final arch, past the green-glowing security eyes, and then out onto the platform itself. The capsules lay comfortably in the gravity field, rocking only as the moving air hit them. Heikki glanced at the wall board, reconfirming the standard symbols, and then moved along the platform until she found the section of the train that was marked with the familiar symbols that meant the cars would not be unsealed until they reached EP7. One capsule would hold them all, and she led them past several groups of travellers until she found an unclaimed car.
“We seem to be early,” Nkosi said, with a grin.
“Better that than late,” Heikki retorted, and the big man laughed.
“True enough. Shall I fetch supplies for the trip?”
Heikki glanced at the chronodisplay in her lens—fifteen minutes still to boarding—and then manipulated the bezel to find the schedule she had downloaded to the lens’ memory. The entire trip would take several hours, what with the intermediate stops and transfers, and she wished she had thought to download the files from her newsservice. “Go ahead,” she said aloud. “Would you get me a copy of the lastest techfax, if it’s in?”
“Of course,” Nkosi answered, and looked at the others. “May I fetch anything for the rest of you?”
“Piperaad,” Djuro said, naming a favorite snack. Nkosi nodded, and headed off to intercept the slow-moving sales van that was making its way along the length of the platform.
The others stood for a moment in silence, idly watching the pilot’s progress, and then Alexieva cleared her throat. “I was wondering,” she said reluctantly. “About that girl. If she’d gotten onto the platform, how would she have gotten on the train? Don’t they check the tickets again?”
Heikki shrugged, but before she could give her answer—that the automatic scanners were easily foxed— Djuro said solemnly, “Ah. Well you asked.”
Alexieva gave him an inquiring glance, and Heikki frowned. “Sten,” she began, but the little man was hurrying on, his face crinkling into an expression that Heikki knew to be one of sheer mischief.
“If she could get on the train, of course, she’d take it—and there’re plenty of ways of foxing it—if you get a disk of the right material, reflex or tattrun, and stick it under the scanner, that’ll usually work. But if it doesn’t….” He paused then, his voice becoming sepulchral. “Then you got two choices. You can either give up, or you can try riding free.”
“Sten,” Heikki said again, but she couldn’t keep the amusement completely out of her voice. Djuro heard, and darted her a quick, evil smile.
“Riding free?” Alexieva said. From the sound of her voice, Heikki guessed she suspected she was being teased, but couldn’t quite see how. She sighed, and Djuro hurried on before she could interrupt again.
“Yeah. You only see part of the train here in the station, there’s a few dozen more capsules, cargo capsules, on a secondary platform beyond the firewall.” He nodded toward the head of the train, and the barrier that closed off the runway. “You’ve probably heard they send any cargo through first, just to be sure everything’s working right?”
Alexieva nodded, her expression still wary.
Djuro went on, “Now, you see that hatch there, left of the barrier at the end of the platform? Five’ll get you ten the lock was jimmied a long time ago, and the securitrons haven’t fixed it. That hatch gives access to the cargo platform
—it’s meant for the baggage handlers. If you can get through there, you can get into one of the cargo capsules.”
He paused, expectantly, and Alexieva said, “What about the loaders?” Her voice was less disbelieving than it should have been, and Heikki shook her head at Djuro.
The little man ignored her. “They’re pretty busy, and anyway, they leave the area before the run-up starts— that whole area’s too close to the warp, once the train gets under way. So you’ve got maybe ten minutes to slip aboard. Or you could bribe somebody,” he added, after a moment’s thought. “It might well cost you less than a ticket. But it’s not hard to get into one of the capsules.”
He stopped then, waiting. Heikki was suddenly aware that Nkosi had returned, and that the pilot was waiting just as eagerly. She frowned at him, ready to tell both of them to stop their nonsense, and then saw Alexieva’s face. The surveyor was certain she shouldn’t listen, but she believed all the same. The temptation was overwhelming. Heikki swallowed her reproof, and slipped her hands into the pockets of her shift.
After a moment, Alexieva said, as though she grudged the question, “Isn’t that dangerous?”
At her side, Nkosi grinned, and as quickly wiped the expression off his face. Djuro said, “Oh, yeah. The capsules aren’t screened, you see. Why should they be? After all, it’d be a waste of money to protect inanimate cargo. So you go through the warp without the shielding.”
There was a moment of silence, and Heikki shivered in spite of herself. Even though she knew better than to believe Djuro’s story entirely, the picture was a frightening one: to be exposed to the unimaginable forces that could tear open the universe and then hold it open, to face a chaos that wasn’t chaos, but an order beyond any description except the most approximate of mathematics…. She shook the thought away.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Sten,” she said, more roughly than she’d intended, and Nkosi shook a finger at her.
“Language, Heikki.”
“You know perfectly well that isn’t true,” Heikki said, without turning to look at the pilot. “Stop telling old wives’ tales.”
Djuro grinned. “It’s all perfectly true, and you know it,” he protested, but without conviction.
Alexieva blushed furiously red, and looked even angrier as she touched one hot cheek. “So what about that girl?”
“Persistent, isn’t she?” Djuro murmured.
Heikki frowned at him, and said, “Well, half of what Sten said is true, anyway. Those kids, station rats, free riders, do hide in the cargo capsules—but the capsules are solid, even if they don’t carry the same shielding as the live transfer ones. When people get killed, it’s usually through lack of oxygen. Somebody suffocates in a loose cargo.”
“Or they forget to open the cock,” Djuro began, and Heikki glared at him.
“Give it up, Sten. You’ve had your fun.” The chimes sounded, releasing the cars for boarding, and Heikki was grateful for the interruption. “All right, everybody on board.”
She held the capsule door for them, shaking her head at a stranger who would have joined them, and the others filed inside, Alexieva darting a single distrustful glance at the barrier ahead before ducking into the little car. It was, Heikki thought, a sweet—if petty—revenge, and she allowed herself a faint smile as she closed the capsule door behind them. Djuro passed their tickets under the capsule’s scanner; the machine clicked to itself, then flashed a steady green bar: passage confirmed. Heikki settled herself against the cushions, glancing around the compartment, and took the single sheet of folded thermoprint that Nkosi held out to her. The warning sounded, and the train slid smoothly forward, picking up speed as it approached the opening barrier. In spite of all the times she’d ridden the trains, Heikki braced herself, and saw, out of the corner of her eye, the others doing the same. The train lurched once as they passed over the threshold of the barrier—Alexieva turned as white as she had been red—and then the capsule seemed suddenly to pick up speed at an impossible rate.
“Now,” Nkosi said softly, one big hand closing over Alexieva’s clenched fist, and then they were into the warp itself. For a moment that seemed horribly endless, they hung in non-space, outside of space, and then reality returned, and the string of capsules was coasting up to the platform on EP3.
Alexieva murmured something that might have been a curse, and shook herself free of Nkosi’s hand as though she were angry at her own frailty.
The rest of the trip was uneventful. Heikki, watching covertly over the edge of her newssheet, was surprised and reluctantly impressed to see that Alexieva, while she avoided looking at the screen, managed to face the rest of the trip with surprising equanimity. But then, Heikki thought, I knew she was brave enough. I just wish her courage were all 1 had to worry about.
And then at last the capsule slowed to a halt at the inbound platform of EP7. Heikki reached for the door controls with more eagerness than she’d admitted feeling, and felt her cheeks grow hot as she fumbled with the latch. The door slid open, and she stepped out onto the platform, glad that the others were busy with their own belongings.
“Where away?” Nkosi asked cheerfully, folding the last newssheet into his jacket’s capacious pocket.
“Baggage claim first,” Heikki answered, “and then— I’m heading for home. What you do is up to you, but you’re all welcome back at the office.”
“Thank you,” Nkosi said, and looked at Alexieva. “But I think we had better find a place to stay, first. My usual flat only has housepacks for one.”
“I want to stop by briefly,” Djuro said, “but just to pick up my pay.”
Heikki gave him a smile of thanks, as much for the tact as for the offer itself, and said aloud, “Whatever suits you, people. Just—keep your mailcodes current with us, please? After all the strangeness of this contract, I’d like to be able to get in touch with you if the lawyers have any questions.”
“You’re not thinking of suing?” Alexieva asked.
“Not yet,” Heikki answered. “But—as I’ve said all along—this way of terminating a contract doesn’t make me look good.”
They made their way through the first set of gates to the baggage windows, and Nkosi volunteered himself and Alexieva for the tedious job of waiting for the crates to appear. Heikki, genuinely grateful, dug a handful of transfer slips out of her belt pockets and gave them to him.
“I will not need all of these,” the pilot protested, halfheartedly, and Heikki shrugged.
“Send your own stuff wherever it’s going, and if you haven’t used up the credits, flip me the excess sometime.” She glanced over her shoulder, and saw an unexpected and familiar figure standing at the entrance to the transport concourse. Santerese lifted a hand in exuberant greeting, and Heikki felt her own heart lift. “Keep in touch, Jock,” she said, and tried not to turn away too quickly.
“Oh, I shall,” Nkosi called after her, laughing. “We have not yet completely settled accounts, after all.”
Heikki turned back, flushing in embarrassment, and Nkosi waved her on. “Which we will do when you have settled your contract, I know. I will contact you tomorrow, all right?”
“Right,” Heikki agreed, relieved, and made her way through the crowd to Santerese. Djuro was there before her, but Heikki ignored him.
“Marshallin,” she said, and the two women embraced.
“Lord, doll,” Santerese said, heedless of modest language, and held her partner at arms’ length. “It’s good to see you back.”
“It’s good to be back,” Heikki said, aware both of the foolish inadequacy of her words and of Santerese’s impish acknowledging smile. “How’re things?”
“Well enough,” Santerese answered, but there was a note in her voice, a hint of restraint, that made Heikki look sharply at her. Santerese shook her head once, and said, “Let’s get back to the suite, and get Sten fed—”
“That’s not necessary, thanks,” Djuro interrupted, with a slight smile. “I just want to get a draft, if I c
an, and then I can be on my way.”
Heikki saw Santerese’s almost imperceptible sigh of relief, and knew Djuro had heard the same restraint in her partner’s voice. Thank you, Sten, she said silently, and opened her mouth to suggest they take a floater across the stations’s central volume, when Santerese said, with an almost perfect imitation of her usual breezy tone, “As it happens, Sten, I can save you the trip. I brought a voucher here, if you can bear to take LloydsBank.”
Djuro lifted an eyebrow. “I’ll take what I can get, Marshallin.” He paused, hazel eyes darting from one to the other as he took the slim card from Santerese, visibly considering further questions, but in the end said only, “I’ll be in touch.” The words were as much a threat as a promise.
He started away—toward the common transport tubes, Heikki saw without surprise, but she could not muster amusement at the little man’s habitual frugality. “What’s wrong, Marshallin?”
Santerese made a face. “Nothing’s wrong, precisely—or nothing’s wrong, yet.” She shook her head—annoyed with herself, Heikki knew, and offered a tentatively consoling hand. Santerese accepted it with a smile, but the response was abstracted. “Let’s get back to the suite,” she said, “and then we can talk.”
As bad as all that? Heikki thought, chilled, but let the other woman draw her away toward a waiting jitney. Santerese was unusually silent on the long ride back through the station corridors to the suite of rooms that served as both office and living quarters, and Heikki found her nervousness contagious, so that she barely noticed the familiar landmarks passing outside the jitney windows. At last the machine drew to a stop at the end of the corridor that led to their pod, and Santerese popped the canopy with a sigh of relief, saying, “I was beginning to think we’d never get here.”
So was I, Heikki thought. She followed Santerese down the twisting corridor that led to the stairs, nodding to the securitron on duty at the head of the stairway, and then rode the movingstairs down the three levels to their suite. The staircase seemed slower than ever, and it was all Heikki could do to keep from breaking modesty and start striding down the stairs at twice the stair’s sedate pace. She shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, and Santerese gave her a wry glance, but said nothing until they were finally inside the suite.
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