“Yeah, you.” The speaker was a big-bellied man, a dozen union badges dangling from his belt, some almost hidden by the swelling stomach. “What are you doing down here?”
“I have business here,” Heikki answered, and withered him with a look, doing her best to read the badges in that same brief glance. They were mostly engineers’ codes, making him one of the elite crew that handled the tuning and maintenance of the warp itself—but that also means, Heikki thought, that he doesn’t know the dockside work at all. Or I hope he doesn’t, she added, and waited for the next question.
“Yeah?” The man’s expression was not as disbelieving as his tone. “What’s the name?”
“Gallatin.” She heard Galler gasp again, but did not dare look back to glare at him. Gallatin Cie was one of the Loop’s largest shippers, and its principal was a woman of Heikki’s age and status, a woman Precinct-born, who did not bother with publicity. She held her breath, and hoped the union man had never seen any of Gallatin’s infrequent interviews.
The engineer’s eyebrows rose, though he held onto his skeptical expression. “Where you heading?” He managed not to add the honorific, and Heikki mentally gave him points for it.
“I’ve got a cargo going on the platform in twenty minutes,” she said. “I want to watch it through.”
It was a common enough precaution, and the engineer shrugged. “The platform riser is that way,” he said, and pointed down the corridor.
Heikki nodded, not daring to believe that they’d gotten away with it, and started off in the direction indicated. Galler followed, clutching his lapscreen to his side in a plausible imitation of a private secretary’s protective gesture. Heikki did not look back, but she was very aware of the engineer watching them. Then, to her relief, a woman’s voice called from a side corridor, and the man turned away.
“You were lucky,” Galler said, under his breath.
I know, Heikki thought, but said only, “Take the left-hand corridor.”
This one was less well-kept than the main road, its rounded, tunnel-like walls covered with much-scarred padding, the floor tiles scored with deep parallel grooves from the robo-pallets. There would be no explaining their presence here, Heikki knew, and quickened her step until they were almost running, at the same time straining to hear over the soft slapping of their own footsteps. Broad, shallow alcoves lined the walls: safety cells, Heikki realized after a moment, for the human crews’ use when the pallets were too wide to let them pass.
They had covered perhaps a third of the distance to the first feeder tunnel when Galler said, “Christ!”
He pointed to a cell perhaps fifteen meters ahead, where the tunnel lights dimmed slightly. A single leg protruded into the corridor. Heikki bit back her own fear, and said, more roughly than she’d intended, “Keep your voice down.”
She flattened herself against the wall, and waited. Nothing moved in the corridor ahead of them. Galler copied her movement, holding the lapscreen now as though it were a shield. The leg did not move, and Heikki made herself take several slow, deep breaths. Well, she told herself, with a bravado she did not feel, either it’s dead, or too stoned to care, and eased herself away from the padded wall. She heard Galler make a little noise of protest at her back, and waved impatiently for him to be quiet. She moved forward, as soundlessly as she could, and was suddenly aware that Galler was at her back, the screen held now like an ungainly club. Heikki felt a stab of surprise and annoyance, and angrily suppressed both feelings.
The leg did not stir as they came closer, and Heikki paused again to survey the corridor. There was still no sign of movement, nor any signs of blood or burning, just the single coveralled leg protruding into the walkway. Drunk or drugged, Heikki thought, but did not relax her grip on the knife. Slowly and still cautiously, she made her way up to the cell and looked in. The man who lay there, sprawled uncomfortably against the padding, had a young face, but his hair was already greying. A plastic case half the size of Heikki’s palm lay on the floor beside his outstretched hand.
“Christ,” Galler said again, and Heikki looked back at him, her own emotions shutting down just as they had done on Iadara, at the wreck site. “Shouldn’t we—?”
“What?” Heikki asked. She started to turn away, and then, grimacing, kicked the stranger’s leg back out of the main passageway. The man did not stir, or make any noise. He moved like a man already dead, and Heikki winced. “There’s nothing more we can do,” she said, as much to convince herself as for Galler’s benefit, and turned away.
“Not without betraying ourselves,” Galler said. Heikki did not answer, and he followed without further protest, looking back only once.
They had covered most of the distance to the feeder tunnel when Heikki heard something in the tunnel behind them. She stopped, lifting her hand for silence, and then recognized the noise of a robo-pallet’s wheels on the compressible tiling.
“Heikki,” Galler began, and Heikki nodded.
“I hear it. There’s a cell ahead of us, get in it.”
“Can’t we outrun it?” Galler asked, quickening his step.
“Are you joking?” Heikki said, and bit back the rest of her comment. “No, we couldn’t outrun it—these things move, Galler—and besides, they don’t usually carry human operators.” They were at the alcove’s edge, and she stepped inside, flattening herself against the near wall. Galler wedged himself in beside her, swearing under his breath, and she hissed at him to be quiet. The noise of the pallet was already louder, the crunching sound now interspersed with the shriek of an unoiled bearing. Heikki winced, but hoped that meant there were no human attendants. Surely no one would endure that when all it takes is a minor adjustment, she thought, but did not move from her place against the wall. Beside her, Galler made a face, and covered his ears as the machine drew closer. Heikki winced, tilting her head against her shoulder, but did not let go of her knife.
Then the pallet was alongside them, the thin screech of the bearing painful in their ears. The narrow ledge beside the guidance box was empty, and Heikki released the breath she had not known she had been holding. As the machine swept past, she leaned forward, trying to read the numbers stenciled on the tags that dangled from each of the crates piled high on the cargo platform.
“5G,” she said, when the noise had faded enough to allow conversation. “We’re in luck, for once.”
“What do you mean?” Galler asked, rather irritably.
“You weren’t cut out for adventuring,” Heikki said, unable to resist the temptation.
“No, I wasn’t,” Galler answered. “Nor did I ever wish to be.” He shook his head. “What did you mean?”
This wasn’t the time to tease him, Heikki told herself sternly. “Those are the last numbers on the routing slips, the load slot numbers. 5G is the standard code for the last items to be loaded—I’ve seen it often enough, there’s a discount for shipping in that spot, so we ship our equipment that way, unless there’s going to be a disaster if it doesn’t arrive. Class five stuff is the stuff that gets left, if there’re any delays.” She was already moving in the pallet’s wake, heading toward the feeder, and Galler followed reluctantly.
“I still don’t see how that’s lucky.”
“It means we don’t have to wait so long before the platform empties out,” Heikki answered. They were almost in sight of the first feeder tunnel now. She paused, glancing at the chronodisplay in her lens, then twisting the bezel to display the maps she had downloaded from the Point’s main directory. “We keep going,” she said aloud. “The next tunnel’s not far, and there should be a safety cell just past it where we can wait.”
“Whatever you say,” Galler said morosely. Heikki laughed, but did not look back.
The entrance to the first feeder tunnel was closed and sealed according to regulations, lights glowing above the grill of the tonelock. Galler paused to stare for a moment at the mechanism, then hurried after his sister.
As the map had indicated, there was
a safety cell set into the wall of the main corridor just past the entrance to the second feeder tunnel. From the cell’s location, Heikki guessed that the tunnel had been added after the completion of the docks, probably when the Northern Extension had finally opened and traffic through EP4 really took off. Whatever the reason, I’m glad it’s there, she told herself, and rested all her weight against the padding. Galler gave her a wary look.
“Now what?” he asked, and lowered the lapscreen to the floor at his feet.
“We wait,” Heikki answered, and frowned, trying to remember what Djuro had told her. “They clear the cargo platform about ten minutes before the run-up actually starts—they’re close to the warp there, and there isn’t as much shielding. We’ll see them go, let them get clear, and jinx the door ourselves. There’s a cargo of bolt fabric going to EP7, four or five capsules’ worth—I showed you the documents—and we’ll jinx the capsule seals and crawl in with the bolts.”
“We’ll have to work fast, won’t we?” Galler said.
Heikki lifted an eyebrow. “Well, of course—”
“No, I mean because of the warp.” Galler gestured impatiently. “Look, if the powers-that-be clear the platform, it’s not just out of concern for their people’s health. The effects must be pretty serious, if they’re willing to waste ten minutes of work time.”
Heikki curbed irritation born of fear. “You’re right, we’ll just have to work fast.”
Galler did not answer. Heikki rested her head against the wall, willing herself to relax. Anger did no good, nor did fear; one could only be calm, become calm, and be ready to act when the time came….
Warning chimes, signaling that the locks on the feeder hatch had been released, interrupted her private litany. Heikki straightened, fear stabbing through her, and felt Galler stiffen beside her. She forced what she hoped was a reassuring smile as the noise of the pallets’ power plants grew suddenly louder, and knew she had failed miserably. The noise grew louder still—the squeaking bearing, she noticed, was muted, had been crudely repaired, and then was annoyed with herself for the irrelevance of the thought. Most of the machines seemed to be leaving from the first two hatches, and she congratulated herself on her foresight. Then the noise of wheels seemed suddenly to surround them, and a pallet swept into view, coming from the last feeder tunnel joining the corridor above them. It was too late to be afraid; she stood frozen, seeing in a split second the tall woman on the driver’s ledge, her hands lazy at her sides, and the two young men sprawled in the empty cargo bed, laughing at something someone had said. And then it was past, and no one had raised the alarm.
Heikki stayed very still for a long time, even after the sound of the machines had faded to a distant mutter, until even that seashell noise was gone and the tunnel was silent. Galler stirred beside her. “Shouldn’t we be going?”
“A little more,” Heikki said, automatically contrary, then shook herself. “No, let’s go.”
The feeder hatch was locked again, the telltales glowing above the sensor grill. Heikki studied it, frowning, and Galler said, “I assume it’s some kind of automatic? A unit on each of the pallets with a trigger signal?”
Heikki nodded. “Let me see your lapscreen.”
To her surprise, Galler shook his head. “Let me do this.” At Heikki’s look of surprise, he made a face. “What do you think I’ve been doing for most of my adult life? Half a liaison’s job is to get into places he’s not supposed to.”
Even as he spoke, he was fiddling with the controls, his eyes darting from the miniscreen to the telltales, and back again. Heikki watched with grudging admiration as patterns formed and reformed on the little screen.
“Got it,” Galler said abruptly, and touched a key. For a split second, nothing seemed to happen, and then Heikki heard something, a sound so high and shrill that it was hardly a sound at all, more a shiver in the air around her. The lights flashed wildly above the lock, and then turned green. Galler smiled, and gestured grandly for Heikki to do the honors. Heikki smiled back rather sourly, and pushed open the hatch. It was heavy, designed to be operated by one of the pallets, and she had to throw all her weight against it before the thick metal would budge. It swung back at last, the hinges groaning, and Heikki stepped through onto the cargo platform.
The lights were dim, cut back to emergency levels, and she swore under her breath, wishing she had a handlight. Behind her, she heard Galler say something indistinct, his tone questioning, but she ignored him and started for the capsules lined up at the platform. The first two, the two closest to the entrance to the passenger platform, carried expensive double locks as well as the railroad’s soft sealing. She ignored them, and moved forward along the train, bending close to read each of the tags stuck to the capsule’s smooth surface just above the wads of sealant.
“I don’t think we have much time left,” Galler said quietly.
Heikki looked up, startled, and in the same moment felt a strong vibration deep in her bones. She had been feeling it for some time now, she realized abruptly, but it had been too familiar to draw notice: the thrumming of the PDE running up to full power. To her right, the pressurewall that contained the warp seemed to shimmer slightly. It’s your imagination, she told herself, but there was no denying that the light on the platform was slowly growing brighter.
“You start looking, too,” Heikki ordered. “You know the code—TTJ8291 slash 929K. Ignore the first half dozen capsules, we don’t want to ride in them anyway.”
Galler nodded, and started up the line. Heikki put him out of her mind, concentrating on the strings of numbers embossed on the half-meter square stickers. The codes blurred as she went, numbers and letters running together; she wanted desperately to check her lens, see how much time she had until the warp opened and the train pulled out, but she did not dare. Not much, she knew, and maybe not enough, but— And then she saw it, the code on the sticker beneath her hand matching the numbers she had memorized less than a day before.
“Got it,” she called, and reached into her pocket for the toolkit. The seal was nothing complicated; she had jinxed its like before. Frowning, she selected a thin probe from among the array nestling against the clingcloth, and inserted it into the spongy material of the seal itself, running the probe’s tip under the lower edge where the insertion mark would be least likely to be noticed. She checked the setting a final time, and pressed the button at the end of the probe. There was a flash of light, and when she touched the seal again, the material had gone rigid, held in stasis until she released it. She freed the probe, and used a spade-headed key to pry the seal away from the lock. That mechanism was uncomplicated. Behind her, Galler cleared his throat, but Heikki ignored him, and punched in a set of numbers. The lock considered, and then snapped open. Heikki allowed herself a quick grin, and hauled up the capsule’s loading hatch. She searched along the inner wall below the latch mechanism until she found the vent control. She turned the cock to full open, then straightened again.
“Help me move the bolts. Stack them to the side, I think there’s room.”
Together they hauled at the bolts of fabric, slippery in their protective wrappings, wedging them up against the top of the crate until they’d cleared two rectangular spaces. The openings looked unpleasantly like new-dug graves, but Heikki pushed the thought away. “Get in,” she said, and swung herself sideways into the nearer space.
Galler did as he was told, his expression one of resignation. “Two questions,” he said, tucking his lapboard between the bolts beside him. “Are you sure you can close it, and how are we going to get out again?”
Heikki had swung around on her knees, reaching for the lid above her, but allowed herself a sour smile. “Yes, I can close it,” she said, and braced herself for the effort. “There’s an emergency release on the inside of the latch—standard precaution, ever since a worker was trapped in one. Ready?” Without waiting for Galler’s answer, she brought the lid down, balancing awkwardly on knees and elbows until she heard the
lock catch. She sprawled on her stomach then, unable comfortably to turn over in the confined space. Nothing to do now but wait, she thought, and tried to make her breathing slow and even. The air in the capsule already smelled hot and stale. Imagination, she tried to tell herself, there are vents and you opened them, but her body was not fully convinced.
“Heikki?” Galler’s voice was muffled—by the crowding bolts, Heikki told herself, and not by fear.
“What?”
“How the hell did you open the lock?”
Heikki grinned in the darkness. “This isn’t high security. Almost everybody who ships by rail codes the capsule lock to the date and time of the shipment. I punched that in, and, sure enough, it opened.”
There was a moment’s silence, and then Galler swore. “How can they be so stupid?”
“Write them a memo,” Heikki suggested. The capsule lurched suddenly, and she swallowed her laughter. The copper taste of fear was in her mouth; she dug her fingers into the plastic covering the bolts to either side, wishing she had never listened to her brother, this time or any time. The capsule swayed again, carried by the lifting field, then bounded forward a meter or two.
“What the hell?” Galler said again, and there was enough of a note of hysteria in his voice to force Heikki to answer.
“The passenger train just linked up,” she said, and hoped he believed her. It was a plausible enough explanation, anyway, whether or not it happened to be true. Then the capsule lifted a final time, the movement steadier, more controlled, and slid forward toward the warp. Heikki braced herself, staring into the darkness, and felt the gentle bumping as the capsules began to slide into the warp. Their capsule lifted, and her with it, her body rising into a silent explosion filled with indescribable color, colors that did not, could not exist in anything approaching reality. She felt her body floating, then streaming away, as though the unimaginable forces of the warp were sweating the last atom of flesh from her bones. She clasped her hands in denial, felt the touch of skin on skin, but the sensation of melting, of dissolution continued, more real than the thin pain of finger against finger.
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