Les Johnson - Going Interstellar

It was a big job, as the officer had warned, and it was made harder by the pull of electrogravity. Isabet gritted her teeth as she pushed and pulled, maneuvering a dolly full of cartons over the rubbery rim of the lock and into the loading bay of the habitat. The lock was sealed with a ring that looked a lot like the maintenance tube she spent so much time in. It was smaller, of course, and a whole lot shorter. It arched up—electrogravity meant there was an up-and-around the lock that connected North America ’s hold with Starhold ’s loading bay. Isabet gazed curiously at it as she passed beneath. The seal had to be perfect, of course, or they’d all be spaced in no time, but it still seemed a clumsy way to connect the two vessels. She recognized the backup systems set into the walls of the sealing ring, and wondered how they checked them. She couldn’t imagine anyone from Starhold was small enough to fit into the ring.

The loading bay bristled with robotic arms and cranes. They could have installed power boosters on the damn dollies, she thought. Maybe Starhold wasn’t all that different from the North America after all. Why bother with power boosters when they had cheap labor like hers? Not that she minded. And at least Tie Dye was grunting and sweating as hard as she was.

She rolled her dolly toward one of the inner doors. It opened at her approach.

“Hi!” A pleasant-faced, broad-shouldered man stood in the doorway. He wore civvies, a bright orange shirt and a pair of striped pants, and his gray hair was caught back in a ponytail. He cocked his head at her, and gave her a welcoming smile. “I’m the stores manager,” he said. “I’ll give you a hand.”

“You’re not in uniform,” she blurted.

He laughed. “No, we’re not military. Here, let me take that.” He stepped around her, and took the handles of the dolly in hands that didn’t look used to this sort of work. “You’re not doing this alone, I hope!” he said. He pushed the dolly a few feet. “This is heavy!”

Before she could answer, Tie Dye came into the bay behind her, pushing another dolly loaded with sealed barrels and bales secured with nylon cord. He worked the dolly over the rim and brought it to rest near the door. “Got somebody to unload this stuff?” he asked the gray-haired man.

“I’ll do it myself. I’m Link.” The man put out his hand. Tie Dye grasped it, and then Link offered his hand to Isabet, too. Startled, she took it. His hand was as soft as it looked, and she was a little embarrassed about her hard small one with its bitten nails. She watched Link in wonder and envy. His casual attitude, his colorful clothes, all made the habitat seem more magical than ever.

“If we can get this off the dollies, the different departments will come for their own stuff,” Link said.

“Sure,” Isabet said at the same time Tie Dye delivered a “guess so.” She gave the stores manager a helpless look.

He winked at her, and stepped up to unbuckle a restraining strap. Tie Dye said, “Itty Bit, go back and make another trip. There’s another dolly loaded up.” She turned toward the lock again. “And get a move on,” he said, unnecessarily. Over her shoulder, she cast him a look of loathing. Link, too, gave him a look, but she couldn’t read it. She shrugged, and turned her energies to the next load.

It took hours to shift the cargo, a year’s worth of supplies for more than fifty habitat staff. The round trip took four months each way, and the North America needed four months Earthside to re-line and then refill the antimatter containment ring. The habitat had an extensive hydroponic level and recycling plant, but its staff depended on these supplies for survival.

Isabet was glad Link was there, directing the placement and stacking and ordering of the containers. Once, when they were taking a breather, she asked him about the sealing ring and how it was maintained. He pointed out the instrument panel. “See that? It opens up, and we send in a crawler.”

“What does the crawler do?”

“I’ll show you how it works.” He crossed to the panel set into the sealing ring. He stood on one of the laddered handholds, and with a quick motion popped the clamps from one side. The panel swung neatly open to reveal an orderly constellation of small screens set into the inside. Folded against the interior of the tube was a spidery object of metal and plastic. Link swept his hand over one of the screens and it came to life, glowing with blue light. He pointed to the metal object, and Isabet climbed up beside him to see it better. “That’s the crawler.” He touched the screen and the crawler stirred, its narrow limbs opening until it filled the ring.

“Are those the sensors?” Isabet reached out her hand, but Link caught it before she could touch the crawler.

“Careful!” he said hastily. His fingers were warm and strong, though his skin was so soft. “I should have warned you. The legs are really sharp. It’s a design flaw, but the engineers haven’t addressed the problem yet. When it needs maintenance, someone has to put on asbestos gloves just to pull it out.” He pointed behind him, at the opposite side of the lock. “The exit from the tube is over there.” She glanced over her shoulder, and saw a matching panel set into the opposite wall.

Link touched the little screen again, and the crawler retracted with a series of metallic clicks that made her think of sharpened knives knocking together. “It’s safe now,” he said. “It’s only dangerous when it’s extended.”

“What does it do?”

“Traverses the sealing ring, checking for pressure differentials.”

“Leaks.”

“Right.”

“That’s what I do, on North America . For the antimatter containment ring. I crawl though the maintenance tube to make sure the seals are holding and the monitors are working.”

He grinned at her. “I don’t think even you could fit into this ring.”

She cocked her head to one side and eyed it. “I could squeeze in,” she said, and laughed. “I’m glad there’s no need. Your crawler looks like a grasshopper made out of razor blades!”

“You’re not the first to think of a grasshopper when they see it. That’s part of the problem. Too many pieces that can break.”

Tie Dye said, “Itty Bit! Get your ass back to work. I don’t want to be here all day.” She felt a faint surprise that he didn’t bother to hide his attitude from Starhold’ s staff. He probably figured it was her fault he had to spend so much time shifting cargo. She’d pay for that later, but she didn’t care. It was worth it to meet someone from the habitat, to hear details of life on Starhold . These people were the first step on the path to interstellar travel, and it gave her shivers of pleasure just to think about it. To realize she was having a hand in it.

Tie Dye had been angry at her for weeks. She had turned him down early in the voyage. He had said to her then that she should be glad anyone would give a girl like her a second look, with her ugly hair and skinny legs. He wasn’t mollified by the fact that she took no other lovers. The shelters had soured her on sex of any kind, even with friends, but she couldn’t see why she needed to explain that to him . The other ring techs figured it out early, and left her alone.

Sometimes she wondered if Tie Dye knew what it was to be someone’s friend. She never saw him in conversation with others of his own rank.

Link’s presence meant Tie Dye had to keep his hands off her, and that was good. He bumped her several times, usually an elbow in some soft part of her anatomy, or a hand fumbling unnecessarily around her ass as they transferred a container from one place to another, but she sidled away from him each time without protesting. She wanted to make a good impression on the affable Link. It felt good to be polite, to be respectful. Though the work was tiring, she didn’t want the day to end.