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.”