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.
And then, mercifully, it was over, ending with an abruptness that left her dizzy, mind still reeling in non-space. The capsule slowed, bumping to a stop, and Heikki forced herself to move, feeling in the darkness for the raised letters that marked the emergency release. There was less time on arrival; the loaders would appear all too quickly…. She found it at last, and slammed her palm against the release button. The lid did not budge, and she hit it again, harder, bruising the heel of her hand painfully, her breath catching in a gasp that was almost a sob. This time, the release worked, and the lid rose majestically, letting in the dim light of the cargo platform on EP7.
Even that seemed bright, after the cave-like darkness of the capsule. Heikki blinked away tears, and pushed herself up onto her knees, forcing herself to hurry. “Come on, damn it,” she said, as much to herself as to Galler. “Come on.”
Galler groaned, and pushed himself up into a sitting position, both hands at his temples. Heikki swore, and reached for him, but he batted her hand away, and slid out of the capsule on his own. He reached back for his lapscreen, slinging it shakily over his shoulder, and said, “I don’t think much of your cheap flights, Gwynne.”
Heikki, hauling at the bolts they had pushed aside, did not bother to answer. Light flared above them then, flooding the platform with a hard blue glare.
“Leave that,” Galler said, with sudden urgency. “The loaders are coming.”
“I know,” Heikki snarled, and slammed the capsule shut. She could see, at the far end of the platform, the red-painted door that was the emergency exit to the passenger platform. She pointed to it with one hand, the other fumbling in her pocket for the seal she had removed from the lock. “Get going, go on.”
“But—” Galler bit off whatever protest he had been about to make, and started for the emergency exit at a trot.
Heikki slapped the seal back into place, and drew out the molecular probe again, frantically twisting the dial until she had the setting she wanted. She slid the probe back into the hole she’d originally made, and triggered the button. In the background, she thought she could hear the snarl of a robo-pallet’s power plant, but dismissed it as imagination. Light flared, and the stasis field vanished, the seal resuming its original spongy composition. She withdrew the probe with hurried care, certain now that she heard pallets approaching, and sprinted for the emergency exit. I hope to hell Sten was right and the lock’s been jinxed already, she thought, and knew it was entirely too late to be worrying about that. Galler was at the door already, beckoning wildly. Behind her, Heikki heard the thudding as the first hatch was opened, and then she was at the emergency door. She slapped the release bar hard, no longer caring if she triggered all the alarms on the station, and saw Galler gaping at her, mouth and eyes wide as if in protest. The door swung outward easily, without alarm or even the shriek of hinges, and Heikki barely managed to catch it before it swung too far. And then they were through, staring at the crowd streaming out of the passenger capsules toward the main exit. Heikki closed the emergency exit gently behind them, hardly able to believe she was here and safe, and saw the same disbelief on Galler’s face.