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?”
