Getting a Ride

LOCATION: Base of the Tharsis Elevator (Ore Processing)

Clara and Dr. Murray moved through the gravel, staying low, the shadow of the Elevator Anchor stretching over them.

Massive automated loaders, the size of city blocks, moved on rail tracks, carrying shipping containers filled with raw ore from the mines. They didn't stop for people, they didn’t have the sensors.

Murray pulled Clara behind a stack of rusted conduits. She checked her datapad. The screen was cracked, spider-webbed from the slide.

-The perimeter alert is active, Murray shouted over the noise. Sweepers will be going through the discharge zone in five minutes. We need to disappear.

-Disappear where? Clara asked, her voice thin and overwhelmed in the heavy air. We don't have the tea bricks anymore. We can't even buy a ride.

-We can still hitch one.

They moved deeper into the loading yard.

Murray stopped at a switching station, a small control booth overlooking the tracks. It was fully automated, which meant it was empty. She pried open the external maintenance panel with her multi-tool.

-What are you doing?

-I’m changing the manifest, Murray said, her fingers working fast on the exposed wires.

She pointed to a container on the track below them. It was a dull brown box, forty feet long, marked SILICATE WASTE.

-That box is headed for the orbital counterweight. From there, it gets flushed into a mass-driver and shot to the smelters in the Belt.

-But we don't want to go to the Belt, Clara whined.

-Right, Murray agreed. We want to go to Venus.

She tapped the screen on the panel.

MANIFEST UPDATE: PRIORITY MEDICAL TRANSFER. DESTINATION: VENUS ORBITAL DOCK. CONTENTS: BIO-STASIS UNITS.

-There is a heavy hauler, the Iron Lung, departing the counterweight in six hours for inner system transit, Murray explained. I just told the computer that this box of dirt is actually urgent medical supplies for the Venusian colonies.

-Will they check inside?

-Not if it’s flagged Bio-stasis. They’ll just seal and load it.

Murray hit ENTER. The panel flashed green.

On the track below, the container hissed. A yellow light on its side turned red. PRIORITY.

-Let’s go, Murray said.

They scrambled down the service ladder to the track level. The container was massive. The manual locking mechanism was high up, designed for loader bots.

-I can't reach it, Clara cried, jumping for the handle.

Murray looked at Clara’s legs.

-Your braces, she said. Overcharge the servos and jump.

-I’ll break them.

-We’re about to be cargo, Clara. You won't need to walk for a long time. Jump.

Clara gritted her teeth. She dialed the hydraulic assist to max. She crouched and sprang upward.

The braces shrieked, sparks flying from the knee joints, but they launched her three meters into the air. She grabbed the handle of the container door and pulled.

It swung open with a groan. Inside, it was filled with raw silicate, a gray dust.

Clara scrambled onto the lip of the door and reached down.

-Magister! Take my hand!

Murray reached up. Clara pulled, her mechanical legs whining under the strain, until Murray tumbled into the dust beside her. They pulled the heavy steel door shut.

A moment later, the container lurched with a thud.

A magnetic grapple had latched onto the roof. They were lifted into the air, swinging.

-We’re moving, Clara whispered in the dark.

-Save your oxygen, Murray murmured. The trip up the wire takes six hours. Then they load us into the hold of the hauler. It’s unpressurized cargo, so keep your suit sealed.

-How long? Clara asked.

Murray didn't answer for a long moment. She was calculating the orbits. Venus was ahead of Mars in its orbit this time of year, which worked in their favor. It would still take a long time.

-It’s not a fast burn, Clara. It’s a Hohmann transfer with a heavy payload.

-How long?

-Three months , Murray whispered. Maybe four.

-Four months in a box? Clara explained.

-We aren't staying in the box, Murray whispered.

-As soon as we’re aboard the Iron Lung and the bay doors close, we cut our way out, she said, tapping her multi-tool. We get into the maintenance crawlspace. We tap their water lines. We steal their pantry scraps.

-Like rats? Clara asked.

Murray patted Clara’s knee brace.

-Like Dwellers, she corrected. We stay hidden. We stay quiet. And we get a ride all the way to Venus.

Clara curled up in the dust. She held the shard of yellow plastic in her hand.

-I’m coming, Small, she whispered.