Traffic Control

DATE: Year 308-B, Sol 528

LOCATION: Io (JLF Cargo Logistics)

The radar screen was a boring river of text.

Ore Hauler 799... Docked.

Sulfur Barge 4... Departed.

Maintenance Drone... Active.

Clara rubbed her eyes. She was on hour ten, into her second shift at the JLF Cargo Logistics desk. Her back hurt, and her hands were stained permanently from the sulfur dust on the crates.

Next to her, Dr. Murray was typing furiously into the Archive terminal. She was translating old WMR mining logs she’d found in the deep database. She looked happier than she had in months.

-Clara, Murray whispered, not looking up. Did you know the WMR used poetry as encryption keys? It’s fascinating.

-That’s great, Doc, Clara mumbled.

-Boots, boots, boots, Murray said, reading.

Beep.

A new contact appeared on Clara’s scope. A double signature.

UNIDENTIFIED TOW.

VECTOR: INBOUND FROM JUPITER.

Clara froze. She tapped the headset volume up.

-Io Control, this is the Mighty Sparrow, a voice crackled. It sounded tired. Requesting approach for drop-off and refuel. Being towed.

Clara’s heart slammed against her ribs.

-It’s him, she gasped. She grabbed Murray’s arm. It’s Small!

Murray looked up, blinking.

-They made it?

-They’re requesting a drop-off, Clara said, listening to the chatter.

-Control copies, Sparrow, the tower replied. Who’s towing?

-Stardust here, Market’s voice said. One passenger, one vessel. Then I’m burning for Venus. I need a quick turn-around. Don't park me.

Clara stood up so fast her chair knocked over.

-He’s running, she said. He’s dumping the kid and running.

-Clara, wait-- Murray started.

But Clara was already moving. She vaulted over the logistics counter. She ignored the foreman shouting at her. She sprinted for the exit door that led to the tarmac.

-Clara! Murray shouted, running after her.

They burst out into the garage. A JLF maintenance rover, basically a flatbed cart with a roll cage, was idling by the door.

Clara jumped into the driver’s seat. She didn't know how to drive a rover, but everything was thrust and vector.

She slammed the throttle forward.

Murray scrambled into the passenger seat just as the tires spun, kicking up a rooster tail of yellow dust.

-Pad 9! Clara yelled over the wind. They’re at Pad 9!