by Les Johnson
Isabet pushed off the inner surface of the maintenance tube, keeping her feet and hands free to maintain her momentum. She shot out into Engineering so that her feet bounced on the floor, grabbing the gravity borrowed from the habitat. Laughing, she straightened with a little hop. It felt good to have weight, even though it was only half gravity. She turned, bouncing on her toes, and found Tie Dye standing with a scowling woman Isabet hadn’t met before.
Isabet unclipped her remote and held it out to Tie Dye. She grinned up at the woman. “Hiya. Looking for me?”
The woman wore the insignia of a supply officer on her utility suit. She folded her arms, as if to discourage familiarity. Like the rest of the crew, she looked as if she had never lacked for nutrition in her life. She was tall, her skin smooth, her hair thick and shining. Isabet resisted the urge to touch her own ragged mop. She cut it herself, keeping it short to hide how coarse and dry it was.
Tie Dye said, “That’s Isabet, but she’s too small.”
“They’re all small, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, but she’s the smallest.”
“Let’s find the rest of them, then.” The woman turned toward the hatch that led to the ring techs’ quarters, Tie Dye behind her.
Isabet said, “Wait! At least tell me what it’s for.”
Tie Dye snapped, “Mind your own business, Itty Bit.”
At that, the supply officer stopped. She glanced briefly in Isabet’s direction, then directed her scowl at Tie Dye. “I thought you said her name was Isabet.”
He shrugged. “Yeah. Itty Bit’s a nickname.”
“Which I loathe,” Isabet murmured.
The woman’s eyelids flickered in acknowledgment. Her scowl deepened. “You want to watch yourself, Dykens. You’re a topnotch engineer, but you’re getting a reputation.”
Isabet chewed on the inside of her cheek, trying not to laugh as Tie Dye’s half-bald scalp reddened. When the officer turned back to her, she stood very straight, trying to look as tall as she could. “What’s up?” she asked brightly.
The officer measured Isabet with her eyes. “You are a bit small,” she said. “But we need to replace one of our warehousemen. He wrenched his back.”
“What’s the job?”
“Moving supplies into Starhold. There’s a lot of them, and some of them are heavy.”
“They’re on dollies, though, aren’t they? I can manage.”
Tie Dye opened his mouth, but Isabet hastened to speak again before he could make some pronouncement on her abilities. “I’m strong, ma’am,” she said, ignoring the roll of Tie Dye’s eyes at her sudden courtesy.
The officer’s hard gaze swept over Isabet. “You want to do this?” she said. “It’s going to be hard. It’s a year’s worth of supplies.”
Isabet nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I do want to. Nice to do something that’s not squeezing through the maintenance tube.”
The faintest twitch of the officer’s lips greeted this confession, disappearing almost before it registered. Tie Dye grunted, and started to say something, but the officer put up one admonishing finger, and he subsided. “Report to the supply deck in half an hour, Tech,” she said. “Thanks for volunteering.” And as Tie Dye heaved an exasperated sigh, the officer said in a dry tone, “You get to volunteer, too, Dykens. It’s a big job.”
It was a big job, as the officer had warned, and it was made harder by the pull of electrogravity. Isabet gritted her teeth as she pushed and pulled, maneuvering a dolly full of cartons over the rubbery rim of the lock and into the loading bay of the habitat. The lock was sealed with a ring that looked a lot like the maintenance tube she spent so much time in. It was smaller, of course, and a whole lot shorter. It arched up—electrogravity meant there was an up-and-around the lock that connected North America’s hold with Starhold’s loading bay. Isabet gazed curiously at it as she passed beneath. The seal had to be perfect, of course, or they’d all be spaced in no time, but it still seemed a clumsy way to connect the two vessels. She recognized the backup systems set into the walls of the sealing ring, and wondered how they checked them. She couldn’t imagine anyone from Starhold was small enough to fit into the ring.
The loading bay bristled with robotic arms and cranes. They could have installed power boosters on the damn dollies, she thought. Maybe Starhold wasn’t all that different from the North America after all. Why bother with power boosters when they had cheap labor like hers? Not that she minded. And at least Tie Dye was grunting and sweating as hard as she was.
She rolled her dolly toward one of the inner doors. It opened at her approach.
“Hi!” A pleasant-faced, broad-shouldered man stood in the doorway. He wore civvies, a bright orange shirt and a pair of striped pants, and his gray hair was caught back in a ponytail. He cocked his head at her, and gave her a welcoming smile. “I’m the stores manager,” he said. “I’ll give you a hand.”
“You’re not in uniform,” she blurted.
He laughed. “No, we’re not military. Here, let me take that.” He stepped around her, and took the handles of the dolly in hands that didn’t look used to this sort of work. “You’re not doing this alone, I hope!” he said. He pushed the dolly a few feet. “This is heavy!”
Before she could answer, Tie Dye came into the bay behind her, pushing another dolly loaded with sealed barrels and bales secured with nylon cord. He worked the dolly over the rim and brought it to rest near the door. “Got somebody to unload this stuff?” he asked the gray-haired man.
“I’ll do it myself. I’m Link.” The man put out his hand. Tie Dye grasped it, and then Link offered his hand to Isabet, too. Startled, she took it. His hand was as soft as it looked, and she was a little embarrassed about her hard small one with its bitten nails. She watched Link in wonder and envy. His casual attitude, his colorful clothes, all made the habitat seem more magical than ever.
“If we can get this off the dollies, the different departments will come for their own stuff,” Link said.
“Sure,” Isabet said at the same time Tie Dye delivered a “guess so.” She gave the stores manager a helpless look.
He winked at her, and stepped up to unbuckle a restraining strap. Tie Dye said, “Itty Bit, go back and make another trip. There’s another dolly loaded up.” She turned toward the lock again. “And get a move on,” he said, unnecessarily. Over her shoulder, she cast him a look of loathing. Link, too, gave him a look, but she couldn’t read it. She shrugged, and turned her energies to the next load.
It took hours to shift the cargo, a year’s worth of supplies for more than fifty habitat staff. The round trip took four months each way, and the North America needed four months Earthside to re-line and then refill the antimatter containment ring. The habitat had an extensive hydroponic level and recycling plant, but its staff depended on these supplies for survival.
Isabet was glad Link was there, directing the placement and stacking and ordering of the containers. Once, when they were taking a breather, she asked him about the sealing ring and how it was maintained. He pointed out the instrument panel. “See that? It opens up, and we send in a crawler.”
“What does the crawler do?”
“I’ll show you how it works.” He crossed to the panel set into the sealing ring. He stood on one of the laddered handholds, and with a quick motion popped the clamps from one side. The panel swung neatly open to reveal an orderly constellation of small screens set into the inside. Folded against the interior of the tube was a spidery object of metal and plastic. Link swept his hand over one of the screens and it came to life, glowing with blue light. He pointed to the metal object, and Isabet climbed up beside him to see it better. “That’s the crawler.” He touched the screen and the crawler stirred, its narrow limbs opening until it filled the ring.
“Are those the sensors?” Isabet reached out her hand, but Link caught it before she could touch the crawler.
“Careful!” he said hastily. His fingers were warm and strong, though his skin was so soft.
“I should have warned you. The legs are really sharp. It’s a design flaw, but the engineers haven’t addressed the problem yet. When it needs maintenance, someone has to put on asbestos gloves just to pull it out.” He pointed behind him, at the opposite side of the lock. “The exit from the tube is over there.” She glanced over her shoulder, and saw a matching panel set into the opposite wall.
Link touched the little screen again, and the crawler retracted with a series of metallic clicks that made her think of sharpened knives knocking together. “It’s safe now,” he said. “It’s only dangerous when it’s extended.”
“What does it do?”
“Traverses the sealing ring, checking for pressure differentials.”
“Leaks.”
“Right.”
“That’s what I do, on North America. For the antimatter containment ring. I crawl though the maintenance tube to make sure the seals are holding and the monitors are working.”
He grinned at her. “I don’t think even you could fit into this ring.”
She cocked her head to one side and eyed it. “I could squeeze in,” she said, and laughed. “I’m glad there’s no need. Your crawler looks like a grasshopper made out of razor blades!”
“You’re not the first to think of a grasshopper when they see it. That’s part of the problem. Too many pieces that can break.”
Tie Dye said, “Itty Bit! Get your ass back to work. I don’t want to be here all day.” She felt a faint surprise that he didn’t bother to hide his attitude from Starhold’s staff. He probably figured it was her fault he had to spend so much time shifting cargo. She’d pay for that later, but she didn’t care. It was worth it to meet someone from the habitat, to hear details of life on Starhold. These people were the first step on the path to interstellar travel, and it gave her shivers of pleasure just to think about it. To realize she was having a hand in it.
Tie Dye had been angry at her for weeks. She had turned him down early in the voyage. He had said to her then that she should be glad anyone would give a girl like her a second look, with her ugly hair and skinny legs. He wasn’t mollified by the fact that she took no other lovers. The shelters had soured her on sex of any kind, even with friends, but she couldn’t see why she needed to explain that to him. The other ring techs figured it out early, and left her alone.
Sometimes she wondered if Tie Dye knew what it was to be someone’s friend. She never saw him in conversation with others of his own rank.
Link’s presence meant Tie Dye had to keep his hands off her, and that was good. He bumped her several times, usually an elbow in some soft part of her anatomy, or a hand fumbling unnecessarily around her ass as they transferred a container from one place to another, but she sidled away from him each time without protesting. She wanted to make a good impression on the affable Link. It felt good to be polite, to be respectful. Though the work was tiring, she didn’t want the day to end.
Link asked her, when they were walking back toward the hold, about life on North America. She answered carefully, then asked him a few questions about the supplies. Link was generous with his answers, explaining how the seeding program worked, or how the dehydrated foodstuffs would be reconstituted in Starhold’s kitchen. He was nice, and warm in a fatherly sort of way. Isabet wished she could introduce the other techs to him, show them what it was like to be treated like—like she was as much a person as anyone else. Even Tie Dye.
She was curious about the foods they couldn’t grow hydroponically, and Link explained at some length about protein sources. She made a suggestion about a way to make a sauce out of tree nuts, something she had picked up in the kitchens of the shelters, and Link listened with respect, nodding. “You worked in the kitchens?”
“Yeah. Yes. In the shelters.”
Tie Dye leaned against the wall as they talked, looking impatient. When they had unloaded the last of a stack of aluminum canisters, Link said, “Isabet. Would you like a tour of Starhold?”
The idea was so exciting that she forgot to school her features. She felt her face light up, and Link chuckled. “You’re welcome, too, Mr. Dykens,” he added. “Let me offer you a cup of tea in our common room.”
Tie Dye said sourly, “No time. Not for Isabet, either. She has work to do.”
Link said mildly, “She’s been working all day. Just as you have.”
Isabet stared at her feet, confused. No one had defended her in a very long time. Such consideration tempted her to let her heart soften, to allow a tiny crack in her customary shell. She knew better than that, of course. And there was Tie Dye’s scorn to remind her.
“That’s what we’re here for,” Tie Dye growled. “Gotta check the containment ring every six hours, like it or not.”
Isabet said, half under her breath, “It’s not my shift, Tie—uh, Mr. Dykens.”
Tie Dye said, “Oh, it’s Mr. Dykens now?”
Link said, “You can spare her for half an hour, surely.”
Tie Dye said, “Nope. Gotta get back to the ship. Nice of you, though.”
Isabet suddenly wanted to see the inside of Starhold more than anything in the universe. She wanted to turn away from Tie Dye’s sullen presence, and accept Link’s polite invitation. She longed to step into the vacuum elevator, that clever device they called the slip, and propel herself from one level to the next. She wanted to breathe in the scents of the hydroponics level with its trailing vines, inverted flats of vegetables, even fruit bushes tucked beneath the sills of the space windows. She wanted to see the cubbies, and the showers, and the common room on the galley level. She said, louder this time, “Mr. Dykens, I’m off duty till tomorrow.”
“Well, then,” the affable Link began, but Tie Dye grabbed Isabet’s arm.
“We’re going,” he said. His fingers pinched her flesh, and her cheeks flamed. She could have pulled away, but she didn’t. She couldn’t bear for the Starhold man to see her shame, to know how insignificant she really was.
Dropping her eyes, swallowing the bitter medicine of her pride, she walked back through the loading bay toward the lock, and the North America’s hold. She felt Link’s questioning gaze on her back, and her face burned hotter.
Tie Dye dropped her arm as they stepped over the rim of the seal. She glanced back once. Link had disappeared, gone back into Starhold without her. She stopped, and put her back to the drab gray surface of North America’s lock. She jutted her chin at Tie Dye above her folded arms. “When are you gonna let up on me?” she demanded.
Tie Dye, who had moved ahead of her, whirled. His face suffused, and his voice rose. “I haven’t done a thing to you.”
“Bullshit! You get in my way at every opportunity, you insult me, you make extra work—and now you can’t let me have even a half hour of freedom.”
He took a step toward her, balling his fists at his sides. Isabet was suddenly aware of how big he was, how thick his arms and thighs were, how mean the expression in his small eyes. She stiffened her back, but she took a swift glance around, looking for a way to escape.
“You had your chance,” he sneered. He came closer, and she could smell the tang of perspiration, feel the heat of his temper. “I was gonna be nice to you, Itty Bit! I was gonna be real nice, but you weren’t having any of it.”
“I don’t do that,” she said. She spoke as stoutly as she could, but she couldn’t control the tremor in her voice. He advanced until he was within arm’s length of her. She said, “I tried to tell you, Tie Dye. I don’t do it with anybody.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Everybody calls you that!”
“Not you, Itty Bit. Itty Bitch.” He reached for her, his meaty hand seizing the back of her neck, yanking her away from the curving wall of the lock. There was something about the hardness of his hand and the heat from his body that told her he meant it this time. He would force her. But she had sworn she would never be forced again. She had vowed to herself she would die first.
She writhed in his grip, trying to free hers
elf. His other hand came up, reaching for her waist to pull her against him. There was no time even to think about what she was doing. He couldn’t hold her head, though he tried to grab at her cropped hair. She dropped, slid down his body, his legs. He cursed as he kicked at her, and caught her in the side. She rolled away from him, once, twice, the gray floor hard against her shoulders and knees. He lumbered after her, staying between her and the door leading from the hold into the safety of the ship. She leaped to her feet, spinning in a circle, searching for another escape.
She spotted the instrument panel that monitored the sealing ring, and dashed for it. Tie Dye came after her, his heavy feet making the whole lock vibrate. Her ribs hurt where he had kicked her, and her scalp stung where he had pulled her hair. There was no time to think about that now, no time to wonder if a rape would finally get Command’s attention. Like a monkey, she leaped up the laddered handholds toward the panel.
The panel was a good three feet above Tie Dye’s head. It took her only seconds to reach it. As Tie Dye flailed at her, she popped the clamps. The panel swung open, showing the many-legged crawler folded tightly into the cramped space. Belatedly, she realized she should have chosen the other side of the tube, but there was no time now.
“Get your hands off that!” Tie Dye roared. He braced his foot on one of the handholds, and started climbing toward her.
There was only one thing she could do, and even as she thought of it, she was already doing it. She turned on her side, sucked in her stomach, and slid past the crawler’s sharp angles into the cool darkness of the sealing ring.
Behind her, Tie Dye swore and banged his fist against the panel frame. She wriggled further into the ring so he couldn’t reach her foot and haul her back.
She would wait him out. It was tight, her hiding place, and unlike the maintenance ring of the North America, it was dark. She couldn’t see a thing, but she could breathe. She could take it. He would give up eventually, and leave her alone. She would slip back to her quarters and lie low until his temper wore off. She’d done that before.
