Going Interstellar (collection)

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?”