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.