Authors: Janet Edwards
‘This is the way we’ll be going tomorrow. I’m getting this image from the data mosaic for New York Main. This is how the area looked at the last aerial survey about ten months ago. I can look at it in several ways. Plain image like this one, or hazard rated by grid square.’
The image changed. Now it was coloured in patches of red, amber and green squares.
‘As always,’ said Playdon, ‘green is good, red is bad, and black is access forbidden, but bear in mind that the hazard ratings are only a best guess from the computer. I can add in the information on which grid squares have already been worked and they go blue.’
Some squares changed to blue. Not surprisingly, the blue squares tended to cluster near the clearway.
‘Notice some areas are flashing blue.’ Playdon pointed at one. ‘Those mean they’ve been partially worked, but still contain something interesting. I can call up further information on those. Usually, people stopped work because they came across an unexpected hazard, but tomorrow we’re going to a grid square where they just ran out of time. The team dug out a stasis box from there, and believed there was a second one but didn’t have time to reach it. Normally they’d come back for it the next day, but this was just before Year End and their last day at New York Main. Tomorrow, we’ll be picking up where they left off, and we hope they were right about that second stasis box.’
Zan, I thought joyfully. Tomorrow we would be digging, and with every chance of finding a stasis box!
Playdon turned off his lookup, and led us all back to the base. ‘You’ve got an idea now of the conditions you’ll be facing. This afternoon, I want you all to practise suiting up. I’m sending details of styles and prices of skintights to your lookups. If anyone wants one, let me know this evening. We can get a discount on a group order, and they usually deliver within a day.’
‘That’s all for now,’ he said. ‘Tomorrow we start the real work.’
We headed into the dome and there was a race to get out of our suits and be first into the bathroom. I won!
The next day we headed out for our first dig. It was another slow start, with people still struggling with impact suits. We finally got outside and Playdon opened up the big doors of the huge sled storage dome that sat next to the accommodation dome like a big brother. He turned on the glows, which slowly beat back the shadows and illuminated the huge space. There must have been nearly twenty hover sleds, in varying sizes, and I couldn’t even see some of the ones at the back.
‘We have several types of small specialist sleds, as well as the big transport sleds.’ Playdon looked round at us. ‘Who’s had experience driving a hover sled?’
I put my hand up. In an Earth class, just about every hand would have gone up. Here only about half the hands did. I suppose exos don’t have as many hover sleds around as we do on Earth. We get more solar storms, so have more portal outages to worry about, and every settlement has its emergency hover sleds.
‘Good.’ Playdon made notes against names on his lookup. ‘If you can’t, then it’s really simple to learn, but for our first trip we’ll stick to giving people jobs they know as far as possible. Now, who can drive a big transport sled?’
I put my hand up again. There were a lot fewer hands going up this time, but even on Earth not many people can drive the big sleds. It would be quite an achievement to get into trouble driving an ordinary hover sled, given the small size, simple controls, and anti collision protection. Large transport sleds are different though, because of their weight and momentum. You have to pass a test to drive one on Earth, so few bother. We have an age restriction too, so I couldn’t do my test until I was 16. I hate age restrictions.
‘Krath, when have you driven a transport sled?’ asked Playdon.
‘I’ve driven my father’s transport sleds. He runs a refuse collection and recycling business.’
There were a few giggles from the class.
‘Dalmora?’
‘I’ve gone along with my father when he’s been making vids,’ the daughter of the great Ventrak Rostha told us lesser mortals. ‘Some of them need a lot of equipment, props, costumes, so we use the transport sleds.’
‘Amalie?’
‘Construction work,’ said the quiet girl, Amalie. ‘I’m from Epsilon, so I’ve driven them for years.’
Playdon nodded. Everyone knew that planets in Epsilon sector were in the frantic building phase. The standard joke was that if you wanted to go shopping on an Epsilon planet, then first you had to help build the shop.
‘Jarra?’
Was it my imagination, or was Playdon’s voice suddenly frosty? I didn’t like it, but I kept my reply to him calm and Military. ‘Training trips, sir. Transporting people and equipment.’
A couple of the Gamman boys had experience driving big transport sleds too. Playdon made more notes on his lookup. ‘We’ll be taking out four specialist sleds, and two big transports today. I like to have enough sleds that we can cope if one breaks down. It happens very rarely, and there are emergency evac portals, but walking to one in an impact suit can be hard work.’
He looked round and picked the two Gamman boys to drive the transports, then pointed out four of the specialist sleds and allocated drivers to them. We were taking a sensor sled, a tag support sled, and two heavy lifts. Playdon was only planning to run one dig team then. I didn’t blame him for that, since it would be hard enough running one team with this bunch of clueless exos. I could blame him for still not picking me as a driver though. Didn’t he trust an ape to drive any of his precious sleds, even the little ones?
The drivers carefully manoeuvred the selected sleds out of the storage dome, and the rest of us piled on board the transport sleds. They were the basic ones, with no luxury frills like roofs to keep off the rain, or comfy chairs. At the front, were the controls and driver’s seat, behind that was just a huge bare hover platform with rows of bench seats and some clear space for equipment.
Playdon rode on the lead transport sled, the second transport followed, and then four small specialist sleds. We headed off to the edge of the rubble and started moving along the clearway.
Playdon’s voice came over the team circuit. Those of us on the same sled could hear him talking without the comms, but he needed to use the team circuit so those on the other sleds could hear.
‘We’re now entering New York Main Dig Site,’ Playdon said. ‘I’ve notified New York Main Dig Site Command of our entry. Dig Site Command monitor all teams on the site. I’m using a comms channel you can’t hear when I talk to them. At the moment, the only channels you should be hearing are the team circuit, your private channel if I want to talk to you without the rest of the team hearing, and the broadcast channel that Dig Site Command uses when they want to broadcast information to all teams.’
It was thrilling to be entering New York Main. I’d worked on New York Fringe Dig Site on summer trips with the school history club. My first trip into Fringe was when I was 11, the next two years we went to other dig sites, but I was back at the Fringe at 13, and again at 17. The Fringe is a nice flat area, with none of the old skyscrapers left standing, so it’s relatively safe. That’s where the Earth school parties, and the people who work the sites as a weekend hobby, do their digging.
You don’t see any exo schools there. It’s too dangerous, and they don’t want to come to the ape planet. Exo schools stay at home and do sweet little excavations of settlements that are only a few hundred years old. You do get the occasional party from Military schools though, or even the Military Academy. It’s a good place for them to practise wearing impact suits and using equipment, while doing something useful at the same time.
I’d decided it was safe to mention my experience on New York Fringe to the class, since it was quite believable that a Military kid had been there. I’d have to keep quiet about some of the details though, especially getting my pilot’s licence there last summer, because being a pilot was too unusual. There might be a survey plane tucked at the back of all those hover sleds in the storage dome, but I couldn’t fly it while pretending to be Jarra the Military kid.
I sulked briefly about the flying, but entering New York Main was too exciting to waste time in a bad mood. Fringe was just a children’s playground compared to this. I’d scanned all the information, and heard all the stories about New York Main. It’s a lot more interesting than Fringe, with far more stasis boxes around, but it’s also much more dangerous. They don’t let you in until you’re 18, however much you try, and believe me I tried as hard as I could. It’s not for kids, and it’s not for amateurs. New York Main is for the professionals. I’d been waiting for this for years, and I was going in!
‘We’re following the clearway,’ said Playdon. ‘The clearways are literally clear routes through the dig site. They were made by the first excavation teams a hundred and fifty years ago. The rubble on them has been crushed and sometimes fused together. The ground beneath them is stable and has been checked for hazards. You’ll see glowing markers at each side of the clearway guiding you. Remember in emergency that the green arrows always point you to the shortest route off the dig site. They’re especially useful if there is sudden snow or fog and visibility is low.’
Everyone looked round at the ruins. We were passing blackened sections of walls, some only head height, others still many storeys high. Broken remnants of floors jutted out. Huge blocks of concrete lay around, as if some giant child had tossed aside his toy building blocks in a tantrum. One huge girder, orange with the rust of the ages, leant against a blackened wall.
‘We’re stopping here.’ Playdon spoke over the team circuit as we reached a flatter area. ‘Park the sleds this side of the clearway in case other teams need to drive by.’
I looked round at our work site. The team that had worked it before us had obviously taken down any dangerous buildings. Shame. Blowing up walls was fun. I thought I could guess where they’d found the stasis box. There was a nice cleared area with a central depression, just the way a good tag leader would have dug out a box.
‘Now,’ said Playdon, ‘on a dig team, there are five roles. The team leader is in overall charge, and that’s obviously me. The others are tag leader, tag support, sensor, and lift. Tag leader is the dangerous job, because they’re the only person who enters the excavation area. They direct operations on the ground, decide how to clear the rubble, tag rocks, and guide the people working the lifting gear.’
I knew all about tag leaders, because I’ve always been a tag leader for my school history club. Well, not back when I was 11, because my history teacher flatly refused to have an 11-year-old tag leading, and put me on the heavy lifting gear. That was better than nothing of course, but I still hated having to wait around for a couple of years for the job I really wanted. It was so frustrating watching other people tag leading, and having to follow their instructions even when they were wrong. Still, I got to be tag leader when I was 13, and I’ve done it ever since.
I was determined to be tag leader now as well. I’d worked hard for years to learn the right skills. Even if I was an ape girl, I was a great tag leader, and if I could just get the chance then Playdon would see that. I was worried whether I’d ever get that chance though. A grim truth had occurred to me. He’d shut me out of driving the sleds by not picking me, and he could shut me out of tag leading just as easily. He could even make me sit on a transport sled and watch the others on this and every other trip on to the site. What would I do then? I’d go crazy having to sit and watch day after day.
I couldn’t scream abuse at the norms and walk out. The point was to do that when I’d proved I was as good as them. Doing it then would be a success. Doing it now … Well, it would be admitting I’d failed.
‘Next, we have tag support.’ Playdon continued. ‘The tag leader is working in dangerous conditions, so tag support’s job is to keep them safe. Your impact suits have a tag point at the back. Draw a line between your shoulder blades, and dead centre is the tag point. Tag support have a lift beam locked on the tag point of the tag leader’s impact suit. We often call it the lifeline; a term dating back far into pre-history. If the tag leader is going to be hit by a rock, fall into an underground hole, or be eaten by a bear, then tag support uses their lift beam and pulls the tag leader to safety, and sometimes they have to react very fast.’
If I did get my chance at tag leading then I felt that tag support was going to be a problem. When you’re tag leading, you want to have confidence in the person on your lifeline, so you can relax and concentrate on your job. I was on my own here with a bunch of exos, and I didn’t fancy trusting an exo with my life. I didn’t have much choice though. It was that or stand around watching someone else tag lead, and I hate watching.
‘You would normally only have one tag leader in an area,’ said Playdon, ‘since two tag leaders working at cross purposes could be very dangerous. That means one tag support as well. We usually have one person on the sensors, scanning the site for hazards, and hopefully for interesting things like stasis boxes. If they spot anything nasty happening, they hit the alarm and tag support pull out the tag leader fast.’
‘Finally we have one or more people manning the heavy lift sleds, using beams to move the tagged rubble. Most of our equipment is Military issue, but the heavy lift sleds are standard construction site ones. Today we’ll have two people using heavy lift gear. Any questions?’ Playdon asked.
‘Erm,’ said the hesitant voice of one of the Gamman boys. ‘I don’t understand … I was on a dig on Asgard and … It was rather different. We used sensors, teaspoons, and little brushes.’
I was pretty anxious at this point, but I still couldn’t help giggling.
‘Well,’ said Playdon, ‘that was a little different. Where you have a very rare and precious site, and plenty of time, you work that way. Earth is different. It has more ruined cities than you could possibly believe. We’d make no impression on New York working with teaspoons and we have limited people and time. Just look at it!’