LITMIR.BIZ

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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

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