Edge of Infinity by Jonathan Strahan [Editor] Page B

displaying the injury overhead. Desai gave up on trying to eject Rahiti from the cubicle and instead spoke quickly into a transcriber. Rahiti didn’t understand all the words – distal radius, proximal something, perfusion? The med tech watched with frank interest from a corner.
    Desai put a patch on Will’s shoulder. “Here’s the really good stuff. When it kicks in, you won’t feel anything below your shoulder for twelve hours or so. Surgery’s up next.”
    “Surgery?” Rahiti asked, the word a rock in his throat. “How long?”
    Will protested, “I can’t have surgery. We’re leaving in an hour. Driving to NPS.”
    The med tech blurted out, “That’s you? The Crazy Samoan?”
    Rahiti’s face flushed. “Yeah, that’s me.”
    “Anumati!” Desai said sternly. The girl looked away. Desai said, “The surgery will take an hour or two, then we have to monitor the perfusion to make certain you don’t lose your arm. You’ll be in a splint for at least three weeks. No skinsuits.”
    Will banged his head against the exam table. “I’m sorry, Ra. Damn.”
    Rahiti didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t quite sure what he felt, either, except that it was a lot like free-fall, sickening and plunging with no end in sight.
    “It’s okay,” he said, in a voice that sounded as distant as Javinta on her beach. “I’ll do it alone.”
    “You better do it soon,” Desai said. Her gaze was focused solely on her patient. “An accident like this means an incident report. The safety team’s going to want to interview any witnesses. That could take all day.”
    Rahiti’s free-fall came to a sudden slamming halt.
    “If I were you,” she continued, “I might think about leaving here through the freight lift. Take a right over there, second hatch.”
    Rahiti didn’t thank her. He didn’t even say goodbye to Will, or wish him luck. When he was inside the lift, black rage rose up and made him kick the bulkhead. Damn, damn, damn. Hundreds of hours of planning, thousands of hours of worrying, his tiny living cube overflowing with schedules, maps and supply lists, and he’d never considered what he would do if his co-driver got himself crushed by a crate.
    Just before the doors closed, Anu slid her boot between them.
    “I can help you,” she announced. “Take me.”
    Rahiti didn’t even stop to think about his reply. “Absolutely not.”
    She gave him a pleading look. “My boyfriend works at NPS. We’ve been z-mailing for months. I left college to come out here to see him, but I ran out of money. You need someone to help you on this trip, and I can do it.”
    He kicked her foot free. “I don’t need you.”
    The lift doors slid closed, blocking her unhappy face.
    When he reached the interior docks, he saw two people in Asterius white-and-red safety suits talking to Hal Carpenter, that son of a bitch. Carpenter had a direct line-of-sight on the flex tunnel leading to his snowcat. But Rahiti still had his skinsuit on, still had his helmet. He could go out the aux lock, come up underneath the cat, board out of sight of the cameras. More precious time ticking on the clock. He backtracked, got his helmet on, and went downladder to the auxiliary locks. The minute he opened one, Carpenter would notice. He needed some kind of diversion –
    A shrill alarm cut through his headset. Fire drill. Rahiti winced and slapped at the volume and thanked whoever had probably set the thing off by accident.
    Outside, approaching the cat with two easy bounds, he eyed the extra tanks carrying hydrogen and oxygen for the fuel cells. The vehicle looked ungainly with all the added weight, but they were necessary for the trip up and back, and for extra mass to give more weight and traction. The dozen sleds lined up behind the cat were twice as many as Rahiti had ever hauled before. Without the extra weight, his treads would spin uselessly on the ice instead of pulling the load.
    Crazy plan, yeah. But he’d done the math a dozen times,