The Prison in Antares by Mike Resnick Page A

this train or whatever it is?” asked Snake.
    â€œI’ve been considering that,” answered Pretorius, “and I think the one thing we must do is board it while it’s moving. If Pandora can track it from space, surely they’ve got stations on and under the planet that are tracking it every second. If we stop it, or even slow it down perceptibly, it’s like broadcasting that we’re trying to steal their prisoner.”
    â€œFine,” replied Snake. “So we can’t slow it down or stop it. It’s going sixty or seventy miles an hour, and if it has any windows, which I doubt, they’re going to be sealed.” She stared at him, frowning. “So how do we board it?”
    â€œI’ll show you when we get there.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with telling us now?”
    Pretorius smiled. “I don’t want half of you to decide to quit and go home.”
    Irish noticed that no one smiled back.
    â€œSo how will we tell when we’re over the hole or whatever the hell it is we’re aiming for?” asked Ortega.
    â€œPandora’s programmed it into the sled,” answered Pretorius. “It’s one of the few things we don’t have to worry about.” He checked his watch. “We should be approaching it in another five minutes.”
    They rode in silence for the next three minutes, and finally they could spot their destination on the viewscreen.
    â€œGood!” said Snake. “For a while there it looked like we were just going to go headfirst into the planet.”
    â€œI’d tell you to check your weapons,” said Pretorius, “but of course Proto can’t lift a weapon and Snake just uses her knife, and Felix is a weapon.” He smiled. “Very odd crew.” He handed a burner to Irish. “Here,” he said. “I hope you know how to use it.”
    She looked at the laser pistol as it lay flat on her hand as if it were some alien creature. “I’ve never fired one in my life.”
    â€œHere’s the firing mechanism, here’s the safety,” said Pretorius, pointing to them. “Hopefully everything will go smoothly and you can make that same statement tomorrow.”
    â€œPassage coming up,” announced Ortega as the sled slowed. “Looks like it goes straight down.”
    â€œIt does,” replied Pretorius. “Almost half a mile.”
    â€œSo are you ready to tell us what the hell we’re doing next?” asked Snake.
    â€œI’d like to check it out first, just to make sure our information is correct, or see if we have to improvise,” said Pretorius. “But what the hell, we’re here, there’s no turning back, so let’s hope it’s correct.” He paused as the sled entered the chute that led down to the tunnels. “It’s true that the trains, vehicles, cars, whatever the hell they are, average seventy-five miles an hour, but like I say, that’s their average. They’ll go up to ninety or so on straightaways, but like any vehicle they have to slow down for turns, and the reason we chose this chute is that it’s a couple of hundred yards from a turn of almost ninety degrees.”
    â€œA right turn?” said Ortega.
    Pretorius shrugged. “Right, left, it depends what direction it’s coming from. But it’s going to have to slow down to a crawl, whether it’s on tracks or even floating above the tunnel floor, and that’s where we’ll board it.”
    â€œFrom the top, through a window, a door, or what?” asked Snake.
    â€œWe’re going to have to play it by ear,” answered Pretorius. “We’ll have about twenty minutes to take up our positions, and we’ll do so in such a way that, however the vehicle is constructed, at least one of us can enter it.”
    â€œAnd what about the rest of us?” said Ortega.
    Pretorius walked to a box on the floor and opened it. “This