Kat felt the breeze wash over her face as she walked the narrow path between the coal cars on twin mag-rail spurs. The equipment trailers loomed in the distance. The day’s temperature was brutally hot but compared to the oven underground, the dry wind felt almost like standing in front of the conditioned air vents in her old bedroom. The thought caught her off guard. Which was where, exactly? She didn’t know. Evaporating sweat cooled her further and helped soothe her sour mood.
The unfortunate and embarrassing events of Tuesday morning were still a source of gossip at the mine on Wednesday. Worse still, Kat had begun to notice other crews staring at her when they thought she wasn’t looking. She could faintly hear hushed conversations stop and feel the quiet amusement emanating from certain groups of miners as she passed.
Shortly after starting her shift on Wednesday morning, Lambert had approached Kat’s crew in Spur Twenty-nine. He stated that the dryman in the spur across the main tunnel had lost his balance under a conveyor section and caught his hand in some gears. Kat would be responsible for both spurs for the rest of the day. Lambert took great pains in front of Kat’s crew to call out the spur’s number, going so far as to slowly count with his fingers up to the proper number to ensure there was no misunderstanding.
The doubling of her workload had forced Kat to skip lunch in order to catch up cleaning the long sections of the new spur’s conveyor system. By the time late afternoon arrived, she had run out of coal dust suppressant. She had quickly rode an elevator car to the surface and now walked deliberately to the same equipment trailers where she picked up her backpack unit each morning.
She ducked into a small gap between two connected railcars to let a large dump truck pass on the constricted path. Large vehicles always have the right-of-way, she repeated, echoing the orientation guide’s words to herself. Even though the truck was only crawling, its engine roared as it passed her. Once it was safe to proceed, Kat continued her journey. She reached the end of the lane a minute later and walked around a utility air vehicle blocking the path. It was the same flatbed that Sadler had used to airlift the injured to the hospital almost a week ago.
Kat walked the last fifteen meters to the drymen’s equipment trailer. Unlike the mornings, there was no line at the large counter built into the trailer’s side. A maintenance worker was testing the air lines of another backpack unit when Kat waved for his attention. “I’m out of suppressant,” she said as she slipped the straps of her own pack off her sore shoulders.
The worker shook his head slightly but walked over to the counter. “I’m going to have to get your name,” he stated remorsefully.
“It’s Kat Smith but I’m out of spray because I’ve been cleaning two different spurs all day.”
The worker’s eyebrows shot upward as he took note. “Which ones?”
“Twenty-nine and Twenty-eight,” she answered. “I’m filling in for a dryman that got hurt.”
The worker clucked. “Yeah, that was Charlie Weber. Poor bastard lost his hand. Was screaming his head off when they brought him up. Said he was on his knees blowing a section clean and the next thing he knew, he was falling forward toward a takeup pulley.” The man shook his head distastefully as he reached for Kat’s gear. “Let me fill you up.”
Kat turned away from the counter and leaned her back against it. Her mask was raised but the ear protection and hardhat were still seated securely. She remembered thinking just two days ago during her orientation tour that the site was utter chaos. Now, as she watched workers scurry between rolling vehicles, the bedlam seemed to have an order to it. It’s almost like an intricate dance, she reflected.
A loud horn blared near the trailer. Her eyes tracked down the narrow lane of railcars she had walked, to the opposite end. A fully loaded dump truck was coming up the path, its driver insistently honking its horn. The truck was moving much faster than the one that had previously passed her.
“Damn idiot,” spat the maintenance worker behind her. “It’s dangerous enough driving between those two mag-rails. The fool needs to slow down before he causes another accident.”
The horn bleated out another long blow.
“Shit,” the worker cursed as he watched the driver barely able to correct his course between the rows of railcars. “I don’t think he can slow down. He ain’t got no brakes.”
Kat considered the path ahead of the truck and felt herself take a sharp breath. Even if he makes it up the lane, he’s going to crash into the flatbed! She took off in an instant.
“Lady!” screamed the maintenance worker. “Come back!”
Kat raced across the blackened grass, past the flatbed and toward the oncoming truck. Her hardhat bounced loosely on her head and she flipped it off with the back of her hand. “Turn off the engine!” she screamed before realizing that the driver would lose his steering if he did. She stumbled to a stop as the truck bore down on her. The sight of the lumbering vehicle forced a retreat back to the flatbed. A quick inspection told her the grounds were clear beyond the utility vehicle. What a stupid place to park this, she thought as she pushed against its rear. The vehicle didn’t budge and she glanced back toward the dump truck. It was losing momentum now on a slight incline but even at idle it would smash into the flatbed before it rolled to a stop. The desperation in the driver’s eyes tore at Kat.
Instinct drove her forward. She climbed up the single driver’s step on the flatbed’s cab and pounded on the door release. She subtly shifted her weight and the gull-wing door swept up past her. She was in the cockpit before she realized what she was doing.
Her right hand flew to the Battery 1 and 2 switches while her left hand reached behind her to flip the NAVRAN switch. Next came both fuel pumps while her right hand opened the APU cutoff valve. Kat looked anxiously out her open door. The dump truck weaved a crooked line between the railcars, bearing down toward the flatbed and its wide-eyed driver was smashing his horn again and again. She pressed the APU start button and released the turbine brake with a simple motion. She opened the engine shutoff valve, skipping its governor, and pressed and held the engine start button. “Come on, come on,” she urged as the turbine RPMs slowly cycled up.
The needle on the tachometer touched thirty percent and continued to climb lethargically. Forty percent, fifty percent… Finally, at sixty percent, the entire cab shuddered and the turbines rumbled an angry, full-throated growl. The needle shot up to eighty-five percent and hovered as the dump truck’s horn continued its wail.
Kat slammed open the throttle while twisting its top to vector the vehicle’s thrust downward. The flatbed shot into the air. She pressed a pedal under her left foot to yaw to the left. A few seconds later, she watched the coal-covered dump truck roll under her to the clearing beyond. It was still moving at a hazardous rate but the steeper incline ahead would gradually stop the truck safely. She scanned the ground farther from her position and saw dozens of people running in her direction. The entire mining site sprawled under her flatbed.
Kat’s heart jumped into her throat at the view. What am I doing? A bout of vertigo washed over her as her actions took hold. Don’t panic, Kat. You can land it. Just cancel out your yaw and ease back on the throttle. She pulled the throttle back until the vehicle started a slow descent. The word “Gumps” flickered through her mind but held no meaning. She kept the throttle steady until her hand subconsciously gave it a push forward right before contact with the ground. The flatbed settled back to the earth with a gentle bump. Her heart was pounding and she felt dizzy as she tried to catch her breath.
A man jumped onto the driver’s step and reached for her through the open door. “I can take it from here,” the worker shouted over the turbine’s whine while holding out his hand.
She accepted it and allowed herself to be pulled from the cockpit and lowered to the ground. When she had her feet underneath her, she stepped away from the idling vehicle, hugging herself and shivering. What were you thinking? How did you do that?
“What the hell did you think you were doing!” exclaimed Sadler as he ran up and wrapped an arm around her protectively. “That truck would’ve crushed the flatbed like an eggshell!”
Where did I learn how to fly? Kat wondered, looking past the VTOL craft. The dump truck now rested halfway up a hill and its operator was raising the hood. She suddenly realized someone was talking to her.
“Kat!” Sadler moved his hand to her shoulder and lightly shook her. She continued to shiver.
Sadler placed both hands on her and jerked her more insistently. “Kat, look at me. Focus. Are you okay?”
The blurry image of Sadler’s face came into Kat’s view. His green eyes held so much concern. “I’m fine,” she answered, more to put him at ease than believing she really was.
He stooped slightly so they were at perfect eye level and gave her an earnest look. “Kat, that was so dangerous. None of this equipment is worth you getting hurt over. We’ve already had too many accidents lately.” He pursed his lips as he hesitated. “I, I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
The flatbed’s turbines were winding down. The pilot poked his head out of the cockpit and shouted, “It looks fine. She didn’t damage it.”
Sadler gave the man a quick wave and rewrapped his arm around Kat’s shoulders. “Where did you learn to fly?”
Kat sank into the security of his embrace and she sensed it was the safest she had ever felt. More than anything, she wanted to hold the hand squeezing her shoulder. How would he react? Does he even realize what he’s doing to me?
“Kat, where did you learn to fly?”
She opened her mouth but realized she didn’t have an answer. “Can I sit down for a minute? Maybe have some water?”
Twenty minutes later, she was on a bench in the miner’s courtyard with a cup in her hand. Sadler sat closely next to her. On the other side of the table, Daniel Lambert stared as a Porter accident investigator beside him tapped on the surface of his handheld.
The investigator looked over the screen and summarized, “So, you realized that the truck wouldn’t stop in time before striking the flatbed but that it was moving slowly enough for you to safely fly the vehicle out of its path. You started the engine, lifted off, let the truck pass underneath you and then landed. Mr. Talbot then jumped onto the flatbed and exchanged positions with you to finish the shutdown sequence. Assistant Foreman Wess escorted you to safety.” He looked up. “Is that correct to your best recollection?”
Kat took another sip from her cup. “Yes.” She swept her left hand back to remove stray strands of hair covering her eyes and looked skyward. Clouds were rolling in and the wind was picking up. It would rain tonight.
The man swiped his hand across his screen. “Okay. Thank you for your account, Ms. Smith.” He turned to Lambert and said, “I want to interview Talbot and then the truck driver last.”
“He said it was the brakes,” Lambert stated.
“Sounds like it but I need his version and then I’ll need one of the mechanics to look over the truck.”
“I can get one,” Sadler said.
“Not your job,” Lambert snapped irritably. “I’ll get one but it’s a waste of time. Brake lines fail, especially when they’re used to stop a forty-ton truck hauling a full load of coal.”
The investigator looked at Kat. “We’re finished, Ms. Smith. You can return to work.”
Kat thanked the man, grateful the subject of her newfound aviation skills had not come up. She collected her hardhat and rose from the table.
“I’ll walk you back,” Sadler offered.
The pair walked in silence as they crossed the compound. Kat stopped abruptly and turned back toward the tracks. “I left my dryman’s pack at the equipment trailer.”
“Deke’s got it,” Sadler said. “I told him to fill in during your interview.”
They stepped into the mine and entered an elevator car. The cars were some of the quietest places on the entire site. Kat stood next to Sadler, very aware how close she was to him.
“Kat,” Sadler said. His deep voice saying her name always sent a jolt through her. “Where did you learn to fly?”
“I’m not sure,” she answered after a prolonged silence.
“What do you mean?”
She searched his eyes. Looking into them, it was easy to forget about her torment beginning that first night in Shantytown. She had reveled in the security of his arms, the compassion in his face. His mere presence made her feel stronger and she wanted their elevator ride to never end. “I don’t know what to say,” she confessed. “I don’t want to lose my job or the people I’ve met because of what I’ve done.”
“You’re not going to lose your job,” Sadler insisted. “You just saved the company over a hundred thousand credits in damages.” He waited for an answer.
The noise from the mine below grew louder. They were approaching the end of the shaft.
“Well,” Sadler said when Kat remained silent. The disappointment in his voice tore at her heart. “I wish you trusted me enough to answer but I can’t force one out of you.”
Stress caused Kat’s raw emotions to boil over. “What difference does it make?” she snapped angrily. She had no explanation to offer him and it was infuriating. “Maybe I was lucky and just hit the buttons in the right order or maybe I’m the goddamned inventor of VTOL flight! What difference does it make now?” She clenched her jaw and ground her teeth.
The elevator car shuddered to a stop. Kat slammed down her mask and slid open the cage. Sadler was reaching for her but she deftly avoided his grasp and stomped down the tunnel.
Once she turned a corner, she risked a look back and grew despondent. He had not followed her. She tilted her mask up enough to slip a hand under it to wipe at her eyes. Fantastic, Kat. You idiot. Well, at least you know you weren’t a relationship counselor in your previous life. She shook her head and forced a melancholic smile. Come on, stupid. Only a couple more hours until quitting time.