Page 126 of Homebound
“For the ships, then. Or for the equipment.”
“Everything is electric-powered. And only the most backward spaceships still use burning fuels for takeoff.”
“But if some ships do, the docks would have all kinds of fuels. I wasn’t too far off, was I?”
“You’re a strange one for sure.”
“A careful one. What with the chemicals that are stored here, if something goes wrong, this entire place can blow up, right? Aren’t you scared to work here?”
He stopped and scoffed. “Scared? It’s the safest place. See there? There’s a special wall around the fuel storage. If an alarm goes off, a shield will rise from it to hermetically seal the entire area and smother the flames. Got it?” He was pointing to the right, a short distance away.
“Got it. Thanks.”
After a half-assed effort to show her what to do, Red Eyes left Gemma alone promising to come back later to check on her.
It took her an hour of slow crawling on her hands and knees to reach the fuel storage area while sweeping enthusiastically with her magnet wand over the ground as instructed. The hidden canister at her belly made the crawling awkward, forcing her to spread her arms and legs wide in a manner of a she-crab.
The fuel storage was organized haphazardly with barrels and massive jars stacked up precariously high. Most were labeled with chemical hazard signs that proclaimed the contents to be flesh-dissolving and extremely flammable.
“Great,” she muttered, puzzling over the process of extracting the needed amount of liquid nitrogen.
Not knowing exactly how it was stored at the docks, Simon had never instructed her on the how-tos of the transfer. He had, however, explained to her that the chemical wasn’t acutely dangerous except for its extremely low temperature. No touching was imperative, and no contact with eyes. A drop of it in the eye would cause the eye membrane to crystallize and shutter like superfine glass, allowing the eye fluid to flow freely out of the socket.
Gemma blinked rapidly remembering his warning.
She stood up and bent backward to stretch her aching back. Scanning the labels, she tried to figure out what was what. Common sense dictated that liquid nitrogen wouldn’t be left in an open container, so Gemma disregarded all that didn’t have lids.
Gaze sharpening with purpose, she took notice of two large cylindrical tanks - cryogenic tanks, or dewars. The oversized lettering on them spelled “LN2.” The dewars were as tall as she and three times as fat. They looked pressurized, their heavy lids topped with wheels for tightening. There were outlets to which a dispensing hose would attach to pour the contents out, but the hoses were missing. Gemma checked around, looking behind the tanks in hopes of finding them there, but no.
The two tanks sat there like mean and bloated sentries, silently laughing at her.
She mulled her problem over, all the while keeping a watchful eye on the surroundings in case the red-eyed foreman decided to come and check on her now. Unbuttoning her coat, she pulled her insulated flask off her neck and uncapped it. Approaching the closest tank, she made sure her gloves were completely covering skin before fisting her metal detector and pointing the sharper of its two ends to the tank’s side.
“Please don’t blow up. Please don’t blow up,” she prayed, warding off fear of what she was about to do.
She closed her eyes and pulled her hat over them for protection. Taking a deep breath, she blindly rammed the metal stick with all her might into the tank’s thick belly. The sound of metal striking metal was quickly absorbed by the already loud churning of the docks. She felt the aluminum tear and jumped away, leaving her tool embedded in the tank.
Peeking from beneath the hat, she observed white vapor roll out from the breach. Nitrogen droplets followed, escaping their container and skittering spasmodically on the ground. With utmost care, Gemma stuck her thermos under the erratic flow of the super-cold liquid gas, quickly snatching her gloved hands away.
The escaping fluid sputtered out more than steadily flowed, and all Gemma could do was stand there amid the thickening white cloud in agonizing wait and watch their would-be fuel make its way, drop by random drop, inside her thermos.
Finally, when she didn’t think she could take it anymore, it was full enough. Gemma snatched the container and twisted the cap on, looping the strap over her head and buttoning her coat. Thin tendrils of vapor leaked through the tiny hole in the cap that Simon had made for ventilation, and weaved around her torso, transforming her into some mythical sorceress. Probably a cool look but conspicuous as hell.
The nitrogen continued to leak out from the damaged dewar, spreading, freezing everything it came in contact with. The cloud of cold vapor had grown dense and was rolling thick along the ground. Soon, it would reach the containers with other chemicals.
The realization turbo-charged Gemma’s need to haul ass.
She scampered away, hiding behind containers. She peered out to see if the coast was clear, and immediately jerked back. Red Eyes was standing in the clearing gesturing at another man who had his arms folded across his chest. The noise drowned out what was being said, but it became painfully clear to Gemma that she, or rather her absence, was the object of their discussion.
Turning, she started walking fast in the opposite direction. It didn’t matter where she went so long as she could eventually come across a tram stop.
Finding her way was hard, for she had no sense of direction in this vast overdeveloped area. The docks were a city within a city, a place with its own set of rules, a labyrinth with no map. All that noise and constant movement were making Gemma disoriented, and the persistent nitrogen smoke surrounding her wasn’t helping with focusing.
She didn’t know what guided her, but somehow she found herself on a tram, zooming towards the gate. There were only a few people on it with her, all miserably looking and huddled against the cold. But the headwind blew the nitrogen vapors away, and no one noticed anything strange.
She got off at the last stop, which was also the first for those just coming in.
“You done?” the guard at the gate asked her.
