The higher you climb

The fate of the world is literally in your hands.

The words replay in my head and I can't make them stop. I look at my hands and I have to suppress a fit of giggles: they're shaking violently. Sorry, World, I'm afraid you're screwed!

The giggles get the better of me and I'm laughing so hard I have to brace my ribs, which somehow only makes the whole thing funnier and I laugh hysterically until tears stream down my face. The oxygen mix must be too high in my suit.

I triple-check the seals on the suit gloves but I'm scared to touch the one connecting the suit to my helmet. Man, I'm so not equipped for this. I'm a fucking lawyer for God's sake! How can they expect me to do it?

I manage to get a loose grip on myself and get back on my feet in the small intercarriage joint where I am. The connecting walls around me wobble at an alarming rhythm - they're not built to withstand the stress. Nothing here is, myself included.

I squeeze the satphone hard to make my hand stop shaking. I want to smash it in frustration, but it's my only link to the outside so I don't. I want to smash the people on the other side, too; I want to let the goddamn train smash. That would be easier.

The fate of the world is literally in your hands.

No fucking pressure, then. I operate the emergency airlock and my entire body unclenches when the latch clicks open.

If one of the hatches doesn't open we're done. If the terrorists notice me opening them we're done. If I run out of miracles and anything goes less than perfect we're done.

I poke my head out of the hole and risk a peek. The carriage is dimly lit and crammed with pallets and crates stacked ceiling-high. These cargo bays are managed by robots designed to maximise utilisation; there's hardly any room to move, save around the left wall.

The craziest thing is I still have no idea how I ended up in this mess. Two days ago I was filling up some paperwork for a contract before heading off to a romantic dinner with Anita, my girlfriend. Next thing I know, I woke up a couple of hours ago with one hell of a headache, inside a shipping container, in an out-of-control freight train. In the goddamn space elevator.

I take another look at the satphone - still dead. According to ground control, there should be a power socket and cables at the top of this carriage, if I can figure out how to get there past this solid wall of crates.

I pull myself up through the hatch, still in a daze from the shock, disbelief, and of course, the head-bump. Someone hit me hard.

Miracle number one had been that whoever hit me didn't crack my skull; number two that nobody found me while I was out; and number three that they'd been in such a hurry that they didn't bother to vent the carriage, as it would have been standard. Finally, miracle number four -- but not last, I hope -- was that they left the satphone in there with me.

I guess God's really not done with people yet. Or maybe he's just gearing up for a really loud and very final laugh and I'm the punchline.

A sudden and mighty jolt of the carriage brings my attention back to the matter at hand. The train is climbing up the space elevator at a ridiculous speed. A regular ascent takes anywhere between five days to a week, but we're going so fast that we're going to hit the top in less than three days.

That's not the worst part tho, because of course not. If I can't reach the control room and re-engage the safety protocols before 24 hours, there won't be enough time for the train to slow down safely.

Let me see if I remember all the nightmare scenarios right: The space elevator is nothing but a very long cable, like, fifty-five-thousand kilometres long. Look, they did tell me the exact number, but who can expect me to remember it under the circumstances, are you goddamn kidding me?

Anyway, the point is that it's a long cable, it goes up past geostationary orbit, beyond Earth's artificial satellites belt into outer space. There's a docking station at the top of it, where cargo from the train is transferred into transport ships heading for the Moon and Mars, and off them back down to the planet. Huge industry, trillions of credits. That's what the contract I was checking is --was-- for, sending oxygen recyclers up to Deuteronilus Mensae.

Whatever, not important. Just picture yourself spinning a tennis ball tied at the end of a rope. You spin it really fast and the ball keeps the rope tight and straight, yes? So, Earth is you, the space elevator cable is the rope, the station is the ball, and the train is heading towards it.

If we crash it will destroy the station and knock the cable out of orbit. The cable would come down coiling and thrashing everything in its way. Like a measuring tape lashes and thrashes as it retreats into its casing. A tape from hell, about one and a half times as large as Earth's circumference, that would destroy everything in its path as it wraps around the planet, wiping random cities, forests, jungles and what have you. Apocalyptic destruction.

And no, don't ask me, your Honour, I don't know the speed we're doing. Maybe 400 kmph? Who knows. Look, that doesn't matter.

We might not even hit the station. It turns out that the geostationary point I mentioned before, which is 35 thousand km up, is basically the point at which the pull of the docking station upward and the pull of Earth's gravity downward balance each other out. Once you start getting close to that point, gravity appears to reverse. Earth's gravity pull weakens, and the station's pull increases, so effectively things will fall upwards.

At the speed we're going the transition will be wholly unsafe. The train could derail, snap the cable, and it's game over. Any cargo not properly secured could come loose, knock the train off balance, and we derail. Game over.

Of course, at this speed, anything else in the rail, the cable, or the train could come loose and...well, you know the rest. Yeah, those folks in ground control took great pains to explain it. I'm sooo glad I found that satphone.

The fate of the world is literally in your hands, they said. Well, FUCK YOU!

OK, I've been staring at these crates for minutes and still can't find a way around them. I'm gonna have to move them out of the way. Normally that would have been easier, we're probably high enough that gravity would be weaker. But, you guessed, the speed of the train is creating a constant push of inertia, so it's like an artificial gravity generator.

Yes, I'm a lawyer but I did learn other things at school. The question is: is the train generating a strong enough force, or can I move the boxes? The jury's still out on that one. Ha!

There's a fire axe on the wall. I get it and make my way to the space between the wall of crates and the wall of the carriage. This train is roughly two and a half times wider than a regular cargo train, and about as long. It's closer to a bunch of stacked elevator carriages than a train.

I already climbed one, which means there's three more between me and the "locomotive" with the control room: this one, a third cargo carriage, and the passenger car.

The crates are held together with fastener ropes. I could cut the ropes loose and then use the handle as a lever to move them. I will need to pull them out enough to create steps to climb.

Of course, this will only increase the risk of unbalancing the train, and therefore derailing it. Not to mention what would happen if we get to the Lagrange point, the zero-g geostationary orbit where gravity flips. I'd be playing the world's first Russian roulette Tetris.

The fate of the world is literally in your hands.

"Ladies, gents, and gender-diverse members of the jury: I apologise for getting y'all killed. Seemed like a good idea at the time."

The crates are all rectangular and smooth. They're stacked with nary a gap, but thankfully they have rounded corners so there may be a chance to insert the axe handle and dislodge one. I try it. No joy.

"Please, Lord, surely you still have some miracles for me in your bag of tricks?"

No obvious answer. Right, let's keep looking. There's gotta be a way robot pallet jacks move them, it's not like they are super nimble, and they have no fingers.

Around the middle of the carriage, I hit jackpot. This row's crates have a square hole on each side around their mid-height. Must be where the robot jacks insert their beams.

I can fit my gloved fingers, but they're too tiny for the suit's boots.

I try to lift myself with my arms only, but it's hard. I'm fit and the suit is slim, but the oxygen backpack is bulky, and gravity isn't yet weak enough to be of much use, which, on the other hand, is a good thing if you remember the nightmare scenarios. So I probably won't be able to haul myself up 24 metres to the top; if I fall and break a leg...yeah, game over.

I walk to the opposite end of the corridor and THANK GOD there is another fire axe. Now we're in business.

I make a point of looking up to get a sense of where the other airlock is. Can't have any nasty surprises.

Back at the row of crates with the holes, I insert one handle on the first crate and stand on it. It holds my weight without issue; these things have carbon nanotube handles, which is the same material the space elevator cable is made of.

I insert the second axe into the other crate and sit on it like I'm riding a flying broom. You don't want to know how uncomfortable that is, but this way I can lean down and grab the first axe so I can use it again. I shoulda looked for some rope to pull them. Too late now.

The climb is slow, perilous, and it gives me Space's Worst Case of Gorilla Arms and Crotch Chaffing ever. But I make it.

And, of course, the crates are stacked literally ceiling-high. There's no room to stand.

"FUUUUUUUUCKKKK!!!"

I'm gonna have to clear a path around the top edge. I'm going to have to drop down the crates. Russian roulette Tetris, here we go.

Thankfully the top crates are square and about 90 cm to a side, so they'll clear enough room for me with suit and backpack; and they fit in the gap between us and the carriage wall.

I'll spare you the details, but believe me when I say this: those sonsofguns crates are not easy to move. I finally push one down and tumbles and crashes with less noise than I had expected. The suit must be muffling sounds.

I hold my breath for a few seconds, trying to sense if anything has gone wrong with the train, but it is already vibrating and jolting quite a bit; nothing seems different.

Standing on one of the axes I lean forward and use the other to lever the second crate out of the way. This time, as it tumbles down there's a terrifying metallic groan and the train shakes vigorously, then starts to wobble.

"Oh shit, oh shit, ohshit ohshit ohshitshitshit"

I hold on for dear life and the wobble subsides after a few seconds. Miracle number five, baby! Still on a roll here.

I'm not going to risk dropping another crate, but maybe I can push them out enough that I can tunnel to the other side.

Sweat, tears and an epic amount of cursing later I make it through, and I didn't rip the suit. I'm starting to think I might have a shot here. And the airlock is reachable from my little tunnel, woohoo!

It takes some skill, if I do say so myself, but I manage to open the airlock, dangle from the handle, and lift myself up into the next carriage.

I take a breather on the floor of the intercarriage connector as I wait for the burning in my arms and the shakes in my legs to let up. Then, a voice behind me makes me jump out of my skin.

"I can't detect a valid ticket or badge on you. You're not authorised to be in this area. Please exit the carriage immediately or you will be handed out to the authorities."

I turn around axe in hand to face what's left of the upper half of a security bot lying against the corner. The poor wretch has no arms and only half a torso. Someone shot it full of holes. There's a big one on the side of its head. The robot repeats its warning.

I make sure it cannot crawl unexpectedly and get the jump on me before I ignore its incessant heckling and go to inspect the airlock to the next carriage. There isn't one.

"What the...?"

"You have failed to comply with the order to vacate. Authorities have been contacted and will come to take you into custody. Please stay where you are," said the robot.

Yeah, right. In fact the authorities have been contacted, and they are on the way here. The problem is that clearing a shuttle for takeoff takes at least 15 hours, and then another 5 hours to get anywhere near the elevator, not to mention matching our speed, and preparing to dock.

Plus, according to ground control, the terrorists threatened to blow up the train if anyone comes near. Honestly, I don't know what difference does it make if they blow it early or all the way up, but, since I'm unexpectedly here ground control said to try. Because the fate of the world blah blah blah.

"I thought you wanted me to leave," I joke. The robot takes it at face value.

"You must not leave. You are under arrest and authorities are on their way to take you into custody."

Whatever. I can't leave anyway! There's no way up to the other ca--

I freeze. There is a door. Behind the robot. Which means it leads to the outside of the train.

"You've GOT to be fuck-ing-kidd-ing-ME!"

It takes me quite a while to work up the courage to even get near the damn door but I'm not afraid to admit it. What are you gonna do, sue me from beyond the grave if I took too long?

The train jolts and rattles as if in response. OK, OK, I'm moving! Goddammit.

We're who knows how many thousand kilometres up above the surface, in an out-of-control speeding train. The air should be thin enough to have greatly reduced drag, but did I mention I'm a fucking Lawyer??? I don't know how to calculate these things. I could open the door and be sucked out, or destabilise the train, or be burnt off from air friction, or...

I kick the blathering robot out of the way to peer out of the tiny door window. The Earth still looks huge. Good, we're not too high yet. Then, the terrifying metal groan shrieks again. I've got to make up my mind.

My hands are soaking wet inside my gloves. My brow, my jocks, my every inch is soaking wet. I'm hungry, and at this rate, I'll be dehydrated if I don't have a heart attack first.

There's a set of controls near the door that operate a service ladder on the side of this thing. Normally it is retracted and hidden behind a protective shield, but I can use it to climb the outside of the carriage to the upper airlock.

Moments later the intercarriage has finished depressurising and the door is suddenly open, and I don't know how that happened. I'm moving in auto, in a daze, near a hatch open over the abyss. It looks quite pretty, actually. The noise outside should be unbearable but the air is indeed quite thin and sound is only transmitting over the surfaces.

They promised a hundred billion dollars and a lifetime income tax exemption, plus amnesty from doing "whatever it takes" from getting this thing done. They absolutely hated my guts but hey, I'm a good lawyer, I know how to negotiate a contract. Right now, tho, I'm thinking no one's gonna be around to make good on that deal.

Have you ever had vertigo? You know, that horrible feeling like there's a wire coming out of your bottom trying to pull your guts out of your body? Like your head is spinning and you're about to faint? Yeah? Well, you ain't got a fucking idea what I'm feeling right now, bud.

It must have taken me about half an hour to brave sticking a hand out of the hatch. I half-expected airflow to shove it back inside, but it didn't happen. So, God only knows how, I force myself to take a look outside.

There's a lip protruding next to the hatch, and a ladder carved into the side of the carriage. I can't see the elevator cable above me and there is NO chance in hell I'm gonna look down. The train is quite unhappy at the change of aerodynamics and is starting to shake and wobble every so often.

Please, God, don't let me run out of miracles.

It's a straight ladder, more or less sheltered into the side of the carriage, and only 24 meters long, so I'm only 70 years old by the time I reach the top. Or at least that's what it feels like.

I punch in the emergency master code ground control gave me, fully expecting it to fail. It works.

I tumble into the intercarriage space. A button smash slams the airlock shut behind me. I lay the axes against the wall before I collapse into a wreck of raw nerves and succumb to another fit of hysterics. I can't believe I've made it this far, and climbing on the outside of a moving train, no less.

I mean, how is this even possible? This is supposed to be the most secure installation on the planet, with it being so critical to space travel and, you know, apocalypse-level risk. I did ask the question but the military at ground control got very pissy and essentially told me to mind my own business, which as you know, is saving the world.

Someone should write a thriller about these terrorists taking over the elevator. I'd read the hell out of that.

I'm laughing my head off again when the ceiling hatch pops open and one of the said terrorists drops down next to me. We recover from the shock at roughly the same time and he launches at me.

I've mentioned I'm fit. I run 3 to 5 km every morning, do shadow boxing. I parry the first blow and strike back with my best right. What follows is like a scene of those twentieth-century boxing montages, except I'm the training punching bag.

This guy is insane; my kidney! Does he have six arms? There goes the liver; next, my other kidney. Only my head is spared because I still have my helmet on. He's about to skewer me with a sword-like knife he drew out of I don't know where when the PA bellows.

"Attention, unsanctioned individual. You're not authorised to enter this area. The use of physical force to restrain you has been authorised. Step

Away

From

The

Airlock."

I hear the words virtually in slow motion, and from the look on the guy's face, he does too. The decompression alert buzzes. Orange turret lights flash. He jumps up to jam the hatch, but it's the airlock I came through that opens.

A security robot stands at the threshold for a fraction of a second, but then the air rushes out of the intercarriage like a cannonball, sucking out anything not bolted to the floor: the terrorist, my axes, and me.

One of the axes must have hit the terrorist because suddenly there's blood everywhere. He smashes into me and then against the security robot, and then both of them disappear.

I don't know how I managed to hold on to the handle at the edge of the airlock, but I do know that I broke my forearm. It feels on fire. The pain makes me howl.

Then, the train howls. The metallic groan from earlier is now a high pitched screech. The train wobbles. This is it, the end, I failed, we're all going to die.

I time one of the train oscillations and use it to drag myself forward and back into the carriage with my good arm. I land on the broken one and I nearly pass out from the pain.

When my head stops spinning I slam the airlock button again and the intercarriage room starts to re-pressurise. The train is still wobbling, and there's another awesome wrenching sound, then...it starts to stabilise again. A screen on one of the walls reads something like "emergency gyros deployed".

Thank you, God! Thank you, wonderful engineers, that designed such an incredibly resilient marvel of technology; thank your parents, thank your grandparents, and thank the very tadpole that first climbed out of the primordial ooze to eventually evolve into your genius lineage!

I'm starting to feel delirious, and not only with happiness. I try to force myself back on my feet and it's worryingly easy. I feel...light. We're getting too close to the Lagrange point. I reach for the ceiling hatch, get it open, and climb the ladder with only one hand while the broken one is more or less tucked swinging limp and keeping me awake with random stings of pain.

Finally, I'm in the passenger car.

The instrument panel reads O2 nominal. I don't turn off the suit's air supply; I'm not gonna fall for the train's little trap. No, I'm keeping my helmet on. I've watched a tonne of space movies, I know how this goes!

The passenger car is weird. It has the same physical size as the others, but it has a spiral ramp going up its middle, with several rooms arranged around it against all walls. Crew and passenger coffin bedrooms, the mess hall, some other stuff I can't be bothered to look at.

As I suspected, there are three more terrorists on the upper half. They're all dead. Asphyxiated.

I wobble my way up the ramp, towards the top carriage that houses the engine and the control room. As you can imagine, this thing is self-powered. It wouldn't be practical to supply power through the elevator cable, too many things could go wrong.

I wonder what that would be like.

Another bump jolts me awake. I don't know how long I've been zonked out but I hope to hell it hasn't been long. I'm standing so it mustn't be.

My head is spinning. I must be bleeding inside the suit. Nothing comes out, there are no stains, but it smells metallic and a bit fetid inside it. I keep going until I reach the door to the last intercarriage.

I punch the emergency access code, and nothing happens.

Gavel smash. Sentence passed. It's death row for all.

I pass out.

* * *

When I come around, I feel even lighter than before. Getting up hurts like hell, my whole left side is numb, even my neck is stiff and I can't look that way, but getting up is easy. I'm very light.

The train is still hurtling towards destiny, and clearly, no terrorists have come to kill me, which is good. But, also, no special forces team has boarded us yet, which is bad.

I'm out of plays. I don't know what to do.

Out of sheer desperation, I enter the code again, and this time it unlocks. I must have had a typo before!

Time feels like I'm underwater. Like I'm not even here but instead I'm watching some stranger use a hand that looks a lot like my hand. There is nobody else here. The stranger uses my hand to plug in the satphone.

The fate of my hands is literally in the world.

Other strangers shout excited instructions that I understand but don't understand. The not-my-hand types things on the screen and lots of red lights go off on the console.

There is howling and screaming out of the satphone. The red lights are good. We're good. The train is slowing down.

Man, I'm so going to blow those hundred billion dollars in therapy.

I collapse again.

*

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Thank you for reading!

I hope you had at least half as much fun reading this story as I had writing it =)

+RMBeristain