machinery. The rock is alive with tiny miners and mining bots, all of them crawling through the small moon like ants, like termites.
The rebellion is born anew tonight.
• • •
Hatsuye guides Catrine and Evelyn through the service corridors, moving at a comfortable pace. There are few people about.
Here, she says.
They follow a passage marked with spaceport symbols, tiny rockets emitting cartoonish puffs of smoke and plumes of flame.
We're leaving? Catrine asks.
If you want to live, Hatsuye says.
Evelyn shushes them both. Look, I'm as pleased to be out of that tomb as anybody, but can you please shut the fuck up and focus?
Sorry, Miss Jans, Catrine says.
It's just Evelyn, Hatsuye says. No need to be formal.
At the far end of the passage, the docks are visible. Small transport crafts are scattered about, some in pieces, some ready for flight. Deckhands in gold suits move about the deck, carrying machine parts and tubes and glass sheets and pushing tool carts.
Is this a secret departure? Catrine asks. Because they're all going to see us.
Hatsuye pushes Catrine through a door.
This new corridor is lit only with small strips on the ceiling and floor.
I can't see, Catrine complains.
Hatsuye takes the lead.
It's the jettison deck, Evelyn says. If it's like all of the other ones I've seen, it's only well-lit during evacuations.
We're jettisoning?
Jesus, Hatsuye says. Yes. We are. Can you shut your trap and just follow, or should I knock your teeth out?
Real attractive, Hatsuye, Evelyn says.
But Catrine goes silent.
• • •
The corridor leads to a series of chutes. Each chute is labeled, and Hatsuye inspects each panel until she spots one with a tiny paint chip.
This one, she says.
In we go, Evelyn says.
Catrine stands back as Evelyn opens the chute hatch, hoists herself up, and drops into the tube. She slides away, out of sight, and a moment later a faint whump carries up the chute.
I'm down, Evelyn says.
You next, Hatsuye says to Catrine.
Catrine nervously follows Evelyn's lead, and tumbles down the chute. At the end, she drops onto a very small and circular deck. She straightens up and looks around. The space is no larger than she is, with six alcoves that dip away from her on all sides.
Evelyn is in one of the alcoves, strapping herself into a suit and glass helmet mounted to the wall.
Out of the way, Evelyn says.
Catrine steps into the alcove next to Evelyn's, and begins wrestling with her own suit.
She's clear, Evelyn shouts, and a moment later Hatsuye thumps down. She immediately begins securing herself.
Catrine looks nervous, and Evelyn notices.
We're going to be picked up, Evelyn says. We have people below.
Below? Catrine asks.
On the surface, Hatsuye says, vaguely irritated.
Of Deimos? Catrine asks.
Deimos? God, no. On Mars, Hatsuye says.
Look up, Evelyn suggests.
Catrine does, and sees that the top of the jettison pod is transparent, except for a sort of nose cone.
When we're away, you'll see, Evelyn says.
You'll understand then, Hatsuye says.
Understand what? Catrine asks.
What we're doing, Evelyn says.
One thing we should tell you now, Hatsuye says. You don't have the option to back out anymore. If you want out, and you stay behind, you're -- well, safe to say you're a goner. When we hit the planet, and you know what we've done --
Assuming it works, Evelyn says.
Assuming it works, Hatsuye acknowledges. When we touch down, you don't get to quit. You quit, you die. It's harsh, and I sound like a thug, but it's true. Tonight the rebellion becomes real. If you're in, you're in for a messy, tragic, brutal fight.
I can handle it, Catrine says, a little shakily.
Tell me that again when we're down, Hatsuye says.
Evelyn says, Check time.
Hatsuye activates the screenview in her wrist.
Shit, she says.
And she keys in the ejection code.
• • •
The ejection pod is little more than a
The rebellion is born anew tonight.
• • •
Hatsuye guides Catrine and Evelyn through the service corridors, moving at a comfortable pace. There are few people about.
Here, she says.
They follow a passage marked with spaceport symbols, tiny rockets emitting cartoonish puffs of smoke and plumes of flame.
We're leaving? Catrine asks.
If you want to live, Hatsuye says.
Evelyn shushes them both. Look, I'm as pleased to be out of that tomb as anybody, but can you please shut the fuck up and focus?
Sorry, Miss Jans, Catrine says.
It's just Evelyn, Hatsuye says. No need to be formal.
At the far end of the passage, the docks are visible. Small transport crafts are scattered about, some in pieces, some ready for flight. Deckhands in gold suits move about the deck, carrying machine parts and tubes and glass sheets and pushing tool carts.
Is this a secret departure? Catrine asks. Because they're all going to see us.
Hatsuye pushes Catrine through a door.
This new corridor is lit only with small strips on the ceiling and floor.
I can't see, Catrine complains.
Hatsuye takes the lead.
It's the jettison deck, Evelyn says. If it's like all of the other ones I've seen, it's only well-lit during evacuations.
We're jettisoning?
Jesus, Hatsuye says. Yes. We are. Can you shut your trap and just follow, or should I knock your teeth out?
Real attractive, Hatsuye, Evelyn says.
But Catrine goes silent.
• • •
The corridor leads to a series of chutes. Each chute is labeled, and Hatsuye inspects each panel until she spots one with a tiny paint chip.
This one, she says.
In we go, Evelyn says.
Catrine stands back as Evelyn opens the chute hatch, hoists herself up, and drops into the tube. She slides away, out of sight, and a moment later a faint whump carries up the chute.
I'm down, Evelyn says.
You next, Hatsuye says to Catrine.
Catrine nervously follows Evelyn's lead, and tumbles down the chute. At the end, she drops onto a very small and circular deck. She straightens up and looks around. The space is no larger than she is, with six alcoves that dip away from her on all sides.
Evelyn is in one of the alcoves, strapping herself into a suit and glass helmet mounted to the wall.
Out of the way, Evelyn says.
Catrine steps into the alcove next to Evelyn's, and begins wrestling with her own suit.
She's clear, Evelyn shouts, and a moment later Hatsuye thumps down. She immediately begins securing herself.
Catrine looks nervous, and Evelyn notices.
We're going to be picked up, Evelyn says. We have people below.
Below? Catrine asks.
On the surface, Hatsuye says, vaguely irritated.
Of Deimos? Catrine asks.
Deimos? God, no. On Mars, Hatsuye says.
Look up, Evelyn suggests.
Catrine does, and sees that the top of the jettison pod is transparent, except for a sort of nose cone.
When we're away, you'll see, Evelyn says.
You'll understand then, Hatsuye says.
Understand what? Catrine asks.
What we're doing, Evelyn says.
One thing we should tell you now, Hatsuye says. You don't have the option to back out anymore. If you want out, and you stay behind, you're -- well, safe to say you're a goner. When we hit the planet, and you know what we've done --
Assuming it works, Evelyn says.
Assuming it works, Hatsuye acknowledges. When we touch down, you don't get to quit. You quit, you die. It's harsh, and I sound like a thug, but it's true. Tonight the rebellion becomes real. If you're in, you're in for a messy, tragic, brutal fight.
I can handle it, Catrine says, a little shakily.
Tell me that again when we're down, Hatsuye says.
Evelyn says, Check time.
Hatsuye activates the screenview in her wrist.
Shit, she says.
And she keys in the ejection code.
• • •
The ejection pod is little more than a
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