The god swallowdrinks the boat. All is dark: no light, no Lights. The ideaexperimentinvention of speed, of weight, and then— they startstripburstjump into the stars, out of the belly of the planet. Olaf’s screens flash, blue, sparkspit, steady. He hauls them into orbit behind Orcadia. Darling’s grip relaxes: she’s clawscratched her seat’s shining old black plasticpolymer: ten white lines down either side. She coughharrumphclears. “That doesn’t usually happen?” she says, without a hintwhisper of a smile, and Olaf says, “Nope.”

Astrid speirs her faither fer advice

Thay spaek aboot his years o relatievistic

speed, haalan bits o Wheels an Light

atween Mars an the inner staetions: the distance,

the thrill, the kinno fock on langship freighters,

the needle o haem. Twinty-fower year:

twa return trips, than a stop. A freighter’s

a puckle o fock an a demption o noyse, but no

a histry, an that wey isno that far fae paece.

Thay spaek aboot Orcadia’s histry, the thraan

mixter-maxter o fock at biggid the staetion,

the trachle tae cheuss anither wey o cheussan,

the hunder o year o bean a piece at fock

fae grander pieces cam fer somepiece ither,

the fock at steyed, the fock at flit. The chaenges.

Whit isno chaenged. Whit shoudno. Whit might. Whit maan.

Whit will. The speed at’s noo catcht up wi thaim.

Thay spaek aboot Mars. The trang o the surface. Aboot

the weyght o a planet. Aboot hoo a starn leuks

fae ither starns. Aboot whit thir seen an Inga

isno. Aboot whit Inga kens fae nivver

laevan an whit fae laevan thay’ll nivver ken.

Thay dinno spaek aboot Darling ava, an thay dinno

spaek aboot art, an thay dinno spaek aboot whither

Astrid’s bidan haem or no. But thay deu.

Astrid asks her father for advice

They speak about his years of relativistic speed, hauling pieces of Wheels and Light between Mars and the inner stations: the distance, the thrill, the types of people on longship freighters, the needle of home. Twenty-four years, two return trips, then a stop. A freighter’s a few people and an inundation of noise, but not a history, and being like that is not very far from peace.

They speak about Orcadia’s history, the tossedawkward mix of people that built the station, the drudgemuddletrudge to choose a different way of choosing, the hundreds of years of being a placedistancepartwhile that people from greatbigger placedistancepartwhiles went to go somewhere else, the people that stayed, the people that leaveflyescaped. The changes. What hasn’t changed. What shouldn’t. What might. What must. What will. The speed that’s now caught up with them.