“No, you can’t. You need all the fuel and you’re already in the pipe for an atmo slice. Even with Salvo at the helm, you’ll be cutting it fine.”

“Uncle Larry, come back.”

“Callsigns only on an open channel, girl. Your daddy taught you better than that.”

“Uncle Larry…”

“I am where I need to be, Captain. Concentrate on getting planetside. Tell Joké to feed the carp for me. Decisive, out.”

He cuts the radio. Damn girl has his eyes stinging.

He is flying blind, he does not know where he is, monitors and sensors all over the place. He might be slingshotting into the sun for all he knows. Would that be so bad? Probably suffocate before getting there. Was going to suffocate on the Ragtime anyway.

Joké.

The power cells are down to nothing. Even the short burn fuel is gone.

Something new happening, like someone stirs a hornet’s nest, and the pods scatter, then more impacts.

Nothingness…

Chapter Thirty-five

Ragtime: Shell

Salvo asks everybody to strap in.

Shell reckons the chances for survival at fifty-fifty. Probably an optimistic estimate. She finds some oxygen candles and thinks they’ll extend their lives long enough for them to be crushed to dust on some Bloodroot mountain range.

“Captain, Joké didn’t copy,” says Salvo.

“Concentrate on landing,” says Shell.

“I can help,” says Ragtime.

“Shut up,” says Shell. “You do nothing. When we land, I’m magnetising your Pentagram.”

She exits her pod, moving like a spider and dodging flying debris. Even Frances whimpers, wrapped in Velcro.

Joké is just hanging at the airlock. At first, Shell takes her for wounded, but the woman just stares into space.

“Joké…”

“I loved him,” says Joké.

“He might make it,” says Shell. Sounds false even to her.

“Um, no. This is where he dies, this is how he dies. I’ve seen it. I saw it a long time ago,” says Joké.

“If you knew he would die here, why did you let him come?”

“Because this is the moment, the one time, when he feels most alive. You are most alive when you accept your death, Michelle Campion. He welcomed his death like the warrior he was. Nobody has the right to take that from him, no matter how much we loved him. Besides, time may be spherical, but it’s not mutable. If it’s happened, it’s happened. Anything else is silly stories for children.”

Tears break off from her eyes into the air.

“I need you to strap in, Joké. This is about to become the bumpiest ride for you. Have you ever been on a planet?”

“I’ve, um, been on a large mining asteroid. Does that count?”

“Hoo, boy. Okay, straps first. Come on.”