Penetrating a space suit is difficult. The suits are like armour – they are armour, but they are built for outside, not inside the ship. Shell is not in pain, but she cannot manoeuvre and can’t get to the robot, which is latched to a spot above her, swinging its arms, one of which wraps around her and begins to squeeze. Doesn’t hurt, but she feels it. How long will the suit hold? Joké tries to peel the arm off, but she makes no progress.

“Captain,” says Fin over the comm. “Hold still.”

Gunshot. The first arm splinters at the point of articulation with the ceiling, raining down alloy chips and hard plastic. For the other two, Shell is aware of the explosive bullets before they disintegrate. She turns like a woman made of balloons. Fin is holding a gun in one hand and his helmet in the other. He is out of the top half of the EVA suit and says something she can’t hear. She waves.

To Joké, she says, “Come on. Let’s go.”

“Captain,” says Joké on the radio.

“Yes.”

“Now that we’re alone on the comm, I have a question.”

“Go ahead.”

“What is ahead that we are, ah, going to?”

Weird construction. Weird girl. “Aft to manually close the penultimate node and assess damage.”

“But, um, you’re the one with Ragtime access.”

“What’s your point?”

“The captain can’t go. It’s too dangerous. If you die, everyone dies. Nobody else can do what you do, and though you have a really nice ass that I don’t mind staring at along this journey, you, ah, need to send someone else.”

“I—”

“What? You need someone five-eleven and gorgeous, you say? Okay, you twisted my arm, Captain. I’ll go.” Joké squeezes past. “Um, I’ll relay information back.”

She moves faster than Shell is able to, so there’s that. And Joké is right.

Shell looks at the time, takes a scheduled sip of water, then checks on the passengers. Don’t break ’em; don’t lose ’em. Stable. At her feet, maintenance bots clean up but are frustrated with the microgravity. Each fragment reminds her of the broken ship and the broken mission.

Her comm lights up. “Ragtime, this is the Equivalence. Come in.” Salvo.

“Ragtime, over.”

“Equivalence ready for burn.”

“Thank you. Wait for my mark. Decisive, come in.”

“Decisive standing by for burn, over.”

“All right. Let’s sort this spin out…”

Chapter Ten

Decisive: Lawrence

While correcting the Ragtime’s spin, Lawrence leaves most of the precision work to the AI and lets his mind drift. Little Michelle. Look at her captaining a ship.

Other memories come back. Lawrence alone in a ship. He looks at the screens showing the colony planet. Long time no see.