“Can we just do what we came for? We have a lot of work to get through,” says Lawrence. In truth, spacewalks are painstaking and take hours. Since their lives depend on getting the antenna fixed, he wants to get it done as quickly as possible.

They reach the spot, made obvious by the antenna stump.

When they are suitably anchored, Lawrence runs through the tools checklist which is on a flip book attached to his arm, and Joké confirms them. Lawrence notices the Arm moving from the corner of his eye but thinks nothing of it. He tethers the bag of parts and starts the process of setting up the weld. The next time he looks up, the Arm is closer and looming. Something hits him and for a moment he is confused because the Arm is still too far to make contact and he seems to be drifting away from the Ragtime, his tether unhooked.

“Dad! Wake up!”

Joké is already moving along the body of the Ragtime, evading the Arm, which comes crashing down on their previous position with force, scattering debris and tools. Lawrence indeed wakes up, activating the EVA rescue system; twenty-five jets for slowing, five for orientation.

The Arm rises again, slow, majestic. It stops poised above the worksite.

Lawrence navigates back, stopping close to Joké, nearer the Power and Propulsion Unit than he would like.

“Umm, you all right, Father?” asks Joké.

“I’m fine. Just trying that Action Governor shit you’re always recommending.”

“Bit late.”

“Yes.”

“What shall we do?”

“Report, then regroup,” says Lawrence. “Salvo, Salvo, come in.”

No response.

“Salvo, are you seeing any of this?”

Nothing.

Lawrence looks up and the Arm is still standing watch over the antenna site.

“Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe we try again,” says Lawrence.

“We lost a shit ton of tools,” says Joké.

“Yeah, but we had redundancy. I think we have enough,” says Lawrence. “Just don’t know if it’s going to try and squash us.”

Joké crawls around Lawrence and moves back towards the antenna stump. She’s gone five arm breadths when the Arm starts sweeping down again. She stops, it stops.

“I don’t think it’s going to let us, Governor,” says Joké.

“And I can’t raise Salvo.”

The sun comes out and both of their helmets polarise. It illuminates Bloodroot and glints off the fragments of machinery from the impact in a pleasing way. It’s strange that space is at its most beautiful when it’s killing you.

“Captain, Captain, come back,” says Lawrence.

“This is Ragtime One,” says Shell. Low, quick voice.

“We are being prevented from carrying out our task,” says Lawrence. “By a big-ass robotic arm.”

“It’ll have to wait,” says Shell.

“Say again, Captain,” says Lawrence, incredulous.

“Uncle Larry, something else has come up. Your problem will have to wait.” Urgent whisper now. “Out.”

Joké looks puzzled. “Well?”

“We’re on our own,” says Lawrence.