At that point the quiet was rudely broken when a large RV pulled up. It came to a shuddering stop a short distance from the hut. A generator churned into life, dubstep pumped from a loudspeaker, and spotlights burned through the dark to illuminate a swathe of ground. A half-dozen guys wearing technical fabric suits jogged down the vehicle’s steps, fanned out in a V formation and, calling to each other, started doing frisbee drills. You’ve got to be kidding, Sebastian thought. He had forgotten that sports teams sometimes trained in the valley, making use of the natural amphitheatre for low-gravity sessions. As one of the frisbee guys waved at him, he smiled back politely even though he wore a mask and actually felt like crying.

‘We’ve got company,’ he told Teena, going back inside the hut. Having passed through the airlock, he pulled his headgear off.

‘I saw,’ she said wryly. She was warming soup on the burner. They sat on the lower bunk to wait for it to be ready. When he adjusted his position, rolling up a sweater to put behind his back, she said, ‘Is it bothering you, the shrapnel?’

‘No, it’s fine.’

‘You’re a better man than me.’

‘That has never been true, except biologically speaking.’

‘Ha.’ She zipped her suit open from the ankle to the thigh and took off her prosthesis. He knew the rubber bands that secured it cut into her skin, and she was always relieved to remove it. ‘I’m still glad we came,’ she said. ‘I like it here. Although do you remember that time we came and that other couple was here, and the guy was going on about their dehydrated meals, how he made them all himself using a solar-powered oven?’

‘Ugh. Don’t remind me. I wanted to punch him in the face.’

‘And the way he talked over her, like could you be more pompous?’ Picking up a sheaf of documents she had brought with her from work, she idly ran her gaze down some sort of supply list. Stopping at a line item for sanitary products, she looked up with a smirk and said, ‘You know, I read that early on, when NASA was going to put some woman astronaut in space, the engineers had to know the weight of everything, right, so they asked her how many tampons she’d need for a week. They asked her would a hundred be enough?’ Lowering the page, she laughed. ‘A hundred! That’s so crazy. Dudes have no idea.’

‘Well, why should they?’ Sebastian asked. ‘I don’t know how many of those silicon cups you use.’

‘I just use the one and wash it.’

‘Right, but do you know how many times I shit a day?’

‘Well —’

‘Do you? How many?’