I push through the airlock separating the block from the rest of Hangar D, then onto the pad, looking out at the flipped city where two hundred other shells live. It’s close enough that I can feel the Juno still, but too far away to hear the clanging.

Hail finds me there.

“There are others, you know.”

“Other shells?”

She leans against the guardrail next to me. “Lear and Salt have brand new Decaturs. I’ve got a line on one more, if you want it. It’s the M661, variant F. Factory-fresh. Paint’s still tacky.”

But I’m shaking my head before I’ve even decided how to answer. “I can’t.”

Hail nods but holds herself steady. “There’s a Spirit as well, if you want, same as mine. Six-forty-four, M-variant. Heavily modified for ops in the froth, and probably one of the fastest machines on Horizon.”

“I can’t.”

10.79, says the counter, just a heartbeat before it drops back to 1. The Juno is listening to us.

Hail crosses her arms. “Why?”

I’d say it was the machine itself. Kadi needs an excuse to get rid of it, and Hail will do anything to keep it. A jockey using it for day-to-day is the only way to keep it on our deck. But that would be a lie.

“What is your score?” I tap my visor, right above the place where the little counter flickers on my display. “With the Spirit, I mean. What kind of sync do you get?”

She cocks her head. “Enough for high functionality. I get mid-seventies in flight, solid. Peaks around eighty-one, eighty-two under load. I’ve hit eighty-five in a fight.”

I look back at the huge airlock, made to take a shell. “How far away do you think we are? From the Juno, I mean.”

“Not counting the walls?” She blows out her cheeks. “Thirty meters. Forty maybe. Why?”

“What kind of sync would you get from this far out?”

Her eyes track along the ground. “This far out? Single digits, probably. With all the metal in the way, three to five percent, if I’m lucky.” She watches me again. “What has this got to do with anything?”

“I flew a Spirit with Ten-Seven-Seven. From here, I’d probably do a little better than you, but I’d had that machine a long time.” I turn back through the access-door. “Let me show you something.”

I lead her out onto the launch-rail, halfway between the Juno’s casket and the airlock doors. The machine tracks us.

“How far, do you think?”

She eyes it. “Fifty metres. About the same as before.”

I nod and test the hangar’s local net. “Avery?”

One of the overalls looks back. “What?”

“Get clear.”