The girls looked up at the circular screen in front of them. It provided a 360-degree view of the surrounding space. The pod system identified foreign objects approaching their station.

“Incoming,” Romy said, initiating the docks as she spoke. “Closest point of contact at Grid G90 in thirty seconds.”

“Jeez, a little notice would be nice.” Elara fired the right thrusters. The acceleration slammed the girls sideways in their harnesses. Romy winced as the strap pressed into her side. She shouldn’t celebrate not wearing space suits on debris duty; they provided more padding than the orange spandex.

“You wimps need to hurry up; we’ve already hooked five.” Deimos’s voice flooded their system.

“Poacher poop,” Elara swore.

Debris clean-up was a simple matter of approaching the debris and pulling it into the pod. Most of it was fleck-size, like dust, although some debris could be as large as a shoe. There had been a mass effort to clean Earth’s orbit before the launch of the orbitos in 2050. Debris the size of a pin could cause sizeable damage to the stations. Cracked windows had been a common occurrence in the first ten years of space life, though less common now—even with regular battles against the Critamal.

Sometimes Romy wondered if the Critamal’s plan was to kill them by littering their orbit. Errant debris wasn’t a problem the alien species had to contend with, since their position was farther away from Earth’s atmosphere.

Romy concentrated on operating the docking station as Elara came alongside the debris. Debris travelled at around 8.05 kilometres per second. They’d approach anything less than ten. The approach was a crucial step and not as easy as the other soldiers thought. If Elara and Romy tried to intercept the debris head on, it would simply tear through the craft, its force increased by the pod’s opposing force. When Thrym got down about Knot 27’s low status, she was quick to remind him of that fact.

The pod still jerked violently when it came into contact with the debris.

Elara held out her hand and Romy met it in a celebratory fist-pump.

“Seven down,” Phobos’s voice came through their headsets.

“You’re gonna need that head start,” Romy replied calmly.

“Did you guys hear that? Romy just schmack-talked. We’re shaking in our space shoes.” Their snorting could be heard in the background.

What did the twins usually say back to these kinds of things? Romy racked her brain for an insult. She was distracted by Elara mouthing words in her direction.

“You . . . better . . . be!” Romy read Elara’s mouth, grinning in success.

Her friend just rolled her eyes in exasperation.

Phobos snorted. “Need to work on those lip-reading skills, Ro.”

The knot worked steadily for the next three hours, falling into silence, apart from the competitive tally each pod kept. Their games helped alleviate the tedium of the task.