Park cried out; whatever had thrown her had used superhuman strength to do it. Her body hurtled and tumbled and slid a long distance away and was only stopped by the tangle of her own limbs. She could feel blood running down her throat as she lay there, stunned: first a tickle of warmth, then a muted congealing around her neck. She’d cut her chin on the ice. She sat up just as Natalya crunched up towards her, hunched over like an animal, shouting.

“Are you all right?” the surveyor asked. She bent and grabbed Park’s shoulders, examined her chin. “Why did you just stand there?”

“What happened?” Park asked, dazedly. She looked past Natalya at the cliff, the wreckage of ice gathered at the bottom of it, like pieces of broken vertebrae. She staggered to her feet. The drill was safely parked several yards away, so what was that other stuff around the ice? Some unrecognizable metal debris: long pieces of alloy, straggling wires like clutches of black worms.

“What is that?” she asked.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Natalya demanded. “You were lucky—if the bot hadn’t pushed you—” She shook her head and wrapped her gloved hand around Park’s collar. “Come on. We need to go back.”

“I can’t,” Park said, though she couldn’t say why. She felt sick. “I have to—”

“You have to what?” Natalya snapped. “Stay here with it? Fine, if you want. I can leave you here, out in the cold, if that’s what you really, really want.”

Yes, Park thought. Just leave me alone and go back. Let me be out here. Let me be in the cold. That’s what I really, really want.

But she allowed the surveyor to pull her away, to drag her back to the Earthmover. Only when she was sitting in the cab, with the heat cranked on full blast, clutching a ratty towel to her chin, did she allow herself to have a good look at the cliffs. Though the drill hadn’t moved yet, it looked to Park like the crags were shrinking rapidly; it seemed like they were melting under the dazzling noon light. Beneath them, the splinters of the HERCULES were shifting in the arctic wind. Ah, Park thought. So it was strong enough, after all. She didn’t need to worry. It had done its job.

Then, silently, she began to cry. Through her tears the pieces of the HERCULES glowed like tiny stars.

—