I shoulder my bag again and sling myself out of the vehicle to push past him. The door seals behind me with a hum, andonce more I’m in the rush of humanity, though it’s thinning out now.
I grab at a tall woman as she rushes by – she tries to shake my hand off, but when I tighten my grip to steel, she swings around.
‘Where do visitors go?’ I shout, raising my voice over the low thuds and clunks of the external garage doors opening and rovers abandoning the station.
‘What?’ She tries to pull free again.
‘I just arrived. Where do I strap in?’
‘Other side,’ she replies. ‘Other side of the ring. I’d run, if I were you.’
I let her go, turning to sprint back the way I came, forcing my way upstream against the mass of bodies passing me.
Why the hell are the visitor pods so far away?
I can answer my own question: because the permanent population grew, and nobody had planned ahead for the inconvenient extras. They’re stashed out of the way. That’s what people do with unwelcome extras. Trust me on that.
And so I’m running for my life toward the extra, tacked-on pods – the afterthoughts.
It’s getting quieter and quieter as I tear around the long, curved hallway that makes up the outer ring of Pax.
I’ve never run faster – finally, the lighter gravity works in my favor – but I could be alone in the station, my heart slamming against my ribs, my breath ragged, and now my ringing footsteps are the only sound.
The loudspeaker begins again, starting its list of announcements with English first.
Two minutes remaining. Two minutes until complete evacuation.
Does she modify the announcement by the time she makes it to the end of the list? I assume she’s doing all six official languages of the United Nations. Will it be one minute remaining by the time she does it in Spanish?
Why am I thinking about that right now?
Because I don’t want to think about what’s actually happening.
At last, a set of double doors withVISITING PERSONNEL: EMERGENCY ATVSstenciled above.
I throw myself at one of the doors, yanking at the handle – locked.
I push off it to the second, twisting the handle so hard that a lance of pain runs from my wrist to my elbow when it refuses to turn.
‘What?’ My own voice surprises me. ‘What? You can’t—’
But as I stare through the viewport window at the open garage door – at the red rocks beyond, and the rover winding its way through them – I realize they can.
And they have.
…
This can’t be happening.
And that’s when I hear the woman who greeted me, her words floating up in my memory.I’m all ready to get you logged in to our system …
But she didn’t do it – she needed my handprint. The other visitors didn’t even know I was here. They didn’t know to wait for me.
Evacuation complete, says the voice through the loudspeaker. Venting will commence shortly.
‘I’m here!’ I shout, spinning around to shout up at the nearest speaker. ‘I’m here, you stupid computer!’
Evacuation complete, she repeats.Venting will commence shortly.
