1:9

There is a pause so long that you wonder if he heard you at all. You drift through the emptiness between the two vessels, one stricken and one crewed by a man you wouldn’t trust with a pair of socks.

You feel very alone indeed.

You hear Kaliff’s voice again.

Metal, he says flatly. Metal dust.

Yeah.

Right.

There is another long pause. You wonder how long it will take you to die, pounding at the airlock door. Long enough to regret being honest with Greasy Kaliff, that’s for sure.

Come in the airlock, he says eventually. But no further. You hear me? You come further without my say so and I’ll shoot you, okay?

Okay.

In the airlock I’m going to leave a tool. It’ll look a bit like a torch. Do not fuck with it. Do not do anything with it except exactly what I tell you. Are you listening?

I’m listening, Kaliff.

Good. You’re gonna activate it by sliding off the cap at the end, and then you are going to move it over every square fucking inch of your body. Not too fast, not too slow.

A horrible feeling is building in your guts.

That bit is important, he’s saying. Too fast and you won’t fry them. Too slow and you’ll give yourself cancer.

Say that again.

Do I look like a guy who repeats himself? Stop worrying. Everything causes cancer. It’s the price of…