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TRINITY MUTTERED A prayer, crossed herself, and caught a reflection of Earth and her own pale face outside the portside window.

Then she kissed her ass goodbye.

This is really happening, kiddo. All the wheels are churning. Stand or fall. Live or die.

The bomb detonated with a deafening roar. Trinity sprinted past the angled crooks and swarthy corridors of Section G, through the bowels of Artemis Mining Station searching for masses of her fellow slaves jolted out of sleep only standard minutes after bed check should have commenced. The initial blast shattered glass into thousands of radiant barbed fragments, scattered debris in every direction, and launched shrapnel in a maddening rush, pulverizing eight sublevels of community quarters in both Core and Centauri sectors of the outpost.

Even set at its lowest yield, the weapon was proving to be more systematic in its destruction than the simulation had predicted. How did the insurgency ever think to harness such power? My God, Micah, this plan of yours had better work.

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