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smells fresher than our canned air, don’t you think?”
    “I do.”
    There was nothing to see as the boat’s retro engines fired and they dropped from low orbit into lower orbit, en route to the main spaceport on Sutton’s surface. The boats were built for cargo, not sightseeing.
    They listened intently to the quiet cacophony of noises as gravity returned for the first time in months. It wasn’t much gravity. Sutton was larger than Luna, with one-quarter of Earth’s pull. Still, it seemed like a lot for muscles used to microgravity.
    Then there was a long muted roar from the engines, the sound of fuel pumps somewhere nearby flooding them with reaction mass, and various subdued conversations as crewmates spoke urgently about what they were going to do when they “hit dirt.”
    The short flight was over more quickly than Mark remembered from previous mission debarkations. Apparently, the orbital mechanics were more favorable than usual, or perhaps he had just been more anxious the previous times.
    Whatever else one might say about whoever was flying this particular space truck, he knew his business. The landing was so soft that it took a moment for Mark to realize they were down. Only the fact that the engines went suddenly quiet, but the gravity remained, told him that they had Sutton firma beneath them.
    “I guess we’re here,” Mark said, struggling to undo the chest strap that had restrained him while Lisa did the same. They then slid off the shelf and into the central aisle of the boat, joining the tangle of bodies doing the same.
    At the end of a voyage of several hundred light-years, a week navigating from the edge of the Hideout System, and twenty minutes getting down from orbit, there was naturally some kind of a problem with the airlock embarking tube.
    Daedalus ’ anxious crewmembers waited impatiently while the sound of soft cussing emanated from the boat copilot as he worked to obtain a green latch light. Eventually, the recalcitrant light turned emerald and the sound of rushing air could be heard through the cabin. The ship lock opened, and spacers began to walk unsteadily into the tube and disappear.
    When it came to Mark and Lisa’s turn, he gathered up both of their bags, marveling at how heavy they were, and followed his wife to the tube.
    They caught a glimpse of sunlit moonscape as they crossed the gap to the main terminal. They hurried because the supernova remnant was above the horizon. When the nova rose, the background radiation level on Sutton was not healthy for long exposure.
    Then they were through the big port airlock, and entered a tunnel with bare rock walls slanting sharply downward. A dozen meters later, they spilled out into the subterranean arrival hall that seemed to have been expanded in their absence. At least, a section that had been closed off was now open to reveal a small snack bar for passengers waiting to disembark.
    Looking around at what seemed a teeming mass of humanity, but was in reality only about thirty souls, Mark was about to lead the way to an exit when a very young ensign approached them.
     “Commander and Lieutenant Rykand?” the boy asked in a voice that cracked as he spoke, as though its owner wasn’t quite through puberty.
     “Yes,” Mark responded.
    “Ensign Foxworth, sir… ma’am. Will you come with me?”
    “Where?” Mark asked.
    “The Admiral wants to see the two of you, sir.”
    The ensign was startled when two voices — one male, one female — both uttered the same short, sharp obscenity in unison.
    #

Chapter Five
    Mark and Lisa followed the young ensign through the bowels of Sutton’s underground labyrinth, down two ramps, to a newly opened level of the base. They moved with the usual skating motion required by low gravity, lest too energetic a stride send them bounding into the air to crack a skull on the rough-hewn rock overhead. The walls were native stone, still bearing the scars of digging lasers under a transparent layer of