prisonsuit-rabbitman

UNSPECIFIED SPACE Orson hauled himself headfirst through the hatch, got his feet under him and pulled the lid down on top of him. He was floating. “Is this shut properly?” he asked, hanging onto the bottom of the hatch lid. “Doesn’t matter,” said the voice in his helmet. “I’m not pressurised. Give the wheel a spin but it won’t seal,” “Okay,” said Orson. He strained to turn the wheel handle, bracing the toe of one boot on the metal wall of the cylinder. “What were you trying to do?,” said the voice. “Whatever it was, you did it wrong, I think,” Orson bobbed around in the tube. “Oh. Ha, ha. What?” “You’re not the first human to end up out here,” said the voice,”But you’re the first one who was still alive. And you’re the first one who wasn’t in some bit of a spaceship. How does a human end up floating around out here in just a pressure-suit? Did you...oh, you must have really pissed someone off, is that it?” “No,” said Orson. “Don’t get defensive, I’m impressed. I’m Gary, by the way

VESTA HELIOSPHERE CAPITAL SPACEPORT Orson got a ping from an ident he didn’t recognise. His neural didn’t recognise it, either. Orson responded anyway. There had been a lot of new names and faces over the past few days. “Hey, Orson Foster,” said Miles of Grey. “Incoming,” “Sorry, who is this?” “Miles of Grey,” said Miles of Grey. “I’m your ride back up to the Charioteer,” “I thought the Chaffinch was picking me up,” “He had to swing by the Veneneia. Couple more folks decided they wanted to hop off Vesta before things pop off,” “Right,” said Orson. “Makes sense. I would,” “Same,” said Miles of Grey. “Forty seconds and I’ll be with you.” “Neat-o,” said Orson. He relaxed. He felt guilty to be relieved that the Chaffinch wasn’t his pickup. It had occurred to Orson that Abraham Cunningham didn’t seem to trust Gilmour, and Gilmour didn’t seem to trust him, and Gilmour had dicked about with his helmet. These thoughts had started to bother him just a little. Orson was sure- he was absolutely