Montez unclenched her hands from the ship's controls and rolled her shoulders back, stretching muscles stiff from hours of careful maneuvering. Littlefoot drifted in the dark side of a smallish C-type asteroid, the nearest object for about a hundred thousand miles. The great black bulk of the rock spun slowly, revealing its pockmarked surface in degrees. It was one of millions in the asteroid belt Styx which revolved around Lux.

Styx moved through space on the live map displayed between Montez and her copilot Crane, a river of tumbling rocks ranging in size from planetoids to boulders to dust. Among such chaos they were indistinguishable to any far-eyed observer, just a pebble tumbling in the current.

"Well, here we are," she said.

"What a pleasant surprise—another big useless space rock," said Crane. He smacked his harness, causing it to retract into the seat, then spun his chair around and plopped his boots up onto the console between him and his fellow pilot.

"Shut up."

"Ain't a reflection on your skills, just our recent string of bad luck."

"You old-fashioned, Crane. No such thing as luck."

Montez pressed her harness release and the seat slurped the fabric restraints back into itself like a forked tongue. At just over five feet, she felt comfortable in the confines of the tiny craft—little more than a cockpit and airlock. With precise, practiced fingers she configured Littlefoot's scanners to crawl the asteroid canyons to pores.

A topographical map of the rock was sketched into the air above the map of the belt. As it gathered data it updated instantly, sharpening and providing more detail, flagging any accessible resources or interesting data. Montez glanced across the display, dismissing most of it as usual.

"If you don't believe in luck you're in the wrong line of work." Crane plucked an asteroid from the sea of rocks that littered the display, inspected it like he'd just dug it from his nose, and tossed it back. It snapped into place with the rest.

"Never said don't believe. Said no such thing," Montez said. She gestured to the map. "Just probability. Maybe something out there, maybe something ain't. Kasim says yeah this time, but hey—he wrong sometimes. How many empty rocks we been sent out to, man? Prob'ly just gonna be one more."

The display chirped an alert and highlighted an object tucked away inside the asteroid. A marker over the object blinked with placid patience after completing its assigned task.

"Cryo tube," Montez whispered, snagging the object and inspecting it. "Older model. Fifty-plus years."

"Ha! Jackpot!" crowed Crane. "Gettin' my helmet."

Crane moved to the back of the ship and opened his nullsuit locker. He was already wearing his suit but he grabbed his helmet and put it on. His spare suit hung in the back of the locker like a corpse, its helmet slumping down against the chestpiece, lifeless.

Kasim had been pretty tight-lipped about what exactly it was they were sent for—usually scrap, weapons, whatever. But this time, no specifics. Just get out there for a sniff, on a hunch. Crane slid his helmet on and secured it. No wonder—this was the most valuable find of his career so far. Kasim could be an annoying little prankster, but when it came to a haul like this he was always discreet.

They'd found dozens of cryo tubes before, but most were damaged—usually meaning the occupant was dead—or empty. Still valuable for parts, but better to find a live one. Then you know it works. You get paid more if it works.

Back in the old days, during the war, Styx was the rebels' home territory after they were forced off-planet. They planted the asteroid belt with stashes and safehouses. When the Fed came to clean the rebs out they left a lot behind—which men like Crane happily made use of.

Montez gripped Littlefoot's controls and maneuvered the craft so that the airlock would open directly above the area indicated by the computer.

"Matching... locked," Montez said.

They were synchronized with the asteroid's movement directly above the cryo tube. Crane opened the inner airlock door and stepped inside. It shut behind him, and he walked to the outer door. The air was sucked from the room, back into the ship's reserves.

"Check," he said.

"Green," Montez confirmed. "Pressure equalized. Cleared for exit."

Crane hopped back and forth, balled his fists, and wiggled his fingers, testing the suit's dexterity. Responsive, agile. Same as always. He took a deep breath of the suit's too-clean air and exhaled. On the other side of the door waited the void. Nothing between him and death but the wonders of technology.

"You got me tethered?"

"Tethers green," Montez said.

"Test," Crane growled. He leaned forward in his suit, and a gravity tether on the ceiling pulsed a gentle tug on each of his suit's three rear nodes: one on each shoulder blade and another on the base of his spine.

It was an odd sensation, like temporarily falling in the direction of the tether. He lifted each heel—two nodes on each boot. He turned around and held his hands up, allowing the tethers to test the nodes on his palms. Gravity tethers were his lifelines out in nullo.

"Alright, you got me. Opening outer door," he said.

He punched a red button and the door slid open. The ship was just meters from the asteroid's surface. His suit's HUD traced a green outline around the cryo tube and lit up a glowing thread of light between them.

Crane stepped carefully to the edge of the airlock. The thick purple line in front of his toes marked the edge of the grav field. Once he passed that threshold he would be in zero gravity—or close to it. He deactivated the airlock's grav plates, feeling a slight tingling as the artificial gravity let him go.

Crane grabbed the edges of the airlock with both hands and gently pulled himself through, pushing off in a practiced motion as he let go. For a moment his stomach fluttered as he drifted between the ship and the asteroid. He ignored it, keeping his body taut and focused. Even the slightest movement in nullo could put him off course. The coal-black rocky surface took up his entire field of view. He resisted the urge to look away as he approached it.

As Crane put his hands out to cushion his landing, he felt Littlefoot's gravity tethers slow him down. The narrow, focused beams pulsed from nodes encircling the outside of the airlock to nodes on his nullsuit, correcting his trajectory just so. It was a feather-light landing, right on target. His boots sunk into the crunchy black ice-sand of the dune he'd landed on, and Crane took a moment to get his bearings.

He was standing at the crest of a dune which overlooked a steep ravine. Littlefoot hovered above him with its floodlights pointed into the chasm. Crane hopped off the dune with a light push and gently floated to a solid rock outcropping halfway to the bottom.

The cryo tube looked like it was underneath an overhang on the opposite side of the ravine near the floor. Must have crashed, then—probably another junker. Another hop and glide, and Crane sailed over to the other side of the ravine. He landed on target and crouched in front of the overhang. He blinked away the HUD's overlay and activated the lights on his helmet, revealing a small cave. Low roof... a cryo tube was under there? There was no sign of impact. It was like somebody tucked it away there.

Crane blinked again and the HUD's green thread beckoned him inside the cave. He grabbed onto a chunk of rock and began to work his way inside on his belly, following his HUD's green thread of light. If not for the computer's assistance he would have missed it: a thick layer of dust coated the whole thing, making it almost invisible to the naked eye.

"Gotcha," he grinned.

"Can you pull it out?"

"Maybe. Could be wedged in."

"Gonna fit inside?"

Crane grinned. "Ain't the first time I been asked."

"Shut up, Crane."

He laughed and swept a hand across the tube's surface. The dust swirled into a slow cloud, and through it he saw glass, a smoky blue-green that obscured the tube's contents. He pulled himself around to inspect the rest of it. Intact. No leaks. It looked like the thing had been maneuvered into the crevice instead of crashing into the asteroid as he'd assumed it must have. This find was getting more and more valuable.

"It'll fit," he said. "It's a big one, alright, though. Definitely older model. Not sure how the damn thing got down here. You gettin' any readings inside? This thing looks like it's in good shape."

"I can only see outside, not inside. Bring it in so we can take it home."

"Fine, fine. Just get a tether on it soon as I bring it out."

"Waiting on you."

With some difficulty Crane managed to maneuver the tube out of the crevice without damaging it. He braced himself against the rocky surface and shoved the tube out in front of him, sending it drifting toward the ship. The gravity tethers grabbed hold of it as soon as it was in range and the tube was pulled smoothly into the ship's open airlock, the tethers adjusting it this way and that to avoid bumping it against anything.

Crane steadied himself on the asteroid, gauged his trajectory, and pushed off. The tethers guided him like welcoming arms back into the airlock. There was just enough room for him to squeeze in beside the cryo tube. The door sealed behind him and the airlock pressurized. Decontamination jets blasted the rock dust away, sucked it out of the room, and coughed it back outside the ship.

"Let's bring it on home," Montez murmured.

The inner airlock door hissed open. Crane stepped inside and removed his helmet as the door shut behind him. After stuffing it away back in his locker he got into his seat and strapped in.

"Nav's set," Montez said.

"Move your ass then," replied Crane.

She guided the ship away from the asteroid and settled into their plotted trajectory. They were headed back the way they had just come. The ship thrummed with power, and a high-pitched whine sounded a moment before it pushed.

It would be four days until they met the trajectory of their ticket home—a gate disguised as an asteroid, hurtling along like any other hunk of space rock. Another drop in the storm.

"You taking first watch, or me?"

"Me," Crane grunted.

Montez unstrapped and moved to the back of the ship to her bunk. It was a tiny space, but she never felt cramped inside it. The Spartan-style bunks were in recessed walls on opposite sides of the craft, one behind each pilot.

As she slid into bed exhaustion took hold of her. She sunk her head into the thin pillow and fell asleep almost instantly. Three, four hours' rest and she'd be set. For a time she drifted, dreamless, through the void with their cargo.

#

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