Page 33 of Full Speed to a Crash Landing

There were supposed to be failsafes; of course there were. Every ship has automatic failsafes.

But this had been quick.

And the failsafes had failed.

And the entire ship had died because one tiny ring cracked.

I’ve been telling this story to Rian the whole time I’m making my slow way back up the cliff.

But what I don’t tell him is this:

That moment changed me on a core level. I can see that cracked O-ring as clearly as I can see the world in front of me.I wake up every morning, and I remind myself how futile it all is. You can do everything right, try to be good, try to do good, and sometimes it won’t matter. Your O-ring gets a crack in it, and you die before you have time to panic. A nothing part, ignored until it’s broken, and then you’re dead.

You and everyone you love just cease to be.

That’s how close life and death are. Not just here, in space or on a volatile planet. Everywhere. Everywhere in the universe, you’re one cracked O-ring away from total failure. And we all just go through each day, ignoring that.

Pretending like we don’t see the cracks.

Like the cracks aren’t going to break all the way.

Life is a fucking miracle. How did the right atoms collide and the right DNA strands evolve and the right lucky breaks in planetary development build up over trillions of years in the impossible expanse of all of time and space to makeyou?A series of accidents and luck and planning and fate and maybe God or maybe just the sheer chaos of it all conspired to make the life within you, all eternity stretching to a pinpoint that coincides with your first breath.

And a tiny cracked O-ring can take it all away.

It’s so,sohard to live.

And so,soeasy to die.

It’s just that the O-ring is deep inside the life-support unit, buried under outtake valves and wiring harnesses and bypass tubes. You have to look for it.

You have to look for the crack in it.

But you can’t forget it’s there. You can’t ever forget that.

• • •

Telling this has taken more time than I anticipated. But it’s served Rian’s goal well; I forgot about the physical pain of climbing. I was back on theRose, back in the dark, not here, scaling a cliff.

I can see the top of the ridge now, can see Rian’s helmeted face peering over the edge at me. Almost there.

I track my course—not much farther—but pull in close on a ledge that is big enough for me to stand with both feet planted. I keep my front to the wall.

“What are you doing?” Rian asks.

“Just one quick break before the end,” I say. “I’m not my best right now.” One wrong move, and all this work will be for nothing.

I check my visor’s readouts.Fucking finally, I think fiercely. A few adjustments to my suit, and I’m exactly where I want to be.

“All right, I told you my worst day,” I say, starting to climb again. “Tell me yours.”

“Oh, that’s too long of a story.” Rian sounds happier now. “You’re almost out.”

I heave myself up to another handhold, scrambling my legs until I get traction. At least my boots grip well. I feel the line tighten—Rian’s risking the manual crank to help me, reaching down toward me with one gloved hand.

“Fine, tell me about your best day, then,” I say.

“That’s easy.” He’s close enough now that I can see his grinning face behind his visor. “Today. Today’s the best day.”

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