You clip the tether because clips are how you stay a person on a list.

One bay. Holds. Paddle. Dust leaps and then belongs to the bin, not the sky. PAR in Bay 2 ticks like a thank-you that is really physics. Lina’s visor is a brown coin. Her voice is a checklist.

Wind—what Mars can spare of wind—lifts a curtain. The next bay looks close. Close is a liar in low gravity and low visibility.

Lina: “In. Now. We have LEDs for the rest. Heroes of all glass become rover hunts.”

You can go in and stack the inside jobs. You can stay out because the paddle is working and working feels like it should continue.

GROVE: “Visibility: ruder.”