The space station April, a mismatched shape of metal cubes and spheres strung together, orbited the moon of an unnamed, lifeless gas giant. Between the huge planet and the moon it orbited, April was almost perpetually cast in deep shadow, swallowed by the cold darkness of space. Every seven years or so, the station’s orbital course took it through the gas giant’s rings, and as it entered the belt today, small bits of rock battered its outer hull. In another hour or two, rock would give way to chunks of ice. Only then would the light from the local blue star finally reach the station, reflected by the ice and fractured it in a dazzling display of colours.
This would surely be a thrilling sight of beauty, yet there were no faces full of anticipation lining the exterior windows of April. In fact, most of the glass panels were shattered, exposing the living quarters behind them to the void outside. Deeper into the station, where hull breaches were not an immediate threat and warm air still ...