THREADS OF TIME
Gregory Benford
May 9, 2008, 9:12 A.M.
It came in an instant, neatly dividing her life.
A moment before Nikka had been serenely gliding over the crumpled, silvery moonscape. She was distracted, plotting her next course and chewing sugary raisins. Her sled was coasting through a series of connected ellipses, bound for nearside. She was looking forward to seeing Earthrise in a few moments.
There was a thump she felt more than heard. The horizon tilted crazily. She slammed forward into her harness and the sled began to fall.
Her clipboard spun away, there was the shriek of metal on metal; the sled was tumbling. She snatched at the guidestick and thumbed on the maneuvering jets. Some on the left responded. The right was dead. She brought them up to full impulse. Something was rattling, as though about to come loose. The sled lurched again, digging her harness into her.
The rotation slowed. She was hanging upside down, looking at the blunted peak of a gray-brown mountain as it slid by, uncomfortably close. She was still falling.
. . .
