Mig is already awake when the morning alarm goes off. The radio is set on his suit to turn on at 06:55 Coordinated Mars Time. Betty Martinez's voice is nearly lost in hisses and crackles. He looks down at Olivia. She likes to curl her hands underneath her chin like she's pondering the big questions in her sleep. He draws his blanket overtop hers so she's covered shoulder to toes. One of her eyes cracks open.

"Getting soft on me?"

He grunts.

"Good." She grasps his chin and draws him into a kiss. "We need to practice."

"You saying I'm bad at knocking suits?"

Her laughter creates warm puffs of air across his mouth. "I'm saying we need to practice."

"Mmhmm."

"I like the smiling thing." She traces the curve of his lips with her fingers. "Shaves a decade off your face."

He rubs his stubble. "I'll take what I can get."

There's a loud knock at the door. Mig rolls out of bed and grabs his combat knife. They both wait, motionless. The knocking comes again. People in New Shanidar don't knock. The doors are as thin as the walls, floors, and ceilings. If someone bangs their fist on a metal rectangle, then at least four other apartments are going to hear it.

"Hello? It is Dr. Maro."

He shimmies into a pair of underwear and cracks open the door. A sliver of the Honeycomb comes into view, as well as a thin slice of Maro's profile.

"What?"

"I would like to speak to Ms. Ninh, please."

He stares at Maro for five full seconds, then looks at Olivia. She pushes herself up off the bed with a soft groan. In her nakedness, her pain is plain to see.

"I'll talk to him," she says.

"Alright." He turns back to Maro. "Wait here."

Mig shuts the door without waiting for a response. He sets the knife down on Olivia's desk and watches her bend to pick up her underwear. She straightens up and her back makes a faint clicking sound. He gathers up the rest of her clothes and lays them across her bed. When he starts to move away, she puts her hand on his shoulder. Her eyes are as grey as freshly cut slate. He kneels down and helps her dress while her fingers gently squeeze his trapezius muscle.

Maro knocks again. "Are you still there?"

Olivia bends over so her hair tickles Mig's back. "How'd he find us?"

He slides her pants up over her hips and stands up. "Somebody must've talked."

"I don't like it."

It takes a few minutes to slide her bra on, then her shirt, but it's routine. He picks up his combat knife and stands by the door. When she gives the nod, he pushes it half-way open. She has to stoop down to fit into the doorway.

"Doctors don't usually come around here."

Maro gives her a once over. "Yes. I apologize for intruding at this hour, but I wanted to hand these to you personally." He offers a nondescript white bag. Despite its plainness, the design and quality advertises Earth-manufacturing. "I took your case to the Global College of Physicians. They felt as I did. Fortunately, Mayor Pax was good enough to have these delivered from Fort Secchi."

"Pax did this?" Olivia crosses her arms. "And you wandered around here by yourself? With that?"

"No," says another man.

Mike Solheim steps into view with a sheepish smile. Aiko Yamada hovers behind him, head turned toward the nearest stairway, gun low. Mig tries to move, but it's like he's full of dirt. Without his suit, he can't get a readout on their equipment.

"When I heard about a survivor from Luna-9, I had to help. My name is Mike Solheim."

Olivia squints at Mike, then finally accepts the bag and peeks inside. She sucks in a hissing breath and shows the contents to Mig. It takes a great force of will for him to look at it. The bag holds a small fortune of medication and nutritional supplements. Some he hasn't seen in years. She scurries back inside and immediately starts rustling through the contents.

"All of this is free," Maro adds. "Courtesy of the Luna-9 Fund."

"Please, put the knife down." Aiko speaks firmly and calmly. "We are not here to cause distress."

Mike looks at her, then back at him. The colour starts draining out of his face. Something's churning in those big brown eyes. All four of them stand there staring at each other on the walkway. It's the second loudest silence Mig's ever heard.

Finally, Mike whispers, "Sam?"

"Don't know him." He lifts his chin at Maro. "Next week."

The doctor nods, expression blanked with confusion.

He shuts the door again and locks it. Sweat starts beading down his face. The silence outside is so loud for so long, it seems they'll barge in. But nothing happens. He waits until their footsteps fade away before facing Olivia. She's busy taking out every sealed package and reading their labels. She twists one open and breaks the seal with her index finger. It makes a soft popping sound. She takes one pink pill and licks it.

"It's real," she says and looks up at him. "Mig, this is real med."

He sits down on his bed and sets the knife aside. The sheets are rumpled. He puts his head in his hands and breathes through his mouth.

"They made you."

"Yeah." He drops his hands and looks up at her. "I think they did."

She sits beside him and cradles four bottles in her fingers. "We could sell half these easy. We'd make so much terra. We could get out of New Shanidar. Go south to Schmidt. See the polar ice. Nobody would follow us that far, not with the dust storms this spring. We'd be safe."

Mig shakes his head. "They followed me from Earth after 25 years. They won't ever give up."

"You must've really left an impression."

He stares into space for a moment, then clasps his hands together. "I'm Samuel Renton."

Olivia laughs at first. Then the light drains from her face. She stands up and the medication falls onto the floor. Her right leg buckles and she grasps the desk's edge to support herself. She finally sits into her chair and tries to catch her breath. There's only two feet between the foot of his bed and her computer, but it might as well be a chasm. She types his name into the computer and the same image from the bulletin appears. A young man in UN colours. Handsome, if a bit cocky. After 25 years, the similarities aren't obvious. He's lost a lot of weight. His face has the sun-blasted, sunken-eyed look of a Martian. It's why he could walk around New Shanidar without a helmet, but they're there. She rests her chin on her hand, and studies the screen for a long time.

"So, I just fucked the man who murdered my parents."

He blinks rapidly and covers his mouth with his hand.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"You didn't want to know?"

"Of course I wanted to know," she snaps. "But how have you changed anything? My parents are still dead. I'm still poor and I'm still going to die on this rock." She exhales harshly and leans back, her body trembling with adrenaline. When she continues, her voice is soft. "I was finally happy."

"I can still help you."

Olivia stares at him, then starts laughing again.

"Listen. Listen to me." Mig leans forward and points to the computer screen. "Look at the bounty. That's 2.3 million terra. That's the surgery, the treatments, and a new life on Earth."

Her laughter dies away. She starts shaking her head.

"Turn me in before they come back."

"And then you can sit in your cell and feel good about yourself."

"Yeah," he says. "Something like that."

She drags her hand through her hair. After a moment of silence, she looks back at him. "Is it true you were paid to kill them?"

"No."

"Then why? They were protesters. Harmless."

Mig picks up his helmet and drags his hand across the visor. It has dents and scratches from jobs he's done over the years. He looks at his reflection and an old man looks back.

"I saved some files to the suit. The kill feed is there. You can see what happened yourself."

She shuts her eyes and averts her face.

He sets the helmet down between them. "It's up to you."