It was a small explosion, relatively speaking. The fragments of grenade casing were far less energetic than the particles that rushed by on the solar wind, but then the costs of getting so much mass into space had meant that the station wasn't designed to withstand either.

Chunks of metal tore through the thin foam sandwich, large and slow enough to be visible to the naked eye as they flew away from the spindle. Air followed, blossoming into visible clouds as it forced its way through the holes. A well-placed observer might have noticed the ruptures on the spin-ward side; three punctures in a rough line, a running crack joining each to the last as the inertia and induced weight of the guest wing pulled at the shaft.

The tear kept running, spreading around into the sunlight. The small service shaft ahead of the main passage broke off outright, freeing the habitation block to gain speed as it strained against its guy-wires. For a moment the motion was arrested by a pair of the thick cables, but the escape of the great mass - the force now radial as much as circular as the resistance of the main shaft gave out - was inevitable.

The main sun-side guy snapped at the ring end, springing free as the structure rolled away toward the reactor. Its tension gone the cable reclaimed all its energy as the loose end swung toward the docking bay. It lashed into the marine transport, slicing through the hull and leaving a gash running through most of the aft compartments.


Ruth couldn't keep her feet, but she had worked out what happened even before she hit the deck. Marcus helped her up, a little unsteady as he stood at a disconcerting angle.

"What happened?"

She ignored him, taking a pair of instruments from her belt and hanging them on their lanyards at arm's length. Without another word she strode over to a wall computer and slapped the button for an emergency communicator channel.

"Captain, we've taken enough structural damage for a significant change in the centre of mass. Recommend emergency stop."

The young man looked at her in concern.

"Structural damage? But in order to move the centre of mass we'd have to... Oh..."


Gail took her time getting up: that she was sprawled on the floor while Teague remained strapped into his chair was a lesson she could savour. The wall monitor showed the feed from one of the remaining external cameras, the eerie image of the habitation wing rolling away into space filling one wall. She remained transfixed on it until the rotation of the core took it out of view.

"Captain?"

It was a few moments more until she could tear herself away from the image: a view of clear space where there should have been accommodation for dozens of staff. What little staff she did have was mostly still in the errant compartments.

"Sorry, yes?"

"Engineer Stockwell is right: the station was designed for a balanced spin. We need to stop."

She nodded.

"Do it."

He looked back to his console, rapidly searching options that he hadn't needed since his training simulations. Everything ready, he turned the communicator to a station-wide address.

"All hands prepare for gravity failure. Repeat, all hands prepare for gravity failure in 10... 9... 8..."



This is the latest chapter.