That was better—her now-free hands searched for the harness clip. It stuck at first, the ceramic bent, then undid with a click. She scrambled out of the seat. Her balance was off, Martian gravity less than half that of Earth’s. Blood trickled under her helmet and down her face. The boulevard was wide, its outer edge boarded by the lake, the inner a ten-foot-tall wall capped by the Parliament building’s metal roof.