Alice pulled a thin pair of yellow visors from a pocket and slipped them on, strapping her helmet again afterward. At first the feed was blackness. She guessed it was space, but no, it was just the log-in process. Then Mars was there, below her in such clarity that vertigo said hello. For a moment she thought she’d puke, but her training took over and she settled in, looking for details. Her drop ship was the middle of the three from the Fucker . The Why Can’t We Just Get Along? led the way, and would coordinate with the spec-ops team to blow the domes’ central hexagon. Her ship would land and secure the Parliament’s external circulation ring, while the Sorry For The Mess would take on Parliament itself. It had the glamorous job of breaking the sun dome and setting down in the midst of the debate chamber.