Alice spat and saliva dripped up her cheeks. She tried to twist her head but found herself wedged against something too heavy to move. The ejection seat’s frame and straps gripped like a straitjacket, making it hard to breathe. The final layer melted from her eyes and she opened them, wincing in the pale light. Her face was pressed against the boulevard’s smooth, gray concrete. It shook under her, a deep explosion somewhere below. There was a high-pitched hiss of escaping gas, and the unmistakable whoosh of incoming orbital missile fire. She tried to move, couldn’t.