“Same as we’re gonna do,” Pancho said. “Our storm cellar,” Amanda added, glancing up at Fuchs. It’s our storm cellar only if he’s right, Dan added silently. If that chunk out there really is a beanbag and we can dig into it until the storm’s over. Aloud, he asked, “How long before the radiation starts to build up?”

“Four hours, plus a few minutes,” Pancho said. “Plenty of time.” You hope, Dan said to himself.

She established Starpower 1 in a close orbit around the tumbling asteroid, and then the four of them floated weightlessly down to the airlock, where Dan and Fuchs had already assembled six emergency tanks of air. As they wriggled into their spacesuits Fuchs begged to go out the airlock first, but Dan overruled him. “Pancho goes first, Lars. You’re still a tenderfoot out there.” Through his fishbowl helmet, Fuchs’s broad face frowned in puzzlement. “But my feet are fine,” he said. “Why are you worried about my feet?” Dan and Pancho both laughed, but Amanda shot an annoyed glance at Dan and said, “It’s an American expression, Lars. From their western frontier, long ago.”

“Yep,” Dan conceded. “I learned it from Wild Bill Hickok.” Getting serious, Pancho said, “We can go together, Lars and me — whenever you guys are ready to stop horsin’ around.”

“Aye-aye cap’n,” said Dan, touching his helmet with a gloved hand in a sloppy salute.

Pancho and Fuchs went through the airlock and, once it cycled, Dan and Amanda. While he stood in the cramped metal chamber, listening to the air-pump’s clatter dwindling to silence, he heard Fuchs’s excited voice through his helmet speaker:

“It’s like a sandpile!”

Dan offered a swift thanks to whatever gods there be. Maybe we’ll all live through this, after all.

With Amanda, he went through the airlock and then jetted the hundred meters or so separating the ship from the asteroid. It sure looks solid, Dan thought, staring at the black, slowly tumbling mass as he approached it. And yes, there were craters here and there with no rims to them; just holes, as if some giant had poked his fingers into the asteroid.

Then he saw Fuchs’s helmet and shoulders; the rest of him was in some sort of a pit. He’s digging like a kid in a sandbox, Dan saw.

As he got closer, Dan saw that the surface of the asteroid looked hazy, blurred. Is he stirring up that much dust? Dan asked himself. No, it’s not just where Fuchs is digging. It’s everywhere. The whole surface of the asteroid is blurry. What the hell is causing that?

“Are my eyes going bad or is the surface blurred?” he said into his helmet microphone.

“Dust,” came Fuchs’s immediate reply. “Particles from the solar wind give the dust an electrostatic charge. It makes the dust levitate.”

“That doesn’t happen on the Moon,” Dan objected.

The Moon is a very large body,” said Fuchs. “This asteroid’s gravity is too weak to hold the dust on the surface.”

Just then Dan touched down on Haven. It was like stepping on talcum powder. His boots sank into the dark dust almost up to his ankles even though he came down with a feather light touch. Cripes, he thought, it’s like one of those black sand beaches in Tahiti.

Dan turned and saw Pancho, long and lean even in her spacesuit, gliding across the asteroid’s dusty surface toward him.

“Bring out the air tanks, Mandy,” Pancho said.

Amanda soared weightlessly to Starpower 1’s airlock, then emerged again towing a string of six tall gray cylinders behind her. In her gleaming white spacesuit she looked like a robot nurse followed by a half-dozen unfinished pods. “Better start diggin’, boss,” Pancho said.

Dan nodded, then realized that she might not be able to see the gesture. There wasn’t all that much light out here, and they had decided to keep their helmet lamps off to save their suit batteries.

“We go with the buddy system,” Dan said as he unlimbered the makeshift shovel he had carried with him. “You and me, Pancho. Amanda, you stay with Lars.”

“Yes, of course,” Amanda replied.

It wasn’t quite like digging at the beach. More like working on a giant, black hunk of Swiss cheese, Dan thought. There were holes in the surface, tunnels that had apparently been drilled by stray chunks of rock hitting the asteroid. There was no bedrock, just a loose rubble of black rounded grains, the largest of them about the size of a small pebble. It’s a wonder they hold together, Dan thought. “Here’s a ready-made tunnel for two,” Pancho called to him. He saw her slowly disappearing into one of the tunnels.

It was wide enough for the two of them, just barely.

“How far down does it go?” Dan asked as he gingerly slid over the lip of the crater, careful not to catch his backpack.

“Dunno,” Pancho answered. “Deep enough to ride out the storm. Better start fillin’ in the hole.”

He nodded inside his helmet and took a tighter grip on his improvised shovel: it had been a panel covering an electronics console. They had to cover themselves with at least a meter of dirt to protect against the oncoming radiation. As he dug away at the sides of the sloping tunnel, Dan expected the gritty dirt to slide down into their hole. That’s what would have happened on Earth, or even on the Moon. But Haven’s gravity was so slight that the tunnel walls would not cave in no matter how furiously he dug into them.

In short order he and Pancho, working side by side, had buried themselves as deep as their waists. Not enough, Dan knew. Nowhere near enough, not yet. “How’re we doing… on time?” he asked Pancho, panting from the exertion of digging.

She straightened up. “Lemme see,” she said, tapping at the keyboard on her left forearm. Dan could see a multi-colored display light up on her bubble helmet. “Radiation level’s not up much over ambient yet,” she said.

“How soon?” Dan asked impatiently.

The lights on her helmet’s inner face flickered, changed. “Hour and a half, maybe a little less.”

Dan went back to digging, blinking sweat out of his eyes, wishing he could wipe his face or just scratch his nose. But that was impossible inside the suit. Should have worn a sweat band, he told himself. Always did when I went outside. Been so long since I’ve done any EVA work I forgot it. Hindsight’s always perfect. “Y’know we’re gonna need at least a meter of this dirt over us,” Pancho said, digging alongside him.

“And then dig our way out, after the cloud passes.”

“Yep,” Dan repeated. It was the most he could say without stopping work. His muscles ached from the unaccustomed exertion.

It seemed like hours later when he heard Pancho’s voice in his helmet speaker.

“How’re you guys doin’, Mandy?”

“We’re fine. We found a lovely cave and we have it almost completely filled in.”

“Once you’re all covered over it’s gonna degrade our radio link,” Pancho said.

“Yes, I’m sure it will.”

“Got your air tanks in there with you?”

“Yes, of course.”

Dan saw that their air tanks were still lying out on the surface, more than arm’s reach away.

“Okay, keep your radio open. If we get completely cut off, you stay in the hole for fourteen hours. Got that?”

“Fourteen hours, check.”

“Time count starts now.”

“Fourteen hours from now,” Amanda confirmed.

“Have a nice day.”

“We’ll see you in fourteen hours,” Fuchs said.

“Right,” said Dan, silently adding, Dead or alive.

To Pancho, he said, “I’d better drag the air tanks in here.” Before she could object he pushed himself out of the hole and soared up above the dark, uneven ground. Dan glanced around but could not find the shelter that Amanda and Fuchs had dug for themselves. They did a good job, he thought as he tapped his jet thruster controls to push himself back to the surface.

The cylinders weighed next to nothing, but still he was careful with them as he slid them down into the pit. They still have mass, and inertia, Dan knew. I could break open Pancho’s helmet or spring her suit’s joints if I let one of these things bang into her.