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Apollonia breathed hard, straining to bring more air to her burning lungs.

“Heave!” Vakulinchuk ordered.

Apollonia had thought she was already heaving – she felt ready to heave in another way – but she tried to exert herself even more.

“Go on, you almost have it!”

With a cry, Apollonia and those at her sides succeeded in lifting the plate of metal.  It was, theoretically, a piece of hull that had had punched into the ship in a mock-attack simulation.  Now, as the ship was ostensibly still under attack, she and the others were attempting to clear it from a hall.

Normally, she knew, they’d have some kind of lifting equipment.

But when they’d come in for their volunteer training today, Vakulinchuk, their trainer, had told them that they would have none of it.

“Power is not always available,” he said.  “Robotic arms malfunction.  Sometimes we must make do with the muscles of our back and with sweat on our brow.”

She’d felt so stirred by the idea.  At first.

But now, she was just exhausted.

It didn’t help that they’d been at this for days.  Sure, at first the training hadn’t been this difficult.  A lot of trust tests, which admittedly she had sucked at.  She’d dropped one man, who at least had laughed it off.

Vakulinchuk had taken her aside and talked to her.  She’d expected to be chewed out, but his words were reinforcement instead.

“We are all in this together, Ms. Nor,” he had told her.  “We must work together – and that means to trust each other, even with our very lives.”

And everyone had done that, it seemed.  Only she’d had more trouble trusting than anyone else.

No one had let her fall.

And the more they went through it, the worse she felt.  Because she didn’t always catch them, and she knew she was supposed to.

“All right, we have to flip it just one more time to get it into the cart!” Vakulinchuk exhorted.

She really wondered what kind of situation would have them lacking power arms and exo-suits but still have gravity – but she wasn’t going to question the man who’d been in Response probably longer than she’d been alive.  He had that ageless look about him.

She had fallen on her rear, and struggled to her feet.

God this sheet was heavy.  Bracing herself behind it with the others, they lifted and flipped it onto the wheeled cart.

The others cheered at their success, but she was too tired to do that.

“Fifteen minutes,” Vakulinchuk said.  “Then we’re going to practice operating in vacuum.”

Oh, that just sounded awful.

The others in her group didn’t seem nearly as exhausted as she felt.

She’d never had a full-time job before.  She’d done odd jobs, stolen, or begged all her life.  The former had never lasted long, the second was always risky, and the latter was, well . . .

People who didn’t have a lot still often gave.  But not when things got too tough.  And it was demeaning.

It was the only good thing she could say about prison; that they gave you food.

On the Craton it was different, of course, and no one had ever even bothered her about paying for stuff.  On some level she knew it wasn’t exactly free, but she also kind of thought she was just in a new, slightly more dignified level of begging.

As the others spread out, talking and looking generally so pleased, she found herself loathing her own self-pity.

Vakulinchuk was off to the side, gazing off, clearly busy at work in his own personal system.

She moved towards him, into his line of sight, but waiting.

He didn’t keep her looking wrong.  The man had a large mustache and a broad face, but his eyes were kindly.

“What do you need?” he asked.

“Ah, sorry to bother you . . .”

“It’s not a bother,” he said.

“I’m . . . well, are there any kind of . . . strength-enhancing things I can use?  I mean, even just a lever, like a crowbar.”  She smiled nervously.  “We’ll still have those if the power goes out, right?”

“Yes,” he said, looking amused.  “But it was more about getting everyone to lift together, than just solving it the best way.  We’ll get to that sort of thing.  Right now, we need you all to work together under stress.”

“That makes sense.  But I feel like I’m a lot weaker than everyone else.  And a chain is only as strong as its weakest link, right?”

“We’re not going to be in combat, Ms. Nor, so you don’t need to worry so much.  Focus largely on working with the others.  They’re counting on you, as you are counting on them.”

More like getting carried by them, she thought.

A frown crossed his face.  “Though now that I’m checking your records, have you ever had muscle treatments?  I’m not seeing them listed.”

“No,” she replied.  “I can’t get anything like that.  My body rejects them – when I got one for my bones as a kid it made me sick for months.  Still never fully took.”

“Oh!” the man said, shocked.  “Well that explains a lot.  The artificial fibers meld with your muscles and make them quite a bit stronger, you know.”

“Yeah,” she replied.  “But I’m just working with what nature gave me.  And I guess generations of genetic tinkering and rad damage.”

Vakulinchuk looked thoughtful.  “This would explain your difficulties, Ms. Nor.”

“So . . . does this mean I can use an exosuit?” she asked hopefully.

He chuckled.  “It takes years of training to use them.  And sub-dermal implants, to be honest . . .”

“I don’t have those, either,” she said, deflating.

“Don’t worry.  You volunteered, and we appreciate the help.  Each according to their ability, right?”

“Right,” she echoed, not buying it.

The man clapped her on the shoulder and went away, and she checked her tablet.  Still five more minutes of their break.

As she moved back towards the others, she heard them talking.

“. . . ship was fired upon – by the Tul Hev.”

“But we’re here to help them,” a woman said.  Apollonia thought her name might have been Knowles.

“They did it anyway.  It seems they got out, but only just.  I don’t know what we’re even doing here if the people we’re trying to help are shooting at us.”

“It seems like a big warning sign,” Knowles agreed.  “And this Maig clan – have you heard much about them?”

“I’ve heard enough to know I don’t want to have to fight them.  They say they torture prisoners . . .”

“Hell, I’ve heard they eat them.  I never really believed that one sapient being would eat another, but . . . there are a lot of stories.”

Apollonia was not enjoying eavesdropping on that conversation, and she moved away.

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