She picked up the archive computer and switched it on.

To her horror, the screen flickered once briefly, with the image of a rose and Sa Thauri's flag, then died. No matter how she tried, she could not get the device to work again.

At least some of the data still had to be there, or the image would not have appeared. With the I/O disabled, though, there would be no way to reach it except by taking out the memory and reinstalling it in some other machine. Her Banshee's computer would do, but the memory would have to be rewritten in the new code to be read. Lacking the proper translation algorithms, this would have to be done manually.

She nodded gravely. It was a daunting task set before her, but she was determined to do it. It might take a year to finish the translation, but Venus's voice would survive.

She owed that much at least to the dead whose graves she now inhabited.

"Papa? What will it feel like when we die?"

I felt like my heart was being ripped out. Little Adel, always the one asking questions. How could a father answer such a thing? One answer, of course. Honestly. "I don't know for sure, son." And that was the truth.

"What did Mama feel like?"

Lara had been killed during the conflict with Sa Akane three years ago. We had food, they had water, each needed the other. So we fought. We won, or at least we won the water. I think we lost more than we gained, but I was biased. I had lost my beloved wife.

"I don't know, son. She didn't speak of it. She was too busy trying to make me hurt less." My voice broke, but I did not let the sob out. I had to be strong, not for myself, but for my son.

"They're going to breach the seals aren't they?"

I nodded grimly. "It is the fastest way. It'll be quick. The air pressure will crush us before the acid or the heat gets us..."

"So it'll be like getting run over by a tank," Adel said. I grimaced. Such a thing had happened recently, in the hangar bay. The tank's treads had malfunctioned and a worker had been smashed flat as the vehicle went out of control.

"It'll be a lot quicker than that. It'll be... like sitting there and then suddenly falling asleep." Right. Perhaps that is what it would feel like, but that wasn't how it was.

"Papa?"

"Yes son?"

"I'm going to miss you."

"I'm going to miss you too, son," I whispered, and fled the room.

I have avoided him for the last few hours, since he made that comment. I am too afraid of falling apart in front of him. Doubtless he thinks I am out here in the dispertion tower working on the final preperations, when in reality I am cowered in a closet crying my eyes out.

When I go back tomorrow to spend my last day with him, I have to be over this. I have to be strong for my son.

The leaders want us to record something for the next people to come here to find. Fine, hear this: toasters bite me!

The little rat-sucking tin can warform wannabes are too cowardly to come kill us, so they stand off and let us die slowly. Well [censored] them and the [untranslatable] they rode in on!

I suppose something good did come outta this mess. I'm gonna die tomorrow, but this is gonna be one hell of a night. I have my sweetheart here, and we're going to make love like we have never known before. We have one chance, and we're gonna make it pure heaven.

I met Reveka only a month ago, working on the hydroponics in the west building. I went to get some tomatoes and there she was. Wow. I must have been taking all the wrong turns not to notice her before. We got to talking, then I took her down to have lunch in the mess, and she showed me some of her paintings.

She is an incredible painter. Even with the crap we have to work with here, she's made some murals in the south arbor that're just breathtaking. I sure hope they survive. If not, it's alright, there are pictures of them in the archive.

I helped her with one of them, and I bumped into her and spilled paint on her. She batted me with her wet paintbrush and soon we were all a mess, throwing paint on each other like children. Then we kissed.

I wish we had some kind of future. I wish we could get married and have a family together, on Earth or somewhere away from this rathole. Maybe we'll get married tonight, if we can find some rings.

Or maybe we'll just make love all night long and go downstairs tomorrow so drowsy we don't remember what it is we're doing.

But no, I can't think of that. Nothing is going to ruin this night...

So damn the toasters, and damn death. I'm going to be in her arms tonight and that's all that matters.

I want everything shipshape. Who goes off to die and leaves a mess behind? This place is in one piece, but it's a mess. What'll the people who come here going to think of me when they find the place stuffed to the deckheads with garbage? I mean, doesn't anyone have any dignity? If this place is gonna be our grave, can't we at least have a clean one?

Damnit...

Crying, must stop crying, can't go down there all messy like this! What would my mother think? But then who cares, she's probably already dead.

My husband tries to calm me down but I push him away. No. We can't fight, not now. We'll never get the chance to make up. We can't fight!

But we fight. We argue about what to do with this place, our funeral arrangements, what to do about the baby. Oh, honey, shut up please! Can't you see? This is our last day. We cannot spend it like this! We cannot!

Something, I have to do something, to make this day better. So I'm gonna haul off and smack him, just to shut him up for once, and then when he stares at me I'm gonna push him back on that bed and do some things I'm damned sure he isn't gonna argue about...

At least it will be quick, which is more than we can say for starvation. I wish we would hold out to the last moment that we still have some supplies left, but they want to save some for the others that are going to go on. Scorch that. Why waste a minute of our lives so a couple cowards can live longer?

Or are we the cowards, taking the easy way out?

Damnit. I should have just found some Cybrids and kamikazed them when I had the chance. Then at least I'd be paying back the gearheads for our lives.

Someday someone will obliterate the last of the metal scum, and on that day I'll roll over in my grave and dance.