SATURN: LOVE IT OR LEAVE IT, says a piece of graffiti in the Titan Ringipelago, carved into one of the fist-sized chunks of frozen helium that like to leave ping marks on Denton’s helmet. It’s a joke, the graffiti. Nobody here is ever going home.

The helium’s worthless as fuel; Denton throws it at the atmosphere and watches it dwindle. Things dwindle forever in space. He remembers Tabard, their nights together, toilet wine and warmth in the vacuum cold. Remembers seeing him dwindle to nothing. Thinks here, you bastard, I hope if you’re alive down there it cracks your head.