<strong>Cubicle #18<br/>??<br/>Somewhere in Antarctica</strong><br/><br/>The man's hand came away feebly, the bloody glove shaking.  Underneath, James would find a vicious crescent gash that arced from the man's left eyebrow across his forehead into his hair.  It appeared to be shallow, fortunately, but was nonetheless bleeding profusely.  The rest of his body seemed unharmed, although it would be impossible to know if something was fractured or bruised until he tried to move.<br/><br/>James only had a second to assess the wound before the man clamped his hand back over the gash.  He didn't respond or look up when James spoke, even as a rivulet of blood snaked down the bridge of his nose and around his mouth.<br/><br/><hr/><br/><strong>Cubicle Field<br/>??<br/>Somewhere in Antarctica</strong><br/><br/>Outside, Carl, Aibhlinn, and Kyari stood near the cubicle with the dead woman.  The light snow continued to fall from a clear sky, but the air was still, and they could see the band of the Milky Way stark against the blackness of space.  Across that heavenly stairway, a shooting star fell.  It originated directly above them, falling to the north.  It was a delicate white streak at first, but it quickly grew into a fiery gash with a burning head.  For two heartbeats, it shot across the sky so brilliantly that their bodies and the cubicles sent hard shadows gliding smoothly over the pale snow.<br/><br/>The falling star exploded silently halfway above the horizon, forming a fireball as large as a thumb held at arm's length.  For a single breathless moment, they stood beneath an artificial sun twice as bright as Sol at noon.<br/><br/>The light quickly faded, leaving several dozen red and orange streamers arcing gracefully towards the horizon, each one it's own miniature star.  A person with particularly keen eyes may even be able to pick out the dark gray trail of smoke against the Milky Way -- if they had not been blinded by the flash of course.