“Jupiter is big. Huge. A lot bigger than this whole world. It only looks small because it’s so far away.”

“I could squash it in my fingers, it’s so little. It can’t hurt us.”

“It did hurt us. Jupiter looks tiny, but it’s really so big there are whole worlds, worlds nearly as big as this one, that circle around it. The people who live on them started the war. They were monsters. They killed your mother and father, and they killed your baby sister. They would have killed us, too, if we had stayed in the Belt. They are the reason we have to hide away here.”

It was an oft-told story, but the boy stared at Jupiter with greater interest. “I don’t see the other worlds at all.”

“They are there, just so far away you can’t see them. You’ve heard their names often. Ganymede, and Europa, and old Callisto.”

“And smoky smirky Io. You missed one. In the Gali-lo song there are four.”

“You’re right. And there really are four. But nobody lives on Io.”

“Why not? Does it have lots of these?” The boy’s arm waved toward the ring of microphages, standing like the curled lip of a breaking wave just beyond the protective spray.

“No. Io has lightning and burning hot and other bad things. Nobody can live there. You wouldn’t want to go there.”

“If Jupiter is so big, I’d like to live there.”

“You can’t do that, either. Jupiter is too big. It would crush you flat.”

“I bet it wouldn’t crush me. I’m strong. I’m stronger than you.”

“You are.” The woman tried to laugh, and it came out as a weak-lunged cough. “My dear, everyone is stronger than I am. The people up there who started the war didn’t kill me, but they certainly did their best. I used to be strong, too.”