It’s not really been a great time up there. One hopes that’s been coming across.
“Commander Marsh is in charge of the Americans here on the moon,” Reithner told him. “I am not even his direct subordinate. You should talk to him, not me.”
The cleaver-man scowled at Tobias. “He’s not one of us. Maybe you are, maybe you’re not. If you are, you can tell us how to talk to him, get what we want that way.”
He might have said more, but Tobias interrupted. “Let me start right now. Harm the Lieutenant in any way, and you’ll get nothing you want.”
“You’re in no place to bargain, American. We have your life in our hands.” The cleaver-man reached out one of them, which looked more like claws than even before. “All I have to do is make a fist.”
“What I said wasn’t a bargain. It’s reality. And no, you don’t have my life.” Tobias leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “I’m already dead. We all are. Hell, I’ve been where we go after all of this. You want to hear what it’s like? The void, I mean? Well. It’s dark, endless, empty — and, best of all: it’s not on the God-damned Moon. You think scaring me with going back is going to work? I’d sleep there if I could!”