Each Sunday, Weekend Writing Warriors offers a selection of eight-sentence excerpts from writers in multiple genres and forms. Check out the full roster here.

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Mavra cycled them through the major teams under the Dome, now that they’d passed adulthood rites.

In power systems, they tied their hair up close to their heads. The adult crew had shaved their heads for the most part, because you didn’t want to take the chance of anything brushing up or getting caught in the machinery. They suited up for the dangerous work in the partitions, where the conduits ran through the original domes into the folly of Dome Seven, which was now a huge wound at the center of the whole complex, forever compromising the integrity of a Dome that would have to hold against an atmosphere that would never be breathable.

Comms, which they’d already worked, now they learned in its various layers: the routine conversations with the satellite and transfer station AIs, the weather-tracking, the maintenance checks in the places they couldn’t reach.

Transport included the spaceport and the rail lines; they also maintained the windbreaks. Here for the first time they suited up for the actual atmosphere of Sarronny world. The world outside the windbreak was not a place for untried youths, so Mavra took them through simulations until they could do it in their sleep, till they had the suit-checks memorized like any of the other safety dances that were ordinary gesture now.