27 April 2012
The time leading up to launch went so quickly, it felt like mere microns before we were in the air. Daggers of lightning struck the hull of the ship as we burst into the sky, the storm drawing nearer, or rather, us drawing nearer to it. All of a sudden the clouds cascaded towards us and we disappeared into black. Through the glass I could see tiny flickers of electricity brushing against the opaque grey curls of cloud. I took my sweating hand off the controls for a moment and placed it against the window, watching as the sparks seemed to gravitate towards my fingers. It was cold to the touch. As though triggered by my actions, the clouds suddenly fell away into the depths below. We were above the storm.
Immediately my eyes were filled with wonder, with a sight that I would never forget. There were millions, no billions of tiny pinpricks of light on a plane of endless black. They curved into every field of vision stopping only at the horizon. The epic presence of three or four larger spheres illuminated in a variety of pale colours also loomed overhead, the largest of which balancing a thin ring diagonally around its middle. It was impossible to tell just how far away they were, but my impression was that it would take many cycles to reach any of them. A tear trickled down my face as I slowly pulled the pod down from its vertical trajectory and simply stared.
My brain suddenly whirred back into gear, and I was thrust back into the mission at hand. If this is where the storm stops, then where does it begin?
“What’s over there?” My passenger cried.
I snapped my gaze back to where he was pointing, and my eyes widened in horror...
Weathered Worlds: 4/10 • Opuss № I