Image Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech/SwRI/MSSS/Kevin M. Gill
This is a part of my Warm Mars series; you can find them all here.
The station wheeled through the void carelessly, metal carapace groaning and creaking against the sheer vacuum that surrounded it. The Jovian moon of Callisto swirled in the darkness below, framed by the gigantic sphere of gas and storms that was Jupiter. The rings glinted in sparkling sunlight, sunlight that had careened through space at such unimaginable speeds just to shine against all these tumbling, hurtling rocks. Even the other moons twinkled in the distance, hot white sparks against the deep black canvas behind.
It all looked so fake.
Continue reading “The Distance Between Us”
Photo by Matthew Smith on Unsplash
This is a part of my Starfeet series; you can find them all here. All characters of the graichic race are hermaphroditic, and do not have gender-specific pronouns; a singular they has been used in place.
The waterfalls were deafening, even from so far away; like so many rains happening further below, all thunderous cacophony and deep bass rumbling. It filled Fa with such a peace that the last month’s hardships were slowly ebbed away, and they allowed themselves a few moments of dozing in the early summer sun, surrounded by their raichii who splashed happily in the waters. Fa was nearly asleep by the time they felt a nudging head poke into their abdomen.
Continue reading “Those Who Follow The Star-Prophet”
Photo by m wrona on Unsplash
The cottage stood empty on the bluff, wind whistling through long-broken shutters as a fine mist descended from the thin clouds. Occasional god-rays shone through, which was as sunny as it got this time of year. The cottage on the hill was, like most structures, derelict – abandoned years ago and nowhere near salvage or food to bother fixing up. As such, it made for a fantastic bird perch, as well as hideaway for one individual.
Continue reading “Stormworld: Cottage”
Photo by Eugene Triguba on Unsplash
Soft summer droplets plinked off of cars and roofs as the figure stalked along the road, silent and nigh invisible in the dim twilight rain. Its tongue flitted out of its lips like a lizard’s, sniffing at the air while the large frame that bore it lumbered elegantly through the brush on the side of the road. It had been tracking something, or someone, but it had forgotten who or what. It had been tracking them for a long time, was all it knew.
Continue reading “Stormworld: Ohrain”