## The Static Bloom The salt-sting tasted like regret on Elias’s tongue. He hadn’t expected the air to *feel* this thick, not after weeks cycling through sterilization protocols. The retrieval ship’s bay doors hissed open, revealing a bruised violet sky…
## The Chromatic Echo The satellite array hummed, a low thrum against the Jovian roar. Three constellations – Persephone, Atlas, and Rhea – spun silently around Io, their lenses focused on the churning surface. Not for volcanic eruptions or sulfurous…
## The Static Bloom The dust tasted like iron and regret. Elias scraped a finger across the console, leaving a smear on the unresponsive glass. Three weeks since reactivation of Kepler-186f Station, three weeks of nothing but flickering lights and…
## Hollow Bloom The dust tasted like static. Old metal, older regret. Jessa ran a gloved hand along the hull of the *Artemis*, the chipped paint flaking off like dead skin. The ship wasn’t derelict, not exactly. More… asleep. Decades…