One world not enough

"They say that higher forms of sentient beings are by nature curious, always by nature want to know more, do more, be more. They say their destiny lie among the stars and draw glorious rhetorical pictures of pan-galactic empires, a brave frontier, a future perfectly balanced against resources. Can one world ever be truly enough once you go interstellar?

It's enough to make you doubt, sometimes, that everyone looks up, and dream of the stars.

Once you walk the surface of moons, craggy grey landscapes with no depth cues until you reach the pure black of space above the horizon, spotted with stars even in the mid-day. Or as you watch the red fire that lingers about the sunrise and sunset in Kayon's neon rich atmosphere, slightly blurry, cut with the silhouettes of its strange trees. Boring orange hazes, on dwarf planets large enough to cling to some gas emitions.

Alceon is such a gas giant, and the space base there is suspended within its atmosphere only by its density - floating like a boat on the thicker, more metallic layers beneath. There is no horizon, just columns of purple orange clouds marching off into an infinite mist.

Spirto Optis has seven moons, all with different orbital periods - as planets go, it is fairly young, and has not become tidally locked yet. If you manage to catch them all in the sky at once, it's watching matching slivers of fingernails hanging above the mountains black with carbon below.

On Rylep, it is the sunsets that are blue, because of suspended dust from the single continent's vast interior desert, and the noon-tides that burn yellow, and amber.

Telles hangs vast and ringed in the sky of Mortii, its moon; its gravitational pull drives the tidal range in its ammoniacal oceans higher than fifty meters. The swirling greens, yellows, and ambers make it look slightly like a fat, miraculously suspended halo.

No, once you go to space one world is never enough..."

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