Transfer Arc toward the Morning Star
Contrapunctus coasted on solar-sail trim, Saturn dwindling to a smoky lantern astern. Everyone was bone-tired but wired by the victory on Titan: forty-three clear-thread kids asleep in makeshift hammock pods; Solayna in quiet communion with Minuet; Cassie's lantern pulsing healthy off-beat; Dawn-Core ticking a new prime—nineteen—inside its heart.
Aiden floated into the mess bubble carrying a squeeze tube of Lin's prized hojicha. He waved it like contraband. "Payment, as promised."
Lin looked up from calibrating a Qi gyro. "You brewed it wrong already."
"Impossible," Aiden said. "I followed your scribbled kanji—something about water, temperature, and inner peace."
"Inner peace," Lin sniffed, accepting the tube. He sipped, grimaced. "Tastes like melted socks."
Cassie poked her head in. "Better than his coffee mud. And stop flirting—the course plot's ready." She drift-tossed a data slate at Aiden; he snagged it one-handed.
Nav Brief — Banter Required
"Venus transfer in three correction burns," Cassie said, pointing to a looping arc that skimmed solar wind. "Window opens tomorrow."
Maya, upside-down at the ceiling patching code, chimed in: "But only if we finish rebuilding the shadow-sail. Somebody"—she glanced at Nephis—"let it soak up too much Titan hail."
Nephis's cloak twitched in feigned offense. "Perfection is overrated; the holes give personality."
Maya grinned. "Fixing those holes is my personality." She shoved off, gliding toward the airlock. Nephis followed, exchange of smiles somewhere between dare and promise.
Aiden eyed Cassie. "Think they'll ever admit they're basically an old married couple?"
She laughed. "Not until Venus melts the blush off their helmets."
Lin cleared his throat, mock-solemn. "Focus, children. Our next stop is a planet of acid clouds and 500-degree mornings. Brotherhood teasing optional; flawless planning mandatory."
Aiden elbowed him. "You write the poetry, I'll fly the stove."
Midnight Maintenance — Real Talk
Later, Aiden found Lin alone in the sail bay, inspecting cloak-thread patches under a work lamp. Dawn-Core's glow spilled warm light on composite struts.
"Can't sleep?" Aiden asked.
Lin shrugged. "Too many echoes. The Titan kids hum in their dreams. Sounds like wind chimes."
Aiden clipped a tether, anchored beside him. "You okay?"
Lin hesitated, then chuckled. "You remember freshman year when I froze during that open-mic recital? You heckled me from the crowd."
"Pure encouragement," Aiden said.
"You yelled, 'Sing it like the lab fire alarm, buddy!'" Lin laughed quietly at the memory. "Tonight, when you smudged Cassie's lantern, it felt the same. A reminder not to take myself so seriously."
Aiden smiled. "We lean, we tease, we keep each other crooked enough to bend, not break."
Lin met his gaze. "Don't let Venus make you forget that."
"Deal," Aiden said, bumping helmets.
Unexpected Broadcast
Klaxon chirp cut the hush. Maya's voice crackled: "Bridge—all hands. We've got a broadcast on the nineteen-prime gap. Origin: Venus cloud deck."
They converged in control. Holo display scrolled glyphs of translucent gold—identical Möbius symbol, repeated… but fractured, each loop misaligned. Solayna translated: "Call for help. Clear-thread fragment trapped in harmonic prison."
Cassie's eyes widened. "Someone down there tried to sing contrast and got caged in perfection feedback."
Nephis flexed cloak shoulders. "Acid clouds. Lightning strong enough to melt comm arrays. When do we dive?"
Maya checked trajectory. "Eighteen hours. We'll aerobrake in the dusk terminator."
Aiden felt Dawn-Core pulse—five-eleven-seven-thirteen-nineteen—then a blank pause longer than any before, as if the crystal held its breath for what lay beneath Venus's swirling veil.
He turned to the team, voice steady despite the coil of nerves. "Pack the flaws—this time we're dropping into a planet that hates machinery and hates harmony even more."
Lin clapped his shoulder—firm, teasing. "Good. We specialise in beautiful messes."
Cassie winked. "And we've got the best janitor squad in the solar system."
Maya and Nephis exchanged a fist bump, their smiles small but fierce.
Course set, Contrapunctus trimmed sails, shadow-panels rippling. The Morning Star gleamed ahead—bright, deadly, whispering imperfection needs you.
For once, even Aiden's nerves hummed in tune with the Loom: unpredictable, off-beat, and unstoppable.