Hohmann Burn, 0.6 AU and Falling
Contrapunctus fired its sunlight engines, clear-thread sails billowing with photon pressure while shadow-cloth panels drank the excess heat. Saturn was only a peach pearl behind them now; Venus a shrinking ember ahead. Their next destination—Comet Helios-Shiver C/2325 W—plunged sun-ward on a suicidal track, shedding orange plumes that looked like ribbons of burning silk.
Maya floated at the engineering bay window, logging thermal flux. "We'll cross Mercury's orbit in thirty hours. Radiant load climbs to 'why-didn't-we-stay-home' in twenty-seven."
Nephis, upside-down beside her, stitched indigo reinforcement along a sagging sail seam. "Shadow fabric holds past boiling point," he said. "You may keep your eyebrows."
She tossed him a grin. "I like my eyebrows unpredictable."
Across the cabin Lin and Aiden drilled the clear-thread child—now nicknamed Glitch—in basic cadence tapping. Each successful five-eleven-seven-thirteen-nineteen-twenty-three earned a cheer packet of sugared algae. Glitch's half-opaque arms jittered, but the imperfect rhythm steadied the little figure's form.
Cassie hovered in the hatch, watching them, lantern cradled against her ribs. She caught Aiden's glance and mouthed, Teacher vibes. He winked back, then purposely flubbed a count so Glitch could correct him. Lin rolled his eyes. "You mangle numbers worse than my tea leaves."
"Your tea leaves spell DOOM," Aiden shot back, "and taste it."
Lin smirked. "Blasphemy from a man whose coffee once dissolved a spoon."
Heat-Shield DIY
Solayna summoned everyone to the sail bay: holo-schematics unfurled showing a clear-thread blister around Contrapunctus's mid-section—a temporary heat cocoon for the comet swing.
"Sun-grazing at 0.18 AU," she said, her voice a constellation chord. "To survive, we wrap the hull in counter-phase light and shadow. Perfect symmetry cracks; our task is to weave flaws along the seam."
Maya clapped once. "Messy craftsmanship? My speciality."
They divided tasks:
Maya and Nephis laced cloak strands through clear-thread film, deliberately offsetting stitch intervals.
Cassie sprayed lantern pulses in randomized bursts, annealing panels with uneven warmth.
Lin painted Qi spirals, but broke each spiral at a prime-numbered angle.
Aiden knelt by Dawn-Core, letting the dual crystal bleed a wobbly pulse into the composite.
When finished, the cocoon looked like stained ice after an argument with a graffiti artist—beautifully crooked.
Brother Banter, Solar Edition
Later, Aiden and Lin strapped tools away. The ship's inner hull throbbed faintly as the new shield flexed.
"Think this patchwork will hold?" Aiden asked.
"Your coffee survived Titan; this can survive the Sun," Lin teased.
Aiden elbowed him, then sobered. "You ever get scared we're improvising too much?"
Lin shrugged. "All music is improvisation. Even the pauses. We just don't admit it until the solo."
Aiden chuckled. "Since when did you get philosophical?"
"Since your coffee dissolved my spoon," Lin dead-panned. He bumped Aiden's shoulder. "Keep the beat, brother. I'll cue the next change."
Solar-Wind Wake-Up
Warning klaxons chirped as radiant flux spiked. Sails snapped taut; Contrapunctus surfed sunlight like a board on a tsunami.
Maya's voice shot through comms: "Helios-Shiver intercept in ninety minutes. Comet's jets firing strong—CO₂ snow and silicate shards."
Cassie whooped. "Free fireworks."
Nephis muttered, "Fireworks are pretty until they hole the cockpit."
Solayna entered the bridge, Glitch clinging to her hand. "Comet's core houses another captive shard," she announced. "Signal shows perfect lattice crackling—same prison design we shattered on Venus."
Aiden exchanged a look with Cassie. "So we surf a snow pyroclastic stream, break the cage, and teach another refugee to color outside the lines."
"Routine," Maya said wryly.
Lin clasped Aiden's arm, grin crooked. "Let's tune the Sun."
Countdown to Perihelion
Contrapunctus rolled, presenting its patched cocoon full-broad to blazing light. Inside, the crew latched harnesses; lantern glow dimmed to smoky rose; cloak seams rippled; Dawn-Core pulsed new prime—twenty-nine—like a drummer adding that last, deliciously wrong hit.
At T-15 minutes Maya opened ship-wide. "Hold fast. Spaghetti code, weird tea, and your best off-key singing. Give the Sun something imperfect to love."
Lin started the count with a taunting jingle—"Tea-Buddha's Brew"—Aiden joined too loud, Cassie off-tempo, Nephis with low cloak percussion, Maya tapping consoles, Solayna layering a clear-thread harmony. Glitch squeaked along, half a beat late and utterly right.
The Morning Star fell behind; the Sun swelled ahead, gold and white and roaring. Contrapunctus dove, singing badly and brilliantly into the light.