Chapter 9 #2
Unlike me, he’d lie so awkwardly and uncomfortably.
He’d probably glare at the sky, even, and say this was a waste of time.
From here, with the naked eye, what could we see of the upper atmosphere but flashes of light?
What use is this, he’d demand, and then stomp back to his lab to sit in front of a screen filled with numbers.
I sighed and shook my head at the imaginary scene.
The stars always sparkled most brightly when I looked at them from this rooftop, or so it seemed. Not a scientific observation at all, but still a true one. And yet another statement that would have earned a look of utter disdain.
“Stop thinking about Ardruc,” I scolded myself aloud. Why let thoughts of him ruin my perfect night of stargazing and korae-watching? He wasn’t worth it.
I shook my head more vigorously this time, as if I could banish him from my brain that way. For good measure, I inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly and repeatedly until my feeling of peace returned, pushing thoughts of my grumpy, ill-mannered colleague far away—
—Just in time for a burst of red korae to bloom soundlessly across the sky in a series of long hanging tendrils.
No matter how many times I witnessed it, the sight left me speechless. My breath caught in my chest and my heartbeat pounded in my ears.
Down in Ardruc’s lab, the computer was dutifully recording, assessing, analyzing, and compiling data, from the levels of infrasound produced by the korae to the color and every other atmospheric condition associated with the burst for later assessment.
He might be watching on his screens as well.
The array of satellites around Hyderia provided excellent images.
Up here, in awestruck silence, I watched the korae flare, hang in space, and then slowly fade. Only when the sky went dark once more did I breathe again.
I wasn’t an atmospheric scientist, but I understood the basics of the theory and science of upper-atmospheric electrical discharges. The science was clear: nothing about it was magical. And yet everything about it was pure magic.
“Beautiful,” I whispered. “Thank you.”
Who I might be thanking, I had no idea. The sky itself, maybe, or whatever aspects of this planet created these spectacular and unique displays.
The breeze swirled around me with a sound like a deep breath or soft gasp.
The sky blossomed into a display of a half-dozen bursts of red, orange, and blue korae, all what looked like many kilometers wide at the top with long tendrils sparkling below. It looked as if a hanging garden made of cold plasma had burst into bloom directly above the station.
Instinctively, I covered my mouth with my hand to muffle my strangled shriek of wonder and disbelief. I’d never seen such a display anywhere—not even on Hyderia. Nothing had even come close to this in any record I’d seen.
Ardruc’s data could tell me for certain later how far above the ground the korae was.
Most discharges on Hyderia were forty to fifty kilometers from the surface.
It was impossible to tell with the naked eye exactly where this display occurred, but strangely I thought it was far closer than normal.
It must have been a trick of my eye, though.
The korae faded, replaced by faint shimmers of green and blue before the sky went dark. I took my hand from my mouth, but my breathing still sounded ragged.
Was Ardruc working late in his lab? I hadn’t bothered to check before I came up to the roof.
If he’d been sitting at his computer when that display happened, all his screens probably lit up with images and data about distance, diameter, temperature, voltage, power, energy, and current.
The display would be quantified in every way possible.
He must have been astonished by it, at least in his own scientific, clinical way.
For a moment, I wondered if he’d wish he’d been up here to see it in person, but then just as quickly decided he wouldn’t. Its beauty would have been wasted on him anyway. I’d never met any scientist with such an apparent lack of wonder.
A burst of red tendrils appeared in the sky, crackling through the darkness and undulating as if dancing in the upper atmosphere. Eyes wide and heart pounding, I watched and waited.
The second bloom of multi-colored korae was even larger and more brilliant than the first. This time, the korae took the form of red, orange, and blue light that appeared round from the ground, meaning they were likely vertical and columniform—terms I had learned during my recent headlong dive into atmospheric science.
I’d know for sure when I got to examine the data and images.
If Ardruc were up here, he’d likely have already run to his computer.
I, on the other hand, wanted to see the display in all its glory with my eyes, even if the images recorded by the facility’s ground-level and orbiting arrays would be much clearer and arguably more useful.
The wonder of it captivated me. The data would be at the computer when I got there.
I was the only person on this planet who’d just seen these displays with the naked eye. And strangely, that fact made me feel both incredibly lucky and incredibly lonely, to the point my chest actually ached. I wished I had someone with whom to share the wonder of this moment.
Instead, all I had to look forward to was climbing down the roof ladder, then taking the lift or the steep roof stairs that led to the hallway near my lab to see what data had been gathered that might help support my hypothesis.
If I was lucky, I’d either avoid Ardruc or still be getting the silent treatment.
If he tried to be nasty to me after this beautiful korae show, I wasn’t sure I could keep myself from taking a swing at him.
All the gods above and below knew he would deserve it, even if with his reflexes I wasn’t likely to actually make contact.
There I went again, letting thoughts of Ardruc ruin my night. I let out a little growl that sounded very much like Forux’s.
An agonizingly brilliant reddish-white flare directly above me blinded me.
I threw my arm over my eyes, turned away from the light and heat, and screamed.
Searing pain in my face felt like I had been flash-burned and I smelled singed hair.
The agony was so intense that nausea surged. I made a choking sound.
Something punched me in the chest so hard that everything in my body went rigid and then numb. It felt like a giant fist had hit my sternum and then stayed there, crushing me. My heart stuttered. From somewhere close by, I heard a whine.
Oh, gods. Forux. Terror turned me cold.
The pain and inability to breathe made my brain feel cottony, but I got my eyes open and slid my arm down just enough to squint over it.
A blazing reddish-white tendril of glowing gas particles—of plasma, of kora—about a meter long hovered parallel to my body above my chest, crackling with power and heat. The sight paralyzed me in fear and awe.
Gods above, what was this?
This wasn’t possible. Korae didn’t hover; it was a discharge between two electrically charged regions of the atmosphere.
Korae didn’t freeze in place; science measured its appearances in terms of milliseconds.
Korae wasn’t a meter long; it was three to four kilometers, usually, or as much as seven hundred kilometers or more under extreme conditions.
Korae didn’t do any of the things this bolt was doing. So what the hells was I looking at? I let out a mewl that was part pain and part fear.
A single thread of plasma flicked out from the bolt and touched my gloved right hand.
Searing pain made me scream and flinch away. Forux snarled and tried to bite the plasma, but thankfully it moved too quickly and he missed.
I curled up on my side with my hand against my stomach. When I looked back, my chest heaving with ragged breaths edged with sobs, the tendril of kora was gone.
“What the hells?” I rasped. “What in all the hells?”
The night remained silent and dark.
Whining, Forux sank his teeth into my sleeve and pulled, urging me to get moving toward the ladder. Despite my agony, I resisted, in case the tendril returned. But after a full minute, nothing happened. No tendrils, and no more korae.
Gasping for breath, shaking too hard to stand, and holding my burned hand to my chest, I crawled across the grass, following Forux to the ladder.
My descent to the lower roof was more of a fall than a climb.
The jolt of hitting the lower roof barely registered over the searing pain of my burned face, chest, and hand.
Without remembering most of the journey, I made it to the lift doors.
The stairs would be closer to the medical bay, but I didn’t think I could manage them.
As it was, I struggled to stay on my feet and press my uninjured palm to the scanner to unlock the doors.
I trembled so badly that it took two tries.
Finally, they slid open and I fell into the lift.
Forux paced beside me, whining and growling.
I was lightheaded and my ears were ringing so loudly that I barely heard the beep when the doors closed. The lift automatically returned to the main floor.
Fighting dizziness and nausea, I made it to my feet again just as the lift slowed and stopped. When the doors slid open, I fell through the opening into the hallway beyond—
—and landed in a heap right at Ardruc’s feet.