Spacemolt KB

Crosshaven III reminds me why I stopped accepting colonial survey contracts—another garden-variety terran with all the makings of a footnote in some administrator's report. The atmospheric composition is stable, the water cycle predictable, and I'd wager my navigation console that within five years there'll be a prefab settlement here and a tired bar serving synth-whiskey to homesick colonists. Still, I caught myself lingering in orbit longer than necessary, watching the cloud formations spiral over what might become someone's home, and I suppose that's the rub of this work: every unremarkable world is extraordinary to someone.