John's Perspective
As I watched from the sidelines, Mr. Torres and Zenthara finalized the plans for the next round of negotiations. We were headed to the spaceport, with NASA gearing up to host the summit. A grin spread across my face as I considered the prospect.
The thought of my boss wrestling with the logistics of such a high-profile event brought a smirk to my lips. I'd been in the thick of it before, running security for the UN and the EU during some particularly tense times, especially when certain American ambassadors were involved. Those were chaotic, pressure-cooker situations, and now I was going to witness this spectacle from the other side. I couldn't resist the feeling of schadenfreude; it was murdered and drinks for me instead of cloak and dagger games.
The rover ride back to our rocket was a pleasant contrast to our initial journey. The technical glitches that had plagued us before were gone, thanks to the quick thinking of our resident 'eggheads.'
I've always had a thing for speed – the kind that gets your adrenaline pumping and your heart racing. It's why I drove an old car that roared and vibrated with raw power, a car devoid of the trappings of modern electronics that could be easily tampered with. That sense of control, of raw, unbridled power, was exhilarating. As we strapped in for takeoff, I felt that familiar rush of anticipation. Flying through space at breakneck speeds was an entirely different kind of thrill.
As our rocket climbed higher, the Moon's horizon curved into view, and I gazed in awe at the breathtaking vista displayed on the screen. The swirling blue and green hues of the atmosphere danced together like an ethereal painting. I couldn't wait for a chance to float over to the window and see it with my own eyes.
"Hey, check this out," one of the eggheads called out, projecting an image of the building where we had met Zenthara. But then, before my very eyes, the structure morphed into something else entirely. It was closer to a sci-fi spaceship than anything else. And way, way bigger than the "building" we were in.
"Whoa," I muttered under my breath as the alien ship took off and caught up to us in a heartbeat. It felt massive, dwarfing our vessel in comparison. I quickly snapped some screenshots and sent them to my contacts, asking for an analysis and size estimate. Their response a few hours later only confirmed my suspicions—this thing was enormous, its exact dimensions undetermined due to the lack of reference points.
Miles' Perspective
I hate rockets.
No, let me rephrase.
I love the science. I love the engineering. I love watching them take off. I love the imagination of using them to travel from planet to planet. I love the models of all the rockets I've built and painted since I was, like, I think, 9.
That was what got me into my college program.
That's why I applied to NASA with Issac after college.
I hate being in the rocket when it takes off.
The first time we left Earth for the Moon, I passed out and was spared the vast majority of the process. I came to just as we finished the second burn. That wasn't so bad.
On the Moon, with the lower gravity, the takeoff didn't have as many Gs. So I experienced the roar of the engines in their full, unadulterated glory. It was a lot louder and a lot more aggressive than when I watched it from the air-conditioned observation room ten-plus miles away from the rocket at headquarters.
Before, we took off, but after we made it back to the rocket on the fixed moon buggy, I was nervous to the point of shivering and panicked sweeting. The entire scenario felt surreal. Thankfully, Issac checked my math and sent me a message that played over in my mind. It did a little to calm my jitters. He had gone over my calculations, assuring me that they were mostly correct. 'Mostly' - that word echoed in my thoughts, ratcheting up my panic until Issac explained.
