No Man Left Behind

The Nature of Sunlight

All the leaves were brown and the sky was grey. Rain, and water in general, was a commodity in the farmlands of Ali, a large moon of a gas supergiant 807 light-years from Earth. Rain only ever saw the habitable moon once every 4 years, when all three of the largest moons of the gas supergiant align in an inferior conjunction. The smaller fields of the moons interact with the colossal fields of the gas planet, spawning an electromagnetic conduit of flowing ions which collide with the lower ionospheres of all three worlds. The flow of ions produce magnificent auroras worldwide, as well as the much-sought-after quad-annual rains, whose showers may last for well over a week. Outside the slim margin of rainfall, a hard sun, a phasing crescent of the gas supergiant, and a dozen or so small or large moons occupy the day and nighttime skies.

Life on this world had been spliced and engineered by the Terraformation Council, seven hundred years ago, to withstand the hot and dry conditions. Before the world was declared habitable, plenty of water had been added to the soil and atmosphere through fragmented cometary bombardment. Despite the effort, water seemed to be escaping into interplanetary space, or seeping deeper into the dryrock subsurface; no one really knows where it goes. Each passing year, the rains grow less intense, and the crops grow less nourished. The world was slowly reclaiming itself.

And then the rains came early. Or at least, Jessica claims they have.

"The rains are here, Daddy! The rains are here!"

Peter sat up in the bed, where he was sleeping just moments before. Martha stirred beside him, preparing to get up as well.

"What are you talking about, girlie?" He asked his daughter.

"Outside, c'mon, look!" She sprinted out the bedroom door. He heard her footsteps traverse the wooden floorboards of the hallway and then the stairs.

"What is she saying?" Martha asked as she too stepped out of bed.

"I don't know dear, let's find out." He kissed her, gave her a knowing smile, and headed downstairs, fixing on a shirt.

Jessica was only six years old. Two, when she saw her first rain. She was awfully young then, and during the storms he and Martha had kept all their kids sheltered in the home. He couldn't imagine she even knew what rain looked like. Although, she did claim him to be a fantastic storyteller. Dusty, the family dog, eyed the activity eagerly, treading close to his legs as he set foot in the carpeted living room. He fetched his brimmed hat off the kitchen counter before spotting the far horizon outside the living room windows. Confusion struck him.

"C'mon Daddy, c'mon!" Jessica beckoned at the screened front door.

He stepped outside onto the front porch, and held his gaze far. Dark, round cloud structures lined the entire southern horizon, and seemed to extend upwards forever, eventually fading to meet the shade of the normal grey sky directly above.

"Is it rain, Daddy? Is it?"

Martha stepped out onto the porch, gazing out across the wind-flowing fields of crop just as he had. "Peter," she said with forced calmness, "what is that?"

Peter took Jessica protectively closer to him by the shoulder. He looked side-to-side, examining the mountainous, layered, ringlike formations in the sky. He shunted away his thoughts of uncertainty, and fear.

"I don't know," he said at last.

"Daddy, I see lightning!" Jessica pointed in the direction, but Peter was already looking there, as the flashes of light caught his eye too. Martha looked to him anxiously, and Peter beckoned Jessica to her mother. "What's wrong?" The child asked.

"It's not rain, sweetheart. Go inside, Mommy will fix you breakfast."

"Come on sweetie . . ." Martha trailed off as she lead Jessica indoors. Peter stood on the patio steps, staring upwards at the flashes of light overhead. Then the streaks of light. Then the bulbous, white clouds of something very high up. Their numbers were growing very quickly. By shortly after sunrise, the intervals between flashes were merely seconds at most.