The drone-sculptor Liora drifted through the methane clouds of Jastun-6, her exosuit shielding her from the crushing atmosphere. She shaped colossal sky-statues for distant clients, yet no one ever saw her work except the automated cameras that broadcast them across the system. No human hand would ever touch them.
Then, a mistake—her tether snapped. Thrusters failed. She tumbled, helpless, toward the churning depths below.
“Liora, respond!” her supervisor’s voice crackled. No signal would reach her soon.
She should have panicked. Instead, she watched one of her statues—an abstract swirl of captured lightning—glow above, seen only by her. For years, her hands had created without touch, without connection.
As her oxygen dwindled, something new streaked through the poisonous sky. Another sculptor’s drone, bolting toward her, risking its own destruction to catch her.
The drone slammed into her, stabilizing her descent. A hand reached from the rescue pod.
For the first time in years, she grasped it.
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