The sky-cities of Juno swayed on diamond tethers above a churning gas ocean. Lira, a cloudfarmer, guided her drones through the ammonia-laced storm, harvesting charged particles for energy.
A distress beacon flickered on her control panel. A vessel, hull ruptured, spun toward the depths. No one survived such a fall. She hesitated—diverting power to a rescue could drain her farm’s energy cache. But then a voice crackled: “Please… anyone—”
Ignoring the risk, she deployed a tether. The ship latched on, energy levels plummeting. As she pulled the wreckage to safety, her systems flickered. Her farm would need weeks to recover.
The pilot emerged, dazed. “You saved me,” they whispered.
Lira exhaled. She had lost power, lost profit. But here, in the endless storms of Juno, she had gained something immeasurable: proof that survival meant nothing without someone to share it with.
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