Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (114/?)

Thalmin

The moon… was a great many things to many different people.

To the old believers, it was the metaphysical embodiment of the ancestral plane, caught in an eternal battle between light and dark.

To the Nexus, it was an adjacent realm’s sole connection to the primavale — an umbilical through which matter and mana alike were drip-fed in a cycle of death and rebirth.  

Whilst many bickered and argued over the minor and insignificant details of its nature, no one, not a single soul had ever made the claim that it was in any way shape or form another realm.

A realm for ancestors in the metaphysical context? Yes.

But a literal realm of rock and stone? No.

Such ramblings belonged to the crazed sermons of the village idiot, or the town fool.

Substantiated only by the many revelations one could find at the bottom of a tankard of ale. 

And yet here I was.

A prince.

Of sound mind and steady disposition.

Actively considering the same ramblings but with the pensiveness one would have to an oracle’s preachings. 

“Yes.” Emma replied confidently and with not an ounce of hesitation. “Or at least, in my reality it is. I’m not too sure about the Nexus. But here? Not only is the moon an entirely distinct realm, but every point in the night sky could also be considered a realm unto its own.” 

I did not know what to feel following that revelation.

I didn’t even know how to take that statement. Which, in any other situation… would’ve simply been a confirmation of one’s fractured mental state.

Questions abounded, alongside feelings, all of which tore at what I knew, or what I thought I knew.

My mind bounded to fill the gaps of this new paradigm. 

One that I knew was impossible… but that I rationalized as possible, not only out of Emma’s impossible proofs, but likewise out of Ilunor’s rationale.

Earthrealm… was a dead realm.

And this meant that anything was possible, given nothing was known of such a fundamentally broken place; of such a fundamentally… eerie and empty space.

My curiosity reached for questions I didn’t even have words for.

However, my focus eventually landed on a simple, tangible demand. 

One which I directed towards the reality-defying entity I called a friend. 

“Show me, then.” I announced tersely. “Show me this realm which floats amidst dead space, and show us the journey through which you established once and for all… that the moon… is in fact, a realm.” 

This ultimatum, which I assumed to be well received beneath the earthrealmer’s faceplate, likewise brought about an expression that I’d rarely seen on the princess thus far.

A look of restrained, yet visible, excitement. 

This stood in stark contrast to the Vunerian, who slunk further and further into abject dread.

I… knew not what camp to fall under.

For even in my most optimistic of projections did I find myself uneasy at the prospects of a prophecy made true — of the existence of a power that could truly attain the same heights as the Nexus.

Even if that power was as benevolent as Emma was intent on portraying. 

“The journey, huh?” Emma spoke under a lackadaisical tone of voice. “That’s actually a great idea~” She continued, turning towards me with a slight skip in her step. 

An action completely contrary to the enigmatic world she belonged to.

The scene, expectedly, shifted once more. 

Away from the chrome ball and its incessant beeping.

Away from the gut-churning nothingness of the void beyond the nonexistent tapestry.

Far beneath the blue skies, and once more on solid earth.

More than that, we were once more thrust back towards the vast expansive steppes in which this ‘launch site’ was situated. One which seemed to be busier than it was in the previous firespear launch, with phantom humans donning grey and green uniforms bearing the sigil of peasants, interspersed between more humans carrying boxy equipment all aimed towards this… slightly taller tower.

Gone was the squat form of the previous firespear.

In its place, was a taller, much more imposing monolith. 

What I was now confident in calling a tower. 

Though similar to its predecessor, it remained precariously shackled to the earth, with four arms of heavy steel, and a tower of metal scaffolding seemingly bracing it from ascending prematurely. 

“Every mission you've seen up to this point in time has been unmanned.” Emma began confidently, before sheepishly correcting herself with a quick aside. “With the exception of Wan Hu, none have since attempted to reach the stars atop of these oversized firespears.” She continued, as she gestured towards a procession of vehicles, and the stream of humans who promptly entered a manaless ascender. “But all that changes today. As on this day, barely 58 years since we first took to the skies, do we now aim to shoot beyond it. To prove, once and for all, that man can and will pierce the heavens. To boldly go, in spite of the dangers, in spite of the risks, and even in spite of our destination’s inhospitality to all earthly life…” Emma paused abruptly and without any discernible reason. “All to see what lies beyond the next horizon.” 

Immediately following this did several figures emerge from the ascender, all crowding around an oddly-dressed human in a baggy and ill-fitting bright orange bodysuit.

“Because there will always be those amidst our ranks ready to put it all on the line. Those who would dare to push the boundaries, to answer the call of that most captivating of human callings  — the need for exploration. To be, and spirits forbid… to die a pioneer.”

Foolishness. I could hear my uncle responding, his voice echoing throughout the proving dens, loud enough to pierce through the rumbling of machines and the sharp clanking of metal as the orange-suited human entered what looked to be a coffin.

Brazenness for brazenness sakes, all for selfish ends. 

Selflessness and sacrifice with only the vaguest of callings is a waste to both clan and kin. A death should serve a tangible gain, not a vague ideal or ephemeral calling.

“But when brazenness is shared amongst an entire people, to the point where all are willing to share in the cost and effort of fulfilling such a ‘foolish’ notion, is it at that point madness or brilliance?” I muttered to myself under a hushed breath, my focus fixated on the calmness of it all.

In spite of knowing that what might come next could be disastrous for all.

Thacea

58 years… barely a generation following their tentative grasp of flight… and here they were, seemingly unsatisfied with what should have been the greatest achievement of a landed flock. I thought to myself, as ceremonies and pleasantries abounded before the suited human was promptly sealed within his metal coffin — a cramped space that looked more akin to a torture chamber than a vehicle.

The scene quickly shifted as we followed the descent of these humans back towards the gathered crowd, and were once again treated to the sight of the firespear to its fullest extent.

However, unlike every other firespear launch thus far, there existed a gnawing, uncomfortable feeling welling up within me. A feeling which only intensified as I watched this tower standing idly by in a sea of its own fog.

A discomfort… born of the knowledge that unlike all prior launches — that this was no longer an oversized toy — but a vehicle.

As atop of it wasn’t a strange chrome ball, nor a memory shard, or even nothing at all.

No.

Atop of it now, nearly twenty stories above the ground, was a human.

A person… who was knowingly putting himself atop of a tower of fire and flame.

All with the faintest of hopes of surviving a journey into an equally unwelcoming and hostile void.

Sanity no longer applied. I thought to myself. For how could someone risk assured death when—

And then it clicked.

My eyes shifted sharply towards the prideful earthrealmer, who stood there explaining every excruciating detail behind this event.

A narrative quickly formed, as prior conversations now locked into place, and a renewed understanding of both Emma and her people manifested within my mind.

You could say we have a habit of making ourselves welcome in the most inhospitable of places. As just like those that have come before me, I now find myself exploring a reality that isn’t just inhospitable, but actively hostile to my very being.

I didn’t have to look any further to see this very brazenness in action.

As every waking second of Emma’s life was in and of itself, a testament to this same propensity for risk-taking bordering on the insane.

And yet she manages to persist, in spite of the knowledge, the understanding… that one small misstep could mean assured death.

My mind raced, as stories and tall tales of avinor of similar dispositions entered the forefront.

Of great explorers and intrepid pioneers who themselves risked it all to be the first to explore the expanse of our globe.

That spirit… felt so distant and ephemeral even when I first heard it. Especially within a post-Nexian reformation world. 

Even if it was once our history.

But here?

That spirit felt alive. That sentiment, felt vicariously, through a completely foreign people.

Not only in the sight-seer that was rapidly approaching its precipice, but also through the entity presenting it who I had taken a kinship to.

“—his name was then-Senior Lieutenant Yuri Gagarin.” The earthrealmer’s voice finally came through, amidst my own thoughts that seemed louder than they ever had been. “And on this day, did he accomplish the hopes and dreams of dreamers and pioneers stretching back millenia.” 

THWWWOOOSHHHHHHHHH! Came the cacophonous rumbling of the firespear’s flame, as massive jets of fire erupted from beneath the tower, bathing the plinth and the empty space beneath it in the raw and unbridled fury of a dragon’s scornful wrath. 

So loud was the continuous thrum of explosions that the release of its four massive anchors barely registered. 

Slowly did the tower rise, ascending against all known conventions, defying leypull with the fury of a defiant peoples.

A peoples who, by all conventional wisdom, shouldn’t have ever reached speeds beyond that of a tamed beast of burden.

And yet here they were.

Riding atop of the power of tamed explosions.

The scene shifted once more, now split into three.

To our left was the compound, and the humans who now looked onwards towards the skies.

To our middle was an active sight-seer of the craft itself, from a perspective that defied all rhyme or reason, as I felt both exhilaration and nausea at the sight of such speeds.

And finally, to our right, was a sight from within the coffin itself, showing a man seemingly helpless atop of a tomb of his own making.

I watched on with inextricable focus, my eyes monitoring the man’s movements under the strains that would naturally come from such immense speeds.

“What speeds must he tolerate to breach the skies, Emma?” I finally inquired, watching on as the skies began to inexplicably… thin.

“Just under five miles…” Emma paused, as if purposefully teasingly. “Per second.”

It took me a moment to register that in relative terms I could visually conceive of.

But once I did… I was once more left dumbfounded.

The same could be said for Thalmin and Ilunor, as silence dominated most of the journey up, with the firespear going through the same motions as its predecessor, segmenting and separating, until all that was left was an odd-looking spheroid object I’d hazard to even call an enclosure let alone a vehicle.

It was at this point however, did the right-most image come to dominate our view.

As we looked on, from the perspective of the cramped and unseemly cockpit, towards a porthole that displayed not just endless skies or clouds… but the skies… as seen from the perspective of an old god. 

The skies… as seen from above.

Not within.

And certainly not below.

But above.

The former sight-seers had been clearer about this.

But to see it from the perspective of a human, a manaless being with little individual capacity other than a thinking mind and two dexterous hands, was beyond breathtaking.

“This undertaking wouldn’t have been possible without everyone back home too.” Emma interrupted abruptly, displaying once more, the rows upon rows of conservatively-dressed phantoms crowding behind machines of blinking lights and tables with papers strewn-about. “And not just the thinkers, but the builders and all those that were responsible for actually building everything it took to reach this point.” She continued, quickly showing sights familiar to me from our very first night together — metal foundries, and immense forges of impossible size and scale.

At least, impossible for a newrealmer.

“Alone, you may not be capable of much.” Thalmin began, taking all of us by surprise. “A sole human, seems to only be capable only of lofty ambitions and admittedly persuasive words. But it takes a village, a town, a city and an entire kingdom, to achieve those dreams.”

“Well-said, Thalmin. Moreover, it’s another thing entirely as well, to mobilize the political will and economic capital to achieve said ends.” Emma acknowledged, as we watched as the craft continued on its lonely voyage through nothing.

It was after a few more moments of silence that we watched as the craft performed what felt like a series of insignificant maneuvers, all of which however resulted in it reentering the skies, before gently touching down upon a field of grassy steppes under the gentle guidance of parachutes.

It took a few moments, following the exit of the orange-suited figure much to the shock of two local onlookers, before Thalmin followed up with a question I hadn’t anticipated.

“Emma.”

“Yes, Thalmin?”

“I’m assuming… from the views from…  beyond the skies, that the man didn’t just enter the void, only to return, like a stone thrown straight upwards?”

“Nope! He actually orbited the globe, going right around the whole world once!” Emma  announced with glee.

“And your world… it is not small is it?”

“It’s just under twenty-five thousand mies in circumference, but I’m not sure how that stacks to most realms—”

“Puny for the Nexus.” Ilunor finally re-entered the conversation. 

“But average for an adjacent realm.” I countered.

“And how long did it take for this man to circumnavigate your globe from beyond the skies?” Thalmin pressed onwards, unbothered by either of our responses. 

“A hundred-and-eight minutes. So, just under two hours!” Emma responded gleefully once more.

Though strangely, the lupinor didn’t seem to share in this same joyous and boisterous of attitudes.

Thalmin

One hour… and forty-eight minutes.

Five miles per second.

I didn’t need the scholarly acumen of my sisters to understand the implications of such numbers.

For the practical, and most importantly — the martial implications — behind such capabilities wasn’t just impressive.

It was frightening.

To be able to ascend into the void, only to drop right back down from the skies, was a crude but horrifying mirror to the Nexus’ instantaneous teleportation.

My mind was now filled to the brim with the sheer number of possibilities brought about by such a novel vehicle.

From the deployment of whole battalions, all dropping from the skies.

To the delivery of weapons.

Weapons similar in destructive potential to the explosive potential of Emma’s crate.

Weapons… perhaps even more powerful than that.

One hour and forty-eight minutes.

For a kingdom to be able to strike anywhere on a planet with impunity.

One hour and forty-eight minutes.

For a ruler to deploy his forces, his armies, his soldiers and his weapons of destruction — to rain hellfire if need be.

One hour and forty-eight minutes.

To do what only the most senior of adjacent realms could do within the confines of their own globe.

And this was merely fifty-eight years following their first flight into the skies.

Ilunor

“And I assume your initial successes, led to even greater and greater successes, without one inkling of failure, hmm?” I countered, observing, analyzing, digging into every available crack and crevice in this rose-tinted look into the earthrealmer’s past.

“Not at all, Ilunor.” The suited figure admitted. “If anything, close calls were more common than clean missions. And more than that, I’d be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge the lives lost over the attempts at our attempts to race for the stars.”

What appeared to be a list of names manifested in front of us, alongside sight-seers of firespears either exploding upon their plinths, or breaking apart in mid-air.

The sights of which put the warehouse explosion to shame, giving even the usually stoic Thalmin pause for thought.

“Given these were manned losses, I’d like to give a moment of silence in respect to their sacrifices, if you’d be willing.” The earthrealmer spoke with a sense of respect bordering on reverence, prompting me to humor her wishes.

Only after a minute did she speak again.

“We don’t claim to be perfect, Ilunor. If anything, I’ve shown you just thow many setbacks and tragedies we did have prior to this point. And while the causes of these tragic losses ranged from inexplicable malfunctions to gross negligence of those in charge, to even design flaws and oversights — we continued to press onwards. Some of us learn from our mistakes, and some of us not so much. But in any case, I… believe we should move forwards towards our original question, starting first with the fulfilment of Thalmin’s request.”

Thalmin

Just as quickly as my concerns over Emma’s people were reaching its precipice, was I placated by an unexpected source — her honorable decision to respect her ancestors’ sacrifices through action.

An action which may not entirely define her leaders, but demonstrated at the very least, a strong sense of moral character in the candidate they chose to represent them.

Following which, we were once again thrust into another locale.

However, unlike the vast steppes of the prior location, we were instead brought to a temperate and idyllic beach, with lush and verdant greenery interspersed between commanding and imposing buildings.

Gone was the hammer and sickle that dominated much of the prior location’s structures and people.

Instead, it was replaced by two banners. One bearing some strange house sigil of a blue orb with two sloppily drawn squiggles interrupting its interior — complete with four foreign letters that more than likely belonged to some upstart house too insecure to rely on symbology alone to represent their clan. Next, was a far more novel but simple banner, consisting of a series of red and white stripes complete with a canton of some fifty or so stars at its upper left hand corner.

Together, I assumed this to be some sort of joint-house project, or perhaps even the work of a kingdom and its ruling house.

Or perhaps a bannerman’s house.

Regardless, I watched as Emma positioned us by the single largest building within this compound.

A towering monolith in and of itself, with doors that seemed better suited for the mythical giants of old, rather than any living mortal.

These doors, slowly and with great effort, opened up to reveal a massive room with an interior dominated by a complicated mess of metal pipes and bracings, with hundreds of overall-wearing humans amidst those wearing white coats all crowding around elevated platforms behind what was first shown to us at the beginning of the museum of firespears.

One of the single most tallest and elegant-looking firespears of all.

One that stretched higher up than the tallest building in Havenbrock.

One that could likewise easily rival the inner-ring towers within the isle of towers, and perhaps even the outer-ring of the Nexus’ crownlands.

What Emma would promptly refer to as—

“The Saturn V rocket.” She beamed proudly. 

This immense monolith slowly began its crawl towards its plinth, atop of a tracked vehicle that moved slower than Prince Talnin’s laziest crawls.

The sight seer took this opportunity to position us close by, as Emma began gesturing at the behemoth that we strained upwards to look at.

“One of the most powerful rockets of its century, with a thrust capacity ten times that of the firespear that took Yuri Gagarin to space—” Emma paused, gesturing towards its lower segment, as the sight-seer took us towards what looked to be massive conical shafts. “—and five massive F-1 engines, each  individually larger than the V-2s I showed earlier.” I stared blankly, my eyes attempting to bring about some rhyme and reason to the magnitude of these… engines. 

More than that, Emma was quick to provide a cutaway of the interior of the first ‘section’ of the tower, revealing that within it wasn’t cargo or passengers, but once again — fuel. 

Combustible liquids stored as high up as a 12 story building, fueling ‘engines’ the size of a rural commoner’s hut. 

I didn’t speak.

Not even as Emma went further up the ‘stack’, towards the ‘second’ section of the massive tower, with fuel and engines only marginally smaller than the ‘first’ section. 

Because instead of a 12 story building fueling house-sized engines, it was instead a seven story building fueling carriage-sized engines. 

The ludicrousness of this entire display was too much to bear.

But that was when the tone of the sight-seer took an unexpected turn.

As we were taken away from the verdant grasses and idyllic beaches of this compound, and instead, thrust towards a manufactorium, the sight-seer physically moved to cross the distances involved this time around, as if to emphasize the sheer scale of this undertaking.

“This wasn’t just the work of a single individual, or even a group of individuals.” Emma began, as we moved, manufactorium to manufactorium, each assembling either unrecognizable parts or the staple features of the monolith we’d just witnessed. “This was an undertaking that took a nation to build. With experts from countless industries, and cooperation between rival companies, all in order to build individual components of the individual stages that would later become the Saturn V.” 

We criss-crossed what appeared to be an expansive continent, crossing through grassy steppes, snowy mountains, great canyons, and through rivers and settlements of all shapes and sizes… visiting not only manufactoriums now, but scholarly offices, Nexian-sized forges, and places I couldn’t even put into words. All of this, across road and ‘rail’, smaller and clearly less expansive compared to the previous week’s sight-seer, but still impressive for what it was.

We eventually found ourselves back at the beach-side compound, now positioned amidst a crowd gathered a fair distance away from the firespear itself.

The crowds, similar to Gagarin’s launch into the void, carried with them boxes and tools of all sorts, all pointed towards the firespear.

“A million eyes were trained on the launch site that day, and tens of millions more through the memory shards delivering live images of the launch to people from around the globe.” Emma began, as picture upon picture emerged across the sight-seer. 

“I’m showing you a live feed of everything happening concurrently that day. From the three astronauts — Armstrong, Collins, and Aldrin — making their way up to the command module.” 

Emma paused, showing the three men in question in suits of white and rounded glass helmets, as they approached their tomb-like enclosure. 

“To mission control and the hundreds of people working around the clock to ensure the complex  systems needed for such an endeavor work as functioned.” 

Another picture emerged, displaying a room of row upon row of machines, and the phantom-like humans behind them. 

“To the various technicians, engineers, and support staff all working tirelessly until the very last minute.” Tens more images emerged, of hundreds of humans toiling about various inexplicable tasks, all at the service of this cathedral of iron and steel. 

However just as all of these concurrent images appeared, did they disappear, as the sight-seer once more leveled its sights not too far from the plinth, amidst the crowd of onlookers.

Following which, did foreign words under a muffled filter begin what I assumed to be a countdown.

“T-Minus fifteen seconds, guidance is internal… eleven… ten.. Nine.” 

As second, after second, did my heart beat to the tune of this moment.

“Ignition sequence starts.” 

A moment marked by an explosion that put all others to shame.

“Six, five, four, three, two, one, zero, all engines running.” 

As flames and ferocious smoke swept beneath the plinth, only to erupt back up towards the towering behemoth. 

Fire burned ferociously beneath the tower, as smoke continued to rise.

For a moment, I feared the worst as the sights and sounds of failed missions flashed across my mind.

However, only a second after that thought, did the tower begin to rise.

“Liftoff, we have liftoff! Thirty-two minutes past the hour. Liftoff of Apollo 11.”

I watched… as forty-stories worth of iron and steel lifted off of its plinth, rising faster and faster and in such a way that one could easily forget that this object, this… craft, wasn’t ever supposed to take flight.

But fly it did, as it ascended, its engines, its metal, pulsing, as if gasping and breathing. 

Throughout it all, as the seconds turned into minutes, and as the craft made it through that invisible layer between the skies and the void, Emma remained silent.

Simply allowing the various muffled and filtered voices of humans long since dead to speak on her behalf.

Not a single voice sounded the least bit panicked.

Even excitement itself felt difficult to discern.

As every single person seemed uncharacteristically calm.

Calm…  whilst riding atop of a continuous stream of unending flame.

Nobody else spoke, or dared interrupt the pioneers as they left the confines of the skies, eschewing tower after towering ‘sections’,  leaving barely a stump by the time they’d entered the void proper.

It was only after the last section remained floating listlessly, did Thacea finally speak. 

Thacea

“Emma?”

“Yes, Thacea?”

“How large is your moon?”

“A thousand and eighty miles, give or take. About a third the size of our planet, for scale.” 

My mind ceased, if only for a moment, as the leypull of the situation once more dawned on me.

My suspicions… were proven true.

Whether for better or for worse.

And given Emma’s lack of a followup response, it was clear that she understood exactly what sorts of thoughts had since entered my mind.

“What is all this fuss about the size of these hypothetical realms, princess?” Ilunor interrupted, his voice as terse as it was uneasy. 

“It’s a matter of distance and perspective, Ilunor.” I replied simply, garnering a look of confusion from the man. “If the moon truly is a realm of such dimensions, for it to be as small as it is in the night sky, implies that the distances involved are nothing short of…”

“Asstronomical, yeah.” Emma interjected with a prideful acknowledgement. 

“Exactly how far away is the moon, Emma?” Thalmin interrupted, his features stoic, masking the uneasy undercurrents just beneath the surface.

“Just under two-hundred and thirty-nine thousand miles.” Emma announced plainly, simply, and without hesitation.

“How long did it take—”

“Oh, if you’re worried about us staying here for days on end, don’t worry. I’m just about to skip to the good stuff in fact. But if you’re wondering about specifics? It took just about 4 days to reach the moon, at a cruising speed of about 35 miles per second.” 

My beak hung agape, as my eyes were transfixed on the vast empty darkness that dominated this… space between realms.

Whilst other realms were divided by the fabric of reality itself.

Earthrealm… was removed from its contemporaries, by sheer distance.

Impossible distances.

Yet distances that were once again breached not by solutions that bridged the gap.

But by the brute-forcing of the most obvious of solutions, that should not have been practical.

And so it was, that in this sea of absolute nothing, did this craft barely the size of a small house, approach its final destination.

The moon.

Thalmin

The journey had been accelerated, all for the sake of practicality.

However, as I watched as hour after hour flew by, my eyes trained on the moon that grew ever closer… I could not come to the rational understanding that any of this was actually happening.

Even as the moon grew large enough to encompass my full field of view, did I find myself still unable to truly comprehend what it was I was witnessing.

This… ethereal place… shouldn’t have existed.

This realm of ancestors and mana, of primavalic energies and intangible light, shouldn’t have been reachable.

I watched as this now flimsy-craft of steel made its awkward descent towards the surface of what was once just a dot in the sky.

I watched… as those flimsy metal legs made contact with white rock and stone.

“Houston, tranquility base here, the eagle has landed.” 

I listened, as the voices of humans rang out within an infinite dark, atop of a realm that wasn’t theirs.

Hours flew by now, as images from within the cabin showed these pioneers preparing for the ultimate ends of this mission.

It showed, following some awkward shuffling in exiting the craft, one of these ‘astronauts’ donning a thick suit of white — leaving towards a set of ladders built into the side of the craft.

I cocked my head for a moment, my eyes landing on Emma’s thickly-suited form, and that of her ancestor.

And in that moment, did I realize the amusing connection that came with human exploration — the necessity for protection of an otherwise weak and fragile form. Along with the nerves of steel that must have come with such a precarious endeavor.

Following which, did my eyes once more focus on her ancestor, as the man awkwardly shuffled down the ladder, his booted feet touching down on what appeared to be a dusty terrain that went on for as far as the eye could see.

“That’s one small step for [a] man, one giant leap for mankind.” He spoke, as the translations in High Nexian were present for us to read.

“1969. Sixty-six years after we first took to the skies, and eight years after we first breached the skies, we made it. Humanity’s first steps on another realm, on the realm that billions upon billions of humans had once looked up at in wonder.” 

“A realm unto its own.” Thacea spoke, her voice restraining the shock welling within.

“A realm… of what exactly?” Ilunor piped up once more, shaking his head in rapid succession? “Of rock and dust?!” He spoke with an incredulous guffaw. “Oh earthrealmer, I’m assuming that since this is your first landing, that perhaps you’ve simply landed in a desert of some sort? Perhaps later you will come to find a lush verdant paradise, perhaps an oasis? Perhaps something that actually comes a little bit closer to this location’s namesake? What was it? The sea of tranquility?” 

“Well, no, Ilunor. This is more or less all you’re going to get from the moon.” Emma explained, gesturing around her as her ancestors began fiddling with their craft and their tools.

“So this was an exercise in futility then? Expending your resources for the sake of reaching a realm with nothing?” Ilunor shot back, before lifting up a finger. “You know, earthrealmer. This is why the Nexus actually identifies pleasant and palatable worlds before exploring them, at least when we aren’t too busy exploring our own infinitely expanding plane. But… given the nature of your inter-realm travel, it seems like you lack that luxury.” He began snickering, garnering a frustrated sigh from Emma who quickly brought up another picture, set against the darkness of the sight-seer.

“I can see where you’re coming from, Ilunor. I understand that to a Nexian, this endeavor must feel like a whole waste of resources.” Emma paused, garnering a self-satisfied nod from Ilunor. “But not to us. Because where you see endless expanses of nothing, we see a future. A future where we can build a verdant paradise of our own creation. Because if nature proves to not be forthcoming, then we’ll build a nature of our own. A nature we can design, control, and adorn to our whims; to our comfort. However, even disregarding all of that, we chose to go to the moon not because of a desire to exploit or expand. Instead, we chose to go to it because it was the next logical leap forward.”

Emma redirected her gaze towards the floating image, of some human standing behind a podium, above a crowd of gathered humans.

“But why, some say, the Moon? Why choose this as our goal? And they may as well ask, why climb the highest mountain? Why, 35 years ago, fly the Atlantic? We choose to go to the moon in this decade and to do other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard; because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one we intend to win.”