Rubicon III really was a good-looking planet, if you ignored the death. The white ice and snow in stark contrast with the coral-red wash of its atmosphere, the charming asymmetry of the vascular plant breaching the horizon, and the rusted brown of the dilapidated Grids all coming together to form a sight that would bring tears to a painter’s eyes.
Of course, the Xylem’s tragic beauty, filling the viewport of the ship that the remaining Overseer and RaD workers had managed to scrounge up, would put the view of the planet to shame.
“The FTL drive is primed, ma’am. Should I activate it?” Asked one of RaD’s cuter hackers, whose name Verdant couldn’t recall.
“No,” Verdant rasped out in reply. They cleared her throat. “No, only activate it when you see the Xylem hit the Vascular Plant. Rubicon deserves witnessed.”
The comms unit crackled to life, picking up a signal from the colony ship. “This is your captain speaking!” Came Carla’s dry voice. “If you look to your left, you should see where that hound of Walter’s managed to turn off the PCA’s satellites. Good job, tourist! If you look to your left, you should see a looooot of Coral! That won’t be there for much longer. And if you look to your front, you’ll see the Vascular plant, ready for me to crash riiiiiight into it.”
Verdant fumbled with the microphone for precious seconds. “Hey Carla,” she got out, voice trembling. “Remember how you said you’d buy me a drink if I ever made you laugh?”
The comms system passed back a staticky huff. “Of course,” Carla said, sounding bemused. “You got one for me?”
“Sure do!” Verdant said, masking the pain clenched in her chest with false cheer. “What’s the difference between beef patties and cow patties?”
“I dunno,” Carla replied in that relaxing drawl of hers. “Hit me, greenie.”
“Beef patties don’t taste like the Xylem’s burgers,” Verdant said.
The last thing they heard before a wash of red and the white flash of FTL hit their tear-lensed eyes was a single, cut-off guffaw.