ORC
Polyphemus glared in the distance, the dark vortex of a storm giving it the disturbing appearance of an eye. Deep magenta on cyan, constantly swirling. Even from this altitude, lightning could be seen cracking in great sheets across the planet's surface.
At the very centre of this spectacle was a shadow.
Only a pupil, really, in Polyphemus' eye, dwarfed by the hulking sphere. Still, it was here where the real beauty lay...
Pandora.
Only the dark side of the moon was visible, eclipsing the gas-giant. It was magnificent. Truly astounding. The deep, red light of Proxima Centura glinted off the Eastern Sea, a stark contrast with the blues and purples of the moon's surface. More lively than any vista of Earth. Evidence of life was obvious and all powerul, not like the down-trodden, brown remnants of terran organisms. The vivid colours of this world came not from the atmosphere, as was true with Pandora's cycloptic neighbour. It was the colour of life there, visible even from space. Flecks of ghoustly bioluminescence peeking through the wisps of cloud.
It was a truly alien view, the view which had greeted mankind all those years ago. The view which had stared back at Parker Selfridge for over four months now.
It had been four months since the corporation had been forced from the moons surface, but was still another three before they can leave.
ISVs are thirsty beasts, Venture Star's tanks have to full before the leap to point-seven constant. If you looked closely at Polyphemus you could see the two Valkyries. Distant specks sweeping through the mesosphere, hunting for fuel in the violet turbulance...
Parker manages to rip his attention away, instead trying to find some distraction in his overly-fammilliar surroundings.
It was an office, identical to the one he had occupied at Hell's Gate. Cold brushed alloy and useless executive furniture bolted to what must be the floor. A putter floats past. The ORC. ORbital Construct Alpha CA, the last echelon of mankind's first extra solar colony. Where the consortium's redundant employees wait, longing for a dreamless six years.
With a sigh, he kicks out at a nearby bulkhead, propelling himself back toward the window. He just couldn't get enough of it.
Parker knew he could never set foot on that world again. If the corporation didn't crucify him, the press would. His career was over. He wished he could go back. He wished he'd appreciated it, the beauty he could see now. He was a dead man, looking out at the elixyr.
His vision blurred, a tear welling in in his eye. His self-pity conquering him.
His envy for those chosen to stay.
One thought loomed in the Administrator's mind.
'I really blew it, didn't I..?"