James' storm

A few hours after landing, the storm rolled in. James was largely unfamiliar with the concept of a rain storm, having grown up on the Proxima colony (a desert) and on various space stations. He had heard of rain, and he'd seen storms, but it never occurred to him that the two were really related. He was now curled up beneath several layers of blankets on his bed.

Tean was relaxing in the hammock on the other side of the habitat. She'd grown up in Florida, a temperate rainforest and by no means a stranger to the hurricanes that now buffeted the region. This was, to her, just another Wednesday back home. She was reading an e-book, and she turned to her friend. "James?"

"What is it?" James snapped.

"Do you think the stories of the ancient Langrel space travellers are true?" Tean asked.

"Wha... I guess... I don't know."

"Well I mean the legend says there was a space program on Langrel in the age of Steam Engines and animal-driven carriages, and apparently an expedition unearthed some chunk of twisted cast iron on one of the moons of Lang."

"I don't know about that," said James, and he paused to think. "Langrel is smaller than Terra, sure, but would they really be able to launch rockets into space? I doubt it."

"Well you know, *this* planet is about the same size and mass as Langrel, it's just got a thicker atmosphere. And our Santa Printer can machine objects within the tolerances of ancient steam-powered technology."

"Are you suggesting..."

"Oh yes."

"...We could get back to the Belief and get it working without paying a rescue tax!"

"Well that's not exactly what I meant," said Tean, "but yes."