At the center of the burned up crater where the Continental Eclipse Sun-Eater had been eradicated, something miraculous remained.
Arthur Vance stood at the controls of the Aethelgard’s ventral heavy-recovery overhead frame. He peeked through the aligned quartz deck. Floating amidst the gentle golden heat-rising granules of the chromosphere was a massive, perfectly ball-shaped crystal four meters in width. It glowed with a deep, honey-golden soft glow, fully free of the dark, corrupted foul fog that had once infected the giant beast’s heart.
“Lower the magnetic capture claw, Szabo,” Arthur instructed, his voice crisp and focused. “Keep the holding field set to forty thousand Gauss. That crystal was forged at one hundred million degrees. It needs gradual heat-powered cooling.”
“Capture claw deployed!” Szabo responded from the crane console, his fingers running the dual high-pressure joysticks. “Magnetic grapples locked! Hoisting the prize into the ventral quarantine cradle!”
The heavy silver-steel overhead frame arm reached down into the corona, its magnetic power-coil pads clamping around the glowing sphere. With a steady, low hum of high-pressure winches, the crystal was hoisted upward through the ventral airlock and secured into the ship’s specialized potion-made solitude bay.
Arthur stepped into the holding bay, donning his razor-sharp gloves and adjusting his magnifying glass.
