'Let's go', Leonides says.
We swing down and outwards into the cheerless Plutonian dawn. How still it is, an alien sunrise. No birds sing, no insects buzz and drone. We spread out across the surface of Pluto, moving easily, all but floating, our backs to the rising sun, looking out on a harsh and silent landscape.
We traveled as four, also in silence. We were absorbing this open, obsolete space of ice rock so far away from our land of all warmth. The terrain was daunting and depressing. Its shapes gave an eerie feeling of dreadfulness.
Sherrard broke our train of thoughts and our silence…
