“I can’t believe I did that.” Oscar Hawk went to wipe his brow with the back of his hand in the heated duress of the moment. Instead, his bulky glove tapped noiselessly against his helmet.

 

“Did what?” said his radio.

 

“Don’t ask.”

 

A loud beep told him his other hand was pressing too hard on the control handle of the fierce ice drill he was clutching. Reducing the pressure, he checked again that his tether was firmly in place just a meter away in the frozen ground of the tiny moon. At the other end of his radio receiver sat Hansani, patiently piloting the Serendip; keeping her a fixed three hundred meters above him while he worked.

 

Oscar raised his head up to see if he could spot the minuscule craft waiting for him while the drill dug deeper. The faintly lit underside could just be made out with the airlock hatch light flashing amber in readiness. Hawk’s striking features hid well his apprehension and his deep concerns about what he was doing. He was a proud descendant of the Crow Creek tribe of Buffalo, South Dakota and was the first Native American to fly beyond Earth orbit. He felt sure his ancestors would be deeply moved by what presently filled his sky: beyond lay nothing less than majestic Saturn and its beautiful, sweeping rings.

 

He was not so sure his honorable forefathers would approve of his boring into the ground of this heavenly body which was its closest satellite. He felt uneasy and searched his conscience, not for the first time, for absolution.

 

The beeping sounded again, this time louder and at a higher frequency. The drill suddenly started to vibrate violently – much more than should be expected. He keyed in a new setting and held the handles with both hands. Hansani’s voice filled his helmet.

 

“Erm, Oscar, I have received a transmission from the direction of Saturn. A series of clicks, just for a few seconds.”

 

“A transmission? Are you sure?” His voice rose sharply in pitch. An unexpected movement caught his eye and he looked up. Amongst the surface clouds of the gas giant, he could see dark swirling masses surge and brighten intensely with what appeared to be lightning.

 

“Have you seen anything like that before?”

 

A crackle at Hansani’s end. “Not on Saturn.”

 

“Am gonna hurry this up and get back aboard.”

 

“Copy. I’ll ready the lift cable.”

 

An anxious look fractured the shadows on Hawk’s face as he stepped up the drill rate. An indicator light showed him he was past the halfway mark. Another few minutes should take the reading to full at which point he would extract the drill with the core sample he needed. Along with the increased pressure, though, came severe vibrations, and the ground beneath him started to shake.

 

Oscar’s heart rate increased, activating another beep. He looked away from the fierce machine to try to mentally reset his breathing and pounding heart. But there, in the stark bright beauty of Saturn, there churned a fiery cyclone. It was the darkest of black storms. It broiled and convulsed like the dust clouds spewed forth by a volcano. And it was spreading across the surface. Far above him, within the rings that reached out high into his sky flashed more lightning. How could that be? He grimaced and whispered to his weeping ancestors and to the gods he did not believe in.

 

“Oscar!” Hansani’s taut voice cracked and spat through a blizzard of interference. “The transmissions are now constant at one every three seconds. Just a single distorted white noise each time. Look at the storms!”

 

“Drop the cable! I’m coming up! The reading showed ninety-two per cent. It would have to do. He hit the disarm button and pulled at the hand grips. The drill was stuck and only three-quarters retracted. He pulled with all his strength, but it wouldn’t budge. Breathing heavily and talking to himself he fumbled with the controls. Switching the drive train into reverse he pulled on the drill again. It started to move. He should have done that in the first place. The ground was now shaking so much his vision started to blur. As soon as he could untether and connect to the Serendip’s cable he could step off the tiny world and would no longer feel the violent quakes.

 

“Come on, come on,” he said to himself, looking straight up at the little vessel now lowering his lifeline. Oscar grabbed onto the cable, hooked himself onto it, hit the disconnect lever on the tether and reached out to the drill. The cable started to pull him upwards as the drill handle brushed past his fingertips. Oscar Hawk didn’t care. In fact, he was glad it would remain on the moon.

 

The open airlock door captured the frightened astronaut and closed around him. Beneath, the icy moon had turned completely black. And as the Serendip made a slow retreat, the wounded giant began an infinitely gradual pull of its firstborn into its ancient and welcoming rings.