Christophero Bellaquez watched the churning, roiling surface of the Sol's photosphere in quiet reverence. Of course, he was watching the intense clash of yellows, oranges and sunspot-blacks through the bias of a video screen specifically adjusted to diminish the incandescence of its subject, otherwise his eyes would have been singed beyond use. They were so close to the massive stellar body that the entire frame of the external visual feeds amounted for little more than an insignificant fraction of the star's total surface. As the project leader and ex officio captain of the Phaethon, he knew better than few others the raw, destructive energy unleashed by that nuclear powerhouse every femtosecond. Energy that they were going to try and harness to escape Sol's domain. "It's getting wanner in here," Sherwood Glasfryn complained, right on schedule. Bellaquez smiled and shook his head, the movement concealed by his chair at the front of the narrow, oval shaped chamber. Glasfryi was an incredible scientist and engineer, but he was also a walking bag of neuroses. Under pressure Glasfryn was cool and assured, but when it came to simply waiting around - an unfortunately significant part of their detail - he was twitchy and apprehensive. This was the fourth time they had gone out to the coronal terminator since their tour of duty began, all he always made the same comment.
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