In this chapter of a 'hard' science fiction narrative set in the near future, two and a half explorers embark on a remarkable journey through space.

As Theseus's trajectory crossed the gentle curve of Jupiter's orbit, the planet itself remained far ahead, signifying the halfway mark of their journey. The crew recognized it was time to reverse course and begin the essential deceleration process. This routine was tedious and monotonous, a stark reminder of the artificiality of life beyond Earth.

Gyroscopes, it turned out, resist spinning against their axis. The rotating habitation module functioned as a massive gyroscope, ensuring the ship maintained its orientation. If the module were to spin during the turn, tidal forces from a gravitational catapult could compromise the vessel's integrity. Theseus, while capable of withstanding internal pressures and radiation, was still quite fragile.

By terrestrial standards, they had achieved significant speed, though still not close to the fastest manmade object in space. To prevent a missed opportunity at Saturn, they needed to shed speed. Aerobraking was out of the question with gas giants, and Theseus would not endure such stresses.

Vadym found the term 'fly' inadequate for describing spacecraft movement. Flying implied atmospheric maneuvering, akin to an aircraft on Earth or wing arenas on the Moon. 'Float' was equally misleading; the ship remained under acceleration. 'Cruise' was an improvement, but Vadym preferred to think of it as simply 'falling' through the vast void of space.

While Lhari and Vadym secured loose items in the absence of artificial gravity, Vadym explained their maneuver. They would gradually reduce the spin of the habitation ring using magnetic induction, transferring current to flywheels situated behind hydroponics. Once these were energized, they would counteract their momentum to turn the ship around. This process spanned three days—one to halt the ring, another to turn, and a final day to restart it. Theseus was not what one would call agile.

Vadym initiated the process as they settled in for sleep, and upon awakening, he noticed a change in gravity. There was just enough to run in the outer ring and take a shower, which they did together. Breakfast consisted of fresh berries and an apple from the bonsai-like tree, which bore only a few fruits weekly.

Afterward, Vadym occupied the bridge, scanning the endless depths of space from the transparent dome. Looking back, he observed the habitation ring slowly drifting through the star-speckled void. Saturn appeared brighter than on Earth, a radiant yellow star among countless others, with its rings visible only as an optical illusion. The inner moons—Titan, Tethys, Enceladus, Dione, Rhea—were distinguishable. He memorized their positions, intending to revisit them.

Suddenly, Lhari approached, placing a hand on his shoulder and kissing him. She wrapped her arms around him, her playful bite at his neck igniting an unspoken connection. In the absence of words, they explored each other's bodies, navigating the unique challenges of zero gravity, finding pleasure in every shift and movement.

Time slipped by unnoticed as they floated together, Lhari's warm embrace a comforting presence. She whispered that it felt nice, but he could only listen, lost in the moment.

They continued to experiment, with Vadym guiding Lhari through the intricacies of movement without gravity. Eventually, they paused, both refreshed and weary, suspended in space with Lhari's gentle hug providing solace. Together, they admired Saturn, their shared tranquility free from distractions.

"I feel like we are being watched," Lhari remarked, her eyes scanning the cosmos.

"There's no one out there," Vadym replied.

"Surely there’s someone," she insisted.

"I’ve checked; we’re the farthest from the Sun right now," he assured her.

Lhari pondered, "Maybe there's someone out there."

Silence enveloped them as they cherished each other's presence in a profound yet familiar way. The simplicity of touch and shared space became a beautiful escape from the demands of their journey.

Vadym, having learned from past experiences, refrained from dissecting Lhari's emotions. Accepting her actions without seeking to understand the motivations proved easier and less painful.

Lhari craved this connection, fulfilling both physical and emotional needs. Vadym had warned her about the potential toll of solitude, and she recognized his wisdom. Despite her network of distant friends, none could replace the warmth of genuine companionship. He had respected her boundaries, ensuring their interactions remained platonic despite the intimacy of their surroundings.

Vadym relished the relaxation that followed their shared experience, feeling a weight lifted from his shoulders. He hoped this connection would continue, as it was unexpectedly uplifting. Lhari moved with grace, each motion a testament to her yoga practice, creating a mesmerizing display of fluidity in zero gravity.

Their closeness deepened, and Vadym asked, "Will we do this again sometime?"

"I hope so," she replied, content in her place.

Mimas, the moon, shifted in their view, a reminder of time's passage.

In the following weeks, Lhari spent more time on the bridge conversing with Phaedra. Vadym found their discussions void of substance and began retreating to the outer ring for exercise. Over time, he noticed his strength increasing, a welcome change from the lethargy of inactivity. The gravitational force of one-point-two gees required constant effort, and he embraced the challenge.

Lhari’s physical prowess became evident, stirring insecurities in Vadym. Despite their height difference, her dedication to fitness shone through, revealing muscles he hadn’t previously noticed. Together, they delved into yoga, adapting their routines to fit their circumstances, fostering a new sense of cooperation in their daily lives.

As they decelerated toward Saturn, the ship turned its bow back toward the Sun. Vadym preferred the authenticity of real-time views over simulated ones. The gentle pull of the ion drive became more pronounced, prompting a switch in their roles. Lhari engaged with Phaedra while Vadym focused on exercise and simulations, their interactions still frequent due to limited options.

Vadym found comfort in Lhari's presence. Their compatibility extended beyond the physical; she enjoyed mental challenges, turning their board games into spirited competitions. They gravitated towards simple yet strategic games, fostering deeper conversations as they played.

"Why don't you share more about your previous journeys?" Lhari prodded during a match.

Vadym reflected, "There's not much to share. Time feels different out here. The months blur into mere hours, and I only remember bits and pieces."

"Sounds contemplative," she mused, repositioning her pieces.

"I search for interstellar asteroids, naming them after cartoon characters," he explained.

"Really? So there are a Snoopy and a Garfield out there?"

"Indeed, but my naming scheme lacks originality."

"Is it merely a pastime for you?" she asked.

"I'm hoping to intercept one, tag it, and send it toward the Sun for potential capture. That would be a first."

"Seeking fame and glory?" she teased.

"Not quite. I just want to give it an amusing name, like Zxxwxl or Mxyzptlk," he chuckled.

"Do you lack a sense of wonder?"

"Let me tell you a story. During my fifth trip, I encountered an asteroid hurtling toward the Sun, unseen by anyone else. It was traveling at incredible speed, destined to vanish into the depths of space."

"How did it achieve such velocity?" Lhari inquired.

"Who knows? A close encounter with something massive, perhaps? I even imagined it might be a ship."

"One out of three options doesn’t sound too bad," she quipped.

"But it didn’t slow down. It heated up as it approached the Sun, and when I calculated its trajectory, I realized it would collide."

"I remember that! It made headlines years ago!"

"Yes, but it impacted on the far side of the Sun, only a few ships captured it directly. We only saw the aftermath."

"What a shame," Lhari said, surprised by his poetic thoughts.

"Think about it," Vadym continued. "That rock had journeyed for billions of years, only to disappear in an instant. It came from another galaxy, traversing unimaginable distances, and then… poof."

"It made a significant impact," she countered.

"Yes, but that was its end. A slight nudge could have altered its fate entirely."

Vadym gazed into the distance, lost in thought.

Lhari moved her piece. "Check."