The Endeavour descended through Aethel's crystalline atmosphere like a clumsy stone falling into a perfectly still pond. Dr. Aris Thorne pressed his face against the observation port, watching the planet's surface resolve from abstraction into impossible reality.

Cities of pure geometry spread below him—vast interlocking circles, spheres nested within spheres, domes that caught the dual suns and scattered their light in perfect diffraction patterns. Not a single straight line marred the landscape. Even the agricultural sectors were arranged in concentric rings, each field a perfect arc of some greater circle he couldn't quite perceive.

"Beautiful," he whispered.

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