"Here." he slammed the cash on the table. "Fifty bucks the planet is between 35 and 70 degrees!"

"Are you kidding? It's well outside the temperate zone."

"Jeb, this planet is plenty larger than Jool. Obviously its moons would have massive tidal heating. So, the heat would radiate off and warm the planet!"

"No, that's not how it works at all!"

"How come?"

"Bill, of all people!"

"C'mon, what's wrong with my logic?"

"This planet would be well under the freezing temperature of water, probably around negative one-fifty or even two hundred."

"So?"

It would take a star to warm a freezing planet to such temperatures. No moon could ever supply so much heat!"

"What if there are multiple moons?"

"Bill…"

"What? The more the merrier, after all!"

"Again, no."

"Really?"

"Really. Now I think I know why you're the engineer of the mission."

"Fine." Bill grumbled. "Maybe I should get up to speed with my thermal dynamics and whatnot. But what do you think this planet will look like?"

"A visual?"

"Of course!"

"Hm." Jebediah leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "Well, the science boys say there is plenty of hydrogen and helium in the atmosphere, so that alone would be capable of producing some incredible colors."

"Like what? Bill insisted.

"Well, hydrogen is usually colorless, but in a gas giant it would probably give off a bluish-violet tint."

"Blue and purple?"

"Hey, our only gas giant is bright green, so I'm not surprised." Jebediah chuckled. "Helium, though, could be a pinkish-orange."

"I certainly hope that's not what this planet looks like, I just might go blind from such a ridiculous color palette!"

"Then don't look when we pass by it!"

"You honestly I would give up the opportunity to see an actual gas giant in another solar system?"

"Doesn't the fact that you're a Kerbonaut and don't understand how tidal heating works prove otherwise?"

Bill sighed. "Alright, let's see you repair thirty-five solar panels on the LKSS!" They both laughed. After some silence, Jebediah spoke.

"Bill, if you weren't going on this mission with me I might just go insane."

"Oh come now, Jeb!"

"It's true, Bill. I gave up my family for this, I'm not making any more sacrifices."

"But Jeb, you know nothing ever goes perfectly on-plan in a mission."

"I know, I know. Just nothing major, okay?

"I don't know, Jeb, that's difficult to tell."

"Promise me you won't risk the mission."

"I- I'd never put a mission at-"

"Bill!"

"Fine." Bill rolled his eyes. "Nothing bad will happen to the mission, okay?"

"Thanks, Bill."

Bob loved to draw. When the other guys in the shuttle were off playing their loud and obnoxious games and watching their washed-up television shows, Bob would find a nice, secluded corner of the ship and draw away. As Jool slipped away into an invisible dot, he felt a lack of celestial bodies in the windows. The void between the planets was quite empty, and he found it quite lacking of intrigue. Space was not given a random name, after all. So, he worked himself into a regular routine. Whenever his portion of the quarters grew relatively quieter, he would silently pull out his notebook. In between evenly-scheduled mission updates and observations, Bob would find empty pages to draw the sights of the solar system. He enjoyed heralding back to his days as an active traveler of the planets; he remembered the dust whipping across his face mask during his first steps on Duna, the incredible pressure on his spine during his hike across the wastelands of Eve, and of course the crashing shorelines and peaceful ocean breezes of Laythe.

He would wrap his imaginary hands around a picture in his mind and look at it from all possible angles. He found the contrast between tall and stubby objects the most artistic. While searching for a fresh page to work with, he saw a small rover and Kerbal standing upon the surface of Laythe. The tiny sojourner and the miniscule machine were staring up at the magnificent Jool in the sky (which so happened to take up half the page). Something about being small to the universe struck such a large cord with Bob.

Another page featured the daunting canyon of Dres. A small stone, only one of countless, sat quietly at the bottom of the canyon as the sun slowly lowered along the rim of the rocky walls. Vibrant shadows streaked across this page, and Bob smirked humorously at how much pencil lead he used on the shading alone.

The last image he found was one he had forgotten. He had accidentally turned the papers too far, and he found an image quickly etched in one of the last pages of the notebook. He held no recollection of making this whatsoever. In the center of the sheet was a spacecraft, certainly not in the fashion the space program would create, and in the background were numerous planets of utterly alien nature. Abstract lines, crooked shadows, twisted orbits. Still, Bob was completely perplexed at the strange piece of art. Where had it come from? He turned the page once more.

Awaiting for him was a small, crumpled lump of paper. It fell out from between the pages of the notebook and into his laps. He picked it up and unfurled the edges.

"To my friend, Bob,"

"Impossible!" he thought. He read on.

"Last night I couldn't go without saying one last goodbye. Thing is, I knew that once you woke up there wouldn't be enough time to tell you how much you have meant to me. I remembered how much of an artist you are, so I decided to put this letter in your notebook. I hope you don't mind me poking into your personal belongings.

"I always knew you loved Laythe. When I (rarely during those first few years) heard you talk, Laythe was one of those subjects that really made you perk up with excitement. You would shoot up in your seat, your hand just shaking in the air for a turn to speak. Remember those days, Bob, when you couldn't talk on a whim? Then there were the times when you were off duty. You'd always be sitting in your room or in the lounge just staring up at Jool through the clouds. It warmed me when I saw you taking it easy knowing that amidst so much constant work here at the base you still found time to take in the beauty of nature. You know, I think the world needs more people who sees the universe like you.

"I still remember when you first came here ten years ago. You were that shy, awkward, new kid that spent most of his time in the lab. I was expecting an eventual conflict between you and the others, since it always seem the quiet, nerdy kids get picked on first. This wasn't true, and you cooperated very nicely with the other scientists in your division. Eventually word made it to me, and I was amazed. It didn't stop there either, as the effort you put forward even from your first day of work was unlike anything I had seen from the others here at the base. I was baffled! When I saw how many transmissions back to Kerbin were being made from our labs I thought someone had tampered with the broadcasting programs! Nope, it was you and your humble, quiet self, silently cranking out scientific paper after scientific paper. Of course, you got quite the attention from the other scientists for your quick work (I even think the older guys were a bit jealous of your talent). However, as the administrator I am, every bit of work done here is solid gold me to me, and you really stuck out as one of the most vital members of our operation.

"Our friendship really started when I complimented you on your work one day, and how because of your constant time in the labs we received a budget increase from the KSC. I even asked if you wanted to be promoted to Senior Scientist, but I recall you saying something like 'No thanks, sir. I'll just get all corrupt and mean and stuff like you other bosses.' Then you realized what you had said, and you had the guiltiest look on your face I had ever seen. Wonder why I laughed after that? Because looking back you always were the type of man who doesn't give themselves nearly enough credit. I've never heard you complain, never known you to make trouble, and honestly I feel guilty of not making you one of the administrators here on Laythe. I think that's deserving of a few bad words towards your superiors.

"I slowly got you out of your shell as time progressed and we kept chatting together. I know you loved our growing friendship but were always hesitant to put forth the effort to show me, but let me tell you I have always appreciated your kindness, understanding, and hard work. I see no better candidate to be the scientist of the Kerbin One mission than you Bob, and you truly are one of the best representatives of Kerbalkind.

"Good luck in the near and far future, and go show that new solar system we Kerbals don't mess around with our science.

Best,

Gerrim

P.S. I made a picture for you too. Maybe when you're famous it'll be worth millions!"

Bob was frozen for a moment. He bit his lip and stared ahead, blank-faced and emotionless for that instant. Closing his eyes, he pictured those final moments on Laythe. The glaring sun, hanging moons, vibrant Jool. He could feel something welling up around his eyes, but at the same time he could feel laughter rising in his throat. So, he drew.

Somehow the image of Laythe worked its way down from the head, through the spine, along the arm, and out the fingers without a single hesitation. Naturally he drew the base of Jool, a spotless circle. The created bands across its surface, birthing a swirling storm in the southern hemisphere. Once complete, he created the horizon. A few mountains poked into the distant sky, and a couple sand dunes rolled across the land. A shoreline materialized before him, and smooth waters crashed along its pebbled edges. Then he made movements to make the Laythian base itself. But, he couldn't, the landscape was perfect. So perfect in fact, he wondered if it were him who created it. He scribbled a few lines, maybe to sketch a rover or lab, but nothing appealed. No, Kerbalkind's sprawling structures appeared hideous on such a pristine world. How could he ever contaminate such a scene?

He loved Laythe!

Now the drawing was complete, and Bob knew it too. As he straightened his back, he checked the time. He sighed as he stretched his arms and took a few minutes to aimlessly float around the shuttle. The noise had died down now as a few shades had been pulled over the windows for the approaching lights-out hour. In the somewhat quietness, Bob began to think. Why couldn't he draw the base? Well, obviously since he thought it ruined the scenery, but how come? He thought long and hard, but he could not produce an answer. So, he returned to his bunk.

Some were already in their beds. Bob changed into his sleeping attire without a word, and afterward he climbed into his blanket. When the lights were pulled, Bob could not sleep.

He loved Laythe.

"And there's Jupiter, my daughter." He pointed at a faint dot in the sky directly in front of the telescope.

"I don't see it!"

"You don't?"

"No, daddy, where is it?"

"Here, let me have a quick peek." The girl moved over, lending the father to the eyepiece. "Ah, the mirrors are off! I'll just make a few adjustments…perfect!" He moved over to let his daughter return to the viewing glass.

"Woah!" the little one exclaimed. The father laughed.

"I remember my first look at Jupiter when I was about your age. I said just the same thing!"

"Jupiter is as old as you, daddy?"

"Oh sweetheart!" he picked the girl up in his arms, angling her to the stars above. "The universe is older than anyone who has ever lived. Thirteen billion years, to be exact."

"Even Jupiter?"

"Even Jupiter."