It began to hydroplane. No, it began to aeroplane . The barge lifted out of the water entirely, skimming on a cushion of superheated steam and pure defiance. It crossed from Florida to Portugal in eleven minutes. It circled the Azores just for fun, carving a spiral of vapor into the clouds.

“Diagnostic complete,” chirped the onboard AI, a fussy little thing named PING. “Mood: melancholic. Cause: existential. Recommendation: launch.”

Inside the control bunker, Commander Elara Vance rubbed her temples. “PING, tell the Big Booster it can’t be sad. It’s a rocket engine.”