Shaking Sky Station

Pip had one job today: be useful.

She stood on the cracked steps of the Pebble Ring Observatory, holding her red scarf tight against the cold while she watched Cori sort sky notes beside the brass telescope. Cori, a tiny moon-born figure with silver dust on her sleeves, had lined up labeled pebbles and thin paper strips for the sky readings. Mira, in her wool coat and moon-boots, kept peering up through the dome slit, her face turned toward the bright planets like they might answer her back.

Pip wanted them to notice her helping, not just her hopping in and out of the way. So when the first scrape came from outside — a hard, icy hiss along the outer rails — she jumped at once to steady a tray of instruments.

The whole station gave a shiver.

A second scrape rattled the floor. A small mirror twitched out of line. Then a meter needle swung crooked. Cori made a sharp little sound and reached for the labels before they slid apart. Mira blinked at the telescope, then at the sky, as if the bright planets had moved.

Another bump came. This time the telescope gave a low thunk and turned a finger-width off target.

Pip looked from the shaking brass tube to the papers in Cori’s hands. If she stayed here, she might help keep the readings from getting mixed up. If she moved away, she could fetch something else fast — but the next scrape might come before anyone else was ready.