The Horizon System: Chrysaora, the Sun-Soaked Transience
In the pits of crimson hellfire
Beset by gravity and a star’s ire
Recursing, refracting, an illusion but not
Screaming, blistering, a drifting argonaut
HAIL, WORLD-SHAPER! HAIL, EARTH-MOTHER!
HAIL, THE UNDESERVED CHAMPION OF ALL!
- Ode to the Archon of the Actiniarian Periphery, ‘Pleuromeia’ [An Immovable Monolith, Six Flaming Suns]
Chrysaora (Torrid Jupiter, Planet)
System - Horizon-Actinophrys
Mass - 497.5 Earths (1.565 Jupiters)
Radius - 139,019 kilometers (21.82 Earths)
Global Average Temperature - 1303°C
Day Length - ∞ (Tidally Locked)
Year Length - 2.744 days
Number of Satellites - 0
ESI - 0.063
Etymology - From Chrysaora fuscescens, the Pacific sea nettle jellyfish, for its colors and irritating sting.
Overview
Chrysaora is the first of the twenty planets of Actinophrys and one of its most exotic. A ruby-red gas giant shrouded in clouds of quartz and sapphire, it has inflated to well over twice the size of Jupiter despite their similar masses. Seared by its star to temperatures of over 1400°C, an endless torrential rain of hot, liquid metals and semi-molten glass shards rushes across the planet’s stormy face at well over 5 times Earth’s speed of sound. Though only some 50% more massive than Jupiter, Chrysaora is over twice its radius, so it has a density only a quarter that of water - less than half as dense as Saturn, the least dense planet of our own Solar System. This anomalously large size is caused by the intense heat that Chrysaora receives, which bloats its atmosphere as the heat struggles against Chrysaora’s gravitational pull.
Chrysaora’s powerful magnetic field is partially responsible for Actinophrys’s high activity level and Chrysaora’s bloating, as magnetic currents destabilize both planet and star. The large size of the planet, its high temperatures, and its low gravity (only marginally more than Earth’s at the cloud tops) allow its hydrogen-rich atmosphere to escape at a rate of around 100,000 tonnes per second, forming a long comet-like tail that blasts out into the depths of the Horizon System as a pale blue arc. But Chrysaora needs not worry about this evaporation, for it has far more than enough air to spare.
Past & Future
It might seem odd for a hot Jupiter to be found in a life-bearing system. Chrysaora must have formed in the outer regions of the Horizon System where temperatures were low enough for gas giants to form, so it had to cross the habitable zone at some point during which its immense gravity would scatter the forming terrestrial planets there. However, it is sometimes possible for planetary material to gather again after the passage of a hot Jupiter, letting terrestrial planets form anyway. In the case of the Horizon System, Chrysaora’s passage to the inner system brought huge amounts of water to the habitable zone, filling the oceans of Horizon and Panthalassa and the atmospheres of Chironex and Antipathes. But none of that will help Chrysaora itself, which is destined for a fiery death in Actinophrys’s embrace in some 3.5 billion years.
Civilization
With its large size and close proximity to Actinophrys, Chrysaora’s reflected light appears incredibly bright in the night sky. The low separation between them means that it is only visible when Actinophrys is blocked from view, but it is highly visible whenever that happens to occur. As a result, ancient mythology strongly associated Chrysaora with solar deities and the times of dawn and dusk, associations which persist even in the ruined state of Old Horizonian civilization.
While viewing Chrysaora is easy, it is much harder to actually visit it. Much like how visiting Mercury is harder than leaving our own Solar System, it is tremendously difficult to shed enough orbital velocity to get extremely close to a star. With Chrysaora being some 0.04 AU away from Actinophrys, 10 times closer than Mercury is to the Sun, getting there is a tremendous achievement akin to sending a probe to another star. Inordinate fuel requirements are easier to fulfill with nuclear engines, which are common on modern interplanetary spacecraft, but even then it is prohibitively expensive to get so close. Furthermore, Chrysaora’s unstable extended atmosphere imposes so much drag that it is impossible to stably orbit the planet for longer than a few days, meaning it is impossible to maintain a long-term presence (manned or unmanned) without constant refueling.
The intense heat and radiation emitted by Actinophrys make Chrysaora inhospitable to both biological organisms and machines as sun-facing surfaces get hot enough to melt steel. Since there is no economically feasible means to get to nor establish a settlement anywhere close to Chrysaora, the planet is entirely unpopulated. Visitation is limited to heat-hardened robotic probes equipped with mirrored shells to survive the harsh insolation and the occasional foolish daredevil with too much money to know what to do with.
Whispers from the Reach
…
I find it difficult to accept that our fate has been wrested into the hands of forces far greater than ourselves. I suppose we should be lucky to find ourselves under the Mistress, knowing what we do now about the nature of the cosmos beyond our humble abode. She does not request we supplicate ourselves before her, nor does she demand we deliver tribute, nor does she force her people’s will upon us. That we are free to consider the consequences of our vassalage and to express discontent with our lot in life is proof enough that we are not slaves to her will.
The Mistress is not a tyrant. Though she may be a foreigner, she makes an effort to learn our customs. She attempts to cultivate a harmony between our people and her own, she defends our lands from those that would wish us harm, and most importantly, she has proven time and time again that she desires nothing more than to impress our dreams upon the Universe. In return for her unbound graciousness, we pledged to serve her and her distant masters in Horizon. We stood to arms for the hope of the galaxy’s downtrodden, for the light of civilization in a callous and uncaring universe. We fought capricious gods and slew great devils for the sake of those who cannot save themselves.
You basked in the beneficence of the Emperor even as you cursed THEIR name to THEIR face. You indulged in the gifts of the Lords even as you raised your pitchforks and demanded liberation from tyranny. When we all were besieged by sea and sky, you pleaded for aid even as you damned your saviors under your breath. And now, in your erstwhile master’s time of need, you turn your backs in the name of false freedom.
What did you do for the Avalonians when Tethys made their seas run gold with blood?
What did you do for the Heliconians when Psithyrus ground them to glittering dust?
What did you do for the Asterozoans when Rigel put the Conservatory to flame?
What did you do for Morrison and Danaus when Ediacara trapped them in the Hell of a Thousand Years?
You did nothing!
All you have done is cower in the shadow of the Mistress’s beneficence as she weathers the blades and arrows of the hostile universe for you. Her incarnations die in agony over and over for your sake, and yet when she is laid low you turn to her enemies for help? Shameless!
During the Dusk Wars, we could only watch in awe as godlike powers clashed in the skies above us. But the Mistress has given all of us the strength with which we may choose our fate today, and I will not stand by and let you tarnish her goodwill so ignobly.
I am Vassal Seleucidis of the Paradisaean Chorus. I pledge the eternal service of myself and my legions to <An Immovable Monolith, Six Flaming Suns>, the Mistress of the Actiniarian Periphery, and everything she stands for. I shall defend the Deathless Throne and the people under THEIR stewardship till the sky burns blue its last.
For the Dreams of Horizon, we march to war.
An excerpt from a manifesto written by the philosopher-spy Seleucidis, Chief Speaker of the Paradisaean Chorus, in response to revolts against Horizonian rule during the early years of the Great Dissonance (2270-2298).
After conquering several hostile neighbors during the Dusk Wars of the 2240s, the Horizonians ruled most of Comatula uncontested. Unfortunately for them, mounting internal unrest caused their neural network to collapse catastrophically in the early months of 2270. Industrial production stagnated as automated drones fell comatose in droves while vital societal functions ground to a halt as administrative gestalts went insane. Recently integrated malcontents took the opportunity to revolt, while even deeply entrenched territories had their populations corrupted by rampant memetic viruses or their treasuries looted by rapacious criminal elements. In what is now known as the Great Dissonance, billions were plunged into a hell of endless nightmares as the Deathless Empire of Horizon shattered under its own weight.
By 2275, Horizonian civilization was in ruins. Their Emperor and THEIR Lords still held the Horizon System and a few other core worlds, but an endless onslaught of memetic attacks prevented them from asserting their authority any further. The once-great star streams of the Comatula Heart had been shattered by internecine conflict and roving packs of mad gestalts. Besides the moribund core worlds, all that remained were a few frontier sectors who had sealed their mental barriers in time and even these were being whittled away by hostile neighbors and internal instabilities. By all reasonable accounts, hope was lost.
And yet, Horizon recovered. The Archon Pleuromeia managed to escape the plagues of madness and the territorial ambitions of capricious neighbors in the frontier of the Actiniarian Periphery. Here, she assembled a coalition of vassal states indebted by her determined defense of them during the Dusk Wars. This Outer-Rim Alliance would go on to reclaim all of Comatula, overthrowing hundreds of degenerate system-lords and corrupted neural networks to eventually restore its former glory.
