How we met Magma: Part 1

"Hello, friends. Looking back through our flight logs, it’s clear we’ve received a mountain of questions about our voyage, but one curiosity always stands out above the rest: How did Magma end up with us?

He has been a warm, steady presence aboard our vessel since the earliest days of our journeys. Magma was already curled up on the leather armchairs of the bridge long before Sarah met her partner, Nocturnalia, and long before the ancient alien Shal'eletha joined our crew. But to give you the real story of our ginger companion, we have to travel back to where it all started: the very first day Sarah stepped onto my ship, beneath the silent sea of stars.

You have to understand—I was deeply skeptical of Sarah at first. She had hired me strictly for protection, but she was a complete stranger, clearly unaffiliated with the Galactic Union, and her reasons for fleeing were dangerously vague. All I knew was that a megacorporation called Pre-Corp was breathing down her neck, though she refused to elaborate on why. She wasn't asking for a specific haven; she just pleaded with me to fly her somewhere safe—anywhere in the stars, at a destination of my choosing.

Before long, I uncovered the real reason Pre-Corp was after her: she had stolen an ancient alien artifact, easily a million years old and worth a fortune. Unsurprisingly, discovering my new passenger was a high-profile thief didn't exactly build trust.

"Hey! They were going to use it for evil!"

"Sarah, who is telling this story?"
Right, as I was saying... the artifact. Worse still, she insisted on using it right there on my ship. The relic was designed to activate through touch and telepathic resonance, and needless to say, bringing an active, highly unpredictable piece of alien tech aboard made my skin crawl. It was an absolute wildcard. For all I knew, it had planted the idea in her head and compelled her to steal it.

"You know the artifact isn't like that—"

"Sarah! I didn't know that at the time! Will you quit interrupting?

With Sarah desperate to outrun Pre-Corp and lacking any destination of her own, the choice was entirely mine. Naturally, I set our navigational computer for Misogi—my go-to hot springs resort and spa.

Misogi lies on Caelestis Hiems, a isolated, snow-bound world deep within the Galactic Union. Beneath its glacial crust, fierce volcanic activity fuels natural geothermal springs. It is the ultimate retreat when you're looking to vanish from the radar.

Clinging to a sheer cliff face in the northern hemisphere, Misogi towers above a rugged, snow-covered mountain range. From the cockpit, its massive, reinforced metallic dome looks identical to an impenetrable planetary fortress bracing against the mountain storms. Yet beneath that imposing armor rests the pinnacle of luxury—one of the most exquisite, warm, and indulgent spas I’ve ever set foot in.

A quick glance at the resort map shows why Misogi is impossible to tire of. Between the fine dining at the Café, curated spirits in the Libations pavilion, guided mountain tours, and pristine saunas, there is something for everyone. Yet nothing compares to the hot springs themselves. My preferred sanctuary is the West Hot Springs and its famous Valley View pool, which looks out over the snow-bound vistas with unbeatable views of both dusk and dawn.

The resort alternates a women-only policy between the West and North East Hot Springs districts. I always schedule my visits to ensure the West side is reserved for women when I arrive, guaranteeing a peaceful steam without distraction. A few male guests occasionally complain about the rule, but I tell them the same thing every time: feel free to establish an all-men section if you want one! Of course, that's the catch- none of them ever actually do.

"Are you going to tell them about the cabins?"
"Sarah, would you mind going to the kitchen and pouring me a glass of wine?"

Just look at this view! Perched right on the precipice of the cliff, the pool offers a front-row seat to the endless expanse below. As the sun dips toward the horizon, the sky bursts into brilliant shades of violet and gold, casting a warm glow over the snow-dusted peaks and the winding river valley far beneath us. It’s the ultimate setting to sip chilled wine, soak in the steaming thermal water, and let every trace of corporate stress simply melt away. Come morning, all you have to do is turn around to catch the dawn breaking over the mountain peaks.

Of course, a spot like this comes with a touch of peril. Standing high above the tree line, the sub-zero mountain air is unforgiving, and the sheer drop into the canyon is a stark reminder of how wild this planet truly is. That razor-thin edge between freezing winds and scalding volcanic water is precisely why Misogi closes its doors entirely during the height of winter. The women relaxing around us clearly know the secret: there’s nothing quite like sharing a toast in boiling springs while a crisp mountain blizzard swirls around you.

If you happen to be in a more outgoing mood, Misogi offers plenty of communal gathering spots, such as the expansive Hot Basin. Tucked deep into a stone amphitheater along the mountain slope, the basin is naturally shielded from the biting polar winds by towering basalt cliffs. It’s constantly alive with vibrant crowds enjoying the cascading geothermal pools, warm lanterns, and lively conversations late into the evening. They’ve even built a cozy swim-up bar right along the stone terrace. Between the endless rounds of local spirits, the soothing steam, and the celebratory atmosphere, remaining sober at Misogi is an almost impossible challenge.

"What about Magma? I thought this whole story was supposed to be about him!"

"Sarah, please—have a little patience, I’m getting to that!"

What truly sets Misogi apart from every other luxury getaway in the galaxy is its crowning jewel: a colossal glass biome housing a village of cozy, rustic cabins. Anchored securely against the mountain face, this massive transparent dome shelters an entire alpine neighborhood from the relentless arctic blizzards outside, reinforced by humming energy shields that deflect the planet's harshest elements. Even if Misogi had no hot springs to offer, this village alone would be worth the interstellar voyage. Picture yourself reclining on a wooden porch, sipping steaming hot chocolate while watching mountain storms howl harmlessly past the glass above, or curling up indoors by a roaring hearth with a great book while soft ambient lights illuminate the snowy terraced streets.

And it was right here, amidst these climate-controlled streets and velvet-cushioned perches, that you would find the true mascot of the resort: a bright ginger feline wandering contentedly between the cabins!

"Magma!"

I’m sure you can easily guess how he earned his name. An orange tabby making his home on a world surging with volcanic heat, lounging inside a sanctuary entirely powered by subterranean thermal energy—calling him Magma was simply the most natural choice in the cosmos!

Life among the luxury cabins certainly had its share of ups and downs for Magma. On one hand, he lived like royalty, receiving all the adoration, chin scratches, and affection a cat could ever dream of. The resort guests doted on him constantly—so much so that the local general store dedicated an entire section exclusively to him, where visitors could buy gourmet treats, catnip mice, and feather wands to win his favor.

However, constant exposure to vacationers wasn't all sunshine and treats. Not every guest knew ho

w to read feline body language or respect personal space. Tipsy, overly enthusiastic tourists would routinely corner him, grab at his tail, or reach for him while he was trying to nap, completely ignoring his flattened ears and warning growls. When people refused to respect his boundaries, Magma did what any self-respecting cat would do: he defended himself with sharp little teeth, creating a growing reputation as a biting hazard.

Oh, poor Magma! Honestly, those rude tourists deserved to get bitten, didn't they?"

"Well, I won't say they didn't have it coming, Sarah—but resort management certainly wasn't thrilled about their star mascot sinking his teeth into high-paying guests!"

Beyond his troublesome biting habit, Magma faced a much more persistent daily struggle: the biome atmosphere. Even though the giant glass dome protected the village from roaring mountain blizzards, the vast enclosure was kept at a crisp, alpine chill—and like most felines, our ginger friend craved absolute heat. The real warmth was sealed inside the private cabins, where crackling stone fireplaces radiated comfort.

Every luxury cabin came equipped with its own automated AI system, complete with a pet-access setting that allowed guests to enable or disable Magma’s personal cat door. The trouble was, most vacationers had no idea the setting even existed in their room's sub-menus. Whenever a welcoming guest happened to leave the access flap unlocked, Magma would slip indoors to curl up on a plush armchair by the fire, much to the complete delight and surprise of the room's occupants.

Yet just as often, luck wasn't on his side. The poor cat would wander down the cobblestone paths from one glowing entryway to the next, crying out plaintively at locked doors in the hope of being let in. He had no way of knowing in advance which cabin AI would grant him entry and which would keep him out, leaving the cold, hopeful traveler stranded outside in the dome's freezing air for the night.

Compounding his troubles, Magma had no way of predicting which cabin doors welcomed him and which concealed hostile territory. The resort management did a abysmal job informing guests about the cat door settings on their room AI, and many visitors weren't even warned that a free-roaming feline frequented the grounds.

This systemic oversight led to some deeply stressful encounters for the little guy. On more than one occasion, Magma would slip into an unlocked cabin seeking sanctuary, fall fast asleep by the warm hearth, and then be abruptly startled awake by terrified or furious guests yelling at the top of their lungs. He was routinely shooed away, aggressively cornered, and even chased right out the door by startled vacationers wielding broomsticks to drive him back out into the chilly walkways. It was an unpredictable, chaotic, and thoroughly unstable life for a cat who just wanted a warm spot to rest.

"Oh! Our poor baby!"

"Exactly. But now that I've properly painted the picture of what life was like for Magma under the dome, we can finally get to the heart of the story: the exact moment Sarah and I met him, and how he ended up making his permanent home aboard our ship!"