I'd never seen outside the shield before. Usually, they did it only when there
were repairs to make, or something has to be brought into the dome that's
bigger than the regular airlock can let in, so they have to use the big one. Or
when there's new arrivals. There haven't been new arrivals in almost seventy
cycles.

Everyone was talking, all the kids in my class were almost yelling, pointing up
at the big grey shield that enclosed the dome. You could tell it was darkside,
but not much else. The shield was a big plastic and water dome over the regular
dome, made in two parts so they can open it if they have to. If a little meteor
or anything hits it, there will be steam or it might get a hole in it, but it's
easier to fix than the dome.

"I see a crack" one of the boys, named Zack, yelled. He was the one who always
had to be first at things. "It's opening!"

It wasn't opening, it was just one of the robots checking the seal, zipping
along where the crack would be.

"Okay, everyone. Watch it! They're going to start any minute!". The teacher
shot Zack a look and he deflated a little.

A few adults pressed into the space next to the classroom pod with us. Everyone
was outside their pods and looking up. Blue and green uniforms crowded around,
too, people from the other domes.

There was a groan and a rumble.

Nothing happened.

Then another groan and a rumble, and this time we could see it starting. There
was a hushed "ooooh" from all the kids in my class.

The grey above us shuddered and the crack appeared, an inky split in the middle
of our self-imposed grey sky.

The lights that were usually trained evenly above us during darkside dimmed,
then turned off. We were in blackness.

The crack grew, silhouette of black against blacker, widening.

Then we saw the stars. The river of sparkles against the inky blackness.

I heard someone fall over next to me and looked down. A kid had fallen on his
bottom and was now just turning his neck up to see past us, not even bothering
to stand up again.

The shield opened further, and that's when we saw it. The blue ball of Earth,
hanging there in front of us, swirled in white and grey, three quarters full.
There was a collective silence louder than any gasp. Nobody was working. We
were all just staring out, all of us looking at it.

On the dark edge, you could see the glow of cities, the orange-yellow spiderweb
and patchwork of lights. I think someone said it was Beijing, night time in
China right then. The dark only lasts hours at a time there. As a kid, that
always amazed me.

Then we saw the rocket. No fire, nothing like that. The top was already cut
away, just a lander facing up at the rocket carrying it, head to head. A little
flash of blue and orange as a thruster fired. It shot past the dome. A couple
of the older kids looked at teachers and parents expectantly, wondering if that
was supposed to happen.

A few minutes later, it appeared again, this time more slowly. The tip broke
off, and the orange and blue jets appeared. It dropped toward the pad just
outside the dome, growing scarily larger as it approached. None of us realized
how big the lander was. The rocket body shot past again, aiming for the low
hills a hundred kilometers away.