Chapter 365: Gravitational Slingshot Around Saturn

It’s been more than seven days since the second livestream and the starship was almost at Saturn, but Liam was no longer on the spacecraft.

He had taken a space shuttle and was now approaching the second gas giant, and he could see its massive rings spreading across the viewport like impossibly delicate artwork painted across the void.

He had been checking the world’s reaction to the second livestream and he loved what he saw. The two livestreams had demonstrated Nova Technologies’ capabilities and definitely raised questions in people’s minds about what else the company was hiding.

With everything Liam had displayed for the world to see, he was certain he didn’t need to worry about Wall Street or any government.

Would Wall Street still dare push the IPO narrative after what they’d seen? Did they dare suggest they could handle what would happen if Nova Technologies even hinted at going public?

The whole world would erupt. Initially, it was just a VR gaming device, but now there was a device coming that would destroy the telecommunication industry. And with what the company had displayed in the last two livestreams, how did they intend to evaluate it?

Just a hint of the company going public would cause more damage than anything else. The global market would shake to its core. There would be no helping it.

Nova Technologies was now too big and too valuable to be pushed around. Yes, the company only had one product publicly available, but the writing on the wall was clear—if they released everything they had, the world would crash.

Of course, Liam still had more to show the world, but he’d decided that after the Saturn livestream, there wouldn’t be any more for a while. He might do another as the starship left the solar system, showing everyone what lay beyond their cosmic neighborhood.

Thinking about it now, Liam felt that would be the most shocking livestream of all. It would show humanity something far more unprecedented than descending into the Great Red Spot’s abyssal depths.

Leaving the solar system—their home—would cause a cataclysmic level of reaction. And after that, Nova Technologies would truly become untouchable.

Liam thought about it and felt it was a good idea. He decided he would do that as one final livestream, and another too. He would do a livestream of himself on Mars, actually standing on the surface, showing the world what he’d found there. Those would truly be the last livestreams for a long while, as he would be busy with many things after returning.

Liam smiled to himself as he watched Saturn’s rings grow larger across the spacecraft’s viewport.

The announcement for the third livestream had been posted hours ago, and anticipation was already building to a fever pitch. This livestream wasn’t going to be like the others. It would be shorter, filled with adrenaline, and maybe half as dangerous as Jupiter’s descent.

Because in this livestream, he was going to perform a gravity assist maneuver around Saturn—using its immense gravitational pull as propulsion—but the spacecraft’s flight systems would be completely offline. No fusion drive, no powered trajectory corrections, no safety nets. Just him, the shuttle, and the brutal mathematics of orbital mechanics.

He would still control the spacecraft’s orientation thrusters to prevent it from tumbling or being captured by Saturn’s gravity. But the main propulsion? Offline. The entire maneuver would rely on pure physics, on calculations made in advance, on threading a needle through space at speeds that would make atmospheric reentry look gentle.

Of course, it wasn’t exactly dangerous for Liam personally. His powers gave him options the average person didn’t have. But that wasn’t the same for the rest of the world watching. What he was going to attempt was something that would cause them to reevaluate their understanding once again.

The countdown had started minutes ago. Liam checked the time—thirty seconds remaining.

He settled into the pilot’s seat, his hands resting on the manual controls. The exosuit had already activated. Through the viewport, Saturn dominated everything, its rings extending in both directions farther than his eyes could track.

The countdown hit zero.

***

For the 1.08 billion standard viewers watching through screens worldwide, the feed opened on a sight that stole their breath.

Saturn. The actual planet, filling the frame with its pale gold atmosphere and those impossible rings—structures so thin they nearly disappeared when viewed edge-on, yet spanning hundreds of thousands of kilometers in width.

The rings weren’t uniform. Thousands of individual bands spiraled around the planet, each one composed of countless ice particles ranging from dust grains to house-sized boulders. The Cassini Division—a dark gap in the rings—carved a visible line through the structure, and smaller divisions were visible too, evidence of shepherding moons maintaining order through gravitational resonance.

But for the two thousand Lucid users, the experience transcended mere viewing.

They stood inside the shuttle’s cabin, their avatars rendered in perfect detail despite the blurred faces. Through the viewport, Saturn wasn’t just large—it was overwhelming, an impossible presence that made Jupiter look restrained by comparison. The rings stretched across their entire field of vision, a cosmic highway that seemed to lead both everywhere and nowhere.

New faces appeared among the crowd—people who’d acquired Lucid devices during the second batch release. Their avatars betrayed their newcomer status through awkward movements and visible tension. They’d watched the previous streams, but experiencing them was entirely different.

Liam turned his chair to face them, his exosuit-clad figure seeming somehow more imposing in the confined space of the shuttle.

"Welcome to the third livestream," he said, his modulated voice carrying clearly through the audio system. "Thank you for joining me at Saturn—the jewel of the solar system and home to the most spectacular planetary feature visible from Earth."

He gestured toward the viewport, toward the rings that dominated the view.

"Those rings are younger than most people realize. They’re only a few hundred million years old, formed when a moon or comet wandered too close and was torn apart by tidal forces. The debris spread out into the orbital plane, creating what you see now."

His helmet turned back toward the camera, toward the standard viewers watching through screens.

"The rings are almost pure water ice, mixed with small amounts of rocky material. Some particles are microscopic. Others are massive boulders. But they all orbit together, held in place by Saturn’s gravity and the gravitational influence of dozens of moons."

Comments began flooding in:

"The detail on those rings is insane"

"I can see individual gaps and divisions"

"This is already more beautiful than Jupiter"

"Please tell me he’s not going INTO Saturn like he did with Jupiter"

"After Jupiter, nothing surprises me anymore"

Liam seemed to read the comments, his helmet tilting slightly. "No atmospheric descent today. Saturn’s atmosphere is even more hostile than Jupiter’s, and frankly, we collected enough gas giant data last time. Today’s demonstration is different."

He turned fully toward the Lucid users, his posture shifting to something more serious.

"Today, we’re performing a gravity assist maneuver. A gravitational slingshot. This is a technique that space agencies have used for decades to accelerate probes and conserve fuel. You approach a planet at the correct angle and speed, use its gravity to alter your trajectory, and exit moving faster than you arrived."

His hands moved across the holographic controls, bringing up a diagram that appeared both in his cockpit and as overlays in the Lucid users’ vision. The diagram showed the shuttle’s approach path, the curved trajectory around Saturn, and the exit vector.

"The math is precise. Too shallow an approach and you don’t gain enough velocity. Too steep and the planet captures you, pulling you into an uncontrolled descent. The margin for error is measured in kilometers over millions of kilometers of travel."

He paused, letting that information settle.

"Space agencies spend months calculating these maneuvers. They run simulations thousands of times. They build in safety margins and backup plans and contingency protocols."

Another pause, longer this time.

"We’re not doing that."

The shuttle’s interior went very quiet. Even the standard viewers seemed to sense something significant coming.

"This shuttle has advanced flight systems," Liam continued. "Automated navigation, predictive trajectory modeling, powered course corrections. All of it designed to make maneuvers like this safer and more reliable."

His hand moved to a panel beside the pilot’s seat. A physical switch, old-fashioned and deliberate.

"I’m turning all of it off."

The Lucid users’ avatars shifted nervously. Several people took involuntary steps backward.

"No fusion drive. No automated guidance. No powered corrections to our trajectory. Just manual orientation thrusters to prevent tumbling, and the calculations I’ve already made."

His modulated voice carried an edge of excitement now.

"This is how early space exploration worked. Pure orbital mechanics. Physics and math and the hope that you got the numbers right. One approach, one chance, no do-overs."

"He’s insane," someone whispered, their voice picked up by the audio system.

"He’s going to get us killed," another voice added, despite knowing their avatars couldn’t actually die.

"Why would he turn off the safety systems?!"

Liam’s hand rested on the switch. "Because limitations are meant to be tested. Because humanity’s greatest achievements came from people willing to trust their calculations against impossible odds. Because this is what exploration looks like when you remove the safety nets."

He gripped the switch firmly.

"For the next ten minutes, this shuttle is a ballistic object. No engine thrust. No computer corrections. Just velocity, gravity, and the path we’re on."

The comments section exploded:

"NO NO NO NO NO"

"THIS IS CRAZY EVEN FOR HIM"

"TEN MINUTES WITH NO PROPULSION NEAR SATURN??"

"What if the calculations are wrong?!"

"Then we all watch him crash into Saturn live"

Liam looked directly at the camera, his helmet’s smooth surface reflecting Saturn’s pale gold light.

"Let’s see if the math holds."

He flipped the switch.

Every holographic display in the cockpit went dark except for one—a simple trajectory overlay showing their path, Saturn’s gravity well, and the thin green line representing their intended course. No warnings, no status readouts, no safety confirmations.

Just a line, a planet, and the hope that the calculations were correct.

The fusion drive’s background hum that was so constant that no one had consciously noticed it, was cut out completely. The silence was absolute and terrifying.

Through the viewport, Saturn grew larger, its rings spreading wider, its gravity reaching out to pull them into its embrace.

And the shuttle, now nothing more than a projectile following the laws of physics, fell toward it.