Starleaf on Epsilon-9 (2025) – John Storm & AI
Starleaf heals and harms. Out on Epsilon-9, the frontier teaches every space cowboy that freedom comes with its price.
The landing pods hissed and spat steam onto the crimson soil of Epsilon-9. Out stepped the first settlers, boots sinking into the soft dust. At the center of the dome, a vine sparkled like molten silver, catching the light from the three suns above. Its leaves pulsed faintly, shimmering with a strange inner glow. The colonists stopped. Some reached out, brushing the leaves, inhaling the faint smoke curling into the air. Pain melted, hunger vanished, and a dizzy sense of calm rolled through them like a tide.
The vine earned a name fast: Starleaf. Traders whispered in the corridors of the dome: “This one heals the broken bones, calms the mind, even fixes the nerves raw from battle.” The settlers, those who’d survived war zones on distant colonies, felt the truth in it: Starleaf was the jackpot of the void.
But the shadows always came. Young settlers lost focus. Minds frayed, memories twisted like warped data disks. Some began to depend on the vine, staring blankly at the silver leaves while their bodies shook for the next hit. The medics shook their heads at the hidden costs (hearts overtaxed, lungs burned from the fumes, youth spent too fast).
The council convened in the dome’s smoky glow.
“It heals, it frees. Ban it, and you’re crushing the grind of the colony.”
“It fries minds and steals focus. Let it run wild, and the chaos is on us.”
Voices clashed like pulsed lasers. Arguments rolled through the chamber in low growls and high shouts.
An old settler leaned back in his chair, cigar smoke spiraling in perfect rings around him. “Freedom never falls from the sky,” he said. “It demands that each person understand the forces they wield and accept the consequences of their choices. Let them choose, but make sure they see both sides.”
The vote passed. Starleaf would be neither banned nor worshipped. It would be studied, measured, sold, and warned about.
Out in the settlement, the colonists learned fast. Survival wasn’t about suppressing the vine, or idolizing it. It was about trusting the crew to handle both the high and the hard fall.
A lone figure stood by the dome’s edge, inhaling a whiff of Starleaf smoke. The glow of the leaves painted his face silver, highlighting scars, lines, and hardened eyes that had seen too many suns. He flicked a thumb at the plant.
“Starleaf, like freedom, never falls from the sky: it demands understanding, respect for its power, and acceptance of the consequences it brings.”
And somewhere beyond the dome, the three suns dipped low, casting long shadows across the red dust, reminding every soul that the frontier was wide, the risks real, and that freedom (real freedom) was always earned.
Copyright John Storm 2025
Written with AI by John Storm
