As Orbit 14 ascends, the super-typhoon makes landfall in profound silence when seen from space. The station’s solar arrays glow copper against night while the Indian Ocean’s darkness gives way to cloud, and the storm appears as a vast white spiral glazed with moonlight.

The spacecraft itself is dark and humming: it is after two in the morning, and none of the astronauts are awake to witness the vertiginous swirl through the domed window. Their path carries them north-east over Malaysia, Indonesia, and the Philippines, but the islands are obscured by the storm’s roof of cloud.

Down on Earth beneath that cloud, the chapter shifts to the storm’s violence: debris and buildings are torn apart, floodwaters surge inland, people and animals are swept away, and infrastructure collapses—bridges fail, an airport gives way, and planes capsize.

As the first silver edge of dawn appears, the orbit continues north and the typhoon begins to fall behind, its clouds dispersing. Taiwan and Hong Kong’s lights curve into view like distant fires, and the atmosphere’s airglow rings neon green fading to orange.

Chie sleeps through it, dreaming that her mother is alive, a dream sharpened by relief and exultation. Beneath her, Japan and East Asia slide past into morning, the continent etched in gold, while the storm is no longer in her forward view.