The spheroid coasted in black silence, undisturbed. But then, first almost undetectably, then more and more, its path changed, slingshotting it past a great blue-white mass of light.
It now traveled a thousand times faster than in the beginning. It was bound to sail into a great, hovering mass of rocks ahead.
But it was not yet to be. A white mass appeared out of thin air, spiraling around the object, working on the space around it like a whirlwind, driving it, as if by magic, away from the stones, beyond the blue-white point it had passed before, within sight of a ring of dusty snowballs.
Then, like a candle snuffed, the tornado was gone, and in the path a wide orange ball began to form. This began to shrink, soon turning white itself. All at once it was a point, and a shockwave came at blinding speed. The object turned ’round like a ship headlong in a storm, and faster than ever before, it hurtled back across the space, and neatly through a ring in the blackened stones.
And coasted on in silence.