Like the roots of a metallic tree, Tartarus dug into its planet. At first, they both existed in symbiosis. But as time went by, architects added more and more to the small outpost, until it became the behemothal complex it was known of today. The branching corridors had not yet reached the core. The prognoses for this stood at fifty years. Fifty years until humanity wormed the planet through and through.

Anara used one of the vertical elevators heading to the conference hall for the wardens. She entered, followed by a large number of her colleagues. They all wore the same uniforms, black with pale glowing dark blue accents, bulletproof and usable for emergencies outside the atmosphere and underwater.

Inside the meeting room, rows of chairs stood before a stage. Anara took a seat in the front row and pulled the sleeve of her uniform over the number on the back of her hand, even though the seats to her left and right were empty. Soon, four hundred prison guards filled the large space with half the seats still cold. Compared to the prisoners, their number was vanishingly small. Yet still, technology and Anara were capable enough to handle the bulk of tasks given.

The doors closed. A colorless woman in a white uniform stepped through the rows, a clipboard in her hand. She checked attendance. Every so often, her hologram glitched.

"Cerberus," Anara greeted her.

A smile flitted across the bloodless lips of the A.I. Fleetingly, like the blink of an eye, it faded and resets to its usual serious expression.

"Anara Maxima." The A.I. placed a check mark. "Present."

The meeting began with the head of Tartarus, Thomas Magellan, taking the stage. The man appeared to be in his mid-fifties with bronze skin, wrinkles on his always furrowed brows, and gray streaks through his thick black hair. On his wrist gleamed silver: 347. Magellan greeted the soldiers. He insisted on calling them that to remind them of their duty to the Academy. The job of a prison guard had little in common with the duty of a soldier.

"Our analysts have detected an unusual activity of Persephone," he explained tersely.

He was speaking of the star at the center of the system.

A solar storm is to occur earlier than expected." He elaborated. "The winter cycle is not yet completed. Unfortunately, this storm is going to be a big one. We need to be prepared. That's why this meeting's been called."

His gaze brushed Anara. "Off-duty personnel are forbidden beyond private premises once the storm arrives. Understood?"

Some of Anaras colleagues groaned in annoyance.

Charon raised her hand. "Does that also mean we're not allowed to be in the community rooms and lounges?"

"Yes."

The protest grew louder.

"Cerberus will reexplain the protocol for emergencies." Magellan passed the attention off from him. "I ask that you take this seriously."

The A.I's hologram appeared next to him. She still held the clipboard in her hands, this time probably not with the list of participants, but the emergency guide. She began to read, her voice emanating from the speakers on the walls and ceiling. Magellan stepped off the stage and took a seat next to Anara, crossing his legs.

"I need to speak with you," he murmured, "Stay behind after the meeting, please."

She nodded.

Cerberus finished her remarks about who should be where and what should be done if the worst came to happen. The hologram faded and the hall emptied. Anara remained seated.

"You look as stoic as the first day." Magellan smiled. "Are you comfortable here?"

"Yes, sir."

"We're a family here. You don't have to call me that."

"Sorry, Si - ... Sorry."

"Better. But I still have a feeling you want to say so much more."

"If I said more, I'd run the risk of losing my status as a soldier of the Academy." Anara stared stubbornly straight ahead, even as she felt Magellan's gaze on her.

"That bad?"

"No."

He stood up and paced a few steps. "Even after a few months I still can't tell if you're lying to me or speaking the truth."

"The truth, sir."

"And even now your face is unreadable. Try to relax a little bit. This ..." He spread his arms and motioned around himself. "Isn't just a workplace. It's the world you belong in. You're here for a good reason and -"

"That reason is errands and emergency repairs."

He stood still, raised his hand slightly, and pointed his index finger at Anara.

"There you are!" he laughed, "Underneath that stoic facade is a sharp tongue!"

"Sorry sir, it won't happen again."

"You don't have to, your feelings are valid and I understand them clearly. You want to do something important, take responsibility. We've all been at that point once. But you'll have to be patient. All your current tasks are tasks that, unfortunately, are pending and need to be accomplished. Look at it this way. If you don't do them, who will? We are counting on you for that!"

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"When was the last guard transferred back from Tartarus?" asked Anara.

"That ..."

"No one has ever left Tartarus."

"Not quite. It just doesn't happen as often. However, also because we are like a family here, many don't want to leave. The last wardens left us twenty-five years ago .... except for a few tragic incidents. Working with some of the most dangerous people in the galaxy has its risks."

"Incidents?"

"You'll be in contact with the prisoners soon enough. Dealing with them requires expertise all its own. Don't overestimate yourself. Everyone started small once. When I got here 320 years ago, they had me scrubbing floors for seven years. I still remember it today. Those circular motions of the sponge ... it haunted my sleep long after I left the floor scrubber position behind. But that's not why I wanted to talk to you. It's about the storm. When it arrives, you'll retreat to your premises."

"What if something happens? Everyone has a job to do in case of an emergency and -"

"Your job is to take care of yourself."

And not to get in the way.

"If something happens and the technology goes down, it's everyone for themself," he continued, "You don't have much experience here at Tartarus yet. I hope you understand my concern?"

"Of course, sir."

"Good ... very good."

Anara nodded, thanked him, and moved away. In the silence of her premises, she raised her voice. She spoke to herself, shouting and cursing. She hated Magellan. She hated this place. And most of all, she hated the man who brought her here.

A few months earlier

"You did well." Mark Antony sat behind his desk, his arms crossed and his eyes fixed on the young recruit in front of him. "That's what you're here for, I suppose. To hear just that."

Anara nodded.

"Then take a seat. We have your suitability to discuss."

The office was small and nondescript. Daylight fell through a round window, the only source of light, like water tinted gold by the evening glow through the porthole of a submarine.

"The days here are far too short. I'll never get used to it." The man sighed.

Documents were scattered in neat piles across the tabletop. They shimmered transparently, hovering millimeters above the wood, like shadows or ghosts from another dimension. The holograms came from a small, flat box on the edge of the table.

Hundreds of years ago, Teks had already replaced conventional cell phones, laptops and tablets. Easy to use and versatile in their application, they conquered the market straight away and turned the relationship between humans and electronics upside down.

Mark Antony wiped his finger across a dark red folder. It popped open, revealing even more papers.

"This is your file," he explained, "Easy to recognize. And this ..."

A hand wipe retrieved a sheet of a certificate from the folder. "This is your diploma."

Before Anara could decipher the details, her counterpart snapped and the certificate vanished into thin air.

"It will be sent to you this very moment." The examiner let the documents disappear on the table and turned off the Tek with a hand gesture.

"So I passed?" asked Anara.

"More or less."

She didn't understand. Didn't an examiner have to read her results to tell her?

Mark Antony noticed her questioning look. "You made a lasting impression. There's not much to look up on a perfect, theoretical exam. You scored full marks in every area. Henceforth, you'll be allowed to pick and choose your area of work."

The young woman's eyes widened. Her heart fluttered and her legs trembled. All that learning had paid off. She couldn't believe it! Everything she dreamed of -

"The practical exam, however," the man interrupted her thoughtful triumph, "I have rarely met a person like you in my life, Anara Maxima. You are unique ... but that doesn't always mean a good thing."

The victory parade in Anara's mind came to a halt. The floats faltered, the music stopped, and the audience looked around in confusion.

"W-what does it mean then?"

"You barely passed the practical part."

The amused cheers of the jugglers, dancers, and onlookers turned into a deafening roar of boos. Outraged, they threw their arms to their sides and looked up at the sky. It grew darker and darker. One star after the other went out. Drizzle set in. Mark Antony had replaced the goddess of this world. His presence towered over the small spectacle and soon terrified the inhabitants.

"Very close. You should have known that the test is about team spirit and fairness."

The clouds broke. Water ran in rivulets over the cobblestones of the streets and the sidewalks.

"I ..." She bit her tongue. "I ... But that can't be the deciding factor. I did the parkour perfectly. If there had been any real danger, I would have -"

"You didn't hesitate for a second to leave your partner behind." The examiner shook his head. "Never in my career have I witnessed a recruit put her success before the chances of others during a fair competition. Mind you it was not a competition but a test."

Rain filled the streets in Anara's mind so quickly that soon the feet of the men were standing in the damp. Desperately they ran back and forth, stretching out umbrellas, putting on rubber boots and rowing their arms. At last, they rescued themselves on the floats. The parade became a caravan of colorful boats.

"This is not fair!", Anara's Voice grew loud, "None of the previous trials worked like this. Where was the disaster in which lives were at stake? Where was the duel in which someone was to be spared? What kind of morality is that anyway? Fairness, it has no meaning in real life!"

"Fairness is what society is based on. Everyone needs equal opportunities to ..."

"... to participate equally in society," Anara finished his sentence, "Codex Rule 5 paragraph a. But -"

"Your unscrupulousness would have caused your partner to fail the exam under said prompting."

"Then he should have been quicker."

A tired smile flitted across his face. Anara used every little pause on his part to interject an argument.

"In real life, you can't just leave a partner behind because he's too slow or because circumstances supposedly require it."

"I wouldn't have acted that way in real life!" she protested, "I would have helped him after all, if it wasn't ... if it wasn't ..."

"If it hadn't been for your personal gain," Markus finished her sentence.

"That -"

"All the examiners agree." He continued without waiting a beat, not wanting to give this girl a chance to interrupt him. "You were the fastest this morning. Only your excellent performance led us not to expel you from the exam."

The rain in Anara's mind eased a bit. The boats sailed after each other, toward the sunset. Instead of thunderstorms, calm now settles in. The sails, sewn from costumes, umbrellas, and clothing, hung limply from the masts.

"You will soon be solemnly initiated as a soldier of the academy. We owe you that for your efforts."

"Thank you! I -"

"However, your next stop after that will be Tartarus. Pack your things, your shuttle leaves after the Oath. You'll have all you need to know afterwards."

"This is only temporary, right? Isn't it? Please, you have to give me a chance!"

"You mean like you gave your partner a chance?"

A final thunder echoed through the endless ocean of the miniature world. Figurines ducked with fright.

"I ... So ..."

"A start would be to not talk back. It's uncomfortable and only hampers your chances of promotion out of Tartarus."

"Yes, sir."

"Better." Markus pointed to the door. "We don't have much time. Another three hundred future soldiers are waiting to hear their results from me. Would you be so kind?"

One by one, the figurines in the boats looked up and realized they had survived. They fell into celebration again, for hope lay on the horizon. A pale golden streak between the sky and the water, on which the parade swam towards. The storm was behind them, miles if not lightyears away. When would it catch up with them again?