Captain Brooks’s Log:
I go to face an inquiry that may end my career in the Voidfleet.
I feel fortunate to have had time to make my peace at home, but now I must face this tribunal, over orders that were questionable from the moment they were given. While I was initially quite certain that this would amount to nothing, I have learned that there is much going on beneath the surface. But I do not know enough to know what game is being played.
I can see now, the dangers.
But if I can’t protect my own career, I can at least protect those around me.
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“Fuck me,” Apollonia said. “That’s Korolev Station?”
Brooks glanced to her, and for a moment she thought he was going to chide her for her language.
“Yes,” he said, opting to ignore it. “The Moon is the de facto center of the Solar System, ever since the Earth was cut off in the Ring Collapse. Korolev Station was already important, but it was added to and became the true seat of the government.”
“I have heard that Lunar culture is somewhat unique by human standards,” Dr. Y said. “Their art, in particular, has a large reputation.”
“Unique how?” Apollonia asked.
Y hesitated before answering. “Garish and extravagant.”
“There’s some truth to it being unique,” Brooks said pointedly. “But that’s mostly in the art colonies, and doesn’t extend much into Korolev. The station has it’s own culture.”
“I can imagine,” Apollonia muttered. “It’s not as big as the Chain, but it’s big . . .”
“A permanent population of nearly 75 million and about double that in temporary – it’s impressive,” Brooks said.
“Looks like it’s gonna be crowded as hell,” Apollonia muttered.
“Yes,” Brooks agreed. “It is.”
Scale could be hard to tell in space, but it looked much smaller than the Chain had been. Which made sense; even she knew that this close to planetary bodies, having a station as big as MS-29 could be problematic.
“What are those?” she asked, noticing smaller objects near the station. She leaned forward to peer over Brooks’s shoulder.
“Ships,” he said.
“They don’t look like a lot of the other ships I’ve seen,” Apollonia noted. Most ships were long and thin, but still managed to look ungainly and awkward.
These . . . there was a sharpness to them. They had a variety of designs, in all kinds of sizes.
“Fleet ships,” Brooks added, more soberly. “Those big ones are the battleships.”
“Dark,” she said. “Is that ship really ten kilometers long?”
“About,” Brooks said. “Just over nine, I think.”
“And those ones? With all the spikes?” she asked, pointing to another. The scope seemed to understand her gesture and zoomed in on it. The ship was a flat disc with long perpendicular spikes around its edges.
“Artillery ship,” Brooks said. “Each of the arms contains a coilgun.”
“That’s all gun?”
“Yes. They’re tremendously powerful weapons – but also very vulnerable.”
“Glass cannon archetype,” she replied. When he looked surprised, she added; “I’ve played games.”
Y spoke. “Captain, I am receiving docking instructions. Korolev has control.”
Brooks nodded. “That’s right,” he finally said to Apple, then frowned. “There’s always a defense fleet around Luna, but this is more than normal.”
“It appears to be elements from the 17th, 45th, and 149th Guards Fleets,” Y noted. “That is . . . surprising.”
Brooks said nothing, but stared out.
“Is that bad?” Apollonia asked.
“I don’t know,” Brooks said. “The 45th are meant to be on station around Luna right now, and the 17th is under the personal command of System Admiral Vandoss. But the 149th? They’re not normally stationed at Sol . . .”
Apollonia sat back in her seat. All of this was worrying Brooks, but she did not get the significance.
Yet she hesitated asking more. After the last few days, she was starting to get an idea just how little she knew about anything outside her own narrow experiences.
It wasn’t comfortable, to think you had a good idea on what truths the universe rested, and then find out just how wrong you were.
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The docking took an hour, but it was dull enough; Apollonia found she actually missed Urle and his tendency to over-explain everything, because she was actually curious about more. Yet she stayed in her self-imposed silence, simply sitting and watching.
When the three disembarked, she followed Brooks.
The docking port fed towards the heart of the station, and when they entered the main hall she froze.
Y stopped immediately and caught Brooks, who glanced back to see her staring.
“Dark, this is big,” she said.
The area had to be a hundred meters tall, and five times that long. Throngs of beings were moving through it, on conveyors or just walking. Thousands of stalls lined the walls, and everything was just . . . beautiful.
The ceiling, far above, was carved marble, made in intricate shapes, every edge a beautiful line. In between those sections were inlaid murals that reminded her of ancient paintings of civilizations long gone.
Each piece of art started with a different ancient region of Earth, showing different people using their own methods to build civilization. It was a full tapestry of humanity, complex and detailed, capturing the whole essence of them more than anything she’d ever seen. It was much like in the elevator she’d ridden in when they’d arrived at Plucharon Station, only on a far grander scale.
Her eyes went back down to look at a series of monumental statues, towering over thirty meters in height. At the fore were carvings of a man and woman, hands raised together and holding the ancient agricultural implements that had let humanity form civilization, the hammer and the sickle.
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She’d seen those statues before, they were famous, showing up in stock imagery, memes, posters, even as far out as New Vitriol. Symbols of humanity’s most humble and yet greatest achievement upon which society had been built. No matter how much the fringe colonies disagreed with the Sapient Union and its ways, no one doubted that it had been people working with their own hands that had built it all.
Somehow it had never occurred to her that she might actually see it in person. It was so, so much bigger than she had imagined.
Beyond it were the other statues; she’d seen them, but they weren’t as well-regarded. Each one showed the same two humans, but this time holding hands with an alien – each species that humanity had met and befriended had their own statue.
The closest was a Beetle-Slug, which she’d seen scurrying around on the Craton. She knew they were highly intelligent and meticulously clean, but they creeped her out.
“Sorry,” she said, trying to get herself under some control. “I didn’t mean to hold us up.”
Brooks and Y had been waiting in seemingly no hurry. “It’s no worry. We have time enough,” Brooks said. “We erected these statues in the order we encountered each species. First the Bicet-“
“They were the first aliens we met?” she asked.
“The first intelligent ones. They had been monitoring us for a while, but decided we were worth talking to, so they approached one of our early exploration vessels.”
There were Dessei and Sepht, Corals and Qlerning, and other aliens she did not even know. Some had five limbs and giant eyes on their backs. Others were more like tall crabs, covered in pincers and spikes and eyes placed randomly over their bodies. Yet another was just a bunch of floating things connected by delicate, thin tendrils. The artwork on that one was exquisite.
Her eyes roved further, seeing two pedestals that were empty, though clearly something was in the works.
“For the Shoggoths and Star Angels,” Brooks told her, following her gaze.
“This is the largest open area I’ve ever seen on a space station,” she said, eyes now on the ceiling. “And there are so many people . . .”
“We want to make a good impression,” Brooks said, smiling a little. “This is the seat of it all, for mankind at least. But once we get back into the court areas, it won’t be so fancy, trust me.”
A murmuring of voices behind them made Apollonia look back and see that a new shuttle had just unloaded.
“Excuse me,” a drone said, going above their heads. “No loitering, please. If you need help finding a particular department, I would be happy to-“
“We know the way,” Brooks said.
Apple dawdled, but Brooks put a hand on her shoulder to guide her away. “You’ll get another view of it all – a much better one.”
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The elevator wall was as clear as air – only a few thin lines in it let her know it was there at all.
And she could see out over the entire area, all the statues, and the masses of people that snaked through various places.
“Half of this station is just sorting areas for the streams of people that move through it,” Brooks said.
“Over ten million per day,” Dr. Y noted. “We are seeing only a fraction of that here.” He looked at Brooks. “Though having a ‘foyer’ of this sort, even if not all come through here, is surprisingly inefficient, Captain. I imagine that this is for a symbolic reason?”
“Yes,” Brooks replied.
Apollonia had her nose against the glass, but then thought of how many people probably touched it on a daily basis. She moved back.
“Y,” she asked. “How squirming with life is that glass?”
He looked at it. “Compared to Earth? Pristine. Compared to my office? It is a veritable zoo.” He stepped over. “Now that you have brought up its make-up, I believe I will take a sample.”
While he did that, Apollonia gave a wry grin to Brooks. “So where is this hearing?”
“The Military Justice section is located three cylinders over. We have to get on a drone ship that will take us there.”
“How long will that take?”
“About ten minutes. I’ve signalled a pod and we’ll be picked up shortly after we get to the transit bay.”
The elevator dinged and opened. Dr. Y took a moment longer to finish his collection, talking about his excitement in meeting such an odd assortment of micro-fauna.
They found themselves at a berthing station, where pod-craft could dock. There were hundreds of others waiting, with three rows of nine docks.
They went up stairs and Apollonia saw that the dock next to theirs had been cleverly closed off, exposed to the vacuum that existed between the habitat cylinders. A work-crew in vacuum suits were replacing the lock.
Their pod was already pulling up, and Brooks threw the workmen a salute, which was returned by one.
“Do you know him?” Apollonia asked as they boarded the pod.
“No. But officers salute workmen,” he replied.
The pod closed behind them and took off. It just used small hydrogen thrusters, and she felt the acceleration as it moved down the length of the area.
They were still inside the superstructure of Korolev Station, there were only slight glimpses of space beyond through a few small slits – or, she wondered if they were actually kilometers away, but looked tiny at this distance.
There were thousands of other pods, she saw, all pilot-less but controlled in neat lines. Around the streams of them were hundreds of smaller but still quite large drones with flashing lights that she guessed were for emergencies.
Their trip took them down the length of three habitation cylinders before docking at another terminal. As they got off, Apollonia noticed that it began to decontaminate itself.
She heard some odd sounds, and Dr. Y was looking back at it even as he walked perfectly alongside them. “That is not very polite,” he said. “They are only samples.” Some rude noise came from the shuttle.
“Captain, that shuttle has the worst personality I’ve ever seen in a drone,” the Doctor said.
“It gives them character,” Brooks said. “I think it might be the Lunar influence.”
Dr. Y seemed oddly confused by that, but said nothing as they went into the station.
The look here was notably more utilitarian and sober, she thought. Aside from the SU logo and plaques dedicated to important historical events or figures, there was no decoration.
The Justice Bureau Reception Area, her tablet told her.
There was a receptionist, but they had no need to go to them, and filed down more hallways.
They took a tram and Apollonia was starting to feel strangely uncomfortable and at home all at once. This was much more like the stations she was used to, but the higher quality and seriousness of it reminded her of times she’d been in trouble with the law.
“Never trust a cop,” she muttered.
“What was that?” Brooks asked. She was surprised he had heard.
“Nothing,” she said.
Y looked at her, but did not share what he had also probably heard.
They got off, and the area only looked more serious to her. There were several officials in the waiting area. Both the walls and furniture were a very dark blue, giving everything a more grim countenance.
Oh, but there was a fish tank. Her eyes were immediately drawn to it.
Brooks went over to talk to the men, though only briefly.
“Everyone will be here soon, it starts as scheduled, at 1830,” he said.
“Captain, with your permission, Apollonia and I will observe what we can from the Viewing Gallery.”
“Yes,” Apollonia agreed quickly. “I want to watch this.” She felt as if she would be helping in some way if she did, though she could not say how.
“There’s some you can’t watch,” he said. “You especially, Apollonia, as you’ll be called as a witness.”
“I what?” she asked. She had entirely forgotten that she, too, had a role in the actual tribunal. “What are they going to ask me, I mean?”
“What happened, what you did – mostly relating to what I did. Volunteer nothing about yourself or your actions unless directly questioned, and don’t try to defend me – only tell them what happened.”
“Surely there’s more I can do,” she said, feeling panic rise up inside. “Or, could I just write it out or something . . .”
“You’ll be questioned,” Brooks said. “But don’t worry, you’re not in trouble.”
“Go over what you said again?” she mumbled.
“They’ll give you more instructions before you go on,” he said. “But I need to go- oh, Admiral.”
Someone came up from behind Apollonia, and she nearly jumped, as if the person was right there.
But he was only approaching, and she realized she was having a panic attack.
Dr. Y placed a hand on her shoulder, and she forced herself to take a breath.
“Good, you’re here,” the Admiral said.
Brooks saluted the man, who returned it. Their eyes went to her. “Admiral Vandoss, this is Apollonia Nor from Begonia, and Dr. Y, my Chief Medical Officer.”
“Ms. Nor,” Vandoss said, soberly offering her a hand. She took it, hating how weak her grip was as he shook it. “I am pleased to meet you,” he said.
She found herself feeling weird under his stare. She didn’t know if she was supposed to know who he was beyond his title.
As if reading her mind, Brooks spoke; “Admiral Vandoss is the one who sent me to find you,” he said to Apollonia.
“It’s the first time I’ve actually seen you,” the Admiral said to her. “Afraid I haven’t had time to review your data.”
She suddenly remembered where she had heard his name. “You command the Sol Fleet, right?”
“I am overall in charge,” the man said, smiling slightly. “Ah, well, look at you, though! I am pleased you could be found, and in good health.”
“Relatively speaking,” she said automatically. “I do have rabies.”
Confusion went over the Admiral’s face, and Apollonia instantly felt heat rise in hers. Deep dark, had she really just said that to an Admiral?!
Brooks let out a surprisingly loud laugh, and Dr. Y spoke. “She is making a jest, Admiral. It is a cultural norm for her colony, when in a tense situation.”
The Admiral let out a guffaw as well. “Well, I can understand humor in grim times,” he said, his belly still bouncing slightly. “I understand if you’re nervous, but I assure you that everything will be fine. If you don’t mind, however, I should speak to Brooks before this begins.”
“Of course,” Apollonia mumbled, stepping away with Dr. Y.
“It’s a wonder I’ve made it this far,” she said even more quietly to him.
“It rather is!” Dr. Y replied enthusiastically.