Within the Union there are nearly sixty three thousand member species and over a hundred and thirty thousand habitable planets, moons and other such celestial bodies. One would expect this means there is more than enough for everyone. And you’d be wrong. Sustaining life is a complicated affair. You cannot just toss anyone on any random world and expect them to survive. It takes millions of years for a lifeform intelligent and complex enough to reach the stars to find footing on their world of origin, let alone one in every possible way foreign to them. A short visit can be managed. Long term habitation is a beast with seven heads and ten horns. Of all the habitable spaces in the known galaxy, Humanity could survive on maybe two.

  That’s where the Habitation Stations come in. Millions of stations of all shapes and sizes holding untold trillions. By some estimates there are more people in the Union living in space than on solid ground. As someone who experienced both I’d take the latter. Not that most get the choice. Earth may be a radioactive hole and Space Earth an outdated grease pit but damn it all, they are home. Miss ‘em every day. A lot out there don’t even have that much.

  “That on right there, that’s where your people will be going.”

  I point out the closest station. It floats in space. A spike piercing the darkness with protruding bits and bobs all around. A hundred kilometers long and ten kilometers at its thinnest points. Four stand besides me on the bridge with Raze waiting for an excuse not far behind. The kid's eyes are so full of wonder it makes you forget he probably would have attempted to kill me just a few days prior. Not that he's the first on this bridge to try.

  “It’s just a core. More than enough space for everyone. It has a built in agricultural center, air replicators, mining and manufacturing, all the things you need to keep the rig going on your own. First few years they’ll be under direct Union control, just until you all get the hang of it. After that it’s up to them.”

  Four looks on. He knows he won’t be joining them in this new home.

  “Do you think they will be alright? Will my people survive so far from their homeland?"

  “Home is where you make it. Besides, they have some good neighbors.”

  A few taps and more stations fill the screens. Each the home of a different race. Each molded over generations to their owner’s liking. One looks like a bouquet of flowers. Another a drop of water suspended in space. Yet another still an animal not too dissimilar to a whale. A reflection of those who live within.

  “Why are theirs so much larger and complex?”

  “They didn’t start that way. Every one started much like the Krint are. I hope to one day see what your people make of themselves.”

  The first transport docks. Thousands are being ushered in. I wonder what their faces would say? Would they be overjoyed? Disappointed? Maybe somewhere in between. Moving is equal parts romance and tragedy.

  “You know Four, I hear they are already working on a name for this place. Mass voting was a rather new concept for your people. The name Plenty has been gaining traction. Feast is not far behind.”

  “Neither of those are even close to winning.”

  “Can’t fool anyone about the nature of their own people. Yeah, the real most voted is Prime-King’s Anal Reckoning. I think you can guess why we can’t allow that.”

  “Limits to freedom even out here.”

  “Trust me, it’s the kind of thing your people would regret in a century or two when nobody even remembers what a Prime-King is. First Officer Inanna, report from the Krint Habitation Station. How’s it going?”

  “Initial reports are positive. They are singing.”

  “Ain’t that nice. Makes you feel all gooey inside, doesn't it?”

  It will take another day or so for all the ships to unload their passengers, The Moby included. All and all, not a bad “first” mission. Glad I get to actually help people. My old position was just paperwork and patrols.

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  “What will happen to me?”

  Four’s sense of wonder has been overtaken by fear for his personal self. Time for the hard sell.

  “Well, obviously we can’t send you back to Darhst, and you can’t stay here, as much as I’d prefer that. Even I have rules to follow.”

  “So I have no home.”

  “I didn’t say that. I pulled a few strings and I think I found a good compromise.”

  Fairy comes in and hands Four some papers. Krint language looks like a bunch of identical squares to me.

  “The Jeweler. A prison station. Normally someone convicted of an act of terrorism would go to a far harsher place. Didn't think you deserved that. So instead you’ll be sent here.”

  Four flips through the papers. He seems even more confused than before.

  “You said this was a prison station. It does not seem so bad.”

  “To you, probably; not. See, in the wider galaxy we have what’s called white collar crime. People who have never in their lives gotten their hands dirty who none the less chose to steal, cheat and exploit their fellow man. This is for those types. Eight hours a day stripping an asteroid the old fashioned way for shiny rocks. All to return to their basic sleeping quarters to a simple meal. For guys like them, there is nothing more terrifying than an honest day's work.”

  “And for me?”

  “It would be like a vacation.”

  Idea’s starting to sound good. I can see Four mulling it over in his mind.

  “Why are you helping me? Helping us? All this effort and we may never be able to repay you.”

  “You just don’t get it, do you?”

  I plant a big friendly smack across his back.

  “Don't worry about it. It’s what we do.”

  A message on my com watch. They are here.

  “Seems our time is up Four. Raze, see he gets to the shuttle safely and unscathed.”

  “Never gonna let me do it the right way, are you warm blood?”

  “Nope. Take care Four. You know, if you work hard and have good behavior you just might be out in a decade or two. Then you’d get a real fresh start.”

  “I don’t know. This place sounds pretty easy going. Might just enjoy that vacation as long as I can.

  Last I see of Four is him being taken away. It is rare to see someone this happy to go to prison. I feel another tug at my hand from some green paws.

  “Tom, why are we helping them?”

  “Because it’s the right thing to do. We shouldn't need another reason.”

  “Actually Sir, if I may.”

  Inanaa, what other reason is there?

  “It is true the cost to the Union is relatively light. These stations in their most basic form are an old, though very reliable design form nearly a thousand years ago. It utilizes no strategically important resources and no technology above 3rd rate. And thanks to pre fabrications their assembly is mostly painless.”

  “So, what does the Union get?”

  “A one in a million chance at a genius.”

  Glad I’m not the only one tilting my head in confusion.

  “Let me explain. If the Krint had stayed where they were, the population as a whole would toil away in an agrarian backwater for the next few millennia. Now that some of them are here, with those basic needs guaranteed. They can become so much more. And there is a chance, however slim, that one of them will change history for us all. It may not be in our lifetime, or even the next, but a great genius could arise from their people. A scientist who redefines a field. A great artist who inspires generations. A great warrior who may save us from a terrible day. Perhaps even an Expeditionary Captain."

  “Is that why you helped me?”

  “Great things can come from the most unlikely of places. If we allow them to. Our captain is proof of that.”

  Great, now I’m blushing

  “Observation:I believe Your advice was to “take the complement”. Is this a scenario where doing so is improper?”

  “Nah, nah. I’m just a lot better at handling criticism.”

  A shuttle launches from our bay. I look out at the stars as Four is carried away. Chances are I’ll never see him again. That doesn’t matter I suppose. He’s in a better place. I did my job. That’s all that can be asked. First mission was a success. Maybe I’m cut out for this mess after all.

  “May the seeds we plant find root and grow.”

  Vivvian. She’s singing.

  “May trees arise thast we shall never know.

  As the sun sets upon us all.

  See our hope shine upon those who still crawl.

  We all live but for a moment, in the endless march of all time.

  Dance and sing, let your voice echo. Be strong, be swift, be kind.

  Memories fade. Your life is ending. The statues crumble beneath their weight.

  Still we smile, as time moves forward. Happy to see the end of our fate.”