Space is big. You don’t really understand how big until it’s time to go anywhere outside your own system. Daunting doesn’t even begin to describe it. Even at the speed of light it would take a thousand generations to go from one side of the galaxy to the next. Thankfully, we have better options.

  The fastest and safest is at the Relay Station, the Highways of the Stars. Can cross hundreds of lightyears in days. Those got us most of the way. They make a sort of wormhole tunnel connecting one relay to the next. I really don’t get it myself, it’s Geod tech so what you expect, I just know it’s a smooth ride. Thousands of such stations dot the Union and beyond. It’s all automated, too. No need to worry. It’s a lifesaver for logistics. But not something one can rely on for more dangerous regions. Even with more safety measures than there are humans in all the galaxy, if a relay is disrupted while a ship is mid travel, they may never be seen again.

  To finish the way is Hyper Travel. It has a far more complex and technical term, I just prefer Hyper Travel. The most brute force method. A special field coats the exterior. Through some means I couldn’t even begin to pretend to understand, this field makes you build momentum ad-infinitum. Going past the speed of light in about a Union hour, and going even further than that. In theory it’s even faster than relays and almost as safe. The problem is stopping. It’s not as simple as moving super fast and turning it off when you hit the right spot. Do it wrong and the infinite forces that are propelling you will crush you to your residual atoms. You need to plan exactly when to reach the peak of your movement and when to slow down just in time to reach your destination. As such, it’s not very accurate. It will get you in the general area of where you want, just never exactly where you want. And you better aim for something faaaar away from a star or asteroid field or something like that. It really is that large of an area. Makes me more than a little nervous. All I can do is hope Vivvian and Deed know what they are doing.

  “Warning: Alter course 0.12 degrees to your northern west. Failure to do so will result in a 2% chance of exiting Hyper Travel inside an electrical nebula.”

  Space God I hope they know what they are doing.

  Empty space is mostly the same, regardless of which flag lays claim. You only start to see differences when you get close to those that live there. For us, the first such difference was their border station. A Habruam design; harsh and circular like a spiked shield. It’s meant as a military base first and foremost with tons of big guns. Which is why the small city structure tacked onto its underside like a parasite is an unusual sight. That’s the part we are headed to. A center of trade half haphazardly stapled to a military institution. I can’t make an allegory about this. It’s too easy.

  “What am I looking at here people?”

  Fairy brings me the proper paperwork. She’s getting better at it, only a few pages out of order.

  “The War Door; commissioned 44 years ago as part of the military build up between Union and Protectorate space. It was meant as a statement. To show that they could match if not surpass the best the Union had to offer. At 300 Kilometers in diameter there are only a small handful of stations out there that match its mass and only two or three that are comparatively armed.”

  “And the strip mall is there because…”

  “That keeps the station from going bankrupt.”

  “How does a fortress go bankrupt?”

  “The Protectorate doesn’t have a centralized military. The War Door was constructed by and almost entirely paid for by the Habruam. It practically bankrupted them on opening day. Donations from the other member states weren’t enough to keep the lights on. People started questioning the value of the station after a few decades passed and no big war came about.”

  “I thought the Habruam were some of the big dogs; like top three.”

  “They were, emphasis on were. Now, despite still being the premier arms manufacturer and possessing the second largest independent territory of all Protectorate races, in terms of political power they are closer to 50th.”

  “All that just to show off to us. Guess we should feel flattered.”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  “Well unlike me, flattery gets you nowhere with the Union. The whole station was a stray hair away from being scuttled and sold for scrap until a deal was struck with numerous other members. That city there was the compromise for their continued support. Adverts call it the safest vacation spot in all the Galaxy. ”

  “How much debt you got to be in to consent to something that stupid?”

  “What’s the yearly GDP of the whole of Humanity?”

  “I believe the official term is a fuckton.”

  “Well multiply that by a gangfuckton.”

  “Space Christ putting it all on black.”

  The longer I look at this the more surreal it becomes. On one side is an armada of warships ready to blow us away at a moment's notice. On the other is cruise liners shuttling old folks to buy designer socks and overpriced space burgers. Most Union fortress stations have a civilian district but it’s a self contained entity. Something to give a modicum of normality to the families stationed there. Here I could book a hotel room with a gorgeous view of a kilometer long particle disruptor.

  Getting a hail. Suppose we have to answer.

  A Habruam fills the screen. Reptiles. Remind me most of big purple snakes with arms. They have hoods much like a cobra, except more rectangular. The real big difference is the snout. They don’t swallow their prey whole like Earth snakes. Instead they got short, strong jaws full of jagged little daggers to rip out your throat. Also apparently they are still venomous. I live in a charmed universe.

  “High Admiral Cofera, sending kind greetings to all.”

  The Admiral gives a sort of salute, closing his eyes and lifting his head to expose his throat. Inanna does the same. Something to do with mutual trust.

  “First Officer Inanna, receiving and returning kindness. Speaking for Expeditionary Captain Tom with great respect. Requesting docking in the Great War Door with all humility.”

  “Access granted with enthusiasm. Sending coordinates with haste. Request in anticipation the accomplished Captain Tom and crew to attend a Gala in honor of yourself and your esteemed fellow Expeditionary Captain.”

  “Accepted with immense pleasure.”

  The screen goes black. Inanna lets out a huge sigh of relief.

  “Habruam. So tiring.”

  “What was that all about?”

  “Trust and respect is all too important to them. Everything must be said with careful consideration and constant accolades.”

  I’m getting real tired of these speech gimmicks.

  “Respect is a concept. Desired by those who deserve it least. Ripped away from those who deserve it most. Given freely without meaning and earned harshly for no benefit. Fool's gold.”

  Like that. Thanks for the example Vivvian. Is that what Humans sound like to other races? Do they listen to me and think I’m speaking garblied drunken nonsense? I assure you only one of those is true.

  “Alright, poetry slam is over people. Vivvian, take us to dock. I should figure out what to wear for this Gala thing.”

  “Don’t worry about that Captain.”

  Inanna is already back to being my boss.

  “I have taken the liberty of preparing a uniform for you.”

  Did I say Boss? I meant mom.

  “Please, I think I can handle dressing myself for one night. Already have the perfect outfit all planned ou-”

  “The striped red and white suit with a clip on boat tie and violently blue shoes?”

  “... Yeah.”

  “I vented those.”

  “Those were my Grandfathers!”

  “No they weren’t.”

  “You are correct but that’s still rude.”

  “Wear what I prepared for you. Or the polka dot boxers get it next.”

  Jokes on her. Joan ate that pair weeks ago. I do miss them, though. Looks like we are nearing the dock. Nothing but freights and liners and yachts far as the eye can see. With a few dozen heavy guns only a single 90 degree turn away from reducing them all to slag.

  “Most of these seem small. Not sure how comfortable I am parked so close to civilians. Where is our spot exactly?”

  Vivvian points a feather to the distance. Most of the parking is exterior using a series of platforms and rigging tubes. We get to use an interior super hanger. Real VIP treatment. The door is massive, slowly opening to reveal an extensive internal repair and maintenance system. Vivvian brings us down to a crawl, making sure to aim carefully for the designated parking spot. The wall we pass by has armor as thick as the Moby is long.

  “Space God above and below, what is that?”

  Parked right next to us is an incredible ship. It is similar in design to my own, but about a kilometer and a half longer. Its hull is sleeker, shiner, with weapons and system better integrated into the panels better resembling the Zeta origin. The domes are better integrated with the new mesh build making them even sturdier at no loss of clarity. That right there is a real Expeditionary vessel. Inanna seems even more impressed than I am.

  “That is the Right Hand of Light. Home of Captain Conqtor.”