Epilogue

Boyd pushed his way through the bustling crowd, the sound of a thousand conversations blending into an indistinct thrum of background noise. There were mostly humans surrounding him, some clothed in the blues and yellows of Navy personnel, others wearing civilian clothes similar to his own. Nobody would have any idea that beneath his casual garb was an environment suit that cost as much as the average battle tank. Plenty of aliens were present, too, easily identifiable as their stature lifted them head and shoulders above the throngs. Feline Equatorials and the occasional Polar strode along in packs, the foot traffic parting to make room for lumbering Krell, their oar-like tails dragging on the ground behind them.

At a glance, Boyd could have pretended that he was walking along some terrestrial street, storefronts with colorful awnings rising up to either side of a wide road that was split down the middle by planters filled with greenery and benches where weary travelers could rest. Beneath his boots was white hull material, however, the buildings extruded from it as though cast from a mold. The blue sky and puffy clouds above him were painted onto an arched ceiling that slowly curved up and out of view in the distance, the warm sunlight emitted by high-powered lamps that were spaced out at intervals. There was even an artificial breeze that tugged at his hair and rustled the leaves of the nearby trees.

Fort Hamilton – more widely known as the Pinwheel due to its wheel-like shape – was the largest and arguably most important station in Coalition space. Being too big for AG fields to be viable, it was spun to simulate gravity, meaning that he was currently standing on the inner surface of an enormous toroidal habitat. It was the only place outside of the Martian dockyards that could accommodate a ship as big as the Thermopylae in its drydocks. The carrier was currently undergoing an extensive refit after returning from deployment at Hades, and its crew were enjoying some well-earned shore leave. Boyd was not so fortunate – he was here on business.

He spotted his mark through the crowd, making a beeline for a bench, its occupant relaxing beneath the shade of a tree-filled planter. As much as he was trying to be stealthy, she noticed him long before he arrived, lifting her pink nose towards the branches above her. Her furry ears swiveled to track him as he approached, her bushy tail starting to flick back and forth excitedly.

“Don’t burn through your payout too quickly,” he said, taking a seat on what little of the bench was left unoccupied by Lorza’s sizable rump. “That sandwich must have cost you a fortune – it’s as big as my arm.”

She lifted a sandwich sub that must have been three feet long, taking a wet bite, her dexterous tongue snaking out to clean the tuna and mayonnaise from her furry chin.