Chapter 9: Pinwheel

The Courser pierced through the fabric of reality like a needle, spraying a rainbow of colorful gasses in its wake in an expanding cloud as it emerged from superlight. It drifted for a moment, the auto-pilot system taking control while the pilot slowly came back to his senses.

Before it was the Pinwheel, a giant, spoked torus that resembled a cartwheel as it slowly rotated in orbit above a red and dusty planet. It was surrounded by ships. Giant carriers unloaded their crews as hulking battleships docked in its cavernous bays for repairs, smaller vessels swarming like flies as the station’s white hull reflected the unfiltered sunlight from the system’s pale star. Even the thousand-foot long carriers were dwarfed by the station, its dry docks able to accommodate several at once. It was so large that no artificial gravity field could fully cover it, which was the reason for the spinning torus that rotated around the central hub.

By the time Jules was awake again and walking around, the Courser was already using its chemical engines to burn towards the station. When Zuki came to, he helped her out of her seat. Her legs were still shaky, and she was unsteady on her feet, but he didn’t want her to miss the sight.

“There are so many,” she said, blinking through her headache as she watched the behemoths drift around the station. Jules wasn’t in the Navy, but he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride at the sight of the vessels. Each one of those capital ships was the size of a small town, and was armed with the cutting edge of human technology. Fort Hamilton was the largest military base in Coalition space, and so there were enough ships here at any given time to make up two or three fleets. As they gawked, a massive jump freighter emerged from superlight nearby, in full view of their porthole. Like a puff of glitter, the cloud of gasses slowly dissipated in its wake as the gigantic vessel drifted, the jets of blue flame along its hull flickering as it righted itself. The freighters were civilian ships used to transport goods across interstellar distances. They were made up of a long, skeletal structure that was loaded with massive cargo containers. The cockpit and living quarters were at one end, and the engines and reactors were at the other, making it look a little like a half kilometer long cotton swab.

Zuki’s feline eyes widened as she watched the colorful burst of gas, as if the ship had punched a hole through a rainbow, its main engines firing to leave a streak of flame across the sky like blue paint smeared across a black canvass.

“Oh look, there’s a Phobos class battleship,” Jules said as he pointed to a vessel that was undocking from one of the bays. “See how it seems to be split into two halves? The hull is built around a giant magnetic cannon, like a really big rifle. They’re designed for taking out enemy capital ships and even cracking planets.”

“There’s so much,” she muttered, overwhelmed perhaps by both the quantity and size of the ships. “What enemy warrants all of this? Will they become our enemies too if we join you?”

“Our main enemies are the Betelgeusians,” he replied, “and they’re the enemy of every living thing that isn’t a Betelgeusian. They would attack you whether you were a part of the Coalition or not. They’re giant insects, hive creatures.”

“We had no idea that any of this was out here,” she said, “that any of this was going on. It makes me feel ... small.”

“Your territory might be small, but it’s no less important than a human colony planet. These are the ships that would jump in to defend Araxie in the event that someone attacked you.”

He neglected to add that due to both Elysia and Rask already being members, the whole planet would need to be defended by necessity in the case of a Bug attack, as a single hive ship making landfall could very well spell doom for Borealis.

The Courser followed a route that steered it clear of the other vessels, only the pilot knowing exactly where they were going. Jules and Zuki watched as the station continued to grow in size, and before long, it had filled their entire field of view with its curved, white hull. It was far less smooth up close. There were all kinds of antennae and radar dishes along the rotating torus, the indents of airlocks, and other miscellaneous pieces of machinery pockmarking its surface. There were no windows on the habitat itself, only on the inner hub that served as the control center.

The ship veered towards one of the yawning hangars, larger even than those of the jump carriers, the same flickering force field holding in the atmosphere. The vessel matched velocity with the rotation, the intercom crackling.

“Please return to your seats while we land,” the pilot advised, “we’ll be docking with the station shortly.”

Jules gestured to the nearby seats, and they sat down, close enough to the window that they could still see out of it. After waiting a couple of minutes for final clearance, the vessel drifted forwards, the pilot making minute corrections as he threaded the needle-like ship into the gaping opening. The closer they got, the larger it seemed. This was not one of the drydocks used to accommodate the largest classes of ship, but it was still enormous, it would not have been too difficult to maneuver a frigate into one of these bays.

They passed through the shimmering, blue barrier, and then Jules felt a reverberation through the deck as the landing gear deployed. The Courser bounced as it touched down, and then the main engines powered off, the hum that he had grown so accustomed to hearing over the last few hours going silent.

“We’ve landed,” the pilot said. “Welcome to Fort Hamilton, Mister Lambert. Please watch your step on your way down the ramp, and proceed directly to the back wall behind the yellow line.”

“Thank you,” Jules replied over the intercom, releasing the button and waving for Zuki to join him. “We’re finally here! Are you ready? Don’t forget your helmet.”

She retrieved the helmet from where she had set it down on the chair beside her, standing and slotting it over her head.

“I’m ready!” she announced excitedly.

“Follow me closely, and don’t wander off. This station is ‘really’ big, and there are lots of people here. It could be very easy for you to get lost.”

She nodded, sticking close as he walked towards the door from which they had entered the craft. It opened automatically, and beyond was the same umbilical that had anchored their dropship to the Courser when they had first boarded it. This time, it was angled down at a shallow inclination that led to the deck of the hangar. Zuki ducked in behind him as he made his way down, his boots clanking on the metal, and then he emerged into a wide-open space. It was like being inside some kind of massive underground cave, except made from shining metal and white plastic, a veritable technological cathedral. The ceiling must have been a hundred feet above them, and the distance from the force field on their left to the back wall on their right was at least five or six hundred feet.

There were catwalks all along the walls, men in yellow jumpsuits walking back and forth along them, and embedded in the high ceiling were bright lamps spaced at intervals that lit the whole space in a pale glow. As Zuki emerged from the umbilical, Jules turned to take in the scenery, noting the enormous clumps of machinery near the force field that served to raise and lower the blast shields. They could close to seal off the bay from space, like a garage door built for a giant. The stars wheeled past beyond its ever-shifting bounds, so wide and open that looking at it for too long gave him vertigo. The bays were built into the top and bottom of the donut-shaped habitat, as being built into the sides would have simply flung their contents into space due to the inertia.

Other ships were sitting idle on the deck, mostly small dropships and one Warden patrol vessel that seemed to be undergoing a refit. There were engineers everywhere, carrying objects and crates, or just walking to their next destination. There was already a group of engineers approaching the Courser from the direction of the back wall, paying no attention to its occupants, fixating on the elongated hull of the ship.

Jules appraised it too, it was so strange to have seen it floating in space, and now to see it sitting on the deck on a set of appropriately large landing gear. They were thick and sturdy, supported by huge hydraulic pistons and adorned with hanging cables, multiple rows of wheels that were as tall as a man with thick tires making contact with the ground.

Zuki was even more impressed, spinning slowly on the spot as she craned her neck to look up at the ceiling, Jules taking her hand and guiding her towards the back of the hangar. They reached the yellow line that was drawn on the deck, dodging past the occasional engineer or a Navy pilot clad in blue as they made their way towards one of the exits into the torus.

As they stepped through into the main habitat of the station, Zuki faltered, pausing by the door to take it all in. Before them was what looked almost like a city street, with a concave ceiling and a flat floor that extended into the distance in both directions, eventually curving out of view. The roof above their heads was adorned with a painted mural, depicting a blue sky with fluffy, white clouds. Great lamps were spaced out at intervals to provide light and warmth, approximating the glow of a sun, and there was even an artificial breeze coming from the ventilation system. If one closed their eyes, they could almost convince themselves that they were standing on solid ground.

The deck beneath their feet was made from a matte-white material akin to polymer, and everywhere they looked, it was packed with people of all races and species. There were humans in both military and civilian clothing, the throngs parting before towering Krell, packs of Borealans weaving through the crowds of smaller beings as they went about their business.

To either side of the ‘street’ were the facades of buildings, extruded from the white hull material to give the impression that the occupants were planetside, rather than walking through an artificial structure. It was reminiscent of something that you might find in a theme park, or on a movie set. Behind those sculpted bricks and fake wood panels were hundreds of feet of machinery, air vents, and water pipes. Beyond those vital systems was the armored hull that protected the occupants from the vacuum of empty space.

The planters packed with foliage and flowers added to the illusion, carefully tended trees and shrubs adding some color to the station, their leaves rustling in the breeze. The designers of this great machine had done all that they could to conceal the fact that it was a space station, and for the most part, they had succeeded. When Jules was standing on the torus, the sense of claustrophobia could almost be silenced, that niggling voice in the back of his mind that reminded him that deadly vacuum was only a few hundred feet away.

“It’s a world,” Zuki whispered, Jules barely able to hear her over the loud chorus of a thousand blended conversations. “A world inside a ring.”

“More like a city,” he replied, “but it is rather impressive the first time you see it. Come on, we need to book a hotel room. I’d usually make a reservation before we arrived, but the Borealan accommodations are never fully booked.”

He was especially glad of the helmet now, the noise on the station would have driven Zuki crazy, and the sun lamps were configured to mimic a sunny day on Earth. She didn’t seem too bothered by the crowds, she was more curious than anything, her head turning to track every new person that passed her by. He took her massive hand is his, struggling to get his fingers around it as he guided her along the walkway, following the colored lines that were drawn on the floor to guide pedestrians. They were in the military quarter right now, and they needed to get to the tourist quarter where the hotels were.

They passed by barracks and other such structures, transitioning into another quarter of the station, the spartan and functional facades replaced with more elaborate stores and food stands. The sights and smells were a ceaseless distraction for Zuki, her head snapping around each time she found something new and interesting.

She practically dragged Jules over to one of the large windows that faced the street, other pedestrians veering out of her path, pressing her visor up against the glass and staring at the wonders contained within.

“What are those?” she asked, prodding the pane with her padded finger.

“That’s a souvenir shop,” he replied, looking past her at the shelves stocked with mugs and keychains.

“Souvenir?”

“It’s like an item or some kind of token to remind you of where you’ve been. They sell toys, shirts and cups with logos on them, scale models of the station. Things like that. Do you want a keychain?” he added, looking up at her as she fixated on the trinkets. “We can get you a keychain, they’re only like two creds.”

“I don’t know what those are,” she replied.

“Come on, I’ll show you.”

He took the lead and guided her into the store, Zuki ducking under the low doorway, the ceiling inside high enough that she was in no danger of hitting her head. There were a few other people browsing, but they paid her no mind. Anyone who spent more than a few minutes on the station would soon become accustomed to the sight of the ever-present aliens that populated it.

“Don’t pick anything up, and try not to knock anything over,” he warned. “These items are for sale, so look with your eyes, not your paws.”

While Fort Hamilton was primarily a Naval base, the sheer size and scope of the station made it an engineering marvel that attracted sightseers and tourists from across known space. It hadn’t taken long for civilian businesses to begin operating in order to serve the personnel, and then the tourists, until the station had quickly exceeded the scope of its original design. Stores and restaurants occupied vacant space, unused barracks had been converted into hotels, street vendors hocked their wares to Marines on shore leave and visiting dignitaries alike. There was scarcely an inch of space on the torus that wasn’t put to good use by someone who wanted to sell something or provide a service.

Jules led Zuki past a rack of hats and sunglasses, then past a shelf stocked with chocolate gifts and candies. There was clothing, bags, novelty postcards, snow globes, models. All kinds of tat that might entice a tourist with a loose wallet. They arrived at a spinning rack that was laden with colorful, enameled key chains, located beside a shelf that was stocked with travel pillows. There were some in the circular shape of the station, others adorned with text, Jules gesturing to them as Zuki crouched down to get a better look.

“Let me know if you see one that you like.”

“I can touch these ones?” she asked, her hand hovering near the rack. She had taken his earlier warning very literally, but considering how likely she was to drop things or break them, that was perhaps for the best. He certainly wanted to avoid a ‘bull in a china shop’ scenario.

“Yes, you can touch them. You have stores back in Araxie, right? You understand the concept of buying and selling?”

“The Patriarch provides us with what we need to live and to work, but we trade for unnecessary things.”

“Do you use money?” he asked.

“Money ... tokens that can be traded in place of goods? Yes,” she replied as she fished inside one of her pouches. She withdrew a handful of square coins, passing one of them to him. They were large and heavy by human standards, each one stamped with some kind of marker in their native language that he couldn’t read. “We don’t have much use for them in the village, they’re mostly used when we trade large quantities food and tools between settlements, or when a pack visits another village without bringing anything to barter with. I thought that I should bring some with me.”

“What are they made of?” he asked, weighing the coin in his hand.

“Iron, it can be smelted and used to make tools.”

“Interesting. Rather than using a gold standard, you guys have an iron standard, because it’s a practical material that retains its value...”

“People will always need iron,” she said with a shrug. That was something that he should bring up with the council, they didn’t want to decimate the Araxie economy overnight by introducing advanced materials and goods too quickly. In a way, these simple coins held more value than the currency that the UNN used, which existed almost exclusively as ones and zeroes hidden away in digital bank accounts. He certainly couldn’t melt down his credits and make a trowel out of them, that was for sure.

“Well, credits are like these coins. We don’t really trade, at least not in the way that you do, we use money for all of our transactions.”

He handed the coin back to her, but she insisted, closing his fingers around it.

“Keep it, it will pay for one of these,” she said as she plucked a keychain from the rack. Jules didn’t refuse, it was an interesting keepsake, perhaps he would display it beside his prized Krell jug. She held up one of the little enamel badges by the chain, Jules chuckling at her odd choice. He had expected her to go for one of the ones shaped like the station, but instead, she had chosen a garish ‘I love Pinwheel’ badge with a large cartoon heart in place of the ‘love’.

“You sure you want that one?”

“Yes,” she replied adamantly.

“Can you read it? The red symbol stands for love, it says that you love the station.”

“I like this one.”

Well, there was no accounting for taste. Jules led Zuki over to the counter, and she watched with interest as he tapped at the screen of his phone in order to complete the transaction. The woman who was tending the register wrapped the keychain in brown paper and give it to Zuki, who immediately stashed it in one of her pouches

“Where is the money?” Zuki asked, the cashier looking her up and down. She soon realized that the alien was new to the station, her confused expression turning into a smile.

“The money is digital,” Jules explained, before quickly realizing that the word held no meaning to her. “I mean ... the money doesn’t have to be on my person, it’s stored somewhere else. I use my phone to transfer a sum, the recipient accepts it, and then it all happens automatically. Somewhere, a computer will automatically move the money from my account to theirs.”

“Enjoy your stay, Ma’am,” the cashier said as she tried to suppress her smirk.

“Oh, I am!” Zuki replied enthusiastically.

On their way out of the store, Jules stopped her and asked her to give him the keychain. She rummaged in her pouch and did as he asked, Jules opening the packet and reaching up towards her chest.

“You’re supposed to wear it,” he said, “do you want it on your vest?” She nodded, and he affixed the keychain to one of the many buttons that secured the leather pockets, the gaudy enamel badge dangling there. “What do you think?”

“I like it,” she replied, no doubt grinning beneath her helmet. “Now all the people here will know that I love their territory.”

“Indeed,” he chuckled. “Come on, let’s get going.”

Jules led Zuki through the tourist quarter, the innumerable distractions slowing them down considerably. It was her first time visiting the station, not to mention her first experience of interstellar society, and so he didn’t want to rush her. She seemed to stop at every shop window, sniffing around every food stand and restaurant. She was fascinated by the simplest of things, like holographic menus, and interactive kiosks with maps and station information. These were all things that even most visitors to the Pinwheel took for granted, but for Zuki, it was all new. The idea that she could see her location on a three-dimensional representation of the torus filled her with a child-like wonder that endeared her to all passers-by.

“What is that smell?” she suddenly asked, stopping Jules dead in his tracks as he tried to pull her along.

“What smell?”

“Don’t you smell that?”

“Nope,” he replied, “we humans don’t have very sensitive noses.”

“Come on, this way!”

She took the lead and dragged him through the throngs of people, a pack of Equatorials clad in blue uniforms and black combat armor growling at her when she got in their way, but she paid the surly aliens no mind. As they neared this mystery destination, Jules began to smell it too, the scents of cooking meat rising to his nose.

Zuki stopped before a replica storefront that was built into the hull of the station, sandwiched between two larger establishments. It was scarcely five feet wide, adorned with a colorful awning that made it resemble a food cart that might be found on the streets of a major city. There was a printed menu taped to the side of the building, it was apparently a sandwich shop. The smells were emanating from inside, and from the darkness emerged a large, furry shape.