>Military vessel entering inner Delta Draconis system, DF Peacekeeper. You are requested to submit to space traffic control. Inner system trajectory has been relayed to you. Do not deviate.

  The automated Neuronet warning was a stark welcome home to a core system after another few decades of stasis.

  >Acknowledged, Sanchez thought calmly.

  The demands continued.

  >Transfer trajectory to navigation AI. Broadcast nav beacon. Confirm trajectory.

  >Lock weapons launch authority. Transmit confirmation.

  >Failure to comply within t = 500 s will result in immediate engagement.

  “Just standard procedure folks,” Sanchez told everyone with a hearty laugh. “Nothing to be nervous about. They’d have shot us during our deceleration burn already if they wanted to.”

  The Peacekeeper’s entire crew had awakened now, crowded in the CIC looking at the central projection of their journey home or talking to each other about the sensor view of the planets in their tac glasses. They had all changed from their utilitarian flight suits into dress uniforms: dark green jackets and pants over light green shirts for the men, dark green skirts for the women. Electronic ribbon bars and name tags were on display. Most had only a few interplanetary service medals on their ribbon bars, while Commander Sanchez and Executive Officer Grayson had an entire virtual plate on their chests. Sanchez occasionally stole a glance at their trajectory vector on the projection. Okeke stood alone, gazing at the large display outside the CIC. The terrestrial worlds of this system were still too far to be easily resolved by the naked eye alone. All there was to look at was the void.

  Much of the crew had been frozen in deep stasis during the engagement at Gamma Centauri, kept as spare parts in case any of the main crew broke. They were innocent bystanders to the insanity that occurred there. It was better this way, Liu thought bitterly. Fewer witnesses to carry the burden.

  Unlike the desolate wastes of Gamma Centauri c, the inner planets of Delta Draconis were a chain of gleaming jewels in the darkness. This was a K type star with two terrestrial planets in the habitable zone, the inner world a hothouse jungle world and the outer one an arctic Precambrian snowball. Nevertheless, both had been developed into capital scale worlds due to belonging to an exceptionally rare and ideal system configuration. The night side of both planets was punctuated by sprawling clumps of faintly warm white light, between which stretched vast oceans of empty blackness. Cyan seas and verdant tropical forests extended into the day side like great tentacles on the inner planet, while warm orange sunlight glinted from the outer planet’s ice caps and azure equatorial waters.

  A young captain that Liu only knew from her profile photo bumped into him in the crowded micro-g environment.

  “Sorry, Major,” the captain said with only the slightest pretense of embarrassment. She had a cheerful expression on her youthful face, definitely no more than 30 years old. Her hair was set in the same government standard as the auditor - short bangs in front, a bun at the back. Yet Liu felt none of the dread when talking to her. Her face wasn’t the spectral pallor of the auditor, but a healthy, lively tan.

  “Captain Lin, is it?” Liu asked. “I’ve never seen you around.”

  “I worked watch shifts. First tour and was only a computer technician in systems defense, can’t expect much more!”

  Liu smiled faintly and looked out ahead into space. What could’ve possibly driven a young mother to leave her family for this, he wondered. He then remembered his younger daughter. A complex mix of regret and justification ran through his mind. Would she have been better off if he just stayed in systems defense?

  “Anyhow, I heard of your bravery during the battle! I wish I could’ve seen it!” Lin exclaimed.

  Bravery. The word was like a dagger in Liu’s ears, the mocking sound almost as torturous as the brutal psychic violation that the now dead auditor visited on him. Bravery. Their atrocity had nothing to do with it. He forced a smile and said nothing more.

  The space infrastructure of the outer planet was beginning to close to a distance where its overall shape became resolvable to sensors. Binary toruses stretching over a kilometer in diameter lazily rotated in opposite directions, perfectly balancing each other’s angular momentum. They were connected by thick truss elements to a central stationary core and shaded by an equally large solar array. Sunlight gleamed off the reflective coating of the array. Missile cells were also just barely visible on the core section, a constant reminder that the Directorate had precious little trust for anyone, even itself.

  Liu felt a flash of radio emanating from the station. Fire control radar. It was standard operating procedure that he had seen thousands of times in his old job, but being on the receiving end was unexpectedly unnerving.

  >DF Peacekeeper. Deactivate fusion drive and submit to tugs for final approach. You are given permission for docking.

  In the shadow of the habitat was the depressurized spaceport section. A slightly thinner truss extended outwards, a gossamer web compared to the thick, rigid habitat spokes and spine. Lined up with kilometer scale spacing were other battlecruisers in the dozens, each perfectly velocity matched with the habitat.

  Tendrils of logistics robots reached into some of their engineering sections, conveying roll after roll of fusion pellet fuel. Other free floating robots carried missile modules or spare components, carefully orienting them into waiting launch cells or cargo bays.

  A low whistle escaped Captain Lin's lips. "My god... will you look at that? This is… a fleet."

  The wondrous edifice of a core system should have been a comfort, a taste of home after a lifetime in the void. This was the world he’d been born to, the dream of order the Directorate sold. But now, he saw it with double vision. He saw the glow of arcology lights and for a nausea-inducing instant his mind superimposed the ghost of billowing ash over them. He could almost hear the quiet hum of the mag-lev trains, and underneath it, the silent screams from doomed multitudes. It was a sensor feed he could never delete from his memory.

  A synthesized voice rang out in everyone’s Neuronet.

  >Automated tug sequence active.

  Bump. The tug’s elastomer pushers had made contact with their frontal armor. It burned its nuclear rockets carefully to exactly balance the Peacekeeper’s drift velocity, slowly bringing them to a gentle stop near the docking zone. They were roughly a single kilometer above the engineering section and over a dozen kilometers from the core.

  >Parking maneuver complete.

  The tug retreated from the Peacekeeper’s hull and slowly drifted out of their field of view. It would be ready to guide the next ship waiting in holding orbit soon. Peacekeeper held station over the dock truss, a silent leviathan respecting an invisible fence. The truss itself was a stark, linear shadow against the starfield, over a dozen kilometers of geometric perfection. Far below them was another, identical battlecruiser floating in silent solitude.

  Along the length of the core, he saw the buzz of activity: elevator pods sliding along electromagnetic rails, and swarms of logistics robots, even larger than the ones Peacekeeper kept internally, bridging the void with tethers and cargo. They crossed the gulf between the base and the ships in silent, purposeful streams. Swarms of logistics robots converged on the battlecruisers to attach fuel lines, exchange missile modules, and anneal the hulls.

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  A human voice sounded out in their minds after a few tense moments of silence. It was a gruff male voice that tolerated no questioning.

  >Peacekeeper crew. Transmit all log files for evaluation, then report to personnel airlock for station boarding and debriefing. Automated service will be conducted at this time.

  At the edge of Liu’s vision, a large shuttle pushed itself off from the truss at an unhurried 1 m/s relative velocity with electromagnetic launchers. It reoriented itself slightly as it drifted, carefully docking with the main airlock. Air hissed into the chamber.

  The traffic control officer gave them another command.

  >Peacekeeper crew. Equip magboots and enter the shuttle. No waking crew is to remain aboard. Stasis cells will be verified independently. Unregistered stasis crew will be detained. Exit shuttle and enter elevator upon arrival. Acknowledge at each step to ensure your safety.

  Liu had been in spacedock operations countless times in systems defense, yet he didn’t quite remember them being so hostile, at least when he was on the commanding end.

  The entire crew crowded into the shuttle. Both airlocks closed automatically as the shuttle pushed off gently. A miserable flight followed as the shuttle rotated itself in micro-g to match the stationary habitat core’s orientation. Their inner ears and feet fought each other as dizzying forces tugged at them from confusing directions. At least they had magboots to maintain directional alignment. In this metal coffin, they were all equals regardless of rank.

  A hiss of air was heard. The shuttle had docked with one of the long elevator platforms, one of the few pressurized portions of the engineering segment. The elevator was entirely sealed to ensure safety, both physical and mental. They would be spared the nauseating disorientation of watching themselves fly across the truss structure, suspended across kilometers of open space, with a thin shell the only thing separating them and a swift death. Liu felt a pressure in his ankles from the accelerating elevator and a slight lean towards one wall. It was a reminder of a crime committed in his name lifetimes ago, yet it felt like yesterday.

  The elevator opened with the expected welcome party of marines in magboots, exoskeletons and breather masks standing at attention. But as the elevator door opened further, Liu’s heart sank. More men flanked the marines, their obsidian black uniforms devouring the light of the passageway like a black hole. Directorate flag insignia. Ministry of Internal Affairs.

  “Welcome back, Peacekeeper crew. Please follow us,” one of the men in black stated. This was a command, simply softened to fit the form of a request. The marines moved to flank the crew to form an escort.

  Those in stasis for the trip were puzzled that MIA agents were welcoming them back instead of the local commanding officer. Liu stole a glance at Sanchez. He made every attempt to conceal his nervousness, but his brow gleamed with sweat.

  They did not march into the expected direction of the main base interchange. The dull noise of the hub, hidden behind sealed doors, faded away into silence. Instead, they turned a corner towards an administrative part of the base that was rarely seen. They stopped next to a blank room. The marines silently motioned them to enter.

  Liu was prepared for the worst. He looked around, as if he hoped to absorb as much information as possible into his brain before it was extinguished by an executioner’s bullet. The clean gray walls and metallic floor offered no solace or stimulation, only more neural noise to fuel nights of fitful sleep.

  They were led to a blank room and motioned to enter. The marines and MIA officers waited outside the door, flanking them. Sanchez, Grayson, Liu and Okeke subconsciously found themselves crowding to the front like moths drawn to a flame.

  A pale, thin woman with brilliant blonde hair and glacial blue eyes was waiting there in a dress uniform. His eyes naturally dropped to her chest. Marshal rank pins and a ribbon bar filled with virtual medals. Liu had never seen a marshal before. He conceptually understood the rank existed, but had never considered he might be in one’s presence. Despite her rank, she hardly looked a day over 40. Wonder how many anti aging treatments she’s gotten, Liu thought to himself.

  As the crew finished filing into the room and stood at attention, the Marshal gave them a satisfied look.

  “Welcome Peacekeeper crew. I am Marshal Laurent Ingrid, Delta Draconis sector commander. You have completed an important mission for the Human Directorate. Congratulations. Your data logs have been reviewed during your entry into the station. All crew are awarded a Meritorious Interstellar Service Medal. It has already been updated to your ribbon bar,” she announced confidently.

  Liu breathed a sigh of relief. But almost immediately, complacency turned to terror.

  “Those who were not in the waking crew during the combat phase are free to go. Enjoy your 480 hours of leave. Combat crew, please remain in this room for further debriefing.”

  The crowd thinned substantially as the majority of the crew filed out, gossiping happily and obliviously. Only a dozen or so people were left standing on the metal plate. They were the shift of the damned.

  Slam. The doors shut as the last members of the stasis crew filed out. The MIA officers had snuck in during the speech, blocking the doors with their spectral figures. This was it, Liu thought. He could imagine the Marshal detailing their numerous crimes one by one before pronouncing her sentence. His imagination conjured the sound of clanking magboots on plating. He could almost feel the cool metal of the gun pressing against the back of his head, then a bang, followed by permanent oblivion.

  “Combat crew of the Peacekeeper,” she said before pausing. “We have paid special attention to your records.”

  Sweat poured from Liu’s back, wicked into wet spots by the capillary effect of the hydrophilic fibers in his dress shirt. His eyes fell to the ground and his ears perked up, scanning for any sign of footsteps. Thoughts raced as he scanned his mind for any signs of intrusion, any symptom of his inner neural sanctum being violated to check on the veracity of his memories. But there was nothing except his own mental panic. His breathing picked up pace and became more shallow.

  Liu's mind presented him with an abridged record of their sins, subconsciously skipping over anything truly incriminating: Full spectrum bursts of nuclear explosions. The wrench. A gentle hiss of nitrogen. The last infrared ranging flashes in the icy wastes. Okeke pushing an unusually heavy crate. Each memory was a count in the indictment he was sure was coming. Suddenly, he felt at peace with himself, with the bullet he saw in his future, with the brand of treason. If it comes, it comes, Liu thought. I already socially died decades ago. What is physical death in the face of that?

  “It is a difficult situation to lose an auditor,” the Marshal said with a practiced tone. “The Fleet has reviewed the logs from the Peacekeeper. They show a series of regrettable incidents. Unfortunately, corresponding logs from the Relativity will be difficult to retrieve.”

  Liu lifted his eyes and glanced forward again. His ears scanned for the clank of magboots, but he heard nothing but the quiet hum of air recyclers and the shuffle of clothing.

  “Your records are fully consistent with the tragic loss of a sister ship and an Internal Affairs officer to a hidden insurgent device,” the Marshal continued, her glacial eyes scanning their faces. “Losses are inevitable in war.”

  Her wording was precise. Records were consistent. That was all that truly mattered. They had written history in their favor. Liu’s face did not show any emotion.

  “Despite these losses, you have performed extraordinarily in a grim but necessary duty. The loss of the Relativity and Auditor-72-A9-M5, while regrettable, does not detract from the successful completion of your primary objective.”

  Marshal Laurent paused, letting her words sink in. Liu breathed deeply.

  “For this, all of you have been granted an Exemplary Interstellar Service Medal. Those in the CIC, executing the most critical phases of the operation, have been given a promotion. You will find a Neuronet message with details.”

  Their electronic ribbon bars automatically changed to reflect their new medals. Liu’s implant gave him an immediate mental update.

  >Log investigation complete. Mission GC-212-07-05c.

  >Conclusion: Decision matrix- Optimal. Asset preservation- Maximized. Initiative- Maximized.

  >Recommendation: Major Liu Yang promoted to rank of Lieutenant Colonel. Effective within 1 hour.

  >Congratulations, Lieutenant Colonel Liu Yang.

  Optimal. The messy details were just noise. They had won and proved themselves useful. Their marginal value of existence had just increased.

  The Marshal gave a final, slight nod that was not quite approval, more like an acknowledgment. Her eyes lingered on Sanchez, then Grayson, then finally, on Liu. He understood the look. He had seen it in the auditor, in Sanchez and in the reflection of his own face.

  “Congratulations,” she said deliberately. “The Fleet values officers who understand operational realities. Dismissed.”