Camberia Virgo: Artrix Station (1)
Camberia Virgo star system. Even when the Federal Government was still intact, this place hadn't been strategically important. As a binary star system where two stars orbited each other, exerting mutual gravitational influence, there simply weren't many planets in the system. There were only three in total. One was an Earth-like body orbiting close to the binary stars, not much different from Mercury in the Solar System. The other two were massive Jupiter-type gas giants that had somehow endured the insanely complex gravitational interference between the pair.
Between these two gas giants lay an asteroid belt tracing intricate orbits—believed to be the remnants of a planet from eons ago. Camberia had no planets suitable for human habitation even after terraforming attempts, so most of the population lived in space habitats at the Lagrange points of Camberia C and D—stable positions at a safe distance from the stars. Each habitat housed over 10,000 people, with five habitats per Lagrange point, for a total population of just 300,000 scattered across the system. Their main economic activity was mining and refining minerals from the asteroid belt and Camberia B.
But even this remote system had been all but obliterated by the Dust invasion. The 25 habitats at Camberia D's Lagrange point—outside the asteroid belt—were destroyed in the Dust assault. Four more near Camberia C were brutally attacked and wiped out. Only the habitats hidden in the asteroid belt survived, along with those at the farthest Lagrange point from Camberia C. Even then, four of those were obliterated in a follow-up Dust attack, leaving just one intact by sheer luck.
That sole survivor wasn't even designed as a residential habitat; it was an industrial zone on a nearby asteroid for mining and processing ore, hardly ideal for long-term living. Still, to sustain the 30,000 survivors who had made it, Artrix Station began demolishing parts of the industrial zone and scavenging relatively intact facilities from the debris of other destroyed habitats floating in space. They installed these inside Artrix to expand life-support systems. They even built a makeshift space dock in the outer system to maintain the remnants of the sector defense forces. As a result, Artrix Station was now at its breaking point. It hadn't been built to accommodate a military garrison in the first place, so this was inevitable. The station was slowly withering away.
With constant vigilance against Dust movements limiting their activity, supplies consumed outpaced incoming resources. Seed stocks for food production via bio-printers were nearing exhaustion. In the control facility jury-rigged onto Artrix Station, Major Walter Smith stared at the monitoring equipment with a grim expression.
He was little more than a straggler from the Camberia sector defense forces, but his short hair was neatly trimmed, and his beard impeccably groomed. His Federal Air Force uniform was spotless, without a single frayed edge. He didn't look like a defeated soldier. The gravitational wave detector was eerily silent. Up until the Federal Government's collapse, these devices constantly picked up gravitational waves from civilian FTL jumps. Now, there was only an empty void. The unnatural hush from inert space carried a subtle undercurrent of dread.
It felt tantamount to confirmation that the Federal Government had fallen, that even the mighty Federal Navy had crumbled, and humanity teetered on the brink of annihilation. "Same as always?" A blonde woman handed him a water pouch and asked.
Walter regarded her with a serious, distant expression. She wore a blue work jumpsuit. Her sky-blue eyes, matching her hair, seemed to sparkle under the lights. The name tag on her chest read Catherine Katarina in standard Federal script.
"Quiet," Major Walter replied gravely, taking the pouch and sipping from it. Catherine stepped up beside him, eyeing the gravitational wave detector that emitted only strange static. Civilians weren't supposed to barge into military areas like this, but Artrix Station had no luxury for such protocols, so no one made a fuss.
"Not broken, is it?" Catherine asked Major Walter in a joking tone. "If it were broken, we wouldn't even detect the inert-space gravitational noise. And trust me, we don't want it breaking—there's no parts left to fix it." Major Walter scolded her like she was talking nonsense, fixing her with a cold stare.
"You know this is a military facility, right?" he added pointedly, questioning her presence. Catherine flinched like she'd been stung and scurried out of the sensor room. It was only a few steps away, though, so conversation was no issue.
"So prickly..." she grumbled lightly, sounding a bit hurt. But Major Walter offered no real response. An old radio transceiver in the corner of the sensor room blinked. Even in an era of quantum entanglement FTL comms, these archaic radio waves remained in service—especially since it had been proven the Dust couldn't intercept standard electromagnetic signals. They were used aggressively for short-range links. Of course, limited to lightspeed, they couldn't replace quantum comms for interstellar distances, even if the Dust could eavesdrop.
Major Walter pressed the blinking transceiver button. Heavy static crackled through. At the same time, the gravitational detector registered an anomalous wave. Such glitches happened occasionally, so he dismissed it.
"Routine patrol report. No anomalies." A curt, businesslike voice came through the static. But Major Walter couldn't respond properly. The gravitational waves weren't a glitch. They were distinctly separate from inert-space noise—a continuous signal forming a trajectory, closing in. It was a ship.
"Sensor room?" The voice on the other end sounded like someone tapping the radio. Major Walter snatched it up urgently.
"This is command. Anomaly detected. Sergeant Major, report to command immediately?" His voice trembled as he spoke into the radio like making a formal report. The static cut to brief silence.
Major Walter analyzed the wave pattern with shaking hands. It had been years since he'd done this; his mind felt rusty. But it was crucial. Success here would tell friend from foe. He pulled a dust-covered manual from a drawer, flipping it open without brushing it off. Dust scattered everywhere, but he ignored it, scrutinizing the waves.
The analysis combined the initial anomalous burst with the following sustained waves. The burst came from a gravitational rupture engine firing to transition from realspace to inert space—creating black-hole-level gravity in realspace to punch a tunnel. Such a spike was expected in inert space. Moreover, each ship's engine produced a subtly unique signature, identifiable by analysis. The sustained waves revealed approximate speed and heading. A lone burst could be dismissed as a stellar explosion or new black hole. But sustained waves right after? That screamed unknown vessel in FTL transit—leaving a wake like a ship in gravitational seas.
"What is it?" A soldier burst into command, barely winded. He wore black powered armor like a diving suit plated in heavy plating. "117" was painted on his left chest, "John" on the right. His helmet hid his face, but Sergeant Major John Rhino's tension was palpable.
"Sergeant Major. Unidentified track inbound. Analysis suggests UNSS Everest-class." Major Walter pointed at the detector. John eyed it intently, then glanced between the manual and the track.
Walter was spot-on. UNSS Everest-class. He'd never seen one in person—rumors of their existence were barracks gossip.
"Dust disguise possible?" John asked gravely, removing his helmet. Walter shook his head.
"Never seen those bastards run electronic warfare. If it were them, they'd have steamrolled us already." Walter replied with firm conviction. Nearby, though in a different space, Catherine watched the two with sparkling eyes.
"Rescue fleet?" she asked hopefully. Neither answered.
"Could be hostile," John warned curtly. But Walter couldn't ignore an Everest-class. Even a flyby of one demonstrated power too immense to dismiss.
"And if friendly?" Walter countered, clinging to faint hope. John glared sourly.
"If enemy, we're done." But Walter glared back harder.
"Exposes our position and die quick, or wither slowly here? That's the choice." John had no rebuttal. It was true. Wither away, abandoning humanity for survival—or scratch the mortal foe before death.
"I'll order the defense forces to scramble. You can allow that much." John requested gravely. Walter nodded heavily, face set.
"Prepare for contingencies." His tone was commanding. John donned his helmet, saluted sharply. Walter stood and returned it. Hands dropped in sync. John turned and headed for the airlock to the void—ready for a final stand with attack craft if needed.
Walter watched the gravitational detector intently. He had to confirm when the ship exited inert space into realspace. If friendly, aid. If enemy... at least the defense forces could support a counterstrike before the end.