Chapter 2: Axis | page 2

It was the work of an hour to track down and pay the harried-looking Dailon dockmaster. Maeve thought it might have been a male, but discerning the Dailon genders was notoriously difficult. They told one another apart easily by scent, but of the other species, only the canine Lyrans could make such distinctions. Like the rest of his or her race, the Dailon’s skin was a dark blue, accented by glossy black hair and eyes, with an angular, planar build.

Forgoing any greeting, the Dailon unceremoniously thrust a datadex into Maeve’s hands. She printed it and paid the landing fee. The dockmaster hurried off, rubbing his or her blue hands together briskly after even momentary contact with the Arcadian.

The Blue Phoenix was berthed on the second of Axis’ twelve levels in one of fifty thousand or so docking circles. Landing pads and fueling stations dominated this part of the megatropolis. The streets were filled with sky cars, suspended by cloudy NI fields, as well as older wheeled and bearing-mounted vehicles. Crowds pushed this way and that on the rubberized sidewalks, men and women of all species absently shouldering past one another as they went about business either on this level or making their way to one of the many lifts that would take them out into the rest of Axis.

The air was alive with voices. In the early days of the Alliance, the founders had agreed upon a common language, which they named Aver. Because the humans were by far the most common and widespread race in the galaxy, Aver was made up primarily of human dialects. Hoping to forge a lasting understanding between the species of the CWA, each of the four core races took a hand in perfecting the unifying Aver. The black-haired Dailons contributed their rolling, sibilant hisses. From the brilliant, six-fingered Ixthians came a thousand clicking names for all manner of medicines and chemicals. The canine Lyra voiced their deep love of mechanical things, as well as the cha-gri, an open-backed chair that let them swing their furry tails freely.

Maeve made her way out of the docking circles. Fueling stations and ship airlocks gave way to tastefully holographed storefronts with wide windows filled with images of assorted flight suits and polished ship parts. Sidewalks and roads were painstakingly kept clean and in excellent repair, despite the traffic of millions of feet and vehicles.

Most visitors to Axis came by way of Level Two and so, in the interest of ongoing trade and good public relations, the city-world went to great lengths to keep the upper levels pleasant, relaxing and beautiful. Such aesthetics included the inhabitants as well as the décor. Maeve was the only Arcadian in sight and was attracting frank, disgusted looks.

Many of the streets had glassteel skylights arcing overhead, great windows that opened up on the star-filled Level One sky. She paused, staring skyward. The sky of Axis never ceased to arrest her, to fill her with wonder and anger. The blackness was alive with glittering stars, packed as close to one another as the people of the city. Even at midday, the close-packed stars blazed, too bright and too many for the sun to eclipse. By night, they were glorious.

On her rimworld home, the White Kingdom of Arcadia, there had never been a sky like this. The core was a breath-taking, glittering heart of life in the galaxy. Maeve felt as though she could reach out and touch another of those countless brilliant points of silver light.

Somewhere out there, in all of those stars, lay the shattered remains of her home. How could such life carry on when her kingdom was broken, her people on the brink of extinction and scattered through the core?

How could the galaxy spin on, untouched, when Arcadia was gone? She turned away, but the view on the street was no more inspiring. A smiling human couple brushed past Maeve. They ignored the dirty Arcadian and moved on, laughing together at some private joke.

I need a fix…