The ship could hold the population of an entire planet. It was so gigantic it could not land anywhere and remained constantly in orbit when it was not cruising.

Halden had needed to take a shuttle to fly from the surface of Bernice to the monster above.

You could get lost in a place this big, he mused. It was a maze—albeit a crowded one.

The passengers were a varied sort. If not in social class—it required some level of wealth to afford such a trip—at least in cultural make-up. It was obvious just from watching the multitude of colored garbs and skin tones.

Most were humans, of course, but there were also some alien species. Though all were citizens of the Imperium. You could not buy a ticket without some form of legal document.

He’d had to request more vacation time, which had left Marthus speechless. He’d blurted out how he wanted to travel to Iriaki, but that the trip there and back would itself take a month. His boss had been delighted to hear his friend was finally taking this rest thing seriously and had only been too happy to grant him three months off.

Halden was going further than Iriaki, though. It would take him three weeks just to reach the Tin’kisti Belt. Which meant he’d have a little more than a month on Nad’irith to explore and investigate.

He was already halfway there, but he was growing restless. He couldn’t stand staying so long doing nothing. It made him feel useless.

Oh, of course, he’d tried to enjoy himself. He’d walked around the ship and had marveled at the alien technology. The vessel had been made by the Imperium, of course, but if the Emperor was good at one thing, it was at appropriating knowledge from other species. He liked to call it trading, but the aliens rarely got much in return.

Halden had even joined a guided tour that took him through the entire structure, from top to bottom. It had taken five days. There were entire levels made of grass and stone and trees. He’d seen artificial gardens and lakes that looked more real than the real thing.

The skies were always fake and ruined the experience. In some places, they’d used holographic displays to mimic a starry or sunny sky, but always glitches would expose the illusion. Though he suspected most people did not notice, considering how awed everyone around him looked.

Another level had been dedicated to children, with hundreds of games and entertainment centers. There were some for adults, too, in other places. Those they did not fully explore, and Halden could guess why. There were too many families with young ones among them, and likely the sights there would not all have been “family-friendly.”

He’d also seen malls, parks, sports fields, pools, hospitals, restaurants...

It truly was a whole world within a ship.

He’d known these things existed, but it was the first time he’d experienced one first-hand.

And though it was fascinating, it was not his thing.

None of this could keep his mind as laser-focused as his work. All this was glitter, none of it gold.

He soon realized there was one spot he kept going back to. It was at the very top of the ship. There, the roof was made of glass. And, beyond, he could see the stars.

It was a large lounge room with chairs, tables, and recliners. He’d lay on one of the latter and stare into the void.

He liked it here, despite the low hum of conversations around him, because it reminded him of his work. Here, he could think.

And, often, his mind would race back to the documents he had read. He’d stored the copies he’d made into his wristpad—where he felt they’d be most secure. He often went through them at night, before he fell asleep.

There was a puzzle there that needed to be solved.

One day, a scream interrupted his reverie.

He jumped out of the recliner and followed everyone’s gaze.

People were rushing into the room, waving their hands, with panicked expressions on their faces.

“What’s going on?” asked many confused folks around him.

That was when he heard it.

A shooting phaser.

And it was coming closer.