Anaffa, as it turned out, was an asteroid, a giant rock floating in space.

Well, it was a bit more than that.

The trip from Athabasca to Anaffa took only two hours-long trips through the void. We then dropped out of the void for one final time and started flying - sailing, whatever - through space, and it then took several minutes for me to reacquainted with the realization that the star ahead of us was not, in fact, a star.

Actually, correction: The stars ahead of us were not stars.

I at least expected Anaffa to eventually grow large enough for even my humble little eyes. It looked like every asteroid I had ever seen in my elementary school textbook: Large and rocky and with a rough surface peppered with little craters. Large bulks of metal were grafted into it, like superstructure protruding from a substructure. As we got closer, different colorations turned into a combination of plating and surface structures. Razor-thin lines turned into pylon-like structures. The asteroid flickered with blinking lights that served no purpose I could discern beyond lighting itself up against the darkness of space, but at least it looked pretty.

The other flickering stars - these drifting around and winking in and out of existence - slowly grew until they materialized into gentle trails of spaceships sailing in and out, leaving exhausts of light in their wake. Like fireflies, dozens swarmed in front great distances in a dance of light before falling into relatively neat lines, what I could only imagine were flight paths. In the distance, the occasional burst of ethereal green light - either a sudden flash, or a flash preceded by a distant flicker growing brighter and brighter for several seconds - told of ships jumping out of the void on arrival or jumping into the void for departure. Even if I had not watched our own ship jump in and out of the void several times already, I could easily watch icons of ships on our holographic radar thingy wink in and out of existence at the same time.

"Lots of space traffic," I observed, trying to sound as blithe as I possibly could.

"Anaffa is one of the larger Firmaments in the Hintersea," Scarlet explained casually. I told myself to remember that "Firmaments" are possibly what space people called their space stations. I had no idea how idiotic my observation sounded to Scarlet, but even though both of us were still kind of cagey with each other and polite enough not to prod, she seemed to have accepted over the last three weeks that I was an idiot, and that there were some things she should probably just explain without prompting. "Hundreds of ships come and go each week with bellies full of cargo."

Admittedly, the only thought I could think was that I hoped the days lasted for twenty-four hours and weeks lasted for seven days.

I am not going to lie and pretend I knew how many miles away from Anaffa we actually were when we were hailed. Close enough, I guess, that I could tell it was a rock in space, but far enough that it was a very near thing. Regardless, the computers at Scarlet's console beeped, Scarlet fiddled again with buttons - with a bit more confidence than last time, thankfully - and a feminine voice declared over hidden speakers: "Unidentified vessel, this is Anaffa Control. You are flying Congregation colors, but we are not picking up your registration. Halt your approach and state your intentions."

As instructed, Scarlet stopped our forward acceleration towards the asteroid, and we were adrift in space. "I am requesting clearance for Dock 7," she replied over the radio. "Cerys, daughter of Wynna, has an arrangement with me. I am willing to stay where I am until she is available."

There was a pregnant pause that followed, too utterly silent and devoid of even ambient background noise. I interacted with customer service - acted as customer service, for that matter - often enough that I could tell we were being put on hold, and that some kind of important discussion was happening on the other end of the call. Then...

"We will attempt to contact Cerys. Stay there."

Nothing to do but wait, then. Both Scarlet and I remained quiet as I watched the ships flying in and out of the asteroid. The smaller ones disappeared into giant airlock doors akin to the one we flew through in Athabasca. The larger ones - too large to pass through any reasonably-sized airlock - either deployed shuttles into smaller airlocks or used large clamping arms to latch onto what I can only assume to protruding struts for that purpose; some kind of structure like a jet bridge - you know, those tubes that connect airport terminals to the actual planes so people can get on and off - then extended to the hull of the ship, presumably to fulfill a similar function.

Some ships passed us close enough that I could have a good look at them. Presumably, they did not have any identification issues. They came in all shapes and sizes, but all of them resembled the Fortune's Wings - you know, that big stupid barge that tried to kill us - and the assorted smaller ships in Athabasca's hangar: Rugged, scuffed, and industrial, looking more like your grandfather's pickup truck that has barely survived from the sixties and less like a Carrera GT. I did spot one that broke the pattern: A small ship with sleek, elegant lines that made it look like a luxury vessel. I had a feeling that the aesthetic was inspired by the arkologies - the ship actually kind of looked like a flying sword - but the hull was not as pristine or smooth as our own vessel. There was just something about it that made it look like some amateur mechanic tried really hard to make a knockoff sports car in their own garage. An impressive effort, but still obviously kind of cheap and fake.

After about four minutes, Scarlet's console beeped again before a new voice made her presence on the call known: "This is Cerys, daughter of Wynna."

"I am Scarlet, daughter of Qtesphon," Scarlet replied, all business. "Miss Citrine says you're expecting me. 'Inaction is the absence of action, not the absence of choice.'"

"One moment." There was a long pause before Scarlet's console made a different chiming sound. "I'm giving you clearance for Dock 7. Sending you a flight plan. We have an outgoing barge leaving the dock; she should be clear of the airlock before you arrive, but watch your approach."

"Thank you, I will," Scarlet reassured Cerys. Our ship quietly rumbled for a bit - so quiet it was nearly soundless - before Anaffa started growing once more out the window. We were continuing our approach. Scarlet was once again tense, her jaw tightening, although not as badly as before, as she carefully piloted our spaceship towards what I presumed was going to be our designated airlock. It wasn't as bad as when we had been trying to dock at Athabasca; she was getting used to flying a ship that "handles like a dream". Some more ships passed us, rumbling right by, but we didn't seem to be in any danger of midair - midspace, whatever - collisions. Scarlet had things under control.

We were close enough to the asteroid now that I had a better understanding of its size. It was certainly massive, maybe even as large as the arkology I escaped from. Nothing as elegant, of course; it was still just a rock with a bunch of metal on it, nothing like the white plating and black metals and golden highlights of the arkology. Still, it was weird seeing objects this large as we flew over its surface, following our flight plan that also granted us a nice closeup view of Anaffa. How large was it? Ten miles across, maybe? Not that I had any idea what ten miles even looked like, but...

Then, suddenly...

"All vessels, all vessels, all vessels," came a terse voice over the radio, and I was instantly alarmed. In my experience, nothing good ever came out of someone repeating themselves three times. "This is Anaffa Control hailing on all channels. An Imperial cruiser has arrived in this region. All vessels not already docking, hold position until further notice."

I had no idea what that meant, but it didn't sound good. I glanced over at our holographic radar, looking at the different representations of the ships in our vicinity until I noticed one that was clearly represented as larger than everything else around us. It was long and had the angles of rectangular blocks, resembling a flat, blade-like structure being propelled by further blocks of engines that formed its hilt. The whole design screamed "military", somehow.

How large was it actually? Was it the size of the Fortune's Wings, or bigger? I couldn't exactly tell from the hologram, and it wasn't like I had access to a window that would let me see.

I looked over at Scarlet; she didn't seem too alarmed, but there was a slight stiffening of her posture in the pilot's seat. That wasn't a good sign. "Is that a problem?" I asked.

I wasn't sure if Scarlet was actually even more nervous or if she was just too busy trying to fly the ship to care. All she could say expressionlessly was, "I hope not."

We soon found ourselves facing a giant set of metallic doors that ground open, revealing the airlock inside. Scarlet breathed slowly as she guided the ship through, then exhaled in relief as our ship came to a stop. Gas blew from vents as the airlock sealed, and a minute passed before the second set of giant doors before us ground open, revealing Dock 7 inside.

Dock 7 here at Anaffa was a bit smaller than Dock 2 back at Athabasca, and the layout was different. Otherwise, though, there were obvious similarities: The industrial aesthetic, the assorted spaceships parked at different spots, the gunmetal colors, the scaffolding, the equipment, the messiness, the effort to personalize their working space with decorations of all sorts. And again, there was a dockworker with two flashing safety batons leading us to our parking spot.

It took a minute, but Scarlet managed to land us safely in between two other ships, exhaling in relief as she powered down our own spaceship's engines. It took her a moment to collect herself, but Scarlet seemed less nervous about dealing with the Congregation here than she had been when dealing with Citrine. With a nod to each other, we left the helm and worked our way through increasingly familiar corridors, making our way to the back of the ship and to the airlock that would allow us to leave.

As we reached the airlock doors, Scarlet gave me a quick look up and down before remarking, "You should keep your cloak on. The hood, too."

Ah. So I guessed my poncho wasn't actually a poncho, but a hood and cloak. Maybe. I wasn't exactly a leading expert on high fashion. Regardless, I did as told, throwing the hood over my head and straightening the cloak around my body. Maybe it made me more presentable. It was easier to trust Scarlet in general.

came a familiar announcement from a familiar voice inside my head as our mini-airlock began to open.

The doors opened, and we walked down the extending ramp down to the floor of the dock, where someone was already standing there to meet us. "Cerys?" Scarlet greeted.

It was not difficult locating our contact even if she had not literally been standing in wait behind our ship and before our airlock doors. Amidst the group of mechanics with grease-stained work clothes, Cerys was the fox-eared, fox-tailed lady looking just a bit older than Scarlet and I, maybe late twenties or early thirties. Her attire was nothing quite as provocative as Citrine's dress - shoulderless and with high slits giving her plenty of leg - but still alluring and giving the impression that she was the boss surrounded by more roughly-dressed dockworkers.

Cerys gave a businesslike nod as we closed the distance with her. "You must be Scarlet," she noted before turning her gaze up towards our ships. She stared for a moment before murmuring, "So this is the ship."

Scarlet nodded. "Miss Citrine said you will be able to complete the camouflage for us."

"That we can. This looks like it's a Lodric-scale. We'll need at least...two weeks."

"That won't be a problem."

Cerys nodded, although it seemed like an absentminded gesture; her eyes had not stopped scanning our spaceship. She sounded almost a little breathless - a bit in disbelief - as she asked, "This really is an Antecessor ship?"

"It is," Scarlet confirmed.

"Void be damned," Cerys muttered, even as a shrill shriek came from within the ship.

We turned just in time to see space Roomba sliding up at alarming speeds, sliding down the ramp before skidding to a stop at our feet. It swiveled left to right in place for a moment, as if looking from one face to another, before shrieking again and retreating back up the ramp and through the airlock and through the open door and disappearing into the ship's corridors.

Staring in bewilderment for a moment, Cerys could only manage to make out, "And that's..."

Scarlet almost looked a little awkward as she nodded and answered, "A servitor, yes."

Cerys continued to stare for a moment longer before she took a deep breath and expelled it. Then she looked around before flagging down a nearby dockworker. "Tanya," she called out, and a girl with dog ears wearing grease-stained overalls and little else came over. "Send the hirelings home, tell them they won't be coming in for at least two weeks. Our people only until we're done with this ship, understood?"

Tanya made a face. "They won't be happy," she said in an accent that I couldn't identify but somehow sounded exactly like the kind of rough dockworker accent I expected from a girl like her. "We promised them contracts."

"Pay them off if you have to. This takes priority."

"Yes, ma'am," Tanya bowed her head before marching off, presumably to carry out Cerys' orders.

Cerys, for her part, beckoned for us to follow, leading us towards the corner of the dock, up the stairs, and into what I could only describe as a foreman's office. It was an elevated structure with windows that provided a second-floor view over the rest of the hangar. The interior was messy, full of documents and equipment and trinkets and a desk at the far end with high-tech computer stuff. Three old long couches flanked a low rectangular tea table, and we found ourselves settling into them for what proved to be an impromptu business meeting.

"Miss Citrine gave me the broad strokes," Cerys explained even as she served us what I could only presume to be tea in metallic mugs, "and I can probably tell the rest on my own. We need to reinforce the exterior camouflage, install scry-defeating armor, remodel the interior so that any passengers you may have are none the wiser. Registration too, of course. Your ship is also unarmed?"

"As far as we can tell," Scarlet replied, taking a sip from the mug. I did too, just to feel like I was included, somehow. I was never really a tea person, and I had no idea what leaves they were using, but it didn't taste too bad. Mildly bitter, but also with a twinge of sweetness. "We have an Empyrean, but I would like more options."

Cerys nodded, rubbing her chin in thought as she presumably ran the numbers in her head. "We have a shipment coming in in a week. There should be an extra rotary cannon. Missile launcher too; it's meant for another contract, but I know the client. I'll smooth things over."

For about fifteen minutes, Scarlet and Cerys seemed to talk shop, going over technical details that largely flew over my head. I, of course, remained quiet and nodded along when it seemed appropriate for me to nod along, but otherwise said nothing. Cerys, at least, seemed to regard me with respectful looks a few times, as if maybe I was the brains behind Scarlet's operation - imagine that - but otherwise kept her attention focused on my fox-eared companion.

I felt totally useless. I mean, they were talking about mechanical stuff, right? Wasn't I supposed to be the idiot who graduated from a community college to become a general mechanic? Big load of help I was being. What was I even doing here?

It was after the two others had finished going after the technical details - as our little meeting drew to its end - that Cerys declared, "I've been told you're based out of Anaffa, but if you require accommodations..."

"We have our own, thank you," replied Scarlet, which was nice to know. Not that the Congregation hadn't extended some very nice hospitality towards us, but it was nice to know that we would be putting just a bit of distance between us and the gay space mafia, and whatever bugged room they have prepared for us. Although not too much distance, it seemed, for Scarlet continued, "Would it be inconvenient if we were to drop in to observe work from time-to-time?" And then when Cerys narrowed her eyes ever-so-imperceptibly, as if finding some offense in that suggestion, Scarlet quickly added, "Just to understand how the work is coming along."

Cerys considered this for a moment before she seemed to relax, her shoulders lowering just a bit. "I'll have my girls expect your inspections. If there is nothing else...?"

Scarlet shifted for a moment - perhaps a moment of discomfort - before observing, "Anaffa Control spoke of an incoming Imperial cruiser."

"I know as much as you do about that," Cerys muttered with a grimace, clearly unhappy about the state of affairs, whatever they were. "You know how it is. Lay low, and it'll pass." When Scarlet nodded in acceptance of this explanation, Cerys rose to her feet from the couch, and we did the same. I made a point of quickly draining my mug of its remaining contents, at least. It felt only polite. "I'll walk you to the elevator."

Cerys led us out the door of her office and down the stairs, back to the floor of the dock. The space was largely emptied of dockworkers now, and aside from the familiar ambient rumbling of industrial equipment, the place was largely quiet. It was unsurprising; Cerys had only just told a subordinate to send what I could only assume to be temporarily hired help home.

The place wasn't entirely empty of occupants, though. As we made it to the bottom of the stairs and turned so that our camouflaged spaceship came back into view, we saw someone new.

She stood furtively at the bottom of the ramp leading up to our ship, looking up inside, edging closer and closer, reminding me of a curious chipmunk exercising caution but still trying to figure out if the old lady at the park was going to feed it. She was small and petite, too. I wasn't exactly tall by any stretch of the word - I was actually just slightly shorter than average compared to all the other girls I've known in my life - but this girl would probably, depending on how you looked at it, maybe reach my shoulders. "Depending on how you looked at it", of course, because she also sported a pair of bunny ears coming out of the top of her head, giving at least another foot to her otherwise tiny height. They were perked up in interest and white in color, the same as her shoulder-blade-length hair and just a shade lighter than her otherwise smooth, pale skin.

Smooth pale skin that I got an eyeful of, because she wasn't wearing very much at all. A strip of loose cloth was tied around her chest like a ribbon, baring her shoulders and waist. And her skirt was honestly not much more than a loincloth-like duo of fabrics that fluttered teasingly in the subtle shifts of air in this dock. I could practically see the sides of her...well, backside. A collar, too, was wrapped around her neck, reminding me all too awkwardly of Rowan and Robin back on Athabasca, the two working girls who had kept us company back then.

Where I was too busy pretending I wasn't blushing or staring, and where Scarlet was as inexpressive as ever, however, Cerys was clearly displeased. Her angry footfalls gave the bunnygirl just enough time to turn around in alarm as the fox-eared manager crossed the distance between them, raised her hand, and snarled, "You little whore!"

The hand struck down at the bunny-eared girl, who cowered and backed up a little to the side - away from Cerys and the ship - and raised her arms to protect herself and whined, "I'm sorry!" She wasn't actually running away, though, and Cerys managed to get a few slaps in, most of them intercepted by the girl's arms but a few that struck her face. There was something uncomfortably akin to a child terrified of being beaten by her parents and reacting out of fear but knowing better than to actually outright run away. My mother had rarely ever beaten me as a child; she had wielded guilt better than she had ever wielded a cane. But I had grown up around broken families. I knew what these things looked like. It didn't help that the barely-dressed bunny-eared girl was just kind of small and diminutive. She was almost certainly only a few years younger than me, but her size still made it difficult to watch.

Grabbing the girl by the back of her neck, Cerys practically tossed her away from the ship. It was difficult while wearing slippers, but the bunnygirl somehow managed to recover from that throw, stumbling almost two whole yards before finding her feet and scampering off. "Go, get back to where you belong!" Cerys snapped, scowling and watching the target of her ire retreat to wherever she was meant to go. It took a moment before our fox-eared associate sighed, schooled her features, then - in a much more civil tone - looked at the two of us and said, "Apologies. She's a disobedient girl, that one."

I'm not sure that was precisely something I wanted to receive an apology for. Scarlet, on the other hand, remained stoic and seemed almost largely disinterested at the whole show. "I don't mind as long as she doesn't break anything," she replied with a half-shrug. I chose to hold my tongue.

It didn't take much longer for us to be guided to the elevator at the far end of the dock. No "lift" here that flipped the bird at gravity and floated us to wherever we needed to go; if anything, it was almost comforting to see the metallic double doors creak open, revealing a large elevator car not at all unlike a factory's cargo elevator, kind of ugly in that utilitarian industrial way, complete with a bit of rust and a lot of stains. The whole thing was probably large enough to fit a dozen SUV's, but we had the whole thing to ourselves. Scarlet hit a button that would presumably take us wherever we needed to go, Cerys gave us a curt nod of farewell as the doors closed, and the elevator creaked and groaned with a start before settling down to a more tolerable mechanical duet of whirring and humming, seemingly traveling upwards, if at a slight angle.

Now out of the lion's den, Scarlet seemed to relax a bit. The slightly forced impassiveness eased a bit into...well, more impassiveness, but of a more relaxed nature. Her shoulders, too, seemed to slump just a little. I tried to lighten the mood by wryly asking, "You have a pretty business-like relationship with the Congregation, don't you?"

"It's better that way," Scarlet said with a nod, and then added little else. It only served to remind me that I had somehow been roped into what seemed like a tightrope walk. Or maybe this was really just the best survival strategy we had given our circumstances. All I knew was that our spaceship was a Big Deal, that it was simultaneously a source of great opportunity and massive danger, and the alternative was the possibility of being stuck in that arkology while being turned inside-out by reality-bending bullshit.

Gravity shifted not-so-subtly along the way. They weren't nearly strong enough to throw me off my feet; I mostly just had to shift my balance a little and overcome weird feelings of vertigo and maybe even take a slight step to make sure I didn't fall over. It basically kind of felt like having to catch yourself just a little as a monorail train sped up or slowed down a bit, except the shifts in gravity felt like they tugged in several more directions than just front or back. Or just up or down, in this case. The elevator car also stopped twice to admit more passengers, presumably from other docks. A few dozen people flooded in each time. There were a few people who looked like dockworkers, but many of them wore clean, casual clothes that didn't look like they were for work, sporting fashions I didn't recognize. Regardless, I kept close to Scarlet and kept my silence as the elevator filled up. Having just one person take note of my complete ignorance was probably enough. I probably didn't need to draw attention to my alienness in a confined, congested space filled with dozens of people.

The elevator slowed to a halt one final time. The doors opened with a hiss, and a slight blast of wind swept through the elevator, not nearly strong enough to blow my hood off, but enough that it was a bit of a surprise. As the first ones on, Scarlet and I had backed up into the corner of an elevator, so we had to wait for the people in front of us to disembark first, but we followed the crowd out of the large double doors, out into whatever laid beyond.

My eyes tried to adjust to the new lighting, tried to focus. Everything outside looked...off. Like I was nodding off and trying to stare at a wallpaper with weird patterns. It took me a moment to realize that my eyes weren't just trying to compensate for the difference in brightness, but also trying to focus to adjust for distance. I blinked a few times, even rubbed my eyes.

That's when I saw it. Saw everything.

We were in a gigantic cavernous sphere within the asteroid. How wide was this massive space? Five miles? Ten? I had no idea how I could even begin to guess. It was enormous either way. But it was within this sphere - that I watched buildings rise from every surface. I watched a symphony of multi-colored flickering lights dancing across every corner of the interior of the asteroid, like rainbow moonlight against the choppy night sea.

This wasn't just some asteroid space station. It was a city; no, a metropolis. What was the mathematical formula from calculating the area of a sphere again? Four times pi times radius-squared? The whole place must've been a few hundred square miles large. And all of this inside an asteroid?

Wide streets of stone and steel stretched out under hundreds of walkways, snaking across the landscape and leading into the "sky", illuminated by warm lights reminiscent of campfires. Colorful banners flew from blocks of colorful buildings that reminded me of Asian temples and Arabic mosques and European townhouses stacked on top of one another until everything was just a dizzying blur of architecture. Tiny little ships - drones, maybe? - darted through the sky. Flashlights shone at me across vast distances, until I realized they were powerful advertising searchlights akin to neon signs. Stalls lined the streets like a giant farmer's market, selling everything from trinkets to food, manned by merchants cheerfully shouting for attention and patronage. The air wafted with the smell of smoke and spices and food and perfume.

And the streets were full of people, walking and running around, going about their day. Scarlet and I navigated the crowds as we walked down the streets, packed with far more people than I had ever been accustomed to, reminding me of pictures of the streets of Hong Kong. People dressed in a cacophony of colors in fashions I had never seen before, from fancy dresses to short skirts to flowing robes to the sort of tight leather suits Scarlet wore. So, too, were there scantily-clad girls on the street, wearing little more than strips around the chest and waist, shaking their hips alluringly, and I awkwardly looked away from those bunny-eared girls. Indeed, everyone here seemed to have a bunch of different animal ears. Aside from the aforementioned bunny ears, I could also recognize fox ears, dog ears, cat ears, and maybe wolf ears? I didn't know, I wasn't a friggin' vet. I'm stupid. All I knew was that this was beautiful. I'm not a sentimental person. I actually like to think of myself as pretty jaded. This, though...

...This took my breath away. For the longest moment, I could do nothing but stare and feel my heart thunder in my ears, like a child seeing Disneyland for the first time.

This wasn't like Athabasca, a private lived-in workplace. This was a proper city. People lived here, brought with them their needs and their cultures and their eccentricities. What did the population count even look like? Definitely at least a few million, surely. And this was supposed to be just "one of the larger Firmaments"? There were even larger space stations?

This was, of course, all very amazing, and I spent many minutes just staring and taking in the sights. Kansas, this ain't. But as I continued to stare, as I continued to observe everything around me, there was just one slight problem, one tiny detail that I couldn't help but notice, something that nagged at the back of my head.

"Uh, Scarlet?" I asked after spending about a minute trying to figure out whether I should be voicing my concerns in the first place.

"Yes?" replied Scarlet without even turning around to look at me. Which was impressive, considering that we were snaking our way through congested streets, slipping in between little gaps in the crowds. I was not accustomed to this kind of population density. It was actually kind of dizzying.

"I...may have missed something along the way," I conceded. I was stupid, after all. "And, uh....sorry if this is a stupid question. But, uh..." I took a deep breath, almost dreading the answer to come, before asking, "...where are the men?"

With a straight face, Scarlet swiveled her head towards me with her usual lack of expression, blinked, tilted her head slightly to the side, and asked, "What are 'men'?"