Work Text:
Exactly one century after it began, the final transport to the Quay departed with a fanfare once reserved for celebrities and sporting events. For one hundred years ships had been launched from various points around the globe - India, Russia, the United States, England, et al - so that all partners in the Aphelion Project would have an equal contribution to the finished product. Entire generations watched as light ships with solar sails departed into the ether carrying aerotechs who would be responsible for constructing “the most important way station in the history of mankind.” As technology advanced their ships became faster, some newer ships passing others that had been launched decades before.
Their ultimate destination was just beyond the Kuiper Belt, passing through a relatively thin concentration of asteroids and dwarf planets to the open space beyond. The first vessel to arrive served as the platform for everything that came later. Pressurized modules were added and the people who had taken the ultimate risk took up residence in their new home. Their only job was to build, waiting for each successive arrival from Earth with another piece of their stellar puzzle. Eight years into the mission the first child was born on the Quay, a girl named Celeste in honor of being the first human being to be born and live exclusively in space. She died at the age of 48, the first human in history to never set foot on her parents’ home planet.
Aphelion’s original purpose was to serve as a way for human travelers to pause, resupply, and refuel before continuing outward to... whatever awaited them. Probes and satellites gave them a good idea of where they should start looking, but the ability to actually go there would be impossible without a station like the Quay between Earth and the outer reaches. In the seventieth year of construction, the aerotechs were surprised to see an unscheduled object on their sensors. They were shocked to discover it was coming from out, rather than in, and speechless when they received a visual of a ship the likes of which they had never seen before.
An astronaut named Tai Krupin geared up for a spacewalk and drifted out toward the alien ship. It came close enough that he could examine the exterior and he found an opening he believed was for him. Despite the misgivings of his fellow crewmembers, Krupin approached the vessel and went inside. This served as first contact with the Paisian race, humanity’s first contact with an alien race, and justified the billions of dollars that had been spent making the Aphelion Project a reality. The Paisian requested permission to use the Quay as a temporary docking station while they repaired a bit of engine damage. The astronauts aboard didn’t have time to wait for a reply from Earth and accepted the proposal. A group of Paisian engineers made some adjustments to one of the station’s docks to make it compatible with their ship.
The Paisian were gone by the time word reached Earth. The international committee had declared that the aliens were absolutely and without a doubt restricted from any access to the Quay. Tai Krupin sent back a succinct, single-word response: “Oops.” His original message was two words, but before sending it he decided he wasn’t very sorry.
The incident confirmed suspicions that the Quay was in danger of becoming a lawless colony. The Aphelion Committee suggested sending a representative from each host nation to reside on the new station, but those already there claimed they lacked the support necessary for such a large influx of permanent residents. The compromise was that one member of the crew would be named a delegate who would represent Earth’s best interests. Sergei Marinosa was chosen to be the first such delegate, and his first assignment was to penalize his fellow crewmembers for allowing the Paisian to dock at the station with an eight-day isolation in the furthest reaches of the station. Though he’d been liked well enough before his appointment, after he enacted the unnecessary punishment he was ostracized and separated from the rest of the crew. The lines had been drawn: there was Earth and its interests, and then there was the Quay.
By that time, eighty years into the construction, the population of the Quay had grown to nearly two hundred and fifty. It was roughly one thousand yards from one end to the other. It bulged and bent in the middle so that it resembled a harbor. New arrivals from Earth were coming at least one every other month, and every ship that came had some piece or another which would bring them one step closer to finishing their work.
Finally the day came when a solar sail ship arrived with a component that was only vaguely necessary. They would be able to function fine without it, which is why they were able to comply with the onboard instructions which ordered them not to install it until April 4 at 1545 Quay Time. It took them a moment to realize the significance of the date, but when they did they were more than happy to follow the order. April 4 would mark one hundred years since the first ship was launched. 1545 would more or less coincide with the timing of that launch, so adding the component would officially end the Quay Century as it would later be known.
In the two decades since the Paisian encounter, tensions between Earth and the Quay had simmered significantly. More and more alien vessels were wandering into the Quay’s neighborhood - Paisian and Karezza and others who never bothered to initiate communications - and Aphelion quickly decided it would be in everyone’s best interest to have a friendly relationship if at all possible. Now that construction was complete, Earth could now focus on utilizing the Quay. The next launch was scheduled to include a delegation of diplomats.
After a hundred years and more money than had ever been spent on any single endeavor in history, the Quay was officially opened for business.
#
For the century it was under constant construction, the Quay was ruled by engineers and mechanics. Once it was complete the hierarchy shifted to represent its strategic military location. Word had spread that the station was there and its residents were willing to provide a rest stop to any friendly races, and soon the ships started coming. The Paisian were familiar visitors, and soon the sight of a Paisian in the Quay was as expected as seeing a human.
Reports from first contact identified the Paisian as shapeshifters, but that was quickly proven to be inaccurate. They skin appeared fluid and capable of changing form due to the fact each Paisian individual was formed by hundreds of much-smaller entities. They worked in congress with each other to form a singular consciousness, one identity created out of thousands, and they assumed the form of whoever they were speaking to. Their faces were devoid of character, their hands oddly cartoonish, and their voice was a peculiar echo due to the fact it was being created by multiple creatures at once.
The Paisian used only one name to identify themselves; though their population numbered in the millions, they clustered together to form only several dozen different identities. They enjoyed the human practice of using surnames, so they assumed Paisian as a universal name for their race.
Through the Paisian humanity finally became aware of the greater community outside their solar system. One reason so many ships required the Quay for repair work was because they were fighting a war nearby. Stopping at the Quay was much more convenient than retreating all the way back to their home systems. In exchange they offered to share their technology with their new friends. Paisian and Karezza scientists took up posts to help teach Human engineers how to use everything.
By necessity, the Quay began to evolve into a more comfortable place to visit. The common areas slowly became more aesthetically pleasing to accommodate the crew of visiting ships. Shops began to petition for the right to have a presence on the main terminal. The majority of restaurants were from Earth, but the Karezza also offered to host someone on the station who could make their traditional meals for the curious. The Paisian helped rebuild the Quay’s sensors and operations center so they would be better equipped to identify incoming vessels.
The disparate races struck a surprisingly easy balance. The Paisian were charming and polite, docile without giving the appearance of weakness. The Karezza were powerful warriors and fantastic fighters, but they never fought without reason. Humans never gave them a reason to react violently so their relationship was amiable. Once an unspoken grace period had been observed, their new friends were invited to take quick trips to Earth. Humans who had either come to the Quay expecting a one-way trip, or children who had been born there and had never seen their home were invited to board one of the faster alien vessels for the excursion.
The Paisian arrival was greeted with curiosity, scientists clamoring to get a good look at the creatures that made up each individual. The Karezza were given a wider berth, which they seemed to take as a sign of respect. The Paisian spent their time with researchers and scientists and provided insights on engine tech that would increase the speed of their ships a hundredfold. The leader of the world’s preeminent superpower appeared on screens the world over standing between a Paisian and a Karezza, a hand on each of their shoulders, and declared that Humanity’s grand experiment to open the doors of the heavens had paid off beyond their wildest dreams. She declared the day to be the dawn of a new age for all of Humanity.
Thirty years passed, during which time the Quay slowly became part of the scenery. People who had once stared into the night sky trying to comprehend the distance only spared the space station on rare occasions. Faster ships meant that it was no longer unreachable, meant that those who went there weren’t trapped for their entire lives. The Quay became just another distant outpost that was no longer the most important place in everyone’s minds.
For two hundred years the Quay was little more than a train depot. Vessels of all sorts came and went - not just Human, Karezza, and Paisian, but other races started requesting permission to dock as well. It was an uneventful posting, and it became the ideal place for retiring soldiers to spend their final deployment. Humanity was at peace with itself, and with their newfound neighbors. Technology advanced by leaps and bounds due to the Paisian influence. Karezza medicine was found to have an interesting effect on human illnesses, and soon a once-fatal prognosis became something treatable. Humans allowed themselves to believe the utopia written about by countless writers and poets had finally come to pass.
It lasted close to fifty years. A race called the Cetidroi, a race previously unknown to any of Earth’s allies, appeared at the edge of Pelorum space. Since the only inhabited planet in that system was incapable of spaceflight and, ergo, unable to protect itself from invaders, the Karezza moved to intercept them. The Cetidroi responded to their peaceful hail with a barrage of energy weapons. They sapped power from the Karezza shields until the emitters failed, then targeted their engines. The final message from the Karezza ship, intercepted by a Balanquin satellite, was something else Earth’s allies had never heard.
The Karezza attempted to surrender.
The Cetidroi responded by destroying their ship. Then it continued as if nothing happened, bypassing the defenseless Balanquin home world to meander deeper into the system.
The response was swift. Every warship the Karezza had, every available cruiser from every spacefaring race descended on the invader. At that point it was still uncertain whether “Cetidroi” was the name of their vessel, their race, or simply something they’d said when responding to the initial hail. They had to call their enemy something, and Cetidroi was as good as anything else.
Seventeen vessels surrounded the Cetidroi ship, each one primed for war. Not one of their sensors picked up the fleet of Cetidroi cruisers that entered the system behind them. Later they would understand the entire thing had been a ploy. The Cetidroi obliterated the first vessel they came across, moved to empty space without many planets or moons, and waited. When the second wave of attackers arrived, the Cetidroi had their own second wave waiting. The strongest vessels in every race’s fleet, the most powerful weapons they had available, all in one place and caught unaware.
The result was a massacre. Every army in the surrounding system was crippled, and the Cetidroi fleet continued their lazy advance. The Karezza and the other races had no choice but to send more ships. They didn’t believe they had a chance, but they also couldn’t simply shrink back and hope their home worlds would be spared.
The Quay was overrun with vessels requiring immediate and dire repairs. Their medical center was crowded with casualties. There was a summit aboard the Quay at which a Karezza general submitted what had to be the most desperate plan any of them had ever heard: fill their ships with every weapon at their disposal, every single ship that was still capable of making the journey, and ram them in the Cetidroi in the hopes the ensuing explosion would destroy the vessel. Then they had to hope the rest of the fleet would simply turn around and go home.
The Humans dismissed this idea out of hand, as did the Paisian. There had to be another solution, one that didn’t end with everybody dead. “We have struck with both hands, and now our hands are broken,” one Paisian said. “We should not strike with our heads and hope that cracking our skulls will inconvenience them.”
While they were debating, salvation came from an arena no one expected: the Balanquin, a race that until a few years earlier were enslaved by another race on their planet, launched ships that no one was aware they had. The Balanquin ships were small and scrappy. No weapons to speak of, no shields, nothing but sheer maneuverability. They swarmed the Cetidroi like gnats, getting so close that the Cetidroi couldn’t angle their weapons properly. When the Balanquin were far enough away, they were too fast for weapons locks.
A Karezza general watched the strangely beautiful ballet with sad pride. He was prepared to honor the brave and crazy Balanquin for fighting without hope of winning, but then something incredible happened. One of the Cetidroi ships attempted to mimic a Balanquin maneuver and lost control. Its thrusters gave out from the strain and sent it careening into the side of its neighbor. There was a quiet implosion, and then pieces of debris began spinning and spiraling out from the wreckage. The Balanquin could avoid the shattered pieces of the destroyed vessels, but the large and suddenly clumsy Cetidroi suddenly found themselves in a minefield.
The Karezza general could feel his hair standing on end as he rose from his seat. “Maintain distance,” he told his navigator. “We should do well to avoid the calamity. But take us close enough to do some damage.”
The Cetidroi couldn’t reposition themselves without incurring damage to their hull, so they were unable to respond when the Karezza ships appeared at their flank. The Balanquin stingers continued to buzz the Cetidroi ships. A few were destroyed by getting too close to the weapons platforms when they fired, but the explosions caused the blast to disperse before it could cause any damage to any other ships. The Karezza opened fire and, for the first time since the blasted war began, they destroyed a Cetidroi ship.
The general slapped his weapons officer on the arm. “Contact our people at the Quay. Tell them we... tell them the Balanquin...” He couldn’t find the right words so finally he sighed. “Tell them to get here as soon as possible. There is finally hope.”
The Cetidroi began to take risks. They moved to do battle, but pieces of their destroyed ships dug into their hulls. The Balanquin realized that the Cetidroi weapons required a large amount of energy, so they began to focus their weak weapons on the Cetidroi emitters and discovered they were powered by energy cells that could be very easily overloaded. Soon Cetidroi ships were being crippled with ease. The Kazerra were able to get close enough to take advantage of damage caused by the Balanquin ships.
By the time reinforcements arrived from the Quay, there was no need for them. The Karezza called a cease fire, and the fleet of Karezza, Balanquin, Paisian, Human, and every other race with a vessel to spare formed a net to push their oppressors out of the system. The Cetidroi ships limped away, impotent and decimated by a fleet of one-man flyers that for all intents and purposes should have been crushed like flies.
The Karezza offered their hangars to the weary Balanquin ships, and the general greeted the pilots as the conquering heroes they were. One pilot, a beautiful young woman with dusky red skin pulled off her helmet to reveal one side of her head was shaved except for four braids arching over her ear. The general extended his hand to her, a gesture he had learned from the Humans.
“Glorious fighting. Those bastards have caused a lot of damage that will take much time to repair, but now that we have the opportunity...” He laughed and slapped the pilot on the back hard enough to make her stumble. “Simply glorious! What is your name?”
“Bauwerji Crow,” she said.
“Bow’ry?”
“Close enough.”
She started to turn away, but the general called after her. “Our people are in your debt, Bowery Crow! We owe this victory to the Balanquin.”
She turned and walked backward as she responded to him. “The Balanquin wouldn’t have been here to save you if the Karezza hadn’t risked themselves to save us years ago. Consider this a repayment.” She touched her fist to her chest, dipped her head in a bow, and turned her back on him.
The Karezza general laughed and shook his head, then went to inspect one of the impossible ships that had won their war.