Inside the cabin, Ada finally finished getting ready.
She stood up, having replaced the dark red silk sleepwear with a smartly tailored, fashion-forward ivory casual outfit that balanced style and ease of movement, highlighting her crisp, elegant presence.
Leon was already set, waiting patiently by the door.
Just then, a soft chime came through the cabin and corridor PA systems, and a pleasant-voiced AI navigator began to announce:
"Dear passengers, this is a bridge broadcast.
The Starvault Wanderer has successfully completed its berthing procedure at the port. All docking conduits and hard-light skybridges are stably connected and have passed safety checks.
You may now use your personal biometric credentials to disembark via designated exits, proceed to the station, and begin exploring the unique attractions of Earth‑20.
Navigation inside the station has been activated for you. The locations of the most popular natural-wonder observation decks, historical and cultural memorial halls, specialty restaurants, and shopping centers have been marked on your personal terminals and on station holo-maps.
To facilitate your surface tours, this flight—as always—provides ample civilian hovercraft rental services. You may claim one free in the designated station area with your ticket.
A friendly reminder from the Imperial Ministry of Transport: when piloting hovercraft, please strictly follow local airspace rules. This is not only a responsibility for your own safety, but a respect for others' lives.
We wish you a pleasant journey."
When the announcement ended, Leon glanced at Ada and gestured "after you."
Ada smiled slightly and left the cabin with him.
Outside, the broad corridor already held many excited passengers moving toward the exits.
Because the Starvault Wanderer is so large, internal transit relies on efficient small orbital train lines.
Leon and Ada made their way to the nearest platform with practiced ease and boarded a sleek silver train.
The car was quiet and steady. In under two minutes, it took them to the disembarkation area closest to their cabin.
After a pressure-equalization hatch with a faint change in air pressure, they stepped onto the passage linking the liner and the station.
It was a transparent skybridge built from fully mature hard-light tech.
The walls, vault, and even the floor beneath their feet were entirely solidified from a pristine energy field, crystal clear—almost enough to make you feel you were walking unsupported in the vacuum of space.
Only the faintest ripples—like slow water—hinted this was not true void.
The lighting within was gentle, simulating the most body-friendly conditions and forming a sharp contrast with the deep darkness outside and the glare of the star.
Walking it felt like strolling the stars themselves.
Looking down, the vast blue arc of Earth‑20 filled most of the view, white cloudbands slowly unrolling across it, continental outlines sharp in the sunlight, and the wide ocean glittering with ripples.
Looking up, there was the boundless black of space, pricked by uncountable brilliant but icy stars; far off, the Empire's sprawling orbital shipyards lay like iron constellations set into the night, welding sparks flaring like brief novas.
Many first-timers let out waves of awe, lost in the soul-shaking sight.
For Leon and Ada—old-guard top agents who had moved through countless hazards and even xenomorph hives—this grandeur alone was not enough to break their composure.
Their steps were unhurried, their bearing unruffled, as if they were only walking a glass footbridge in some city on an ordinary afternoon.
Still, their senses—hammered into form through a thousand trials—swept their surroundings without a thought, gauging the safety factor—
a professional instinct to the marrow.
Just then, Ada, very naturally, slipped her hand through Leon's arm and drew them closer.
Turning her head, she spoke low, with a tease only they would get, and a trace of quiet worry:
"Speaking of which—leaving the kid with Mike… is that really wise?"
Feeling the warmth on his arm, Leon smiled.
He patted the back of Ada's hand, tone easy:
"Relax, it's fine. He may seem flaky sometimes, but don't forget—he has 'combat' parenting experience.
We pulled teeth to carve out these thirty days—to make good the three years of honeymoon we owed. Let our 'uncle' put in some work and watch the kid—what's wrong with that?
It'll give the little one a taste of a different 'militarized' management style."
He put a special weight on "militarized," poking at his old friend's way of doing things.
"Heh~."
Imagining it, Ada laughed, shook her head, and let that small worry go:
"Alright, you win. Time we completely relaxed."
They strolled on along the skybridge that crossed the stars.
The light fell across their faces and, if you looked closely, you might see the marks time had left beneath their still-excellent condition.
They were, in truth, no longer young.
If not for the Human Empire's cutting-edge biotech constantly optimizing citizens' physiology, and medical means far beyond the old era's imagination maintaining their health, by nature's clock Ada would likely have passed her prime childbearing years, facing the troubles of menopause.
And Leon, no matter how good his base, could not have helped becoming a weathered man past his prime—an "old guy"—
of course, with his base, probably a rather handsome old guy.
But now, under Imperial tech and their own fierce will, they still had abundant energy and bright spirits—enough to enjoy this late, but still sweet, time for two, beginning a long honeymoon under the peaceful stars they once fought to protect.
Crossing the hard-light bridge that spanned the void, Leon and Ada entered the station proper.
This massive artificial body, built specifically for interstellar tourism, could rival a small city inside.
Under the high vault stretched tiered commercial zones, leisure plazas, and transit hubs. Travelers of every sort brushed shoulders. Holo billboards showed Earth‑20's most distinctive sights and goods.
Many first-time visitors couldn't help exclaiming:
"My God—three years ago this was a ruin draped in death, right? I remember the records said the planet was nearly swallowed by the blood moons."
"Yeah, who could've imagined that in just three years not only was the threat cleared, but a station and planetary remodeling of this scale were finished? The Engineering Department's build speed keeps smashing the limits of imagination."
"No wonder they're 'infrastructure maniacs'—this efficiency…"
The talk around them was full of pride and awe, a chorus for the miracles wrought by Imperial power.
For Leon and Ada—legends who had witnessed and joined far greater campaigns, including against beings far stranger than the blood moons—the prosperity before them, while heartening, barely raised a ripple in them.
They moved calmly through the crowd and, following the signs, reached the station's security area.
The process was rapid and efficient, the non-invasive scan passing over their bodies and instantly verifying biometrics and security clearance.
For lawful citizens, the Empire's security systems guarantee privacy and convenience to the fullest while ensuring safety.
Through security, they used the Starvault Wanderer's already-booked e-tickets to board a direct maglev to the surface.
The car was bright and roomy, the seats comfortable, and the views excellent.
The train then eased off, not directly "outside" but into a larger enclosed structure—the car of a near-orbit elevator.
It was a monumental engineering marvel, evolved through many generations of tech and fused with mature hard-light systems.
Its main structure is built jointly from traditional alloys and hard-light fields reinforced with energy—not only far stronger than before, but raised to a new aesthetic.
The car's interior is huge, enough to hold the entire train and its riders. Most of the walls and vault use tunable transparent materials and hard-light projection—aiming to provide an unrivaled viewing experience.
"Attention passengers: the train is about to begin its descent. Please ensure you are secured in your seats. We will now experience the Empire's 'scenic-grade' orbital elevator. Total time is approximately 12 minutes. Enjoy your journey."
The PA sounded again.
The next moment brought a faint over‑G.
The giant car began dropping along the carbon nanotube–hard‑light composite cable that joined "heaven and earth," at a breathtaking speed and with uncanny smoothness toward the planet's surface.
Soon the car fully left the station—completely "exposed" to the environment of outer space.
Through the transparent structure around and beneath them, the grandeur of the cosmos stood revealed without reserve.
Above lay the station's colossal body and the busier shipyards beyond; below, the human homeworld—blue and white, its texture woven—grew and grew.
Thanks to hard-light's massive boost to structural stability and damping, this near-extreme of transparency was possible—making riders feel like a falling "dewdrop" merging into the planet's embrace.
Many passengers—even seasoned travelers—couldn't hold back soft cries, lost in the spectacle.
Leon and Ada took it in quietly.
Even for them, the cut from cosmic scale straight into the planetary was striking.
About twelve minutes later, the drop eased obviously.
The blue below swelled fast, and then became an ocean without end.
The car did not go straight to land, but settled precisely onto a sea transfer platform near the equator.
The platform, like a vast artificial floater, mated perfectly with the elevator base.
The maglev rolled again, left the elevator car, passed a connecting passage, and drove straight "into" the blue—into a transparent undersea tunnel.
The tunnel did not run in the black of the deep, but in sun‑lit shallows—generally within a hundred meters—by design.
The water there is clear, the light ample—making a great natural "undersea gallery."
The train sped through. Outside, reefs in every color blazed; sea life of all shapes and hues drifted; schools of fish flashed silver; sometimes curious dolphins swam alongside for a while.
"The ecosystem bounced back fast," Ada said, watching the view. "The species are about the same as Earths in other universes, but this kind of vibrant scene really is a fresh experience for many citizens who've lived in prime‑universe cities—or joined the Empire only recently."
Leon nodded. "With Imperial tech now, safety, efficiency, and spectacle can all be had together."
The undersea run wasn't long.
Roughly twenty minutes later, light appeared ahead. The train shot from the tunnel into a giant starport near the shore.
The starport's style was grand and poised, blending the cool of Imperial tech with respect for the natural setting.
Soon, the crowd followed guidance to the starport's upper air parking decks.
There, thousands of civilian hovercraft in every design lay parked.
The Starvault Wanderer's rentals were wonderfully convenient. Leon and Ada cleared biometrics quickly and found their assigned streamlined silver hovercraft.
At the craft's side, Leon reflexively reached for the driver's door.
It was an instinct from years as an agent—used to owning the vehicle's direction and pace.
But a light hand pressed his arm. Leon turned and saw the faintest smile at Ada's lips.
"This time I'll drive, rookie." Her tone made it an order.
Leon blinked, then laughed, and raised his hands in surrender:
"Of course—as you wish, Mrs. Kennedy."
He went around and slid into the passenger seat.
Ada took the driver's seat and brought the hovercraft to life. It lifted with a soft float.
She set the destination—a highly rated cliffside panoramic restaurant by the sea.
Switching to auto‑nav, the hovercraft rose lightly and joined the orderly low‑altitude traffic stream outside the starport.
Only then did they have the leisure to gaze through the wide canopy and take in the new Earth‑20—unvisited by them, but long since remade.
Outside was no longer a wasteland ravaged by mutants, cities in rubble, and a scarred earth.
In its place stood planned, green ecological metropolises—towers to the clouds agleam with tech—but in perfect harmony with the natural landscape.
Clean energy plants, efficient public transit grids, and broad, revived forests and wetlands together painted a scene of prosperity, peace, and hope for a future civilization.
The hovercraft skimmed over a rebuilt shore district: children playing in parks; citizens chatting at ease in open‑air cafés; and, in the distance, giant holo‑projections running Imperial news and public service ads.
All of it stood in the sharpest contrast with the planet of despair, death, and poverty it had been—telling, without words, of the rebirth and order brought by Imperial power.
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