Aboard the TSF Proxima.
Commander Takahashi Ayaka of the Terran Exploration Fleet yawned and stretched in her chair. She looked out the window at the unrelenting black... nothingness outside the cityship TFS Proxima. While they were in warp transit, the exploration fleet and escort vessels were docked in the cityship’s cavernous docking holds, their crews disembarked and quartered on the cityship itself.
The quarters were decently sized, at around four meters by six with a reasonably high three-meter ceiling, but felt cramped. They each had their own restroom and bathing facilities—really just a sonic steam shower that gained in efficiency what it lacked in relaxation—as well as a small pantry and “office space”, such as it was. That didn’t leave much room for more than a regular rack and a stasis pod that doubled as a VR pod.
Not that the cramped conditions mattered, really, as they could simply opt to spend the journey in stasis, or take advantage of their own little home space in the virtual city that was provided by the cityship’s quantum superclusters.
She shivered at the sight of the void from her window, suddenly recalling that all that separated her from the hostile space in the warp bubble was a five-centimeter-thick pane of armorglass set into the three meters of composite armor that made up the exterior skin of the cityship. It did provide a nice seat for entertaining guests or simple relaxation, but... she couldn’t. She just couldn’t use it, even though she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the armorglass would hold.
window.pubfuturetag = window.pubfuturetag || [];window.pubfuturetag.push({unit: "64ce79d606107d003c23ea27", id: "pf-5140-1"})She’d run the numbers herself during training, and again every time she had this same invasive thought. The math mathed, and the armorglass could stand up to anything short of an impact in the range of that delivered by a fifty megaton nuclear warhead.
With a brief shiver, she turned her attention back to her old-fashioned physical computer and pulled up her log. She would write her daily log entry, then head into her VR space for some proper relaxation.
‘Commander’s log, day 115.
‘We’re currently... somewhere, I’m not sure exactly where. I don’t have astrogation access, so of course I don’t know; right now I’m nothing more than supernumary cargo, since my ship is docked. But what I do know is that, wherever we are, we’re about two months away from Proxima Centauri, where we’ll finally undock and get on with the mission assigned to us. Supposedly, Proxima Centauri b is in the Goldilocks zone and we know there’s liquid water there, so the Powers That Be want us to check and see if it’s inhabited.
‘I’ve almost—almost—become accustomed to the void that surrounds us during travel. It’s something I never could’ve imagined, being flung through... not-space at warp ten, protected only by a thin layer of violations of the laws of Einsteinian physics. I love my job, I love my service, and I love my species (well, most of them anyway), but I have to admit that the void just gets to me. I forget who it was, but someone said that staring at the void means the void can stare back at you, and I think he had a point.
window.pubfuturetag = window.pubfuturetag || [];window.pubfuturetag.push({unit: "64cc9e79c7059f003e4ad4b0", id: "pf-5109-1"})(Ed note: “Warp” here is used in terms of multiples of light speed. So warp ten is ten times the speed of light. It isn’t like Star Trek, where their warp factor was an exponential scale like the Richter or decibel scales. In Trek, warp ten represented “infinite speed”, at least according to ST: The Next Generation, where a ship would be present at every point in the universe simultaneously.)
‘The cityship Proxima dropped out of warp today, as they do every five days, to do... something, I’m not sure. But whenever we bring the warp bubble up or take it down, the lights are positively fascinating. It’s hard to describe in words, really. Just something you have to experience for yourself. Just imagine every color in existence mingling and flowing together and separately, almost like the reflection of an oil slick on the surface of clear water except... more. I’m pretty sure some of those colors don’t even exist in realspace.
‘I remain, as always, committed to the Takahashi name. We have a long tradition of service and duty, and I cannot, no matter what my family thinks of me, whether as a child or as a woman, fail to uphold that tradition. Let the void gaze upon that since it’s such a voyeur! Hmph!’
With a final press of the enter button on her keyboard, Ayaka’s daily log entry was complete. Not that she had any other duties to perform, nor was her log anything approaching official or required, but if she had the opportunity, she would send it home for her family to read. After all, they must miss her by now, she was sure, even if it was only because her escape and flight to the exploration fleet had taken away her father’s chance at selling her to some greasy businessman to cement the Takahashi business empire through a marriage alliance.
She yawned again, then rose and stripped. It wasn’t like the void would give a shit about her body, no matter how attractive others may find her. And she had to admit, she was definitely a looker. She had a traditionally beautiful face, with wide cheekbones tapering to a narrow chin and smooth, ivory skin. Her eyes were almond-shaped and so dark they were almost as black as the hair that fell from her head to her waist like a luxurious silken waterfall. Though her bust was modest, at a rather generous B-cup by fleet standards, it fit well on her slender, petite form and, when viewed from the side, it presented a perfect “S” curve from her front to her perky, toned ass.
window.pubfuturetag = window.pubfuturetag || [];window.pubfuturetag.push({unit: "663633fa8ebf7442f0652b33", id: "pf-8817-1"})She kept in shape through a rigorous exercise program consisting of karate, judo, and kyuudo (Japanese archery), along with the naginata. By avoiding more traditionally “hard” exercises, like lifting weights, all 152 centimeters of her form was whipcord strong without losing its soft, feminine shape. Standing straight on and facing her mirror, she rested her hand on her flat belly and looked herself up and down, noting with some pleasure that her secret garden was still well manicured, trimmed close to the skin and shaped into a narrow triangle above a perfectly bald slit.
Nodding in satisfaction, she turned and padded to her pod, where her VR space awaited her. Without the computing power available to maintain a time dilation in the cityship’s VR, or a space the size of the public VR available on Earth for that matter, she treasured the private area she did have.
Everyone in the task force was provided a private space commensurate with their rank, where they were virtual—no pun intended—gods and could shape it however they wanted. As a full commander, she was entitled to 150 acres of space, which she had turned into a classical Japanese tsubo-niwa, with the rest of her space divided between a riding course with its own stable and a botanical garden filled with flowers, fruit trees, and tea trees.
(Ed note: You’re probably familiar with tsubo-niwa homes. They’re rectangular compounds with a garden/courtyard area in the center and the typical rooms open onto that garden.)
She had been raised by a very old-fashioned family in Japan, and growing up she had been taught that women were somehow less than, and that the only acceptable tasks for a lady were arranging flowers and brewing tea. Her father even disliked his family’s martial heritage, though the Takahashi ancestors had been very explicit in their family law about every Takahashi—man and woman alike—being capable of defending themselves from aggressors both foreign and domestic.
It was understandable, the Takahashis being able to trace their lineage all the way back to a samurai clan under Nobunaga Oda, and later Toyotomi Hideyoshi , but Takahashi Kazuki still didn’t like it.
