It didn’t take long to organize transport to the Central System. As soon as I explained my situation and revealed my newfound status, they took me under the government’s considerable wing.
Everything was organized for me.
Within two days, I was aboard a transport headed straight for Central.
It was a four-week trip, even utilizing priority jump routes.
It gave me a lot of time to calm down.
But the closer we got, the more my nerves reignited.
I tried to rationalize them away – I tried to tell myself it was nothing. The clump of worry forming in my gut wouldn’t shift, though.
I felt as if I was heading toward something.
By the time we arrived in the Central System, I was jumpy.
The small transport I was on had a viewing platform with seats and a massive window that showcased space flitting on past.
Needing to keep my mind off things, I paced in front of the view.
The Central System was unquestionably incredible. It would have to be; it housed the primary administrative units of the Foundation.
From security to identity – everything was dealt with on the cluster planets.
The cluster planets were a group of artificial and natural planets joined together in a modern feat of technology to form one enormous celestial body.
For a simple girl from 400 years ago, they were astounding.
When my transport approached, my nerves dropped away to be replaced with awe.
The cluster of planets was joined by an enormous artificial gravity generator about the size of a small moon that modulated the natural gravitational forces of each planet to keep them at a constant synchronous distance.
It enabled sky bridges and elevators and space stations to join up the planets without the fear of them being crushed or torn apart.
Standing there in my transport, I pressed a hand to the enormous viewing window before me, and I leaned in close until my breath condensed against the techno glass.
My eyes grew wide, and a sense of true wonder filled my heart.
“Approaching Central,” a voice filtered over the ship-wide coms. “Passengers disembarking in the security body must go to the second-floor starboard airlock. Passengers disembarking for the Contracts Office should head to the third-floor port airlock.”
The message continued, but I didn’t need to hear the rest.
I didn’t have any luggage, just a few synth credits. The credits would allow me to synthesize whatever clothes or food I needed.
The credits were already pre-loaded into my identity tag – a subcutaneous implant just behind my left ear. In fact, everything was in the implant, from proof of my newfound status, to my itinerary.
Taking a deep calming breath, I made my way to deck three.
That sense that something was building – that I was heading toward something – settled deep in my stomach. It felt like a knot or a hard clump of fright ready to explode.