Sidereal Dawn

Chapter 1: Mote of Dust

Earth lingered against the backdrop of cosmic pixels, dead and alive. Jaxen floated in the corridor, his gaze caught by the blue sphere. The world almost seemed tranquil through four-hundred thousand kilometres of vacuum.

He sensed someone approaching. Daemian.

Beautiful, isn't it?

The thought reached Jaxen but he didn't respond. His eyes were still captured in tidal lock with Earth.

Daemian tried again. Come on, let's get going. Or are you too busy daydreaming of going home?

What does that even mean? Jaxen thought back instantly.

I dunno. Doesn't everyone think about it? Maybe living down there eventually. Go back to the way things — 

No. Jaxen swung out his arm, causing his body to rotate in the microgravity to face Daemian. "Home? We're not from there. We're not like them. They'd all be happy if the atmosphere in this tube vented into space."

Jaxen stopped moving but the tails of his bridge coat took on a life of their own, continuing to swirl in the recirculating air.

"Maybe," Daemian said with a laugh. "But you can't be telling me that you don't identify even a bit with that." He pointed toward Earth. Sunlight glistened off the Pacific Ocean through the wispy arms of a typhoon.

"Identify?"

"Yeah, that's home. Sort of. Can't separate that from who we are."

Jaxen turned back to Earth. "I'm not sure they feel the same way down there. Besides, does anyone up here or down there really know who we are?"

The question hung in the air, as most things tend to do in microgravity.

"Well, they don't get to say who we are or aren't." Daemian leaned in. And we can't let assholes like the admiral have a monopoly on that up here either.

"I — "

A pang of panic killed what Jaxen was going to say. His stomach sank deep into his chest as his adrenal glands electrified his nervous system.

Shit.

Go!

Jaxen and Damian were already flying along the curved corridor when the siren's sound waves reached them. Its staccato screeches grated on the ear but it was a mild annoyance compared to the sinking feeling experienced by anyone connected to the Ministry's intercerebral network when the alarm was triggered.

The pair pushed off bulkheads and walls as they guided themselves to their destination. They journeyed deep into the labyrinthine base through crowds of other officers and enlistees rushing to their posts. The hallways were virtually identical with their sleek white finishes and flush LEDs. It was difficult to know which surface the architects had intended to be the floor. Jaxen had always assumed the answer was none of them.

There were no collisions in the crisscrossing corridors. Organized chaos. Everyone trained for these moments. It also helped to have an AI proposing minor course corrections to their subconsciouses over the network.

The alarm faded as they swung around the final corner. A series of blast doors opened as Jaxen and Daemian approached, revealing the cavernous semi-spherical command centre. Every surface was alight with telemetry data, live video feeds and projections. Teams of people studied every colourful blip and flash. A large hologram of Earth rotated in the dome above. Admiral Kalikov floated below, examining a pulsing red spot over East Asia. He barked at Jaxen and Daemian as they entered.