Rule four:Never trust anyone completely. Not even humans; if they've been here long enough, they’re no longer human.
I repeat these rules in my head like a mantra, and then I even say them out loud.
But, I’m interrupted by the holographic interface. “Welcome, Eve Eden, probationary employee of the Celestial Spire. How may I assist you?”
The projection displays alien script and what appears to be a crest: a silver silhouette of a female figure set against a halo of twelve starbursts.
“What does that say?” I ask.
“It's the crest and motto of the Empire: 'Through Devotion, We Ascend.' This reflects Imperial citizens' belief that unwavering loyalty to their divine matriarchal goddesses elevates them above all others, promising both spiritual enlightenment and galactic dominance.”
“Where exactly is the Empire?”
A holographic star map appears that means nothing to me. “Human astronomers call the Empire's home planet Kepler-452b. It is approximately 1,800 light-years away, in the constellation humans call Cygnus.”
“Is that far from the Celestial Spire?”
“It takes approximately two days to travel by heavy space cruiser from the Celestial Spire to the Empire.”
I spend the next hour learning about the Imperial hierarchy, their goddess worship, and their history of conquest. The more I discover, the uneasier I become. This culture is built on dominance, submission, and expansion.
“Computer, what is the Empire's official stance on humans?”
“Humans are classified as a Level Three species under Imperial law, indicating moderate development but with limited spacefaring capability.”
“And what does that mean for human rights?”
“Level Three species receive basic protections under Imperial law, subject to various exemptions and cultural allowances.”
“Exemptions like what?”
“That information is restricted.”
I try a different approach. “Tell me about the Ascendant Alliance.”
The display changes, showing two almost identical, grey-skinned men with silver eyes, black hair, and sharp features. Though physically identical, their differences are immediately apparent. One stands with military precision, his expression controlled and calculating. He has short hair and perfect-fitting modest clothing. The other has a more relaxed stance, with something predatory lurking behind his smile. His hair is shoulder length, and his shirt is open at his throat. It’s as if one is a before and the other an after picture after a makeover, but it’s impossible to say which one is the before picture and which one is the after picture because, for being grey-skinned, they are both very attractive.
“Sovereign Director Rafe and Shadow Sovereign Director Lorian, twin sons of former Imperial Commander Gai and civilian Seren. Born Imperial Outcasts, they relocated to Reima Two and built the Ascendant Alliance, a company first founded by their mother, into a galactic hospitality empire spanning more than three hundred properties. Forthe last thirty years, the Ascendant Alliance has stood as one of the few legal employers of humans, positioning their labor as proof that humanity can serve beyond the role of companions.”
“What's the difference between their roles?” I ask, studying their faces.
“Sovereign Director Rafe oversees business operations. Shadow Sovereign Director Lorian manages security and special client services.”
“Special client services?” I repeat, thinking about those women in the corridor.
“That information is restricted.”
“How old are they?”
“Forty-five Earth years. Imperial lifespans average five centuries.”
Five hundred years. No wonder humans don't return. Maybe they'd outlive everyone they ever knew by getting better healthcare.
