The standard gravitational acceleration as legally defined by the Circs is 9.8 m/s², generally called 1g. That might sound like the logical choice, but there was more to it than that. Of course, it matched the Galactive Interactive’s legal definition of standard gravity, which in turn matched what was said to be the surface gravity on Earth, that distant planet from long ago. The reality was, though, there had been plenty of societies in space which hadn’t adhered to that standard in the past. From the Bellaphon, a legendary society of fanatical warriors that lived under 3g and who fearlessly charged into atmospheres in riding boots, to societies in small non-rotating colonies that dwelled in 0g, humanity had devised all manner of values for standard gravity over its 6000 years in space.
However, differing standard gravities made exchange difficult between high- and low-gravity societies. Unsurprisingly, high gravity took a toll on the bodies of those used to lower gravity, and those adapted to high gravity reported upper body swelling and illness due to the endocrine system’s response to low gravity. A major problem was excessive grip strength, known as “graveyard grip”, which caused all sorts of trouble ranging from crushed handrails and cups to lovers accidentally breaking their partner’s ribs. Handrails or cups weren’t a huge deal, but crushing one’s own partner presented a barrier to both harmony and reproduction. Building close connections was difficult.
With these types of incidents, defining a standard gravity to maintain interstellar exchange became a matter of common sense. At first, only societies inhabiting artificial space structures could apply that common sense, but gravity became an important factor when looking for new celestial bodies. In addition, adherence to aerobic respiratory accessibility and the lux standard also became common practice for the Galactive Interactive.
That said, the Circs’ adoption of the 9.8 m/s² gravity standard was totally meaningless—they were an isolated society that barely participated in interstellar exchange. They were perfectly capable of defining their own standard with few issues. Despite that, the entire fleet of 16 rotating base ships had used 1g as their standard since their arrival 300 years ago, making adjustments as necessary to keep the habitats of their outer circumference at a constant 1g.
It was a curious topic. Changing the standard wasn’t a matter of impossibility. When the Endeavours wanted to expand their Idaho, for example, they adjusted its rotation speed proportionately to keep its outer layers at 1g. Everything was designed to maintain the standard, but that didn’t explain their decision to do so. At any rate, the fact was that the standard centrifugal force was an Essential Element for those rotating towns in space. Each of the Circs’ base ships had been crafted with that as a major consideration.
Although the 16 spinning base ships all aimed for 1g at their outer circumference (with the exception of outlying warehouses and processing plants), they did not share many other points in common. Equipment used for important functions like electric power, communication, purification and such were identical, of course. But when it came to the ships that served as their towns, they came in all kinds of shapes. Idaho was a donut that had expanded in diameter over the years. The Jack-of-All-Trades’ Table of Johor, as its name might suggest, was a round table. The Xīnxīng’s Jiǎoxīng was a pentagram, the Radenvijaya’s Mandala was a collection of circles tangent to a larger circle, and the Gendō’s Fuyō looked like a flower.
The Gendō asserted that the name Fuyō came from the ideogram 芙蓉, but the meaning of that ideogram was uncertain. While their base ship presently resembled a hibiscus flower, they weren’t certain that was why it was named Fuyō. Their writing system was extremely ancient, and so they had lost the meaning to many of their own words themselves.
Although the pattern seemed to be that an ideogram’s meaning, sound, and shape were arbitrarily determined by either its resemblance to an object or because they liked how the sound and shape combined, the Gendō strenuously denied that was the reason if asked about it. They would assert that the meanings were traditional and had ancient, honorable origins. Their name, written as 弦道, meant “the shortest route between two points”, and they claimed that was somehow related to the invention of the Guāngguànhuán warp drive. They often shared their vast knowledge of such things, but it wasn’t always accepted as true at the Bow Awow. At any rate, the Gendō were people who behaved as if they had an extensive, 8000-year history, and had many other unique customs beyond their ideographic script.
At the previous Bow Awow, Fuyō’s orbital inclination was set at 78.8°, so after it undocked from the rest of the fleet its orbit crossed the equator almost vertically. Specifically, it meant that every ten hours, Fuyō passed just above both auroral belts surrounding Fat Beach Ball’s north and south poles. Huge auroral crowns, up to 28,000 km wide, colored the gas giant’s poles in lightning pink and surge purple.
That was where the Gendō fishers cast their nets.
Fuyō, a giant, charmingly red-pink flower almost five kilometers in diameter, was lit by the aurora when it sailed through. The outer edges of the five petals that grew outwards from the center were residential districts. Hospitals, postal centers, and purified water tanks were installed in darker purple connection zones near the inner circumference. At its center was a 0g tower—common to every clan’s base ship—which hosted communications facilities and a communal spaceport. Fuyō’s tower, though, was adorned by numerous yellow, besshu-shaped streamers, the clan’s national flag. Viewed from a distance of about ten kilometers, they almost looked like yellow powder, reinforcing the general image of a large, fully bloomed flower in space. The Gendō took great pride in it.
Flowers also have a reverse side. Observation centers and windows on the front, which more or less faced the star Mother Beach Ball, made use of the plentiful light. Meanwhile, the air conditioning, cargo elevators, and the ascending and descending drainage ducts ran through its back. They were essential, in fact, but it was a confusing, plain area where light couldn’t reach. To put it in floral terms again, they were its sepals. The tubular port at the back end of Fuyō’s central shaft, equivalent to Idaho’s north, functioned as its pedicel.
CC 304, Day 108. An unassuming, fishbone-type cargo ship mixed in with the other ships arriving at and departing from the blooming flower Fuyō and entered the pedicel port after permission was granted by traffic control. Originating from the Jack-of-All-Trades, its name was Insomnia.
“I-is this really going to be okay...?”
Terra anxiously watched the scenery from the Insomnia’s captain seat as the ship slowly came to port. Unlike the defenseless port back at Idaho, Fuyō’s was protected by an anti-debris hull resembling a flower bud. A long, uncouth tube pointed menacingly from its crevice-like entrance. Even a novice like Terra could tell what it was with a single glance.
“That’s a cannon, isn’t it?”
“Yup, it’s a particle beam cannon, and the beam is an eye-catcher. Hehehe, it’s truly a sight to behold.” Professor Eda smiled slightly from the back of Terra’s hand. She was the one currently controlling Insomnia, so Terra was just along for the ride. “Not just that, but it’s been around since my time, so it’s a relic. So, they’re still using it even now, hah.”
“But despite being a relic, it can still blow through an imitation, can’t it?”
Terra was referring to Insomnia’s external appearance. If they had kept the same shape they departed Idaho with, they would have been caught easily. They had changed it to look like a cargo ship. Her method of doing so was the same way she mesmerized her pursuers while the pillar boat was flying through FBB’s rain clouds: decomping.
Naturally, it was a crime to falsify a ship’s nationality. Terra hadn’t expected such a large cannon, though, and while it made her want to turn back, it was already too late to do so. Another ship was already in line behind hers, so she could only keep moving forward. Terra searched like a supplicant, glancing back and forth between the ship and the cannon. The trailing ship looked like a flat, crushed pipe, and as Terra stared at it, she got the feeling she had seen it before.
Eda spoke up, sounding disinterested. “Well, I’m tricking the port’s radar and transponder, so you don’t need to worry about them finding us out. As far as they can tell, we’re a real ship with everything in order.”
“That’s what you’re doing?” Terra asked, her voice rising in surprise. “Actually, I guess you would be capable of doing that too.”
“Didn’t I tell you? The Circs are both mine and Magiri’s fleet. The Great Chief Code will work, especially if we’re talking about the older systems on a base ship.”
“Well, you did, but... Does that mean that you could even do something like open all of Fuyō’s doors between here and Die-san’s current location?”
“If it’s doors, then yes,” Eda replied, nodding with pride, “I can do that. But I dunno how people will react if they’re around to see it.”
“I think they’ll work together to close them again.”
“Mhm, that would probably cause a scene.” Eda quickly shrugged. “Even if I can open the doors, odds are Diode-chan wouldn’t understand what’s happening, either. So, someone needs to drag her out of there, and you can only do that if you have a physical body.”
“And you only exist inside this ship, right? Can you help with things outside of here?”
“I think my voice should be able to reach you if I use the radio or in-ship communications at least, but hey, they probably have some security these days.”
“So, I can rely on you even less than I expected...”
“You’re seriously gonna tell me that? Well, maybe I should have expected it, since the situation hasn’t sunk in for you yet.” Eda smiled, maintaining her cheeriness with a bright and composed expression. “How ‘bout we do a little on-the-job training? Like avoiding a head-on collision, for example.”
“What?”
The moment Terra asked Eda, she heard a loud jet roar and her head flopped nearly on its side. A huge, pink cone flew across the displays that served as windows, a dazzling beam of light spraying from its stern. It was a sight Terra was unfamiliar with, since she had always been the one on board.
“A pillar boat!”
“Looks like it’s time to go fishing. Whoops, here comes another one.”
Once again, the Insomnia slid sideways to avoid it. The second pillar boat claimed the entire centerline for itself and magnificently continued on its way. It must have just separated from the pier, as a prominent jet issued from its main engine.
Terra figured out what was happening after she saw them.
“They’re going nishikigoi fishing...”
“What’s that?” Eda turned her head quizzically.
Terra asked if she really didn’t know, and Eda responded by saying that besshu fishing started only after she died. Feeling the sensation of talking to a dead woman creep through her, Terra started to explain.
“Nishiki is a Gendō word that means ‘vivid aurora’, and koi refers to an incredibly strong fish that darts up with its mouth wide open. So, they’re going out to fish for the ferocious besshu that swim inside the aurora. Naturally, the fishing grounds are in FBB’s polar regions, or should I say, a small area of those regions. I believe the boats all descend at once when they’re aiming there—don’t you already know about this besshu?”
“Ahh, I wonder if it’s the one I’m thinking of. A medium-large class besshu, 60 meters in size, actively lives at the poles, and swims upstream with impressive strength.”
“Yes, that’s the one!”
“I call those barracuda. Hmm, so they’re going as far as to fish for those? You’d think the catch efficiency would be lower than schools of smaller besshu.”
“It’s a type of besshu that clans can only catch in the two years their base ship orbits over the polar regions following the agreement at the Bow Awow. Catching nishikigoi is less about efficiency and more about being a manly, courageous feat, I guess.”
“I see, I see,” Eda replied, nodding. She seemed to be enjoying herself judging by the upturned corners of her mouth. “I’ve said this before, but you’re well-acquainted with fish and fishing, aren’t you?”
Terra beamed back at her, full of pride. “That’s because I am a fisher.”
“That’s a nice smile. While we’re at it, then, you’d get no complaints from me if you could at least dock us.”
At some point the Insomnia had entered through the pedicel port and was beginning to approach the wharf, which resembled a metallic tube. The sight of multiple VUI screens with docking sequences popping up made Terra, confused and unsure of what to do, shriek.
“Wait! Wait, please! It’s my first time on this ship, and properly docking by myself is a bit...”
“Got it, so the titanic Terra-chan can’t handle delicate things. Gotcha...”
Thankfully, Eda was capable. She precisely adjusted all three of the ship’s axes and elegantly docked by moving straight in. Impressed, Terra clapped with her fingertips.
“Woah, cool! But that’s totally different from how Die-san does it.”
“So, Diode-chan’s not great at handling it either?”
“No, not at all.” Terra shook her head confidently and began boasting. “Die-san has skills, but your docking was almost like how a printhead moves. When it's go-time for her, she moves with so much intensity that it's scary, but she brings it in smoothly and docks gently. She fearlessly balances that contrast, and I really like how her hands and fingers dance while she's doing it. I think it's wonderful.” On instinct, Terra enthusiastically explained Diode’s style.
Staring at her face, Eda whispered in a low voice, “Hah, so that’s the kind of pilot she is... I totally wanna see that.”
There were a number of procedures to follow at dock after arrival, but Eda also lsified those. She presented fabricated photos of the ship’s hold and the necessary documents to pretend they were importing 500 duct cleaning robots. At the same time, she seemed to have set up some intricate, hidden electronic trick, as the officer-in-charge for port entry let them in without a second thought.
“What was the plan if that went wrong...?”
“Decompression. We’d have to do something guaranteed to fool other people’s eyes, right?”
“Like what?”
“Like molding clay into humans.” Eda winked.
And what would we have done after giving the clay a human shape? Attack the port with a clay person army...? I'd rather not do that kind of decomping if possible—Terra thought with conviction. She had gained some level of freedom to act, at least.
“You’ve got five days at most. This can’t take a week,” Eda said
“That’s enough,” Terra replied as she prepared to disembark.
“You think it’ll go that smoothly?”
“I don’t think I can walk around aimlessly for a week without finding her, because we’ll either have failed by then or made our escape.”
“So you're set on this. That means you’ve figured out which part of her you want most, then? Sneaking into another clan’s town ready to get shot or abducted to rescue one girl from 20,000 people is a plan even the most courageous man would flinch at.”
“I guess so, yeah.”
“And is that a good enough reason for an adult woman to justify taking an underage girl away with her?”
“Uh...?” Terra had been blushing slightly, but the shock of suddenly having the age gap highlighted made her turn around.
“S-she isn't a minor, though?”
“She's 18, isn't she? You haven't thought it questionable, chasing this seriously after a girl who's six years younger than you?”
“What... You're saying it's that... that sort of thing? Now? At a time like this?”
“Looks like you’ve got no self-awareness. I said too much, then. Ignore me, just keep on keeping on, s’all good, I’ll be cheering you on with ‘that sort of thing!’”
“Sorry... but could you please stop? I’ve had enough...”
Terra was clad head to toe in a duct dress. It was an airtight suit with crude protectors on its knees and elbows—the work uniform used by the bacterial engineers responsible for inspecting the water and air pipes in the space settlements. Terra had picked that uniform because not only were there few bacterial engineers, which made it very common for them to travel between clans, but also because the job had the advantage of being done without revealing one’s face. The uniform wasn’t lightweight, but thankfully, the port was at 0g. She gently floated over to the airlock. Her goal was the Gendō girls’ school.
“Well, I’m going now. I’m certain that I’ll come back with her.”
“Do your best! If possible, go somewhere you can connect to a line.”
Terra exited the airlock and started into the wharf. She left quickly, since catching the attention of the people who had just arrived at dock beside them wouldn’t be good. Something about their cargo ship was bugging her.