Interstelr voyages were incredibly long.

  After their initial conversation, Luna and Xin talked almost constantly.

  Acquiring new knowledge was stimuting; Xin learned from Luna's advanced knowledge, while Luna studied the Lightwings' more basic research.

  This simpler technology, unlike the Federation's more advanced science, was easier for Luna to understand.

  "Does your Federation possess such powerful mathematical tools?"

  Luna allowed Xin access to the library.

  She wasn't concerned about Xin stealing information.

  First, Xin was under her control; second, this knowledge was incredibly complex. Understanding a single book could take decades, and the library contained 165,285 books.

  Stealing information?

  That required understanding it.

  Even a single formu could take years to comprehend, even a lifetime for a dedicated schor.

  Matrix theory was one example; a mathematical tool—essentially an equation—that could be visualized as a spreadsheet.

  Matrices were used in human civilization long ago; Arthur Cayley, building upon Gaussian elimination, used matrices to simplify calcutions, introducing the term "matrix" in his 1858 paper, A Memoir on the Theory of Matrices.

  Matrices, as mathematical tools, found applications in electrical circuits, mechanics, optics, and quantum physics—a truly versatile tool.

  Xin was captivated, completely engrossed.

  "Matrices simplify mathematical operations beautifully. Our civilization uses complex methods, believing that complexity ensures accuracy and provides a clear audit trail for error detection. We never considered simpler tools."

  "We were wrong. Simplified tools increase efficiency. If we had matrices, we wouldn't be stuck at Type 1.3."

  Like a child with a new toy, Xin began using matrices for various calcutions.

  To Luna's surprise, Xin quickly extended this to vector spaces.

  Vector spaces, in mathematics, are also known as linear spaces; they're used to study objects with linear properties, simplifying their representation within matrices.

  A vector space is a mathematical concept, not a physical space.

  Imagine simplifying objects with linear properties—a pen, a cat, a dog—to a common denominator, like their atomic composition.

  A vector space, as a component of matrix theory, is also a simplification process.

  Human scientific endeavors often involve simplifying complex phenomena to their most basic components, reducing 11 + 11 = 22 to eleven instances of 1 + 1 = 2.

  Seeing "vector space," Luna thought of the physical concept of subspace.

  Subspace, also known as hyperspace, is the boundary between antimatter space and normal space.

  The concept of antimatter space derives from retivity, which posits an antimatter space mirroring our universe, where antimatter exists, governed by different, perhaps even opposite, physical ws.

  If the speed of light is the upper limit in our universe, it's the lower limit in antimatter space.

  Time in antimatter space might be stationary or even flow in reverse; it might even be four-dimensional. (This doesn't imply four spatial dimensions plus time but rather a completely different three-dimensional space.)

  If our universe is infinitely rge, antimatter space is infinitely small.

  These properties are fascinating and had been part of Ay's tachyon research.

  Could tachyons be found by discovering antimatter space?

  However, Ay discovered tachyons not in antimatter space but in Cabi-Yau manifolds—other dimensions.

  Therefore, she was now researching whether antimatter space, like Cabi-Yau manifolds, exists at the Pnck scale.

  Were there simirities between antimatter space and Cabi-Yau manifolds? Did Cabi-Yau manifolds contain antimatter space?

  Ay hadn't found proof of antimatter space's existence; while they could create antimatter through particle collisions, they couldn't extract it from antimatter space.

  This remained a mystery.

  Unlocking it would lead to significant advancements in tachyon communication.

  Furthermore, confirming antimatter space's existence could pave the way for another technology.

  The spacetime distortion created by the collision of matter and antimatter might create a pathway to subspace, enabling faster-than-light travel.

  This could be considered hyperspace travel.

  Imagine space as a sphere. Conventional travel occurs on the sphere's surface; hyperspace travel is movement within the sphere.

  Travel within the sphere would be much shorter than travel on its surface, exceeding the speed of light.

  But this technology required further research.

  If achieved, it would propel the Federation towards Type 3.

  Luna, however, wasn't optimistic.

  Hyperspace travel required colossal amounts of energy.

  Even matter-antimatter annihition could only generate limited spacetime distortion. The Federation's rgest matter-antimatter annihition cannon could, theoretically, propel one gram of matter across one meter.

  The energy required for such spacetime distortion wasn't particurly high; perhaps 100 kilograms of antimatter would suffice.

  But creating and maintaining it were vastly different. Like creating microscopic bck holes in particle accelerators, maintaining them requires trillions of times more energy.

  Maintaining a spacecraft's hyperspace trajectory requires a stable spacetime curvature. The greater the curvature, the higher the speed.

  Maintaining this curvature requires energy proportional to the curvature and the spacecraft's mass. Only by harnessing the entire universe's energy could this be achieved.

  Luna didn't dwell on it.

  Ay suddenly appeared before Luna.

  "Luna, after extensive research, the Celestial Pace has been upgraded with a Prince Rupert's Drop-style energy shield. Its defensive capabilities are 271 times greater than our current energy shields. The only issue is stability..."

  The new shield was called the "Teardrop."

  It was teardrop-shaped, or rather, composed of countless microscopic teardrops.

  Creating a single, rge Prince Rupert's Drop-style shield would create a significant weakness.

  In long-range space combat, precisely targeting the "tail" would be difficult, but area-of-effect attacks could still damage it.

  Protecting the "tail" would require excessive energy expenditure, making it inefficient.

  Using numerous smaller Prince Rupert's Drops to form a rger shield, concealing the "tails" within the structure, was a more viable approach. The energy requirements were comparable; it simply required finer control over the electromagnetic fields—a trivial matter at their current technological level.

  Luna examined the Teardrop shield.

  She immediately understood Ay's concerns about stability.

  Electromagnetic fields have a peculiar property, easily demonstrated with magnets: to join two magnets requires proper alignment; opposite poles attract, like poles repel.

  The Teardrop faced a simir issue. While manageable at smaller scales (hundreds of thousands, even millions), at billions and trillions, misaligned units would inevitably emerge.

  These misaligned "drops" would be the shield's weakness.

  This weakness could shatter the Teardrop shield.

  "Is there a solution?" Luna frowned, analyzing the shield's electromagnetic strength.

  Ay shook her head, her twin ponytails swaying.

  "No perfect solution."

  "Each micro-drop within the Teardrop shield generates a magnetic field. At smaller scales, these fields can be reversed by increasing energy input, but as the magnetic field strengthens, reversing it becomes exponentially more difficult."

  "The Teardrop shield around the Celestial Pace consists of 2,782 billion micro-drops. Currently, there are three misaligned points. Theoretically, doubling the energy supply to the shield could stabilize the structure."

  Nothing is perfect, but near perfection can be achieved at a cost.

  Doubling the energy requirements, however, was inefficient.

  Luna noticed that the three misaligned points were located at the ship's rear, minimizing their vulnerability.

  As Luna was considering solutions.

  Ay's avatar changed abruptly. Her ponytails dissolved; her body matured from a childlike form into a stern, white-haired woman.

  "Luna, we've lost contact with the three lead reconnaissance ships. Based on observations from other ships, they appear to have been destroyed."

  An enemy?

  How could there be an enemy here?

  Luna didn't dwell on this, issuing immediate orders.

  "Determine the enemy's location and trajectory. All ships, prepare for combat."

  "Locate the enemy. Once their position is confirmed, unch a counterattack with the battleships. Determine their speed. If they're slower, pursue them; if faster, use long-range weapons."

  Locating an enemy in space is difficult.

  Observing requires light, and light from distant warships can take minutes, even hours, to reach you. By the time you see them, they've already moved.

  Predicting their trajectory is essential, but even with ser weapons, hitting a moving target is challenging.

  Therefore, interstelr battles often involve massive barrages of ser fire, creating an inescapable net. No matter how agile, can you avoid every raindrop in a storm?

  ...

  Twenty-two days passed.

  Ay finally located the enemy. Upon seeing their ship, Luna was taken aback.

  It was a Federation warship.

  Its design was identical to the Federation's, but it was an outdated model, at least 1500 years old.

  "Luna, look!"

  Ay transmitted a video, dispying a blurry image, then enhancing it, gradually removing the distortion.

  The basic shape was recognizable.

  Luna instantly knew.

  "The Purple Thorns?"

  It was a U-shaped warship, a familiar sight. Luna remembered the time when this ship had cast a shadow over the Federation, forcing her to sacrifice billions of Kate and Proxima Centauri b itself.

  After their defeat, the remaining Purple Thorns had either used their knowledge of the terrain to resist, become space pirates, or fled Federation space.

  In the early stages of the war, when the Federation wasn't as powerful, the conflict had been more evenly matched, expining how the Purple Thorns might have acquired a Federation warship.

  Luna's gaze hardened.

  "Since they've reappeared, let's eliminate them."

  "The Purple Thorn ships aren't much slower than ours. The distance is over 100 AU; pursuing them would be a waste of time."

  "Ay, use rge-scale weapons."

  Ay nodded.

  "No problem. We've recently developed a new weapon."

  "This weapon is based on your discussion of the Hodge conjecture with Xin."

  "If energy can be broken down and then reconstructed for defensive purposes, it could also be used offensively."

  "There was a particur detail you should have noticed."

  "The M?bius strip's deconstruction and reconstruction traps energy, creating an isoted system, albeit temporarily. This is the basis of the weapon."

  Luna observed a 50-meter diameter, 300-meter long projectile loaded into the cannon.

  Using anti-gravity to negate acceleration forces, the projectile, unched via electromagnetic propulsion, would reach 42% the speed of light upon exiting the barrel.

  "The enemy warship is projected to be at these coordinates upon the weapon's arrival—137 AU. The weapon will travel 142 AU, requiring 46.8 hours. Probability of a direct hit: 97.72%."

  Three days ter, Luna saw the impact.

  An energy map showed the explosion's range—2 AU. The energy wasn't shaped like a M?bius strip but a Klein bottle, a three-dimensional structure. A M?bius strip is a two-dimensional object; confining energy to a ring is impossible in three-dimensional space, as energy can simply move around it.

  The explosion's intense electromagnetic field pulled surrounding matter into the Klein bottle-shaped construct, and topological manipution sealed the opening, creating an isoted space. The increasing pressure within this isoted space created instability in the outer yers, triggering an explosion.

  This isoted space was created by electromagnetic fields, not a warping of spacetime.

  The Federation couldn't yet create true higher-dimensional weapons; this was an energy-based simution.

  Imagine a closed system in thermodynamics—no exchange of matter, but an exchange of energy. According to the second w of thermodynamics, entropy within this closed system would increase.

  This weapon leveraged the entropy difference between the inside and outside, causing internal energy colpse, triggering an explosion.

  While seemingly powerful, being an energy simution, it wasn't particurly strong. A sufficiently powerful electromagnetic field could contain or disrupt it, making it only effective against weaker opponents like the remaining Purple Thorns.

  Half a month ter.

  Luna's reconnaissance ships arrived at the site, finding only wreckage; there were no survivors.

  The main fleet continued its advance.

  The once-terrifying warship was now easily crushed by the Federation.

  It wasn't even considered a significant threat.

  After completing over half the journey, Luna entered a 2000-year hibernation, awaiting their arrival at the Olive Branch civilization.

  ...

  Time flies.

  This adage was especially true in the vastness of space.

  Now, the clock beside Luna's hibernation pod dispyed the year—12197 A.D.

  Over ten thousand years had passed since Luna fled the destroyed Earth—10,160 years, to be precise.

  While she'd spent most of this time in hibernation, she had truly lived for hundreds, even thousands, of years.

  Luna hadn't entered deep hibernation; her mind remained somewhat active. She had a long dream.

  Earth was intact.

  The gamma-ray burst was weak, causing only a temporary double sun and a slight increase in temperature.

  She and her family waited in their home for a week, enduring the pnet's atmospheric instability. Then, society returned to normal; she went back to work.

  She lived peacefully with her family; her parents, retired, enjoyed their lives, dancing in the pza, pying cards.

  She pursued her dreams.

  It was an ordinary life.

  She reveled in this idyllic existence, then awoke.

  "A dream?"

  Luna rubbed her temples, a dull ache throbbing behind her eyes. Daydreams and night dreams—she missed her family on Earth.

  She tried to let go, but the pain persisted, intensifying with time. Even though her parents face was fading from her memory, the longing remained, a vast ocean of grief.

  "I wish the dream had sted longer."

  But that was impossible; dreams are meant to end upon awakening. That's why dreams always seem to end just before waking.

  Luna gnced at the clock; she had slept for a short time. Time was meaningless to her.

  Her gaze fell on a framed photograph—a family portrait, a reconstruction created by Ay based on her memories.

  "Ay!"

  She called out, and Ay instantly appeared before her.

  Ay's avatar was on a card. Within the card, she reclined zily on a red chaise lounge, elegantly dressed, her voluptuous figure exuding a mature charm. A dark academia, its slit revealing her thigh, was held in pce by a garter belt, accentuating her curves. Two attendants fanned her with banana leaves—a picture of opulent luxury.

  "New avatar?"

  Luna was no longer surprised by Ay's frequent transformations, though this mature and elegant style was new.

  Ay sat up, revealing cat ears.

  "Over the past 2000 years, an entertainment company in the Federation created a popur card game, and this avatar is one of the characters."

  A card game?

  Luna struggled to remember; distant memories resurfaced.

  But she quickly dismissed them.

  "We've entered Olive Branch territory, haven't we?"

  Ay nodded within her card.

  "Yes. We received their signal beacon forty years ago."

  "They are quite advanced. They have numerous satellites along their borders—hundreds of billions, spaced roughly 0.91 AU apart, equipped with offensive, defensive, and communication capabilities."

  Luna left the hibernation pod and dressed.

  Her surroundings shifted; advanced holographic technology transformed her room into the bridge without her having to move.

  On the screen, she saw a beam of light, about 10 kilometers in diameter. The fleet was moving toward it.

  "This beam will guide us to a border city."

  "We're almost there; it's located near their central hub star system."

  Luna checked the distance—three light-years, essentially next door. Just 33 years away.

  It was time for some preparations.

  First, assess the Olive Branch civilization's military presence at the border city. Second, gauge their attitude towards the Federation. Third, prepare for potential hostilities.

  All this had to be done within 33 years—a tight schedule.

  Luna was once again busy.

  ...

  30 years ter.

  The guiding beam vanished; their destination was near.

  Using stelr occultation, Luna observed a thin line.

  This line divided the starfield in two.

  It was 238 AU long and 1.1 AU wide—a surface area of 5.858 x 101? square kilometers.

  As they approached, Luna was awestruck; the line was the Olive Branch's border city—a colossal space city with a surface area exceeding that of 1,1 billion Earths.

  Astonishment.

  Utter astonishment.

  The Olive Branch civilization's true scale was revealed.

  And this was merely their border; what wonders awaited them at the Olive Branch's capital?

  Even Ay would need time to calcute that.

  "Building such a massive structure would take hundreds of thousands of years."

  "The Olive Branch civilization is far older than we anticipated."

  The universe is 13.9 billion years old; the Milky Way, 13 billion. After the Big Bang, as the universe stabilized, life emerged after billions of years. Some civilizations could be unimaginably old.

  Age meant power. While the Olive Branch's technology and energy production weren't necessarily superior to the Federation's, their scale dwarfed the Federation's.

  Luna revised her estimate of their civilization level from Type 2.3 to Type 2.4.

  "We must proceed cautiously."

  The fleet approached the colossal linear city. Within, countless eyes turned towards the Federation fleet.

  Countless triangur openings, each an equiteral triangle with sides exceeding 20,000 meters, appeared before the fleet. Light emanated from the triangles' vertices.

  These were docking bays; each triangle was a berth for a ship.

  Such a massive spaceport should have been filled with ships, but it was empty. Most of the lights dimmed, leaving only a few hundred illuminated.

  "Those are our designated berths."

  "Dock the ships."

  Luna wasn't backing down.

  She hadn't come this far to cower before the Olive Branch.

  The fleet entered the spaceport; its depth was approximately 150,000 meters. The size of the docking bays suggested the scale of the Olive Branch warships.

  They were likely 7–10 million meters long—far rger than the Celestial Pace.

  "Welcome, guests from the distant Gactic Federation," a mechanical voice announced in English.

  "The spaceport is equipped with atmospheric regutors; you may open your hatches."

  "The city's administrator awaits your arrival in the reception hall."

  Ay spoke to Luna. "Let me go. Those who know their fate don't stand beneath a crumbling wall. You don't need to risk yourself."

  Luna shook her head.

  "No. I need a position of power. Anonymity is dangerous here."

  Extremists might target her. While a high-profile position attracts attention, it also offers protection.

  If she were merely a soldier, she might die, and the two civilizations would simply negotiate a settlement and resume peaceful retions.

  Luna didn't want to be a cliché.

  Ay considered this, conceding that Luna had a point.

  Luna's body was enveloped in a yer of bck liquid metal; she disembarked. The spaceport had artificial gravity—1.8g.

  The Olive Branch civilization, having access to Federation information, had adapted the spaceport. Though cking atmosphere, upon Luna's arrival, a stream of breathable air enveloped her face mask.

  Federation technology.

  "I am an emissary from the Gactic Federation!" Luna announced.

  The ground beneath her feet rose, forming a modur ptform, carrying her forward.

  Luna observed that most structures were topological in nature—complex modur structures forming the entire spaceport. Olive Branch beings, their forms non-corporeal, moved within these modules. They levitated; there was no sense of up or down.

  Luna had studied the Olive Branch civilization. They weren't biological; they had abandoned their original forms long ago, choosing a path of technological transcendence.

  Their bodies were composed of complex, molecule-sized polyhedra, mainly icosahedra and pentagonal hexecontahedra, with smaller numbers of tetrahedra and octahedra.

  This was simir to the human body, primarily composed of red and white blood cells, along with other cell types.

  Luna called these lifeforms "basal lifeforms."

  "Basal" not in the sense of being at the bottom of the social hierarchy, but in their structure—existing at a microscopic level.

  These beings cked the weaknesses of biological life. Many within the Federation had also chosen a path of technological transcendence. This raised a question: are they still themselves?

  Those who hadn't undergone this transformation couldn't understand. Those who had couldn't remember. The only way to know the answer is to assume that "I am not myself," but if this is true, the original self is already gone, offering no answer.

  This was an unanswerable question.

  And one Luna didn't want to explore personally.

  The journey was uneventful—a long metallic corridor—until they reached a wall that split open, revealing a circur, white reception hall.

  Initially empty, the hall filled with various objects as Luna entered, including a table and chair.

  A ptform carried Luna to the chair. As she sat, the modur chair adjusted to her body, providing optimal comfort.

  A vaguely humanoid shape appeared on the opposite side of the table.

  "Greetings, emissary from the Gactic Federation. You may call me Chu. It's my favorite word from your nguage."

  "I am the administrator of this station, its sole authority."

  "Station is also a transtion. Our central star rotates in reverse; our station is tilted, hence the name, Tilted Station."

  Luna looked at the entity, introducing herself.

  "I am Luna. It's an honor to be here. According to your ambassador, we are confined to this station and require permission to enter your civilization."

  "Therefore, we'll have ample time to interact."

  "This is a significant step for both our civilizations. Let's hope for fruitful cooperation."

  Chu's avatar formed a smile.

  "Of course. I believe our cooperation will be mutually beneficial. Your civilization has extended many courtesies to our ambassador; we will reciprocate."

  "We have prepared accommodations for you within Tilted Station."

  "Our civilization is modur. Anything can be deconstructed and reassembled. Simply inform us of your needs."

  "As a corporeal civilization, we understand your need for organic matter; therefore, we've allocated 100 million hectares of nd for cultivation."

  "Words cannot fully describe this pce; I invite you to see it firsthand."

  "I can provide a tour and introduce you to our civilization. I believe you will enjoy your stay."

  Luna nodded.

  "I enjoy new experiences. Chu, I appreciate your hospitality; I hope this visit isn't too much of a burden."

  The two chairs rotated; a wall of the reception hall vanished, revealing a vast cityscape beyond—unlike anything in the Federation. It resembled a city constructed from countless rectangur prisms of varying lengths, each prism segmented and serving a different purpose.

  There were no roads or spacecraft; the Olive Branch beings could travel through space unaided. They resembled wisps of bck smoke, like swarms of mosquitoes, moving freely, forming any shape they desired.

  They remained seated as their chairs moved at over Mach 100.

  The ck of atmosphere meant there was no air resistance; Luna felt no discomfort as the massive structures whizzed past.

  "Luna, welcome to Tilted Station."

  Luna's impression of Tilted Station could be summarized in a single word.

  Massive!

  Beyond its scale, it was remarkably simple, utilitarian.

  Tilted Station wasn't a single pne but two, like a thin sheet of paper with structures built on both sides.

  This was an extraordinary feat of engineering.

  Maintaining such a massive structure's stability against gravitational forces, let alone powering it, was a testament to the Olive Branch's advanced technology.

  On Earth, even a city of a few million people required careful pnning. This station, with a surface area of 5.5 x 101? square kilometers, required far greater expertise, demonstrating not just quantity but also quality in leadership.

  Chu guided Luna through the station.

  "Tilted Station prioritizes living and service over production."

  "There are few factories here. Most structures are residential or recreational."

  Luna nodded. There wasn't much to see.

  The Olive Branch's aesthetic sense differed vastly from humanity's; Luna couldn't discern the function of most structures; they appeared identical—cold, impersonal columns.

  "Could you show me your forms of entertainment?" she asked.

  Entertainment reveals much about a civilization.

  Chu readily agreed.

  "Certainly. Follow me."

  They approached a massive columnar structure—at least tens of thousands of meters wide, the rgest exceeding a million meters, their heights measured not in kilometers, but miles.

  As they neared, a crack appeared in the structure's smooth surface, revealing a passage bathed in white light.

  "White indicates entertainment venues," Chu expined.

  There were visual cues after all. However, since the Olive Branch were machine-lifeforms, their primary communication method was likely through a network.

  Luna suspected that, despite the apparent calm, discussions regarding the Federation were likely taking pce on a hidden network.

  Upon entering, the chairs slowed, taking about a minute to reach a dimly lit chamber filled with cylindrical containers.

  Some Olive Branch beings were already inside the containers.

  "Like your Federation, entertainment venues require considerable space and resources; we've also developed virtual reality."

  "Virtual reality allows us to create boundless spaces for entertainment."

  Once developed, virtual reality became a ptform, not just a technology.

  Just as some focused on real-world technology, others focused on virtual reality technology, creating realistic simutions like the Simuted Universe.

  The advantages were simir to those of the Simuted Universe. As time within the virtual world could be accelerated, civilizations could use it to accelerate development.

  "Each container is a virtual reality interface," Chu expined.

  "Due to structural differences, I cannot allow you into our virtual world."

  Luna sighed theatrically.

  "That's a shame."

  "Then let's proceed to the designated zone; I'm eager to see it."

  Advanced civilizations could transfer information in seconds; Luna interpreted this as a refusal.

  Why the refusal?

  The environment itself provided a clue. This cold, impersonal space wasn't suitable for living beings, even machine lifeforms. They would seek a more appealing environment.

  The virtual world.

  Luna suspected that Tilted Station was primarily focused on virtual reality, with the physical structure being secondary.

  The Olive Branch might be a virtual civilization.

  Chu agreed with a smile, then led Luna away.

  They reached the designated zone. Luna wasn't comfortable staying here; within the Olive Branch's territory, a more advanced civilization could easily monitor them.

  Staying here meant exposing themselves completely.

  But Luna needed to understand the Olive Branch civilization, and Tilted Station provided the best vantage point.

  After over two hours of travel, they arrived.

  "Here it is."

  As Chu gestured, a previously indistinguishable section of the station began to transform. Short, square columns rose, forming a high wall. They ascended, reaching an altitude of 3 million kilometers before stopping. Only then could Luna see the entire area.

  "Well?" Chu asked expectantly.

  It was a vast expanse, approximately 40 million square kilometers. On any pnet, this would be considered massive, but within Tilted Station, it seemed insignificant.

  What concerned Luna was its location—at the station's center. Escape would be impossible; any communication would likely be intercepted.

  "Excellent. We appreciate your civilization's generosity," Luna said diplomatically.

  "Regarding travel between our civilizations, we've established numerous waystations along the route. These waystations will facilitate travel across the 280 light-years separating us."

  "We're also interested in trade and mutually beneficial partnerships. What are your thoughts?"

  Chu didn't respond immediately.

  "This is a complex issue requiring further consideration. We aren't prepared for such an arrangement."

  This likely meant a refusal. The Olive Branch civilization's advanced technology meant that trade would primarily benefit the Federation.

  Luna knew this.

  "There's no rush. 280 light-years is a considerable distance; we have plenty of time."

  "Over the next hundred, thousand, even ten thousand years, we can explore further cooperation."

  Chu gestured.

  "Let's continue the tour. The rest of your delegation should be arriving soon."

  Chu suddenly paused, then apologized. "I'm afraid I must excuse myself."

  "A station of this size requires constant attention; I have many matters to attend to."

  An excuse.

  In a highly advanced civilization, how many tasks truly require a leader's direct intervention?

  Likely very few. If so many issues required Chu's personal attention, Luna would question their efficiency.

  But since Chu wanted to leave, Luna couldn't force him to stay.

  "Of course, I understand the demands of leadership."

  Chu's gratitude was evident.

  "Thank you for your understanding. If you require any assistance, use this to contact my assistant." Chu gave Luna a small, cube-shaped object.

  Luna accepted it. The object, floating in her palm, seemed to contain a faint energy signature.

  Was it truly just a communication device?

  "Very well."

  Luna watched as Chu departed.

  The brief meeting concluded. Luna sensed that Chu hadn't been eager to meet; neither had she.

  Meetings between leaders were often formalities; crucial information wouldn't be so easily revealed. More subtle observation was necessary.