Onboard the CES Retribution

Flagship of the First Admiral of the Celestial Fleet

THE PLANET FILLED THE VIEWSCREEN, a spark of brilliance in swirls of blue and white. It shone like a jewel within its corona of light and air, its recorded beauty reflecting off the cold, hard metal of desk, chair, charts, and viewport. From her position beside the swirling feed, the First Intergalactic Admiral of the Celestial Fleet folded her arms as two images appeared on the digitized wall opposite her.

“Admiral,” the Chairman greeted from the first frame, his tall form materializing against the background of a sumptuous office, all leather and hardwood and wine-dark upholstery. A member of the Expanse’s small oligarchy, the Board of Directors, and its true ruler in all but name, he had the commanding air of a man used to obedience. His high-collared suit, a tailored affair in the patriotic gold-trimmed black of the Expanse, bore the patterned half-star marking him a member of PsyCorp.

In another frame to his right, a second man emerged against the backdrop of an orbital laboratory, slender and white-haired. Another leader of men, though in a very different way. The Doctor nodded in greeting, his frost-blue eyes vaguely disapproving.

Though when were they ever not? the Admiral thought acidly.

She surveyed the group with an arched brow. Chairman. Doctor. Admiral. Together they formed the three cornerstones upon which the entire Celestial Expanse now rested. And not just the Expanse, but—

The human race.

The Chairman made an impatient noise, and with a deferent nod, the Admiral indicated the planet over her shoulder. “Gentlemen, this footage was taken just hours ago from deep within Tellurian territory. No doubt you recognize the site.”

Both men nodded. As the other major power within the inhabited universe, the Tellurian Alliance had been both ally and enemy in turn throughout history, its vast array of colonies and planets united under the rule of this one world on the screen before them. Just a few short years ago, the Alliance had been as mighty as the Expanse, a rival to be reckoned with. But that was before.

“Strange,” the Doctor murmured. “Even after the invasion, it still looks exactly the same. The ships are gone, of course, but the planet itself—”

“Yes, of course. We’ve all seen this before,” the Chairman interrupted, his modulated tones like oily serpents twining around one another in an endless spiral. “That hardly explains why we’re here, though. Perhaps you would care to elaborate?”

The Admiral shrugged a shoulder. “Watch.”

With a flick of her chit hand, she forwarded the footage, speeding the feed so that hours passed within minutes, minutes within seconds. Together the three watched in perfect silence as the day faded away before them, the sun setting over the edge of the world to let night fall across in its place. The footage continued to run, everything still but for the moving image on the wall. At last the Chairman shook his head.

“It’s so dark. Shouldn’t we be seeing the city lights by now? We’re over the western edge of the Pacific. That’s Tokyo, Jakarta, Seoul—”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, gentlemen,” the Admiral said, pausing the feed on the planet below. She bowed her head—in prayer, in mourning, or perhaps simply in thought—eyes only for that dark expanse before them.

“All the lights have finally gone out . . . because there’s no one left to turn them on.”