Fiction:Medwedian Democratic Federation/Stories/Cold Blood

Major Thorwald Ebenhardsen looked at the holographic depiction of Prompus-Theta sternly, examining every square meter of the space station he knew for ten years with the profound carefulness of a hunting Dorlian hydrosweeper. The mushroom-shaped habitat, twenty kilometers long and home to one and a half million miners, soldiers and spacers reflected the cool, reddish light of Arall with its dynaplast-aluminium-depleted uranium hull. The massive windows of the first class lounges and formal dining rooms appeared as little specks of light, so did the spacious shuttle and ferry bays. Ebenhardsen was staring at a simulation - albeit a well-done one, and could not see the countless ships assembling around Prompus-Theta like flies around a carcass.