Brokering Trust: Gay Edition

By Snekguy

Of all the star systems in the Coalition, only Trappist-1 – home of the enigmatic Brokers – is forbidden to aliens. Now, they’ve created something that they can’t control, and they’re calling upon humanity for help. Dr. David O’Shea is granted a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to travel to their mysterious homeworld to render assistance – a place where no human has ever set foot. Nobody has ever seen a Broker in the flesh, and little is known of their civilization save for the incredible wealth and technology it produces.
A seemingly simple expedition grows more complicated as David is forced to balance the interests of his government and those of the secretive aliens who have requested his help, made all the more difficult by his growing affection for his host.
Join David as he uncovers the secrets of the Brokers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Snekguy
• Release date: Nov 9, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215745649

Snekguy

My name is Snekguy and I like to write, primarily science fiction and urban fantasy with erotic elements.By supporting me, you can help me raise money for more art and book covers, and you can help me work towards my goal of writing for a living.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1: ONE SMALL STEP

His head ringing like a bell, David threw off his harness and lurched out of his seat, cradling his temples as he took a few stumbling steps into the passenger bay. It took him a few moments to remember where he was and to get his bearings again.

He glanced around, taking in his surroundings as he shook off the lethargy in his muscles. The deck beneath his feet was made up of a simple metal grate, and the exposed hull material of the walls was lined with crash couches – reinforced seats with straps to keep their occupants secure during superlight jumps. The space was as cramped as a coffin and sorely lacked any comforts or amenities.

Coursers were the fastest ships in the UNN fleet – designed to be a perfect balance between mass and energy output. They could cross interstellar distances remarkably quickly, ferrying VIPs, cargo, or important information wherever expediency was a factor. They were built for speed, not for pleasure cruises. The vessel resembled a skeletal jib like the arm of a crane that connected the cockpit and cargo area with the reactor and engines at the rear.

As he stumbled his way towards the door at the cockpit end of the bay, it slid open, and a man wearing Navy blues and a crew cut stepped through. His jaw was as square as his shoulders, a pair of steely, grey eyes peering out from beneath a weathered brow. David was a civilian, but even he had to fight the urge to snap his heels and pop a prim salute.

Doctor O’Shea, the man began. How are you feeling after the jump?

David recognized him now, the memories slowly flooding back to him. This was Lieutenant Shearer – his military liaison. They had met back on Earth before he had been whisked away on this interstellar road trip.

Like someone hit me in the head with a rock, he grumbled, blinking against the harsh light strips on the ceiling above. I think I feel a migraine coming on.

Do enough jumps, and you’ll hardly notice, Shearer replied.

"If it’s all the same to you, I think I’d be better served by avoiding jumps as much as possible, David grumbled. Have we arrived, or is this yet another temporary stay of execution until my brains can be scrambled by interdimensional travel again?"

No, that was the last leg of the journey, the Lieutenant replied. We’ve arrived in the Trappist system – thirty-nine LY from Earth.

Thirty-nine point five-eight was the last accurate measurement, I believe, David sighed. As his brain fog cleared, a fresh excitement began to overpower his usual skepticism.

The Trappist system was a very unusual one, with four terrestrial planets squarely within the star’s habitable zone and another three skirting its periphery. The entire solar system was dense and compact enough to fit well within Mercury’s orbit, but Trappist-1 was a red dwarf and was thus much cooler and dimmer than Sol. As interesting as Trappist was to astronomers and explorers, it had been off-limits since first contact, belonging to the Broker sphere of influence. The technologically advanced aliens were as enigmatic as they were uncooperative, and they had never allowed any outsiders to set foot in their territory. Until now…

The pilot tells me that it’s quite a sight, Shearer continued, nodding to the compartment behind him. Care to take a look?

David followed him through the automatic door, walking along a corridor that was lined with more compartments that housed the crew quarters and the pokey mess hall. Behind another sliding panel was the bridge – a similarly compact space taken up mostly by a single bank of consoles behind which the pilot was sitting. He was surrounded by the glow of holographic displays, information scrolling across their shimmering readouts as he swiped at touch panels and hit switches.

He turned in his seat as the pair entered, but David didn’t even hear his greeting. His eyes locked onto the view beyond the frost-encrusted bridge windows that looked out into space, widening in awe.

They had landed on the outskirts of the solar system, as was customary to avoid collisions with other ships and stellar bodies, superlight calculations being inherently imprecise. He could see the faint red glow of the star in the distance, its color and apparent luminosity reminding him of a sunset, but that wasn’t all that he could see.

There were planets.

In most solar systems, planets were spaced millions of kilometers apart, even the closest ones only visible as bright stars from the vantage points of their neighbors. Here, David could see them with the naked eye. Not only that, but he could see all of them, and they were large enough for him to make out details. There was 1h – the outermost planet – so close to the ship that it appeared as large as a softball. It was visible out of the right cockpit window, and a glance was all it took to give David a wealth of information about its properties. It was highly reflective, making it shine a dull orange in the star’s dim light, its surface crisscrossed with cracks.

My God, David muttered, noticing the towering geysers that were spewing up into its thin atmosphere from the icy surface. They must have been hundreds of kilometers tall, forming glittering ice crystals that rained back down to the surface. Are those cryovolcanoes – like the water-vapor plumes on Enceladus? That suggests an ice sheet with a subsurface ocean, warmed by tidal heating, perhaps!

Getting readings of about a hundred and seventy Kelvins from the surface, the pilot added as he checked his display. Hell, that’s barely colder than Earth’s poles. You could walk around down there with a thick coat.

Incredible, David mused, walking over to the window as though it might give him a closer look. Even so far from the system’s star, it’s just straddling the frost line. The orbital period is, what...nineteen days?

Know a lot about planets? Shearer asked. The Lieutenant was considerably less excited than his two traveling companions.

My PhD isn’t in the study of extrasolar planets, but yes, David replied dismissively. Are you not fascinated by this? Do you understand how floored you should be right now?

I’ll leave the gawking to you two, he chuckled.

As David tore his gaze from 1h, he turned his eyes to the other planets, the balls of rock seeming to hang there in the velvet darkness like colorful yuletide decorations. At this distance, he could make out enough surface features to get a read on their environments, each one more surprising than the last. He could see terrestrial, Earth-like planets with oceans and continents, a body completely covered in water that looked like a perfect azure marble, and even a Venus-like planet that was enveloped in swirling clouds.

I’m actually kind of angry that the Brokers kept this from us, he said. This system is a playground for astronomers and planetary surveyors. Just think of what we could learn if they gave us free rein to explore all of these bodies. Look at 1f! he added, gesturing to it enthusiastically. That’s a planet-spanning ocean! Do you understand what that means?

Maybe that’s their homeworld? the pilot suggested.

Possible, David replied. I’d hedge my bets on one of the terrestrial planets – 1e, perhaps. From what we’ve been able to gather from long-range observation, it appears to have conditions very close to that of Earth.

This is all very fascinating, but have you received any communications from our gracious hosts yet? Shearer asked. I’d expect them to-

He was interrupted as an object emerged from superlight ahead of the ship, creating a vibrant gas cloud that began to expand in its wake, smearing across space like running watercolor paints. It was what remained of the interstellar medium that had been captured by the vessel’s superlight manifold – a bubble that enveloped the ship – its properties altered by the interdimensional jaunt.

Speak of the devil, the pilot muttered, angling the microphone on his headset towards his mouth.

"Broker vessel, this is the UNN Courser Paul Revere. I’m transmitting our identification codes to you now – please stand by."

Interesting response time, David mused, crossing his arms as he watched the ship through the main viewport.

What do you mean? Shearer inquired

We’re right on time, but there’s a degree of uncertainty involved in long-range jump calculations, the doctor explained. They couldn’t have known exactly where we would land – they’d only have a radius of decreasing probability from our stated target coordinates. That means they likely detected the gravitational wave that was created when we emerged, and since that wave travels at light speed, I’ll bet they have a presence on 1h. That’s the only planet close enough to explain how quickly they reacted. Any satellites in the outer system would have taken much longer to transmit the data to the inner planets.

An early warning system, then, the Marine replied with an understanding nod. They don’t like uninvited guests.

Judging by their history, that seems a likely explanation.

The Broker vessel was another source of fascination for David. It looked like the classical depiction of a UFO – a cigar-shaped object covered in a silver coating that almost resembled cooking foil. It was flat and featureless, with no visible panels or windows, gliding through space with no obvious form of propulsion. The Brokers were hundreds of years more advanced than any other Coalition species, including humans, so there was no telling what kind of technology they had been hoarding. Asking them to share hadn’t exactly worked out thus far.

A reply came through from the alien ship – just a tinny, synthetic voice with no video to accompany it.

Human vessel, this is Broker system authority. Prepare your passenger for transport.

Not very talkative, the pilot muttered, covering his mic.

"That’s you, Shearer said, giving David a nudge. Pack up your gear and report to the cargo hold as soon as you’re ready. Don’t leave anything behind. I suspect they’re not gonna let us come back for a while."

If you say so, David replied, feeling a twinge of anxiety.

When he had been offered the opportunity to travel to Trappist and become the first human to set foot on a Broker world, he had agreed without much thought. Whatever dangers he might face paled in comparison to the wealth of information he might glean and the renown that he would earn in the scientific community. Only now was it truly dawning on him that he might be left completely alone with these mysterious creatures – wholly at their mercy. They were not hostile, and they were an advanced species, but he couldn’t exactly call a taxi to take him home if something went wrong.

Looking a little pale in the face there, Doc, Shearer said.

David shook his head as if to dispel the intrusive thoughts, then headed for his quarters. It didn’t take him long to pack up his equipment – he hadn’t needed to unpack any of it during the trip, and he hadn’t been allowed to bring very much to begin with. All he carried was a rucksack and a pair of hard cases the size of duffel bags that protected his more sensitive gear.

He made his way to the cargo bay, wondering why he wasn’t being taken to the docking umbilical, finding Shearer waiting there for him beside an open storage crate.

Got a present for you, the Lieutenant said, gesturing to its contents. Courtesy of the Marine Corps.

David set down his two cases and leaned over to get a better look. Nestled in protective foam packaging was a folded suit and some kind of helmet.

What is it? he asked.

This is the latest version of standard-issue UNN pressure armor, Shearer declared proudly. This is actually just the environment element without the supplemental ceramic plating that secures over the top of it. This baby is rated for hard vacuum, it has Kevlar woven into the lining that will protect you from breaches and even shrapnel, and it has heating and cooling elements that will regulate your body temperature in a wide variety of extreme environments. You could go for a walk on Europa and be perfectly toasty, and you wouldn’t even break a sweat on Borealis. It’s also equipped with dozens of electronic monitoring systems that will make sure you’re kept safe and sound.

"Am I expecting shrapnel?" David demanded, cocking an eyebrow skeptically.

"Not unless you really piss off the Brokers, Shearer replied. They didn’t tell us much about what you should expect when you get...wherever they’re taking you, but they did say that you needed a suit rated for some very specific conditions."

And what conditions were those?

Barometric pressure, oxygen filtering, thermo-regulation. You’re going underwater.

"Thank you so much for telling me this now, ten minutes before I step off the ship, David grumbled. Fortunately, I can swim."

I’m sure you have all the certificates, the Lieutenant added with a smirk. Before you leave, you need to learn how to operate this suit and how to get in and out of it on your own, because there won’t be anybody to help you down there.

Very well, David sighed, shrugging off his pack in resignation. You’ve been waiting to spring this on me, haven’t you? You didn’t bat an eye when we saw one of the most amazing sights ever witnessed by a human, but this suit has you as excited as a kid in a candy store.

I’m a military man, Doc, he replied as he lifted the helmet from the crate. They pay me to point XMRs at things that the Admiralty would prefer weren’t there anymore. Take those off, he added, nodding to the doctor’s clothes. Underwear only inside these things – it needs to be in contact with your skin.

Great, great, David muttered as he began to shed his jacket. Being allowed to wear comfortable shoes was too much of an ask, clearly.

Think of it this way – you want to go check out the cool planets, you gotta wear the funny suit.

Don’t patronize me, he grumbled.

***

Shearer helped get him dressed and ran him through the functions of the suit, explaining how its various systems interfaced. It would connect to the helmet to create an air-tight seal, and it had been fitted with an optional module that attached at the hip, filtering breathable oxygen from the water while cycling out waste gasses. There was no danger of him getting the bends, as the suit was pressurized and would maintain the appropriate conditions whether he was floating in space or walking along the ocean floor.

It was a marvel of modern science, really, and he came to appreciate it a little more as the Lieutenant ran him through its maintenance procedures. He slid on the helmet, the opaque visor becoming transparent at a press of the integrated touch panel on the left wrist.

That should be everything you need, Shearer said as he stepped back to appraise the doctor's new attire.

It’s a little tight, David complained, the visor sliding up into the helmet as he flipped it open. Couldn’t they have found something a little less...restrictive?

These aren’t made to order, and remember – this is on loan from the UNN. You break it, you buy it.

And how much does one buy one of these for? David asked as he lifted a gloved hand to flex his fingers experimentally.

"More than you can afford, Shearer replied. There’s one more thing, he added, his tone becoming more serious. Loaded onto your onboard computer is a special briefing. I want you to watch it, then delete the file. Multiple passes – don’t leave it recoverable."

"I’ve been briefed," David said.

"Well, you’re being briefed again, Shearer insisted. It’s eyes-only, so let me give you some privacy."

The Lieutenant left, leaving David standing alone in the empty cargo hold. He glanced down at his wrist display, navigating through the files for a moment before finding two videos that were saved in the device’s memory. He opened the first one with a press of his capacitive glove, seeing a face pop up on the screen, the voice piping through his helmet.

It was a woman with blonde hair that had been trimmed into a bob, and she was wearing a white lab coat. To his surprise, he realized that he recognized her. It was Dr. Lena Webber. She was a celebrated linguist and the inventor of the Webber translator – a revolutionary device that interpreted the obscure Krell language. The last he’d heard of her, she was operating a research outpost on the planet of the same name. They had met several times at conferences, though they had never become very close. In fact, he had gotten the distinct impression that she disliked him.

If you’re watching this recording, then you’ve arrived in the Trappist system, she began. Her face filled most of the frame, and it was hard to make out anything behind her. I’m sure the Admiralty and Naval Intelligence have their own message prepared for you, but I wanted you to see this first.

Curious, David lifted the display a little closer, listening intently. What could a linguist have to tell him that superseded a briefing from the Admiralty?

I know that you’d never turn down an opportunity like this one, Doctor O’Shea, she continued with a knowing smile. Apparently, she remembered him quite well. "As the foremost expert on neural networks and artificial intelligence research, you no doubt have some idea of why you’ve been selected to undertake this expedition. The Brokers will explain whatever they feel you need to know to accomplish your task, but there is much that they will try to conceal. You see, I have what you might call leverage over the Brokers, and I recommended you for this position. I insisted, in fact. I am one of few people alive who have interacted directly with the Brokers – or at least their proxies – and you need to know what you’re walking into."

There was something she wanted desperately to tell him, but couldn’t. That much was obvious from her tone alone.

Do not trust the Brokers, she continued, leaning in conspiratorially. They have secrets, and they will go to some lengths to keep them. You are a brilliant scientist, but you are stubborn and abrasive. Use that to your advantage, but be cautious. Social graces were never your forte, David, but you have to know when to challenge your hosts and when it’s more expedient to play stupid. Always remember – they think they’re smarter than you. They are mistaken. Good luck.

The video ended, David feeling a lump growing in his throat. What dirt could a specialist in alien languages operating out of a remote research base have on the Brokers that she could dictate who they could pick for an expedition? As if he wasn’t worried enough already, now he had some kind of conspiracy to deal with.

He moved his finger to the next file, and the video opened to show a man seen from the shoulders up. It was a UNN Admiral, his white uniform adorned with colorful ribbons and medals, the cap on his head emblazoned with the organization’s logo – a nautical star straddling the symbol for Earth with a crossed sword and an anchor. His face was leathery beyond his years, but his eyes were like shards of cold, blue ice.

Doctor O’Shea, he began. I am Admiral Vos. In coordination with UNNI, I am overseeing this operation.

Operation? David had been told that he was undertaking a scientific expedition…

As you undoubtedly know, Doctor, the Brokers are a reclusive species who have made a point of withholding their advanced technology from the UNN and their Coalition allies – technology that could save lives and turn tides. This is the first time that they have ever contacted the United Nations to request assistance, and we can only assume that they did so because they had no other choice. No human has ever seen a Broker in the flesh, let alone set foot in their home system, and this represents an opportunity that Naval Intelligence cannot ignore.

Damned Ninnies, David muttered under his breath. The United Nations Naval Intelligence division was renowned throughout human space and beyond for their incessant meddling and their covert activities. It didn’t take a PhD to figure out where the Admiral was going with this.

From this moment on, you will be operating under the purview of UNNI. Think of it as being deputized. You are to gather whatever information you can on the Brokers and their technology by any means available to you, and you will strive to return that data to us. This is a matter of interstellar security of the utmost importance, doctor. Officially, I cannot compel you to do anything against your will outside the bounds of the law. You are a civilian, after all. However, my unique position affords me the ear of a lot of very influential individuals – people who make it their business to know people. I have connections in your field of study, including contractors and officials who hold sway over where grants and funding are allocated. Returning to us empty-handed would not benefit your professional career, but do as I ask, and you may find the results favorable. I trust that you’ll act in the interests of your government.

"Fuck," David hissed. There was no way this Vos character wasn’t breaking the law, but what was he supposed to do, call the cops? UNNI were the cops. They had their fingers in every pie from Sol to Jarilo, and with how many of his research grants were funded through UN programs, it would probably be trivial for someone with connections to shut him down. He could be frozen out of the scientific community for the rest of his career – what little would be left of it.

Contained within the lining of your suit is a data storage device. It’s a solid-state system, and I’m told that it emits no traceable signals or radiation. It’s very old and very outdated, but it can handle several terabytes of data. We dare not give you any more sophisticated equipment, as it might blow your cover, but you will be able to insert the drive into your portable workstation in order to record your thoughts and transfer files. The Brokers are shrewd and secretive – that much we know about them. Assume that you are always being observed. Run a secure deletion pass on this file before leaving the Courser, and good luck to you.

David did as he was asked, scowling as he ran a thirty-pass scramble on both video files. He had half a mind to put his foot down and demand that Shearer turn the goddamned Courser right back around, but the Admiral had his balls in a vise. His only option now was to cooperate and hopefully come away with something that would satisfy UNNI. What if he couldn’t find anything useful? What if the Brokers found out?

You ready? he heard the Lieutenant call from the other side of the bay. The Brokers are getting pretty impatient.

David cursed under his breath again, lifting his cases.

I’m coming, he sighed, following the sound of Shearer’s voice. After a short walk, he was back in the passenger bay, surrounded by rows of empty seats. The Courser was too small to house a shuttle bay, so the only way on and off the ship was the umbilical – a flimsy gantry that extended from the flank of the vessel. It was already unfolding, David watching it reach out to the strange, cigar-shaped vessel through the narrow airlock window.

Could the two ships even dock? Would a Broker vessel have a compatible airlock? Before his eyes, the silver metal on the near side of the cigar began to shift, flowing like liquid mercury until it formed a compatible seal. There was a thud as it mated with the gantry, Shearer tapping a few buttons on a control panel beside the door.

Have fun, Doc, the burly Marine said with a grin. The door slid open, and David stepped forward, clutching the handles of his cases a little tighter. As he walked past the Lieutenant, he felt a slap on his shoulder. He turned his head to see a red Canadian flag on his bicep. Almost forgot your patch, Shearer added.

I don’t think the Brokers will even know what that means, David replied.

Call it a parting gift, Shearer said, giving him an encouraging push forward.

David stepped onto the gantry, feeling the metal grating shudder beneath his feet with every step. Its naked frame was enclosed within something that looked suspiciously like a white tarp, and while he knew that it was a far tougher and more resilient material, it didn’t inspire confidence. Swallowing the lump that lingered in his throat, he tried to focus more on his immediate problems than on the implied threats made by the Admiral, making his way to the alien ship.

He stepped into a small compartment that must be the airlock, the flimsy metal beneath his feet giving way to something firmer, and he looked down to see a matte white material with no discernible features. The walls and ceiling were the same, curving subtly where they met to give them a soft, rounded look. The silver skin of the vessel seemed to transition to this paper-white substance on the inside.

There was no door, the hull behind him simply closing up like an organic orifice to seal him off from the gantry. He felt a stab of claustrophobia, then willed himself to calm down. There was a soft, diffuse glow coming from the ceiling, but there was no visible light source. He waited a few moments, surmising that the vessel was equalizing pressure, then the wall ahead of him molded open. Warily, he stepped into a cabin that was maybe four meters by four meters. It had that same rounded appearance, the same warm light seeming to emanate from everywhere and nowhere. There was a chair in the middle of the room – seemingly intended for him to sit on. It looked bizarrely out of place, and it was made from some kind of white resin-like material. Not knowing what else to do, and having nobody to greet him, he set down his luggage beside it and took a seat.

Welcome aboard, Doctor David O’Shea, someone said. It was that same disembodied, tinny voice, David turning his head reflexively as he searched for the source of the sound. Like the lights, it seemed to emanate from the very walls. Hidden speakers, maybe?

Uh, hello, he replied sheepishly.

We are beginning jump preparations and will arrive at our final destination shortly, the synthetic voice announced. Please stand by.

Jump prep? David demanded. Wait, wait. I need a harness or a seatbelt – something!

That will not be necessary – the suspension field will keep you immobilized.

Suspension field? David asked, but there was no further answer. Hell of a reception, he added, no longer willing to conceal his irritation.

Five, four, three...

David braced himself, gripping the edge of his seat – as there was nothing else to hang onto. The effects of superlight played merry hell with living nervous systems and could cause a person to injure themselves by seizing or biting their own tongue. On UNN ships, people were strapped in securely and often given bits to bite down on before a jump. He had to trust that the Brokers knew what they were doing.

The arcane energies made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and a moment prior to blacking out, he felt the very air around his body become so thick and soupy that he couldn’t even inflate his chest to take a breath.

CHAPTER 2: WHAT LIES WITHIN

David came to, realizing that he couldn’t move a muscle. All he could move were his eyes, and they darted around the featureless room in alarm, panic gripping him as he tried and failed to take in a gulp of air. It felt like he’d been buried in molasses – like an elephant was standing on his chest, but he could see nothing restraining him. There was only a faint shimmer in the air around his chair.

Finally, the sensation abated, and he took in a sharp gasp. As the memories came rushing back and his muddled mind caught up, he remembered the disembodied voice mentioning a suspension field. Instead of strapping their passengers down, the Brokers must alter the properties of the atmosphere in some way, or perhaps they had ways to manipulate artificial gravity fields far more precisely than humans could. It had been frightening, but a superlight jump lasted mere moments, and he had been in no danger of suffocation. Of course, they could have told him that beforehand.

Hopefully, this wasn’t a prelude to what was to come…

He stood, rolling his shoulders and stretching his limbs, waiting for the tingling in his extremities to abate.

Can I get a window, maybe? he asked as he glanced at the ceiling. Where are we going, anyway?

Your destination is the planetary body that you know as Trappist-1e, the voice explained.

I guessed right, he added smugly.

This vessel has no windows or viewports, but if you desire it, you may view a holographic representation from the ship’s exterior sensors.

A video feed? he clarified. That’s better than standing here staring at a blank wall...

The white material of his surroundings began to shimmer, then it melted away, David feeling his stomach turn as a wave of vertigo overcame him. In an instant, he was floating in open space, surrounded by twinkling stars. Reminding himself that his feet were still grounded on the deck, and that this was just a very convincing hologram, he willed his heart to stop racing.

It was like the ship wasn’t even there anymore, David staring out at the incredible vista before him. They had jumped in remarkably close to 1e’s orbit – the Brokers must have more accurate drives, go figure – and he could see the terrestrial planet’s curvature ahead. Just like the observations had predicted, it was remarkably Earth-like in appearance. He could see scattered land masses and island chains broken up by azure oceans, as though the entire surface was one interconnected coastline, and it seemed to have no continents as large as those of Earth. The separation between land and sea was much less marked. It was shrouded in clouds and haze, hinting at a thick, humid atmosphere.

There was foliage, a dull brown color dominating most of the land masses – likely an adaptation to capture more of Trappist-1’s infrared light. It resulted in a far less lush and verdant appearance than one might have expected from what was obviously a tropical world, and the crimson glow of the star cast everything in sunset hues. Despite being so much smaller and fainter than Sol, the planet orbited so close that the star appeared three or four times larger.

David had researched the system extensively before setting out, and he had memorized many of its planets’ properties. If he remembered correctly – and he always did – 1e had a surface gravity and temperature within ten percent of Earth’s. It was tidally locked, as was 1d, meaning that one side of the planet always faced its star. Like a crescent moon, he could see the separation point between the light and dark sides, along with the beginnings of an ice cap directly opposite the sun. The effect seemed less pronounced than he would anticipate, however. Perhaps the thick atmosphere helped to mitigate the temperature differential between the two sides if it contained enough greenhouse gasses.

The planet wasn’t the only thing there was to gawk at, however.

A thin, thread-like ring encircled the entire globe like a halo, its white hull material shining bright in the sunlight. It was a monumental space station, he realized, connected to the ground at intervals with long strands that resembled the orbital tethers seen on so many human worlds. It was a megastructure – a project far in excess of anything that he had encountered before in its scale and scope. Rather than ringing the equator, it ran vertical to the planet’s axis, crossing over where the poles would have been on Earth. To call it a marvel of engineering was an understatement.

Of course – 1e was tidally locked, which meant that there was no rotational energy to harness as a counterbalance. Without that spin, any traditional space elevators would simply collapse in on themselves. There must be something keeping it stable – perhaps some kind of spinning bearing.

Torus-shaped orbital stations drifted around the planet, their pristine, white hulls reflecting the glow of the star. There were dozens that he could see, and probably far more that he couldn’t. It was hard to gauge their scale with no frame of reference. A swarm of smaller vessels moved between them – some like the cigar he was riding, and others like he had never seen before.

One of them in particular stood out – a colossus of a ship that had to be close in size to a UNN jump carrier. Just like the cigars, its shape was paradoxically simple, like a slightly flattened tube that looked as if it had been molded from a single piece of silver metal. It was hollow, giving it the appearance of a baleen whale or a basking shark with its mouth splayed wide. As he watched, a trio of smaller vessels emerged from the opening, jetting away towards the planet below. Was it some kind of transport? The equivalent to a carrier or a freighter, maybe?

They began their approach, but David felt no acceleration and no sensation of movement. There was only a dull thrumming in the background, barely audible to his ears. Despite being aboard the vessel, he still had no idea of what propulsion methods it might use, and that fact frustrated him. He didn’t like unsolved puzzles.

The planet ballooned up ahead of him, and the ship soon hit atmo, only the subtlest of vibrations indicating that they were experiencing any turbulence during reentry. Flames licked at the hull, surrounding David in an inferno, but they soon cleared to reveal a dense cloud layer. Droplets of moisture clung to the external cameras as they dove through it, emerging to a vista of the planet’s surface.

The terrain that he had glimpsed from a distance was now on full display, chains of islands and jagged coastlines extending to the horizon in every direction, dominated by mountainous terrain that was shrouded in dense mist. Tall, willowy trees that resembled palms and dragonbloods formed a dense canopy as they fought over the limited sunlight, their leaves painted in varying shades of brown. He was surprised to see a few specks of blue and violet, too. Perhaps the competition had caused some of the plants to branch out into different methods of photosynthesis.

The foliage gave way to pristine, white beaches that would have been right at home in a tropical resort, the sand reflecting the sun in shades of pink and orange. Trappist was somewhat obscured by the clouds, but it was still larger than the full moon, its red glare painting the sky in a perpetual sunset. It was beautiful, like Sol when it was just dipping below the horizon. It wasn’t directly overhead, so they must have come down a little nearer to the terminator – the border between the light and dark sides.

As they neared the ocean, he began to pick out structures on the island that were nestled among the trees, their silver metal and white facades standing out against the rusty foliage. Some were little more than small domes that were interconnected by transparent tubes, while others were somewhat larger, rising above the treeline with disk-like upper levels that made them look like giant parasols. The architectural style was strange. The off-white structures almost looked as though they had been cast from a mold, like liquid metal or plastic, their pocked texture reminiscent of concrete. The metallic elements were a shining chrome, somewhat like their ships, nondescript machinery visible in a few places.

There was a landing pad ahead that was just large enough for the cigar. It was right on the edge of a beach, next to something that might be a control tower. As they slowed and began to descend, he noticed that there were roads linking some of the larger structures on the island, and there were a few scattered vehicles driving along them. They were flat, squat buggies with a dozen fat tires, and there was no visible cab or really any space where a pilot might sit. They carried what must be cargo crates on their flatbeds, slowly weaving their way along the winding paths under the shadow of the trees. Perhaps they were autonomous drones.

As the vessel set down, the camera feeds faded away, leaving David standing in the featureless compartment once again. He checked the seal on his suit as Shearer had taught him – not knowing what conditions he might be exposed to – then lifted his cases and his pack.

We have arrived at our destination, the voice announced. He still had no idea whether the ship was being piloted by a Broker or if he had been interacting with a drone for the entire flight. Please step out of the vessel. Your handler is preparing your orientation.

Handler? he muttered, waiting for the door to open. The hull split apart like liquid metal, forming a ramp that reached down to the pad, growing from the very skin of the ship. His analytical mind was still racing as he tried to figure out how they were performing such feats. Shape-memory alloy, maybe?

As he stepped down the ramp, his visor immediately began to mist up, droplets of water clinging to the glass. The environment here was incredibly humid and soupy. The suit reacted, changing its internal temperature to clear his vision. He noted that there was a spring in his step – the slightly lower surface gravity of 0.93Gs shaving off a few pounds.

The island’s mountainous terrain was to his right now, shrouded in a thick carpet of trees and rolling mist. In front of him was the building that he had assumed to be a control tower, rising maybe four stories, its trunk-like structure transitioning into a thick disk that was ringed by windows. There were a few other small buildings scattered about its footprint – maybe some kind of small terminal? This was clearly no spaceport – it was more like a private landing strip. A few hundred meters to his left was the beach, and beyond that, the ocean. It was hard to make out much with such limited visibility, but there was the shadow of something on the horizon, great structures rising from the water like skyscrapers.

The moment that he had cleared the ramp, it sucked back up into the hull, the near side of the vessel becoming featureless. When he turned to examine the ship, he realized that it wasn’t even sitting on landing gear. It was just hovering a meter or so off the pad, the air beneath it shimmering slightly, like it was sitting atop an invisible cushion. Before he could investigate any further, he heard a mechanical sound, turning to see something trudging its way over to him from the direction of the tower.

The first impression that he got was that of a fridge balanced on a pair of robotic legs. It stood around eight feet tall, with a blocky body that had rounded edges, giving it a somewhat softer and more organic appearance than a simple cube. Like the rest of their technology, it was matte white, while its mechanical components were the same shining silver as the hulls of their vessels. The main body was featureless, save for a collection of cameras and sensors mounted on its front face, the lenses shifting and focusing as it examined him. From the sides of its chassis protruded four hose-like tentacles made from segmented, silver metal. Each one was tipped with some kind of grasping claw or strange tool, the appendages seeming to hang in the air, more frozen in place than at rest. It was supported by two skeletal limbs made up of shining rods and pistons, exposed machinery visible in the spaces between their protective coverings. Its backwards-facing knees gave it the gait of a chicken, its cup-like feet sinking into the muddy ground.

Even though David had seen images and recordings of these things before, it was still difficult to mask his surprise. These were proxies used by the Brokers to interact with other species, and thus far, this was the only face the aliens had ever shown humanity. Whether they were autonomous robots or remotely controlled drones, nobody knew.

It stopped at the base of the landing pad, peering at him with its shining cameras, a couple of jutting antennae waving like those of a curious insect. He waited for it to make the first move.

Doctor David O’Shea, it began in that same tinny, synthetic voice. Allow me to extend my welcome to you. I am to be your handler during your visit. You will remain with me at all times, and you will follow any instructions that I give. If you have any questions or requirements, you are to address them to me.

Thank you, David replied, still unsure of whether he was talking to a person or a machine. He might already look foolish to the Brokers, like a primitive trying to have a conversation with a self-driving taxi. On behalf of the UN and its scientific community, I’d like to thank your people for affording us such a rare and valuable opportunity to share knowledge and further our relations.

He had rehearsed that line in front of a mirror several times throughout his journey, but the robot didn’t seem impressed. It watched him in silence, the only indication of life coming from its sensors as they zoomed and focused.

Please follow me, it replied after a few moments. Surmising that it was another drone, he made his way down another short ramp and set his two hard cases down in front of it. After another few moments of waiting, it seemed to understand what he expected of it, two of those flexible tentacles snaking down to grip their handles with three-fingered claws. It lifted the two cases off the ground with ease, suspending them in the air gingerly as though not quite sure what to do with them. That done, it began to march, David feeling wet earth beneath his boots as he followed beside it.

They turned left – towards the beach – walking along a muddy track that led away from the little cluster of structures. Everything seemed to be wet here. Even the robot’s hull was misted with water droplets. It must be a nightmare trying to keep circuitry insulated from moisture on this planet, even above the water. In this kind of environment, rust would eat clean through most metals in a matter of years.

He raised his wrist display, wiping away some of the moisture with his glove and checking the atmospheric readout. The oxygen content was higher than on Earth, and there were large concentrations of greenhouse gasses that lent credence to his theory about the planet’s high habitability, but the air was otherwise perfectly breathable. Not that he was at all inclined to raise his visor – this place gave Florida a run for its money. David was perfectly content to stay in his little air-conditioned bubble.

How far is it, exactly? he asked as they transitioned onto one of the roads. It was flat and straight, made from a porous material that resembled concrete, but it had the color of white plastic or resin. It seemed to extend all the way to the pale sand in the distance. I only ask because these are new boots, in a sense, he added. Haven’t quite broken them in yet. There would be nothing more annoying than being stranded on an alien planet with blisters on your feet, right? Assuming you have feet...

It is not far, the robot replied.

Unsatisfied with the answer, David cleared his throat.

I must ask – am I speaking to an autonomous machine right now, or is this unit intelligently controlled? Am I communicating with a person?

You are, it replied in that synthetic voice. It was indistinguishable from the one that he had heard on the ship, as though they were using the same synthesizer.

Okay, we’re making some progress, he grumbled. At least he knew that he wasn’t talking to a wall now. These proxies must be controlled remotely. What should I call you? Do you have a name?

Your species lacks the necessary vocal apparatus to reproduce our speech.

That’s a mouthful, he joked, but the proxy seemed to ignore him. Sure you’re not a robot? he muttered into his helmet, choosing not to broadcast the comment via the external speakers.

David faltered as he saw one of the cargo vehicles approaching them from the opposite direction, trundling down the road on its chunky wheels at some speed. It must have been going thirty-K, at least. Its bed was loaded with a cargo container the size of a truck trailer, and like the Broker proxy, it had a front face that was covered in cameras and sensors. The proxy made no effort to get out of its way, so neither did David, the truck slowing before making a wide arc around them. As it passed by, he noted that there were alien markings on the containers – text or symbols that took the form of colored squares arranged in vertical rows. Curious.

They left the shadow of the dense canopy and made their way onto the beach, David noting that the road went all the way to the ocean, where it vanished into the surf. Were the trucks amphibious? There were transparent tubes filled with water and other enclosed pipelines that ran from the edge of the forest to the sea, too. Those might be utility lines or some element of Broker infrastructure. Perhaps they were also an amphibious species. Was he about to meet a race of giant salamanders?

He paused to take in his surroundings, turning to look back at the mountains that rose up behind him. They weren’t the Himalayas by any means, and there was no exposed rock or snow at their peaks, but the comparatively low gravity allowed them to reach an impressive size nonetheless.

Only now that he was perpendicular to the trees did he realize that many of them were leaning in his direction, angling their fronds towards the sea. They were pointing at the star like sunflowers, but on a tidally-locked planet, the sun would always remain in the same position. Despite Trappist only reaching about sixty percent of Sol’s luminosity, the plants on 1e might actually get a little more sunlight without a night cycle to worry about. As it was, the trees all looked like they had been the recent victims of a hurricane.

Movement caught his eye, one of the trees some distance away shaking as a dark shape rose from its branches. It was some kind of bird – the creature flapping powerful, feathery wings as it lifted itself into the sky, too distant for him to make out much in the way of details. It had two wings where one would have expected them to be, and two more that jutted out beneath it almost like rudders. They were smaller, perhaps legs that had been adapted to assist with flight. Without an intuitive understanding of how tall these trees were, it was hard to get an accurate gauge of its size, but he could tell that it was large just from the laborious way that it moved. The combination of the lower gravity and warm, dense air was a match made in heaven for the evolution of flight.

Too late, he remembered that the helmet he was wearing had various zoom functions, cursing under his breath as the bird vanished into the mist. It had drawn his eyes to something just as magnificent, however, and he craned his neck as he lifted his gaze to the sky. Even through the clouds, he could make out the glow of the megastructure that encircled the planet, its white hull material catching the sunlight. It was a faint, thin strand shrouded in atmospheric haze, but it was clear enough to resemble planetary rings. David had ridden plenty of tethers, but a structure of that size just boggled the mind. He was seeing something with his own eyes that had existed only in theory for centuries, and something about looking at it from the ground made its scale all the more tangible.

Please follow me, the proxy said, snapping him out of his stupor.

Just...looking around, he said as he returned to the robot’s side. Hey, how are you keeping that orbital structure stable? On planets with a spin, that centrifugal force can be harnessed to keep space elevators standing, but why isn’t that ring collapsing under 1e’s gravitational pull?

The proxy didn’t reply, David scowling behind his visor. How much of this marvelous technology did they intend to withhold from him, and where did they draw the line concerning what was considered sensitive?

Why did you invite me here? David asked as they made their way to the lapping surf. "I don’t mean you literally – why do your superiors need my help? It has to be something relating to neural networks."

All will be explained soon, the machine replied, David rolling his eyes.

He hesitated as they reached the shore, the waves rolling up the beach and washing over his boots. The robot marched on, so he followed, the frothy water rising to his knees. It was tangibly cool through the lining of his suit, but not enough to be uncomfortable, his insulation and heating elements maintaining a pleasant internal temperature. As much as he could rationalize that the suit would keep him safe, instinct that still lingered after millions of years spiked his blood pressure and plucked at his limbic system, insisting that he return to dry land. Ignoring the archaic impulses – and trying not to hold his breath – he marched beneath the waves.

The water level rose up above his visor, buoyancy making him move like he was in microgravity, the tide jostling him gently. He could see the shimmering reflection of the sun on the surface above him, only a couple of meters above his head, and before him was an expanse of white sand that faded into a blue haze. The water was remarkably clear, and he could see far enough to make out a forest of kelp-like water weeds. To his surprise, the browns and oranges that he had seen on land were giving way to some blues and greens here. Of course – infrared light didn’t penetrate very far through water, so the deeper they went, the more the aquatic plants would resemble those of Earth in color. Below maybe forty meters, no UV light or any wavelengths above about six hundred nanometers would be usable for photosynthesis.

The road was still beneath his feet, the white, glossy material snaking off into the distance. How it wasn’t covered in silt and colonized by sea life searching for a hard surface, he had no idea. As they walked deeper – David bounding along like he was walking on Luna – the kelp forest began to enclose them. The stalks were as tall as trees, waving gently in the waves, reaching towards shallower water in search of light. They had mustard-colored leaves, growing dense enough that they blocked the sun, limiting visibility and creating dappled pools of light on the ground. There were smaller grasses clinging to the sediment, creating a lush, thick carpet like a meadow.

David lurched as a little fish darted out from between two nearby stalks, its colorful scales glinting in the light shafts before it vanished again. A few more followed – a whole school of them racing through the kelp, pausing to take cover within their shadowy leaves. He managed to get a better look at one of them as it peeked out at him. It had no fins and no tail, only a single skirt-like frill that ran down its tapering length. The frill created a mesmerizing wave pattern to propel it through the water, David admiring its tropical coloration of orange and blue stripes as it flitted away.

Surrounded by so much strange beauty, his anxiety about being so deep below the waves began to fade, academic curiosity distracting him from the sound of his own labored breathing inside his helmet.

As they made their way along the road, he spotted yet another animal – some kind of crustacean lazily walking through the sea grass on a set of long, spindly legs. There was no better way to describe it than as a crab, the creature bearing an uncanny resemblance to the Earth animal. It was picking through the detritus with a pair of dexterous claws as it searched for food. Like the fish, its rounded carapace was colored primarily orange with some hints of brown, likely to camouflage it.

Before long, they came upon another strange sight. The grass and kelp began to give way to more rocky terrain that rose up from the sediment, the boulders and outcrops covered with corals and sponges. Their shapes and colors were uncountable, David’s head on a swivel as he followed his robotic handler between the formations. Some were shaped like fans or sails that grew a good two meters in height, colored a vibrant blood red with violet fringes, vein-like structures crisscrossing their surfaces. Some almost looked like brains or honeycombs covered in complex grooves, while others reached up with spindly arms, branching out in fractal patterns. There were great shelves in azure blue that clung to the vertical sides of the rock faces almost like mushrooms. He could see trees with thick, trunk-like stalks that formed parasols high above him, and bowl-shaped growths that were filled with little waving tentacles reminiscent of sea anemones.

The only constant was that every available surface had been colonized, down to the smallest pebble, tube-shaped sponges and filter feeders clustering wherever there was space. There was more animal life here, too – shoals of almost obnoxiously colorful fish moving through the open water. More were hiding in the safe nooks and crannies afforded by the sprawling reef, crabs and shrimps crawling across the corals. It was like an undersea botanical garden.

Indifferent to his wonder, his companion marched on, scarcely giving him a few moments to stop and admire the scenery. The road wound between the reefs, still paradoxically clean of the life that surrounded it. Perhaps the material was treated with some kind of chemical to prevent the polyps from taking root, or maybe there was some mechanical aspect of its construction that made it undesirable.

As they rounded a bend, David stopped in his tracks. Not ten meters away, sifting through the sediment between two mounds of corals, was an animal. It was a crustacean – larger than any that he had encountered so far at about the size of a sheep. It resembled a lobster with no tail, its back covered in a hard, segmented shell that gave it a hunched appearance. Instead of the spindly legs that he would have expected, it had thicker, trunk-like limbs to support what must be some considerable weight. They were positioned beneath it, more like a land animal than the splayed legs of an arthropod, with maybe eight or ten on each side. It had a long, tapered head like a shrimp, clusters of antennae and what might be feeding tendrils sifting through the silt and throwing up clouds of dust into the water. Its complex compound eyes were mounted on stalks, reminding him of a hermit crab, waving back and forth as it scanned its surroundings. There were small corals and carpets of furry algae growing on its back, forming a camouflaging carpet.

It is not dangerous, his ward said, as though the sight should be as mundane to him as a cow grazing in a field.

"What the hell is that?" he demanded, watching the walking reef march along.

They graze in the silt, the tinny voice replied. It was coming through his helmet – he realized. The proxy had tapped into his suit’s radio. They feed only on microorganisms.

Knowing that he wasn’t going to get a more satisfying answer, he moved on. The geography of this place was becoming clearer now. After leaving the island, they had entered a lagoon, and they were now coming upon a barrier reef that separated it from the ocean proper. It formed a small, shallow expanse of water where photosynthesis was still a very viable source of energy, and life abounded.

Finally, the end of the road came into view. The terrain ahead rose up almost like a small seamount, David spotting structures nestled in the corals and rocks. They were buildings not unlike the ones that he had seen on the island above, most shaped like domes that were linked by transparent tubes. There were a handful of towers rising from the clusters, reaching to the surface some ten meters above, where their disk-like upper levels breached the water. They might be observation decks for the inhabitants or maybe a place where boats could dock – if the Brokers used boats. There were maybe a dozen structures, giving the impression of a small settlement akin to an underwater village.

Unlike the road, the corals and sponges had been allowed to take root here, the buildings doubling as natural habitats. Some were so covered that they were practically swallowed by the ever-expanding reefs, schools of tropical fish swimming past their porthole-like windows.

The road led to what almost looked like a warehouse – a square structure with rounded corners that seemed to extend deeper into the seamount. There was a large door on its facade that was clean of corals, suggesting that it would open up for the trucks. As they approached, he saw the shadow of something pass through one of the glass tubes that linked the dome-shaped buildings above, cursing to himself as it slid out of view again. Something was swimming around inside those structures...

The door slid open at their approach, splitting into two halves, revealing a parking garage for trucks. The road continued through the middle of the building, terminating in yet another door, the space to either side of it packed with more of the drone vehicles. A shallow ramp on the right side of the room led to a raised platform, and a little further behind it was a door large enough for the hulking proxy.

It led him inside, the door sliding open with a whoosh, closing behind them again as they stepped through. Just like the interior of the cigar vessel, the walls were a matte