A dying sun was a beautiful thing. This one had been dying for hundreds of years, slowly caving in on itself like some self-cannibalising machine, its light dimming so slowly that no-one would ever remember it looking any different to the way that they saw it.

  There were many dying suns throughout the universe. This one, as well as what was left of its solar system, was called Helios. The long forgotten god of the sun.

  It was a cold place to be. Not physically, of course. The space station GN19-4 was as temperature regulated as any other structure in the Empiridium. But looking out of a viewing point of that dying sun, and being reminded that everything in the galaxy would one day cease to exist, could be chilling.

  General Reford always liked to start his day by staring at the dying sun. It made him feel slightly better to think that, even if he was killed by his diet in five years like his chief medical officer always insisted he would be, in the grand scheme of things that was a very short time. Five years or fifty, that sun would still be slowly dying.

  He lit a cigar. These things would kill him, he knew, probably very soon. That would show that medical officer, if he died even faster than he estimated. The whole ship was a cigar, in some ways - ultimately not doing much good for anyone. There was no-one in Helios, not anymore. The Ring was only operated by a skeleton crew. He existed here as a waypoint, and nothing more. More than a dozen arrival times had come and gone with no ships emerging from the void, until the one the week before – but that one hadn’t been a planned or scheduled arrival.

  A little under a year ago a courier ship had arrived with data that was shared promptly with the Ring’s computers, but that ship had been unmanned and had returned home almost immediately. Besides that, it had only been supply ships, which had brought enough food for a far larger population. They could be cut off for decades and never starve.

  It had been said before, but space was a lonely place. Only a five hundred organic beings on a station built for hundreds of thousands, and a quiet that never went away. The end of the universe, they called this posting. He had realised why fifteen years ago, and never changed his opinion since.

  Well, he had one duty today. He pulled on his jacket, not even bothering to note that it didn’t fasten over his stomach anymore, and made his way to the brig.

  Everything worked. Of course it did – the Empiridium designed its stations to operate for thousands of years. If the mechanics broke down, which they rarely did if left alone, they could be repaired by even a novice technician. Nothing ever going wrong meant very little to do.

  The brig was right against the inner side of the Ring. The closest to that portal to everywhere. There were even viewing windows so that prisoners could watch ships arriving and leaving. It seemed like such a kindness.

  Reford nodded to the sole guard on duty as he entered the brig. Its sole prisoner had already been prepared for him, hands chained to the table in the middle of the room, feet in boots that magnetically locked to the floor of the room. He had his head down, but looked up when Reford entered.

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  “General,” he said. “I would salute, but I can’t.”

  He had given Reford this same greeting every day for the last four days. Perhaps this would be the day when he actually gave them some kind of information.

  “I know who you are,” Reford said. He sat down at the table opposite the prisoner. “We finally managed to pull the information from your ship’s logs. I don’t know what you did to damage the computer like that, but luckily for us we have some great technicians.”

  All of this was a lie. Reford didn’t know anything. The small cruiser that had carried this man and his companions to GN19-4 was badly damaged in ways that should have made it impossible for it to travel. No computer, no navigation, half of the engines completely unusable. The fact that a Ring had transported a ship in that condition was almost impossible.

  “Of course, there are a few things that we don’t know,” he said. “For example, that man with you. Our DNA reports confirm a match to General Katherine Graham. Now, we don’t know what his name is, because neither one of you will tell us anything and those things aren’t included in data packets for matters of security. Why was he with you?”

  The man didn’t say anything.

  “Other questions,” said Reford. “That creature on the ship. What is it? It doesn’t appear to match any creature found in our records, and none of our men can identify it. What is it.”

  “He.”

  Reford frowned. “Excuse me, Private?”

  “You keep saying it. He’s a he. How did you know to call me private?”

  “I told you,” said Reford. “The computer on your ship.”

  “I won’t lie to you if you don’t lie to me,” said the man. “I’m getting bored of staying silent.”

  Reford nodded. “The way you sit to attention is the kind of thing they drill into you during training. Since your records didn’t appear in our systems, I assumed you were a new recruit. I guessed based on that. Now, will you tell me your name?”

  The man nodded. “Private Tamworth. I was stationed on Ring GN19-2. I only just started there seventeen days ago, actually.”

  “You really are new,” said Reford. “Fresh eyes and baby face, I suppose.”

  “I suppose so, sir,” said Tamworth. It was funny, he didn’t look fresh eyed. Reford had seen eyes like these before, belonging to men at the end of long careers who had seen terrible things in their time. Never on someone so young.

  “Next question,” said Reford. “That man – can I have his name?”

  “Ryan,” said Tamworth. “I noticed he never came back to his cell. Is he okay?”

  “We gave him a state room once we discovered that he was connected to General Graham,” explained Reford. “It’s standard procedure.”

  Tamworth laughed. “That might change soon. And the creature you asked about, we call him Abnon. Though, I expect you’ll want a long explanation in a minute sir, so perhaps I’ll get to him soon.”

  “Explanation?” Reford asked. He furrowed his brow. “Tell me, Private, what it is that you’re keeping from me.”

  Tamworth nodded. “Yes, General. Do you want me to go from the start, or tell you how it ends?” He didn’t give Reford a chance to respond before he answered the question himself. “At the end, maybe. So that you’ll want to hear the rest.”

  His voice suddenly changed. All the mirth was gone, and it was like he was carrying a massive weight on his shoulders, one that bent him down towards the table. “I told you that I started at GN19-2 seventeen days ago,” he said. “Four days ago, thirteen days later – General Graham destroyed the Ring.”

  Reford didn’t process those words for a moment. “Tell me that again, Private.”

  “All of them are dead.” Private Tamworth spoke in a low, heavy, almost emotionless tone. “Everyone on the Ring. She killed them all. General Graham destroyed the Ring, and killed every single one of them. All that’s left now is debris.”