'That's quite an interesting looking ship you have there, Annika'. Admiral Aden Tackett had made his way to the landing pad using the as little aid as possible. He had walked the three clicks from the ocean port to the space hub.

'It's modelled to look like my parents old ship. Its largely bespoke design has allowed a few additions and modifications that give a degree of tactical and propulsive force that get me by when the need allows'.

'Borg understatement?'

'Simple fact. As you can see, I am no longer anymore Borg than you are.'

'I suppose you're right. Well, we can hail an auto to take us to my home, or we can…

'I'd prefer to walk. Three weeks inside of a small starship is quite enough.'

'Very well, then.'

Annika and Aden avoid the main through fairs and the auto docks, and make their way down the kilometre high tree of landing pads, dock gantries and cargo transporter pads. They exit at the base of the one-hundred-meter wide trunk and in the damp, afternoon air they start to talk small. Overhead, a cargo vessel almost as big as the space hub itself, covered in pink and blue icons, hangs in the air. Only the lower half of its hull is visible as it seems to float in the stratus. Clear lanes of auto and light transport traffic can be seen moving from one pad to another and some, reaching out toward the blue-grey horizon, are heading to the islands, habitats and ships of the oceans beyond. The odd sonic boom comes and goes and Annika matches her step to the Admirals.

'This is one of eight spaceports we currently have on this planet. The one the Raven rests on is the smallest with the biggest being roughly twice the height and containing nineteen separate 'trees'. We copied the idea from the ruins we found here, one hundred and fifty-three of them in total. The archaeologists say this system was a major transport intersection roughly about the time Homo-Sapien was taking its first steps from Africa to Asia-minor. We've reconstructed one of them, from a shell that the flora never quite pulled apart.

'What happened to the race that constructed them?'

'Oh, like most, some of them moved on, some of them forgot how to make things, and some just simply gave up. All things must end at some point, Ann. Can I call you Ann? '

'You may.'

'Course, the interesting thing about them was they were humanoid. Not just any humanoid, either. Seems they share pretty much an identical genetic profile to the Ferengui. Amazing, eh? Anyway, we've spoken to them about it, but they don't seem hugely interested. We did, however, receive a summoning to the Ferengui high court to settle alleged patent infringement for the building of the space ports.'

The Ferengui are nothing if not shrewd'

'I've gotta say, that's not quite the way I put it'

The pair walk on. The walkway they follow stems from the base of the spaceport and its surrounding roots of bays and storage buildings, formed again to mimic the local flora, out towards where the buildings become more homely, less business. Annika notes that the architecture becomes taller by stages as they exit the shadow and traffic. A small collection of glass towers huddle together on the coastline. The path joins a main concourse through the shine, and out to the other side where the land falls into the ocean and a bay shelters what look to be pleasure craft. At least two of the craft would appear to be space worthy with scorch marks and phaser arrays just underneath the waterline. Something larger, possibly constructed, can be seen darkening the waters further out. Sometimes Annika misses her ocular implants.

'So, I understand you live on a watercraft?' Annika has learnt that most people don't like long silences.

'Well, It's a little more than that, but it is ocean going and it docks where the conditions allow, so I guess you could call it a boat of sorts. It's largely autonomous, and, as part of a fleet, it can cooperate with others where each craft becomes a specialised section of a whole, perhaps not unlike a Borg collective?'

Annika says nothing. The admiral points towards a small green catamaran, the two hulls joined by an ovoid, the top of which is transparent.

'There she is. That's my boat, The All Summer Long; she'll take us to my home, the island-ship David. It'll take us about half a day. I suggest you rest up.'