The ringworld, temporarily designated RW114, was a continental landmass in space. Viewed from orbit, it appeared to be a flat, grassy plain, dotted with inland seas, lakes, and rivers of various sizes.
Brigadier General Jaeger Sobeck wore his heraldry mech as he stepped cautiously onto the grass, each step as wary as if he were crossing a minefield. He carried an anti-materiel sniper cannon and a disintegration lance on his back, a Vulcan cannon in his hands, and an atomic spear and a slingshot loaded with ionized salt bombs on the weapon rack at his waist.
Judging by the weapons he was carrying, you'd think he was about to storm a flagship during a fleet engagement.
But the signals from his heraldry mech's sensors clearly showed that he was indeed standing on ordinary grass. At the same time, the mech's terminal was telling him that the temperature, humidity, and air quality here were all in a very comfortable balance, perfectly suited to human life.
A few marines beside him had already opened their helmets' faceplates and tried breathing in the air through their noses. They all looked blissfully content.
"The air smells sweet here, doesn't it?" Sobeck shot them an ill-tempered glance.
His soldiers were certainly allowed to do that, and he had even approved it. But as a seasoned, levelheaded commander, he couldn't afford to be so reckless himself.
If not for the dome overhead, which revealed nearly all the depths of the sky and the light of the stars, he might have thought he was standing on the surface of a planet.
He tilted his head slightly and looked toward the horizon, where the green grass stretched out of sight. There was none of the familiar, magnificent sweep of a horizon, nor any mountains peeking over its edge.