Satellite Three drifted alone through space, its rocky bulk conveying a sense of solidity and grandeur.
Suddenly, a section fifty meters across on a smooth rock face began to sink inward. The entire process was silent—there was no air in space.
A few seconds later, a huge cavern was revealed, with a soft light shining from within.
Immediately afterward, a thoroughly futuristic fighter aircraft shot out of it and sped toward the endless depths of space.
Meanwhile, the recessed rock quickly pushed outward again. Within seconds, everything returned to stillness, without the slightest seam remaining on the rock face.
The A3 Fighter Aircraft raced through the void, accelerating until it became a streak of light impossible to distinguish with the naked eye.
In this void, time seemed to lose all meaning. There was not even anything by which to measure it.
The A3 Fighter Aircraft was like a speck of dust, utterly inconspicuous.
At last, a ribbon of light appeared ahead of the A3 Fighter Aircraft. It was the Asteroid Belt.
Those points of light were, of course, reflections of light from the Central Star.
But the asteroids were so densely packed that the points merged into a ribbon of light.
As the A3 Fighter Aircraft drew closer, Thorne and the others could distinguish individual asteroids.
Gradually, they grew from the size of peas to the size of millstones, then grew larger still. Their structures became increasingly clear, until even their surface terrain was visible.
This was a realm of death.
Countless asteroids stretched across it, but there was no life on any of them.
Desolate, barren, silent—even these words seemed inadequate to describe the sight.
Every asteroid moved along its own orbit, some fast and some slow, like a flock of ducks being herded along, crowded yet orderly.
Yet