In the center of the galaxy, suspended in the gravitational well of a binary star system, floated a megastructure.
It was an artificial ringworld built around the dying embers of two stars, it was the administrative brain of the Galactic Concordat.
The architecture was a testament to eons of accumulated wealth and power; towers of white gold stretching into the vacuum, connected by bridges of stars.
At the very apex of the ring stood the Celestial Palace, a structure so immense it had its own atmosphere and weather system.
Usually, the sector surrounding the Palace was quiet, reserved for high-level diplomatic shuttles and the silent patrol of drones. But today, the space lanes were filled with traffic.
Sleek, diplomatic cruisers from every corner of the galaxy were docking. Beings of different kind disembarked, their entourages creating a chaotic mix of alien cultures. Security was tighter than it had been in a century.
