[ID: A video pulled from the Star's orrery feeds, depicting a station so large as to beggar belief.
Seen on approach from the station's central blink anchor, three great spin cylinders loom in trefoil-pattern over all comers. Each is crowned with counterspinning habitation rings, prickly with solar vanes and docking spars; in the void about them, ten million containers of cargo float, waiting for transport to the Dawnline or beyond.
They are swarmed by thousands of ships, of which there are every class and character under Union's record, and many that are not. Merchanters from every combine, country, and company imaginable vie for berths with Armory and Karrakin dreadnoughts while miscreant sublighters out of the Rim steal dock time where they can. Barely visible in orbit above, two dozen warships in Union Navy black hang menacingly; a threat to any who would upset the station's fragile balance.
As with most stations, vessels line up in sequence beside it; a queue for comers and goers each, drives shining in the distance like so many rainbow suns as they make their burns. Here, though, vessels move in one line and one line only; rimward-coreward, the line to and from the Dawnline, and through the Long Rim. For despite the station's might, it is nothing but a stepping-stone on the trail to Humanity's frontier.]
