It’s not. It’s about logistics. It’s about the 3 AM shipments and the cracked seals and the quiet men who know which bay is empty. The moon is just a stepping stone. But a hub? A hub is where the stones land.
“ Polaris ,” I say, “divert to bay twelve. It’s tight, but you’ll fit. Watch the antenna array on your port side.” moon hub
But at night? At night, it’s mine.
I walk the central spine, boots clipping on the grated floor. The viewport is the size of a garage door. Below, the Earth hangs like a cracked blue marble, half in shadow. Above, nothing but the black felt of space and the slow crawl of the orbital elevators. It’s not