This asexual ark vowed celibacy, on behalf of its warriors. That’s why it’s clean of disease, and such a pleasant night out. A rich variety of physical sports, many pugilistic in nature, take place in the dome on a daily basis; Catch-As-Catch-Can Droidal Wrestling, Hyperspeed Magnetic Rallies, Holographic Torture and — of course — our Graviball league.

Ships that make up our residential district are lacking in entertainment. They have only scant, small bars; incapable of anything more than a small performance. The Industrial Town’s built a culture from travelling, narrative-weaving musicians; they pepper the tiny venues of our urban arks with acoustic harps. But that’s not enough for many of our people. We thirst for blood in the silence of peacetime.

Reserving tickets is difficult, and the waiting list is long. Denizens of our capital ark, royals and off-duty soldiers are prioritised over lower-class examples of the people. The easiest way to gain entry is through competition itself; volunteering for one of the gauntlets, streamed fleet-wide as Qualat’s Challenge.

The show is a popular family tradition, appealing to each of the age demographics. Forty- nine of its brave competitors die by a season’s conclusion. The solitary victor is awarded a sceptre, a modest cash prize and respect (for a year). Then, they inevitably perish as they arrogantly enter again, and hope for a streak; the longest of which is held by an elderly general. Still, the risk is considered worth it for an up-close look at the dome. It’s often the final vista seen by waves of brave, young gamesters.