Ceres

Ceres (official designation 1 Ceres) is the largest known asteroid, the only dwarf planet in the inner solar system, and the first asteroid discovered by humanity. Nine hundred fifty-five kilometers in diameter, the now-hollowed-out asteroid houses Ceres Station, one of the first sites of human colonization. Half a generation after first settlement, the venerable Tycho Manufacturing and Engineering Concern spun up the asteroid in a dramatic feat of engineering, granting it a gravity of 0.3 g. Consisting of tens of thousands of kilometers of tunnels, the asteroid houses millions of inhabitants in corridors lit by false suns and reeking of manufactured scents. The most important port of call in The Belt, Ceres has a population of approximately six million permanent residents, with a transient population of one million or so passing through at any given time. Eight hundred to a thousand ships are docked at Ceres every day, swarmed by Belter dockhands and watched by a million eyes. The top levels of Ceres are a long corridor wrapping around the outer edge of the station, topped by a dome that shows an approximation of sky, meant to comfort visitors and residents alike. Many Belters grow to adulthood staring up at a sight meant to replicate something they’ve never actually seen. Only the rich and the gainfully employed live up near the faux-sunlit apartments; the rest live deep within the rock, walking on the dirt-strewn ground in a world lit by neon and sputtering lamps, cut with the glare of lights on electric carts that whir their way through the tunnels. The black and grey markets thrive on Ceres, reinforced with dozens of ships crisscrossing the Belt—and virtually any Belter on board a ship might be tasked with helping out their fellows with the acquisition of hard to find goods. Carved crevices and repurposed cargo containers play host to all manner of humanity, from miners to prostitutes to mechanics. Belters congregate around stools in restaurants that sell noodles and whiskey. The gravity lessens the deeper one goes into the poorer sections, and a pronounced Coriolis effect presents itself. Poured liquids curve in the air, while people stumble and suffer from dizziness, nausea, and seasickness millions of miles from the nearest sea. Water on the station is rationed, carefully monitored and trickling down in ever-decreasing amounts from the outer edges of the station. Ceres is currently Governed by the UN, with security handled by private security firm Star Helix Security with a staff of mostly Earthers (and Belters who don’t mind the culture or working against their own kind).