Izzy didn’t have a helm. It didn’t have controls as such. No big wheel to turn for steering it through space, no throttle. Just a bewildering assortment of thrusters controlled through a web interface that could be pulled up on any tablet, provided you had the right password. So, the control room, the bridge, the command center could be anywhere. People had ended up calling the room Markus had chosen the Tank. Adjoining it on one side was a smaller office that served as Markus’s sanctum sanctorum. Next to the Tank on the other side was a larger room with a number of cubicles, bizarrely like a suburban office park, where people supporting Markus could sit and work. It had been called the Cube Farm for about ten minutes and was now simply called the Farm. Adjoining the Farm on the other side was a maze of cramped rooms where one could obtain food or use the toilet.