HUBUR STATION - APEX Public Affairs – A galactic logistical crisis is unfolding on the fringes of known space, all because a government database, in a masterstroke of design laziness, can’t tell the difference between a forgotten space station and a planet-sized filing cabinet.

Storage, storage, and more storage.¹

The problem, which APEX spokesperson Kovus has called “an utter, indefensible lack of forethought,” stems from a design flaw in the interstellar government’s planetary designation database. The system only uses the first three letters of a celestial body’s name, which worked fine until a new, uninhabited planet was recently designated HUB. This has created an existential identity crisis for HUBUR, a rarely-visited station on the galactic rim.

“The system just sees ‘HUB’ and assumes it’s the same place," Kovus explained, rubbing his temples. “It’s like having two siblings named ‘Jim’ and only giving them one birthday present. This is what happens when you let an algorithm design your infrastructure.”

The ensuing confusion has been predictably chaotic, though mostly without human casualties, as there are barely any humans to speak of in either location. Passenger shuttles, which travel to Hubur with the frequency of a solar eclipse, have been arriving at the desolate planet Hub instead. These shuttles, typically carrying lonely astronomers or lost tourists, are now dropping off their precious cargo onto a frigid world that is literally just one massive automated storage facility.

“My shuttle pilot said the manifest was clear,” one bewildered astronomer reported via a sputtering comms link from a planet-sized warehouse of discarded office furniture. “He handed me my baggage, pointed to a very large crate labeled ‘Do Not Open,’ and said, ‘Enjoy your stay.’ I was expecting a telescope and a bar, not a warehouse and an existential dread.”

The true absurdity, however, lies in the cargo deliveries. Hubur station, which relies on resupply for its minimal life support and questionable coffee, is now receiving automated deliveries of what appears to be an endless supply of high-grade industrial tape and filing cabinets from Planet Hub’s storage inventory. Meanwhile, Planet Hub, the galaxy’s largest junk drawer, is now mysteriously stocked with luxury hydroponics equipment and fine-dining rations meant for the few souls brave enough to visit Hubur’s sad, single mess hall.

The various space cargo guilds, famous for their unwavering commitment to a paycheck and a total disregard for context, are refusing to take responsibility. A representative for the Teamsters Galactic Union simply stated, “The manifest says ‘HUB.’ We delivered to ‘HUB.’ We fulfilled the contract. We’re not paid to have philosophical debates about where a planet ends and a space station begins.”

APEX has assured all affected parties that a comprehensive solution is in the conceptualization phase. A special interdepartmental task force has been provisionally authorized to commence an exhaustive feasibility study on the potential for the eventual implementation of a supplemental fourth character into the planetary designation protocol. Analysts project that the earliest a resolution could be fully enacted is following a minimum of three fiscal quarters, pending the successful navigation of all requisite procedural and budgetary approvals.

Meanwhile, the CEO responsible for the new planet’s moniker, held a press conference to address the situation. “Any challenges that have arisen are a direct consequence of a pre-existing infrastructure that failed to anticipate our industry-leading efficiency. Furthermore, we have a hard time believing anyone had anything of value in a warehouse on a station that barely gets visited. The problem, as we see it, is not in the name, but rather in the asset placement strategy of those who have now discovered they have an ‘unforeseen’ logistical vulnerability.” The CEO concluded by assuring everyone that their legal department was already preparing an iron-clad defense against all “parties who failed to adequately secure their assets against acts of basic nomenclature.”

At press time, Hubur’s last remaining inhabitant, a maintenance technician named Janet, was reportedly using the mis-shipped industrial tape to hold together her personal hydroponics bay. Her only company was a robotic delivery drone trying to get her to sign for her yearly ration shipment which, due to this incident, is nothing but a crate of obsolete vacuum tubes originally destined for a frozen planet a few parsecs away.