“I knew those fancy genes of yours were trouble, Magellan. I just never thought they’d be trouble for you!”
Arthur smirked good-naturedly at the Captain’s words. “Hey now, I’m more than a handsome face.”
“Yeah!” one of the women on the bridge cut in. “You’re a handsome body, too!”
A round of laughter filled the bridge again, and Larriman raised an eyebrow at Arthur. “She may be jesting, but she has a point. You’re much too purposefully gene-tailored, and far too charismatic to just be a random Freelancer, Magellan. I’d pay good money to know your story.”
Arthur buried the spike of tense readiness that flared up at the Captain’s words and instead opted for an easy smile. “I’ll stick to being an interstellar man of mystery for now.”
Larriman’s expression faltered for a moment while looking at him, and the man simply nodded. “Suit yourself, Magellan.”
Arthur let out a low breath at the man’s reaction, and focused on controlling his mood and thoughts. With the level of psion density he possessed, which was rare even in the Fringe, his reaction to Larriman’s words had likely been enough to give the Captain a subtle sense of imminent lethal consequence.
Not that Larriman would really recognize that, as much as he would simply have a gut feeling not unlike that of a prey animal when confronted by a predator: become small, or run.
Arthur took firm control of his mood and turned back to the viewscreen, his eyes sweeping over the colossal castle-in-space Star Fortress built atop an engine-equipped asteroid. It hung unmoving above them, its design a mix between ancient Greek domes and more Norman towers and parapets—all wrapped within a transparisteel dome that contained its own atmosphere.
From their distance at the very edge of the Calypso point, it was only visible thanks to the magnification and visualization granted by the tachyon sensors.
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It was still immense, and with a naked eye on the image, Arthur estimated the dome to be about twelve kilometers at its highest point, and eight in diameter.
The asteroid it was built on could probably have killed a planet on impact.
The immense Star Fortress and the Fleet assigned to it were holding static vigil over the 50,000 square kilometers within which interstellar traffic might emerge, and Arthur considered how many thousands of people must have resided within it while the Enterprising Fortune moved into and through the invisible gravity well generated by the Warp Anchor within the fortress’ hidden depths.
Such anchors were a staple of any star nation’s control of voidspace, and restricted access to higher forms of maneuvering like Compression Drives or—in the case of Calypso Points—Alcubierre Drives. The nature of a Warp Anchor was simple enough: build a gravity well generator, wrap it in a centimeter of neutronium alloy, and use a super-capital to tow it wherever it needed to go.
Then build a star fortress around it.
The reason it was called a ‘Warp Anchor’ and not a Gravity Anchor was, well, irrelevant.
People named things as they wished.
“How long until we breach the gravity shroud?” Arthur asked politely.
“An hour at full acceleration,” Larriman responded in a moderately subdued voice, “and from there, it’ll be about four hours from the edge of the heliosphere to Port Asfalís at Hellas-L1.”
Arthur nodded. “I’ll go and make sure I have everything ready to disembark. Maybe stretch a little. I’ve been asleep for…” he trailed off when he realized he had no actual idea. He hadn’t bothered to check.
“Two months, according to the Solar calendar.” Larriman said with a voice that gained some genuine amusement when he answered. “We shaved a month off the trip by not stopping at the Nioret Cluster and using the Euclidean route instead.”
“Up and over?”
“Up and over.” Larriman confirmed.
“I see.” Arthur said thoughtfully. “Thank you for that. I appreciate the brevity of the trip.”
Larriman eyed him for a moment, and then inclined his head in silent acceptance of the unspoken olive branch.
“You’re welcome, Magellan. Now go see to your belongings. I don’t want to spend longer than I need to in Asfalís because you forgot your night light!”
Arthur snorted good-naturedly, shook his head, and left the bridge amid the quiet chuckles of the crew.