Arthur considered the shorter and heavy-set man thoughtfully, and then let his curiosity triumph. “I didn’t think you’d want me around, given I’m ostensibly running from something.”

“I may not be overly fond of what manner of supposed ‘woman trouble’ would send a man as clearly capable as you are running, Magellan, but I also felt your psion density on the bridge. I left it alone, but I’m not like the rest of the crew. I have insights in that sort of thing, and you’re no ordinary Freelancer.” the Captain shrugged while he walked. “But don’t worry, I won’t pry too much on that front. I have a feeling it’s better for my health if I don’t.”

Arthur frowned at the man’s certainty while they walked, and assessed the swarthy Captain with a more critical eye. Was Larriman truly picking up on his psion density, or was there something else at play? He didn’t want to accuse the merchant of anything incorrectly, but if there was something else going on…

He quietly started checking the corners of each area while they proceeded forward.

The Captain seemed satisfied enough with what he’d already said to continue their progress without further comment, and the pair proceeded in silence.

It took Arthur and Larriman all of six minutes to move steadily from the bridge to the large, singular docking airlock connecting the courier’s superstructure to any external vessel or station that sought entry. There were other access points, but those served a solely maintenance function and only opened one way.

When they arrived at the large metal doors, the pair stopped together and Arthur turned to face the wider, but notably shorter merchant.

“Thank you for your hospitality and the safe trip,” he said without preamble. “The drachma will be deposited into your accounts the moment I step foot onto the station.” He waved his left wrist and the omni-comp on it idly. “It’s already been set up, as I promised.”

The Captain simply nodded at the reassurance, cast his dark gaze at the docking umbilical connected to the airlock, and then turned back to Arthur. “Two days we’ll be here for refueling and to take on mail and media.” he reiterated simply. “If you decide you want to return with us, send a message by HoloNet.”

“I won’t.” Arthur assured him firmly. “Though I have to say I’m surprised, again, that you bothered to remind me of that offer. Your insistence is a little suspicious, to be candid, given your assertion that I’m ‘no ordinary Freelancer’ as you put it.”

“Sometimes you just need to trust your gut.” Larriman responded with a shrug of his shoulders. “I know you’re not just a Freelancer even if you won’t say what you are, Magellan, because I’m not just a fat merchant.” Instead of elaborating further, and with seemingly no reaction to the coiled tension that entered Arthur the moment the words were said; the Captain instead rolled up his right sleeve to show what appeared to be an intricate tattoo of metallic platinum wrapped around his forearm.

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Arthur, however, knew better. His eyes narrowed with immediate recognition.

“Callandium?” He asked rhetorically. “That explains your confidence, at least.”

“To a point.” Larriman responded with a nod. “I have enough compatibility for more matrices, but bugger all for psions to fuel them. Your density makes mine look laughable.” he said with a shake of his head.

“I only opted for this one to gain some rudimentary capability as an empath to help with business deals, and even then, I’m only Theta-ranked.”

Arthur’s expression slowly morphed from open wariness to a more subdued caution, but he nodded at Larriman’s explanation. “That would explain it.” he said carefully, though he didn’t let his guard down. Larriman could be lying, after all. “I take it you were tested for the Academia Psionica?”

“Deemed incapable, despite my compatibility.” Larriman said with a shrug. “Low psions, as I said.”

“So they granted you a license for a single matrix as consolation.” Arthur surmised.

Larriman nodded and rolled down his sleeve. “The Paladins took me for testing when I was fifteen, though I can’t say it was too much of a surprise. I’m no Coreblood.”

The moment the Captain said the word, Arthur felt a sharp spike of irritation, though he couldn’t have explained why. Other than his own biases against Coreworlders, there was no real reason for him to react to a slur meant for people from the innermost Sector of the Humanosphere.

Despite those facts, the epithet had engendered a feeling of anger in him he couldn’t quite quantify.

Instead of addressing it, Arthur simply offered his hand out for Larriman to shake.

“I appreciate what you’ve entrusted me with, Captain.” Arthur said politely. “And I would like to say it’s been a genuine pleasure to have been your cargo, inasmuch as I was also your passenger, but this is most definitely where we part ways. I wish you luck.”

Larriman eyed him for a moment, but shook his hand regardless. “You really are set on this, then?”

“Very much so.” Arthur confirmed. “Graecia is where I need to be.”

“Don’t suppose you’ll tell me why?” the Captain asked when their handshake ended.

“I’m afraid I can’t.” Arthur said with an apologetic smile.

“I thought as much, but it never hurts to ask. You stay safe, Arthur Magellan, until next we meet.”

“Until then, Captain. Godspeed.”

Arthur turned and started toward the docking tube and umbilical.

Larriman didn’t stop him and Arthur hitched his backpack firmly onto his shoulders. Without a glance back, he stepped from the true steel of the Enterprising Fortune and onto the flexible plastisteel of the docking umbilical.

Port Asfalís lay ahead, and Arthur knew in his core it was where he had to be.

He also hadn’t lied to Captain Larriman.

He truly couldn’t tell the other man why he had to be in Graecia. It was not a conspiracy nor some great secret opportunity that drew Arthur onward toward the immense star port. No family awaited him, and no clandestine forces for him to command or guide lay lurking around a corner.

The simple truth was that Arthur had a compulsion that urged him onward to Graecia, a compulsion that encouraged, the demanded he comply.

It was a compulsion whose source he couldn’t identify.

In Graecia, he hoped to find answers.

No matter the cost.