> Had we known then who it was that had arrived among us, we might have acted differently. Chosen differently. I cannot say for certain if the decisions we made were truly what was in the best interest of Hellas or humanity as a whole, but I am glad we made them. I am glad we chose faith over hostility. I shudder to think what the consequences might have been, had we chosen wrong. We had received the living embodiment of Pandora’s box, and I thank all the gods that we handled it with proper care.
Arthur strode along docking umbilical with a silent assessment of the area he could see beyond. The immediate station was seemingly abandoned, with the occasional holographic infomercial decorating the plain white walls, and filling the area with the subdued sounds of consumer advertising. From perfumes and sprays to weapons, armor, and even the occasional marketing campaign for a new type of commercial starship dominated the various appeals to new arrivals.
The interior was quite conservative, and seemed entirely built purely to house passengers, crew, or other such personnel for a single ship or transport. The small white seats, cramped area, and tell-tale domes of hidden automated turrets set into the ceiling told Arthur all he needed to know.
His booted feet transitioned from plastisteel to true metal and he stepped out into the receiving area. The moment he did and his vision was no longer obscured by the narrow docking umbilical’s walls, he found a lone young woman in attendance.
She was attired in the abiding red of the ARN, had short blonde hair, brown eyes, and based on her single upward-facing chevron and lack of medals or pins, was one of the Navy’s enlisted. His eyes met hers at the same time as hers met his, and Arthur smiled while she blinked at him in momentary surprise, and then recovered.
“Welcome to Port Asfalís, sir! I am Naftis Kiara Larsen. Do you require any guidance?”
Naftis. An equivalent to an Aurelian ‘Spacer First Class’. Bottom of the ladder.
“Nice to meet you, Kiara.” Arthur said with a casual confidence that he knew instinctively would make her more comfortable. He wasn’t entirely sure what manner of knowledge fed him that awareness, but neither would he question its veracity. It felt right.
“My name’s Arthur. Arthur Magellan.” he continued with a warm smile. “It’s my first time in Graecia, and I’m trying to figure out what happens next.”
“Oh!” Kiara said while staring at him with what Arthur classified as a deer-in-headlights look. “A newcomer? That’s—that’s awesome! I mean, that’s wonderful! Ah…” she patted down her pockets, paused, and then seemed to realize what she was doing. A moment of blatant embarrassment followed, and she instead took a moment to center herself with a quick breath in and out.
“Everything okay, Kiara?” Arthur probed gently.
“I—uh—yes. Sorry, sir. I wasn’t actually paying attention to the fact anyone docked, and… I…” she trailed off at the exact moment that Arthur saw her eyes widen with realization of her admission of not paying attention, and her face turned red. “Um. I don’t know why I said that. Sorry? Wait. I—I mean—”
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“Naftis.” Arthur said with confidence and an injection of authority he knew she’d respond to positively. “I just need to know what my next steps are. Perhaps you could tell me where I should go from here to find passage down to Hellas?”
The very young enlisted, which Arthur decided was the most plausible explanation for her flustered state, looked mortified when she nodded, and answered with only a mild stammer. “Y—yes sir! Um. Out? Out! Yes. That way. Uh. Customs. Customsisthatway!” she finally blurted out, while pointing to the only real door within the small boarding and disembarkation area. It lay directly opposite the one he’d stepped through from the umbilical behind him.
“Thank you, Kiara.” Arthur said with a suppressed twinge of annoyance. He didn’t blame her, necessarily, for her lack of togetherness—but there was definitely a degree of impatience for her lack of decorum that bothered him.
He had expected better from the ARN after what he’d seen in space.
Kiara, despite all convention, saluted at his thanks.
She looked frozen with shock after she did, and her eyes focused determinedly on a spot somewhere over his shoulder.
“E—enjoy your stay in Graecia, sir!”
“Thank you, Naftis.” he said with a bemused smile. “And take care of yourself.”
Arthur left before he could be engaged in further awkward discourse, and moved quickly across the boarding area to pass through the pair of blue-marked double doors, and into the Port-proper beyond.
Immediately when he did, he noticed that security in the area—which was still mostly devoid of passengers or traffic—was far more extensive.
The first indication of that was the pair of power-armored guards standing with professional vigil outside of the doors leading to the embarkation lounge of the Enterprising Fortune’s docking bay, their hands devoid of any obvious weapons.
Even a quick glance told him that they likely wouldn’t need weapons to handle him.
Arthur’s loose study on Graecia and the Ascendancy which ruled it allowed him to identify both men as members of the Vasilikós Kidemónes. In English, it quite literally meant ‘Royal Guardians’. They were identifiable not merely by the rich blue cloaks that covered their shoulders and necks and fell to trail a few inches across the ground, but by the immaculate silver paint that covered their armor.
Their kit was clearly modeled off of Ancient Greek Hoplites, though the metal was painted silver where historically it had been distinctive bronze, and where their armor might have once had necessary gaps; tightly woven nano-threaded mesh strong enough to withstand limited direct fire from most ballistic and energy-based weapons covered what might have otherwise been exposed skin.
Their helmets were made in the Corinthian style of their Hoplite forebears, with a metal ‘plume’ in place of the horsehair one they may have had in a more classical time. Where the helmets would normally have T or Y shaped gaps for the eyes, nose, and mouth; black glass occupied the space between the metal instead.
Despite the occasional mesh-covered joints foregoing armor over their elbows and knees for the sake of mobility, Arthur knew from his limited research that the mesh itself was rated for vacuum and could protect the Kidemónes from gaseous or liquid attacks as well.
Despite his fascination with the blatant throwback to Ancient Greek culture, however, Arthur also recognised something else.
They were soldiers, and he was an unknown.