> Knowing what we do now, the entire situation on Asfalís could have ended in catastrophe. We were shielded as much by our own ignorance as we were by our erstwhile companion’s desire to skirt past our notice. Part of me wonders if it would have been better to let others handle his case. How different might our lives have been if we had simply walked away? Would Graecia have been safer if we had deferred the responsibility? We may never know, but still… Still, I wonder.

Arthur followed calmly behind Endymion and Perseus, and maintained his look of casual interest in the finery of Port Asfalís while they passed through it. It was an act of kindness on the part of the two Kidemónes, Arthur assumed, that they had not taken up a more blatant detaining posture.

Their trip through the customs barrier, the ‘first border’ between interstellar space—at least on paper, given there were other planets closer to Graecia’s two Calypso points—had been simultaneously eventful and completely devoid of surprises.

Endymion and Perseus had simply rolled over the questioning Naval staff and officers by sheer force of presence, and despite a commendable interrogative by the more senior officer near the end of the Customs area, the two Kidemónes had ushered him through the gate and past the staring eyes of dozens of people without so much as a backward glance.

The elevators behind the Customs Officers had carried the trio from the arrivals area to somewhere far deeper into the immense space station, and they’d emerged into a very different environment.

The inner heart of Port Asfalís was built shockingly similar to a true ocean-bound terrestrial port, and it took Arthur’s breath away. He’d seen images, but they hadn’t prepared him for the sheer scale to which the Ascendancy had constructed their station’s inhabited interior.

Buildings in the style of Ancient Greece with modern amenities and materials dominated the space, creating wide and spacious lanes of traffic.

Many of them were occupied by pedestrians traveling through carefully demarcated sidewalks while small vehicles—grav-bikes, in most cases—traveled to and fro amid the hum of repulsor engines, which illuminated the bottom of their vehicles with soft blue light.

While the structure of Port Asfalís externally resembled a massive umbrella cast in steel, its gargantuan domed top made far more sense when seen from within. The Port was not merely a middle point for travelers, but a living and breathing city-station all on its own.

While guests were plentiful, it was not difficult to spot more casually dressed civilians or—strangely more commonly—uniformed members of the Ascendancy Royal Navy.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Kidemónes like Endymion and Perseus were present while the trio moved through the streets, though they were often accompanied by blue-uniformed police officers, armed with far lighter versions of the Kidemónes’ power armor and absent the helmets or cloaks that completed the guardians’ austere appearance.

“We’ll take transport from the nearby security station.” Perseus said while they walked, and drew the occasional curious or surprised glances from passersby. “I understand you probably would have liked to explore Asfalís more, Arthur, and we’ll get to that after we take you where we’re going. It’ll be worth it, though, I promise.”

“Can you tell me where exactly it is we’re going?” Arthur asked with a glance down at the taller of the two guardians.

Perseus laughed.

“The Rear Admiral in charge of Port Asfalís. If we didn’t, she’d likely send aHexaron to break down your door the moment she learned you’d slipped through her fingers.”

Arthur chuckled at the seemingly light-hearted comment, and decided not to dwell on what that eventuality would look like. He was beginning to suspect that the Kidemónes were modeled more heavily after the Hoplites of Ancient Greece than he’d properly suspected, though there was definitely a more generally Terra-European bend to their structure.

Mostly Greek, but with some external modifiers in the mix, it seemed.

“Why would she want to do that, out of curiosity?” he asked while they walked.

“Because your arrival could change the fortunes of some very important people.” Endymion said with the most intensity Arthur had ever heard from him. “And I intend on making sure you have the chance to choose the right ones. Not just for them, but for the Ascendancy as a whole.”

“It’s the first time I’ve seen him so passionate about something like this.” Perseus admitted without any attempt to be subtle. “And that alone makes me want to help. My dour brother is rarely so animated, so it moved me when he insisted we take you to see the Yponávarchos.”

“I see.” Arthur said with a mix of faint amusement and lurking wariness. “I’ll try not to run for the hills yet, then.”

“I’d catch you.” Endymion said firmly.

Arthur and Perseus both laughed at the statement, though not out of lack of belief.

Something about the normally taciturn Kidemónas’ statement was just funny.

Their journey continued in comfortably calm silence from there and Arthur spent time simply admiring what he could about the streets and Port Asfalís as a whole. It was a truly beautiful locale, and the rampant greenery offered a cleanliness to the air that was difficult to attain with air scrubbers alone. The faint scent of olives was everywhere, mixed with the subtle aroma of retsina, scents of lamb and garlic, and other myriad smells that were highly indicative of the Ascendancy’s Grecian heritage.

It was a small paradise in space, and Arthur felt something in him yearn for more.

There was a part of him that, in defiance of all reason, felt at home in Graecia.

But he knew, down to the depths of his soul, he had never belonged in a place like it.