His thoughts, however, were interrupted a moment later when a rumble of ignition abruptly brought the shuttle to full life and he felt the plasma thrusters at the rear of the vessel hum with ignition.

It was a stark reminder of the technology differential between the Core and the Rim, one that jump started a spark of memory within him that until that moment he had not actively been aware of. The Fringe, he knew, was already well-equipped with proper Impulse technology, and the inner parts of the Verge had graduated very recently to Antimatter Engines.

Only the Grand Imperium and its Core-spanning Empire, insofar as Arthur’s limited recollection told him, had graduated beyond conventional thrust entirely.

The thoughts naturally led to his considerations for what manner of Eidolon he would build.

Plasma thrusters on his Eidolon would be extremely undesirable, Arthur knew instinctively, due in no small part to the sheer inefficiency of the technology when compared to higher forms of technology. While superior to ion thrusters, the fuel requirements, heat issues, and power sinks made plasma unacceptable for his purposes.

With the holes in his memory as it related to inner sector technology, he could reliably bring his machine to parity with the Fringe. He was confident in that much.

Anything beyond that, though, was an exercise in guesswork at best.

It was extremely frustrating to know the knowledge existed, but was inaccessible.

The rumble of acceleration drew his attention back to the shuttle and the space around it a moment later, however, and Arthur turned his full attention back to the window looking out the docking bay—which was even then rapidly receding.

Moments later the ship passed through the open bay doors and into the space around Port Asfalís, and Arthur let loose a low whistle at what he saw.

Graecia had truly redefined the meaning of civilization in its area of space, so many hundreds of light years from humanity’s cradle.

Port Asfalís was a bustling hive of activity. He’d seen evidence of that on his approach with the Enterprising Fortune. Now though with a different angle of sight, and while departing from what Arthur recognized as the upper part of the colossal ‘rod’ that was the lower half of the station’s design, his shards of memory only helped to reinforce his scope of reference.

Hundreds of vessels traversed the space around the starport like a colossal swarm of fireflies, lighting up the void in coruscating flashes of azure plasma. Some were close enough to be discerned as freighters, haulers, or luxury civilian transports—others instead so far away that all Arthur saw was the flare of their engines.

All of them had been invisible due to the space station’s immense bulk.

The bridge crew of the Enterprising Fortune had never bothered to angle the sensors enough to see the other side of the starport, and so Arthur only then witnessed the activity for the first time himself.

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Seated where he was in the sleek shuttle of the Vasilikós Kidemónes, Arthur was treated to an unobscured vision of prosperity while their ship accelerated to speeds close to or even in excess of 500 m/s². Based on Arthur’s extensive understanding but limited experience with plasma drives, he knew that the acceleration would be reversed via turnover—literally a flip in space to face the engines toward their destination—just before the halfway mark between their origin and destination; allowing the shuttle to ‘decelerate’ toward Hellas using inverted forward momentum until it came to a stop relative to the planet’s Docking Iris.

The alternative was slamming into the near-impenetrable energy shield that was a standard part of any colonized world’s defenses, and being atomized on impact. The shield, after all, was designed to stop everything from stray kinetic munitions traveling at velocities close to the speed of light constant—also called c—to world-killer asteroids.

A single shuttle would prove little more than a gnat by comparison.

“We’re approaching the Navy’s home fleet flagship.” Atreus cut into Arthur’s thoughts suddenly. “Given you will be fighting for the Ascendancy, you may as well know her on sight. The King Alexander has been the name of every flagship since the first hull was laid in the yards above Hellas.”

“Alexander?” Arthur asked with a hint of wry amusement. “That’s not subtle at all.”

“Subtlety has its place. Projection of force is not one of them. The name has intent.”

“Hard to argue with that logic,” Arthur conceded with a shrug while looking at Atreus. Another flash of memory came to him, and he continued with a small nudge of impulse he couldn’t quite identify, but felt compelled to obey. “Alexander is still one of the most prolific names in human history, even with the Humanosphere’s expansion. I think the only martial records more lauded by military education are the actions the Geneticists took to wipe out the Transhumanists.”

“I didn’t know you were formally educated, Arthur!” Perseus called with a tone of pleased surprise. “At least not in martial curriculum. I took you for some sort of noble’s kid!”

“He probably is.” Endymion growled from beside Perseus. “That’s probably why he has that education, Andino.”

“Sure, whatever, but that still means I can pick your brain about the ethics of—!”

“Focus on flying, Andino.” Atreus cut in coldly. “Leave Magellan to me.”

The youngest of the three Kidemónes shut up immediately, and Arthur couldn’t help but smile regardless of Atreus’ words. The Myrmidón’s insistence on dealing with Arthur himself was hardly a surprise. Atreus, Arthur had realized, was professionally paranoid as a matter of course—and greatly disliked not being in control.

Still, Perseus’ enthusiasm for discourse and debate was equal to Arthur’s own, and he understood implicitly that he enjoyed the act of both. It was something he’d retained even in the false guise of Magellan.

Though truthfully, Magellan seemed more real to him in some ways than Zacaris.

It was a strangely ambivalent realization to have.

Understanding logically that his personality had been fractured was one thing, but the dissociative effects of experiencing it in real-time were far more visceral, and far more unnerving. On one hand he was almost pleased with the chance to objectively assess the bitterness, anger, resentment, and cold indifference to human life with which Zacaris had operated. It let him put things into perspective, and even glean a greater level of insight into his own motivations.

On the other hand, the comparative simplicity and even enforced naivete of Magellan had created a kind of shock-effect that manifested every time Arthur received a new batch of recollections or particularly graphic memories from his true—or perhaps former—self. He wasn’t certain what manner of person he would become in the long-term, but the marriage between Zacaris and Magellan didn’t merely seem inevitable, it seemed necessary.

There were strengths he could take from both to balance the weaknesses of each.