> Even then, despite my brother’s recalcitrance, I knew we’d made the right choice. His presence, his manner, the way in which he interacted—all of it felt different to me. Special. I didn’t know if it was divine intent or mere happenstance, and the underlying presumption of a universal plan; but I understood to my core that we had been meant to meet him. For me it was a simple matter of following what I knew to be true. Looking back, even with everything that’s happened, I still believe I made the right choice.
Arthur fell in with the two Kidemónes when they set off, and carefully remained half a step behind.
Enough for them to lead, but not enough to look as if he were being forced to follow.
He didn’t want to look like he thought himself their peer, but neither did he wish to be antisocial or appear to be. It was a delicate balance, especially given the blatantly abnormal level of favor they were showing him.
Something about their willingness to help him tickled Arthur’s deeper-rooted sense of caution, but he couldn’t quite place what it was. He felt as though he should have known the answer, but every time he tried to focus in and find it, his mind slid away from the thought and put him right back to his state of mild vexation and answerless suspicion. They shouldn’t have been so willing to help. He knew that.
Then again, people did strange things for strange reasons.
It was very possible they truly were just bored.
“What did you think of the System when you came in, Magellan?” Perseus asked while they walked.
“You’re resource rich and know how to exploit it.” he said candidly. “I respect the sheer ambition of the Ascendancy. With what you have here, you could rival some of the outer-Verge nations given enough time. You’ll climb to parity with them faster than some Fringe powers will.”
Endymion grunted at that. “That’s a rare sentiment from a Fringer.”
“I suppose I’m a pragmatist.” Arthur said wryly. “And I know how to acknowledge true potential, no matter which sector it’s from.”
Perseus and Endymion glanced at him, and the senior Kidemónes inclined his head.
“I apologize.” he rumbled quietly. “The insult was uncalled for.”
Arthur shrugged a little and smiled. “I can’t blame you for it. I can imagine what manner of bullshit people from the inner sectors give you.”
“I suppose you can.” Perseus said with a chuckle. “The Fringe was the Rim before the Rim existed, after all.”
“And the inner sectors never let us forget it.” Arthur agreed with a nod.
“Shit rolls downhill.” Endymion muttered. “The Core gives it to the Mantle, who gives it to Verge, who gives it to the Fringe, who gives it to us.”
“We don’t give it to the Frontier, though.” Perseus said conversationally.
“That’s because the Frontier’s too busy killing itself with a violence we couldn’t hope to match.” Endymion snorted.
“I had heard it was pretty bad out there.” Arthur stated quietly.
“The stories don’t do it justice.” Perseus confirmed with a shake of his armored head. “We get the occasional Frontier trader out here, and other than some special clusters, it’s bad. Local warlords and failed states bad.”
Arthur’s eyebrows rose in genuine surprise at that.
“What makes this wave of colonization so much less stable than the last few?”
“Distance, so people think.” Perseus said grimly. “The Rim only barely feels the Grand Imperium, but we at least understand that Censure has happened. The Frontier? The Core may as well be a distant and irrelevant boogeyman to them. Imperial Censure is almost pure legend a dozen light years further out from Graecia, let alone the two hundred from here to the Frontier.”
“It’s worse the further you go, too. Every dozen light years is a devolving level of civilization, and the outer-Frontier may as well be a permanent warzone. What few colonies do survive are—”
“Better not spoken of.” Endymion interrupted with a rumble.
“Nobody has tried to help?” Arthur asked with a twinge of anger. For some reason, the idea of such unpoliced chaos struck a chord of rage in him he hadn’t known to exist until that exact moment. Chaos, his mind told him, was antithetical to everything he believed in. Why that was, he was unable to say.
Perseus glanced at Endymion, and the older Kidemónas sighed and gestured for him to go on.
The pair of them led him through a chair-populated waiting area and toward a large, white-painted metal opening with the words ΗΘΗ ΚΑΙ ΕΘΙΜΑ in bold, blue-lit letters on the panel above. A galactic standard translation of CUSTOMS was lit below. Arthur followed the pair through the long access gate quietly while Perseus continued.
“Everyone’s tried, but with no true hegemony in the Rim, it’s not plausible.” Perseus said with a turn of the helmet back to Arthur. “Even Graecia, for all that we’ve actively sent aid and help out there, just can’t afford to send proper expeditions. We could restore peace across many Clusters, and pretty easily at that thanks to our stability and economy, but…”
“You’d be making yourselves too vulnerable to your enemies.” Arthur guessed.
“Those Parthian animals would be pounding at the gates within a month.” Endymion growled.
“And without a guarantee of safe borders,” Arthur surmised, “moving fleets that far out is just asking for any deployed forces to lose logistical support.”
Perseus nodded and continued with a tone of regret. “We wish we could help. Honor would demand we should, but our people have to come first, and we simply can’t run the risk of exposing ourselves to Parthia.”
“What a mess.” Arthur muttered.
“It sucks.” Perseus agreed sadly.
“The trickle-down enforcement used to work.” Endymion muttered. “The Core checked the Mantle, the Mantle checked the Verge, and the Verge checked the Fringe.”
“But the Fringe largely broke that cycle.” Arthur said with a glimmer of sudden insight. “They—we—didn’t properly do for the Rim what the Verge did for us, because the emphasis on a peaceful outer sector had eroded so much with time and distance.”
“And as a result, the Rim has abandoned the Frontier entirely.” Perseus said with a resigned nod. “It’s a failure in the chain of responsibility, but that’s what distance does. The Grand Imperium cares about peace enough to enforce it, but send people far enough from the immediate range of those enforced ideals—”
“And it all goes to donkey shit.” Endymion said flatly.
Arthur would have smiled at that, if not for how depressing the topic was.
“The chaos benefits Parthia, regardless.” Endymion continued disdainfully. “Those slaving bastards will raid the Frontier semi-regularly for new batches of people to put to work, both for their mining operations and to use in their planetary exploitation programs. They work them to death, and then just go and steal more people.”
“That’s terrible.” Arthur said with a deeply-rooted sense of something being wrong. He felt as if he should have been able to do something about Parthia’s actions, despite all logic to the contrary. He supposed it was guilt. The idea of humans being enslaved was in opposition to everything he believed.
At least, that was what he felt.
It felt strange that he couldn’t say with certainty.
A subtle compulsion soothed away his wonder about the matter a moment later.
“It’s the Humanosphere.” Perseus said resignedly while Arthur refocused on the Kidemónas. “All we can do is try to make our own slice of something better than the rest. It’s the most simple, and most ruthless truth of human existence: There are the powerful and the powerless, and there’s always a bigger star nation.”
“Unless you’re the Grand Imperium.” Arthur said with a core-deep certainty.
“Unless you’re the Grand Imperium.” Endymion agreed with a grunt.
Arthur looked around after they emerged from the long corridor they’d entered, and the conversation momentarily lapsed when he did.
The area they had entered was far larger and more populated than the one they’d started in, and Arthur realized quickly that it was some sort of ‘nexus’ point for multiple different arrival areas. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of people filled the space even with the relative statement of ‘low traffic’ by Graecian standards, and he could see long lines of people with a wide and eclectic variety of attire waiting in front of dozens of gated customs stations, manned by men and women in the scarlet colors of the Ascendancy Royal Navy.
“Wow.” Arthur said with genuine surprise. “This is Customs?”
Advertisements played in a myriad of competing volumes and with a plethora of colorful and exciting holovids that reeled across monitors, along walls, and hung suspended by anti-grav motors across the waiting area. It was immense in scale, and seemed to be able to easily house several thousand more people, even with the crowds that were already present.
“One of the checkpoints, anyway.” Perseus said in a satisfied tone. “Asfalís has several customs areas scattered across the station.”
“How many people live here?” Arthur asked in wonder.
“A few million on the station proper.” Perseus said with a sense of pride that was nakedly apparent. “It’s one of the largest stellar habitations in the Rim.”
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“Graecia has a lot of things called ‘one of the best in the Rim’, I’m learning.” Arthur said wryly.
“We aim to impress.” Perseus laughed.
“Clearly.” Arthur said with a low whistle while he looked around, and let the ugliness of their previous conversation wash away with the spectacle. “Though now I’m curious about you two.”
“What do you mean?” Endymion asked gruffly.
“My understanding was that your division was part of the Royal Guard.” Arthur explained while the two resumed walking toward one of the distant Customs desks. “I didn’t expect to see you guarding a docking umbilical, honestly.”
“It’s a common misunderstanding.” Perseus responded without any sound of offense and a half-glance back. “The Vasilikós Kidemónes are tasked with the security and safety of the two Kings, yes, but we’re also posted to the most critical locations across the Ascendancy.”
“I knew that, and it makes sense you’d be aboard Asfalís as a general posting.” Arthur responded conversationally. “But the docking bays seem a little rudimentary for the Royal Guard.”
“What did you expect to see?” Perseus asked without offense.
“I thought I’d see some Royal Marines.” Arthur answered honestly. “Or even standard station security officers, especially given how little traffic there is.”
“Your guess makes sense.” Perseus said while coming to a halt—Endymion with him—and idly gesturing to the colossal area around them rife with noise, activity, and throngs of humanity.
“The Marines tend to focus on shipboard defense and security, and garrison the less important stations and stellar facilities; and we have normal police forces for the various municipal districts on our worlds and orbital habitats, including Asfalís…” He gestured over for indication toward where Arthur did, in fact, spy what appeared to be blue-uniformed police officers speaking to some irate looking people. “But strictly speaking, even though we technically share space with the Navy and other elements of the government; Asfalís and other militarily or politically important areas are firmly our jurisdiction.”
“How does that work with contravening authority?” Arthur asked with interest.
“We tell them what to do, and if they know what’s good for them, they do it.” Endymion said with a snort. “If they get lippy, well, there are ways of handling that.”
“Endymion likes to go above them while they’re standing there.” Perseus laughed.
“It’s about sending a message.” the senior Kidemónas said shamelessly.
“I can see the logic.” Arthur said with a laugh of his own. “Though it’s definitely a little vindictive.”
“Well, perhaps a little.” Endymion admitted with a hint of amusement.
“Thanks for explaining it.” Arthur said with a nod of thanks.
“No problem.” Perseus said easily. “It’s not like you couldn’t have found it out with a quick sweep of the HoloNet.”
“Better from the source, though.” Arthur said simply.
“Always is.” Endymion agreed grimly. “Too many idiots on the ‘Net.”
“Which begs the question, Arthur, as to whether there’s anything else you want to know before we part ways.” Perseus said with a gesture around them again. “This is Customs, and I don’t think it’s in my interest to push my surly brother too far.”
Endymion snorted at Perseus’ words, but didn’t deny them.
Arthur smiled at them both, and took a moment to seriously mull over Perseus’ offer. Was there something else he wanted to know?
He thought back to what he’d read, and then to Captain Larriman, and then looked up at the Kidemónes. He pondered over how bold he felt, before simply deciding to risk a question he wished to ask. The worst they could do was decline to answer. “There is one thing.” He said carefully.
“I can already hear the hesitation.” Perseus said with a laugh, and a friendly slap to Arthur’s wider shoulders. “Go ahead and ask, Arthur.”
“If you’re sure.” He said with a smile before proceeding. “I’ve heard that there’s another element to your force. The Myrmidónes?”
Endymion looked at him and sighed. “Of course that’s your question.”
“You’ve done your research.” Perseus agreed with amusement.
“Not enough, I’d say, but some.” Arthur said lightly.
“Curiosity isn’t always a good thing.” Endymion rumbled dourly.
“But it isn’t a crime either, eh?” Perseus said with a laugh.
Arthur smiled at them both, and Perseus continued a moment later.
“Myrmidónes are Kidemónes that have matriculated through the Academia Psionica. It’s a pretty popular point of pride for us to work with them, despite my brother’s surliness. The Grand Imperium’s Paladins have a Fortress-Monastery and garrison force for it on Hellas, like they do in every other stable system in human space, but this far from the Imperium psionics are more or less allowed to defer joining if they don’t want to.”
That was a surprise. Arthur hadn’t thought the Imperator would ever be so liberal.
“That’s unheard of for anyone above Delta rank in the Fringe,” Arthur observed with interest, “and it’s even less tolerated toward the Core, from what I’ve heard.”
“The Myrmidónes have an understanding with the Paladins,” Perseus explained while they chatted and the odd passersby threw them curious looks, which Arthur ignored. The Kidemónes were the only ones of their kind in the Customs area, surprisingly enough, and Arthur wasn’t unaware of how odd it must have looked for them to be casually standing around chatting with him.
“They are free to serve the Ascendancy and fight for their homeland, and in return, they will answer the call if the Paladins ever need them.” Perseus continued while oblivious to the attention they garnered on occasion. Or seemingly oblivious, at any rate. “Terra’s power is respected even this far out, as unlikely as it might be for the Imperium to project power. Nobody wants to make the mistake of being the star system that pushed the Imperator too far.”
“Even with them being so disconnected from the Rim?” Arthur asked curiously.
“Everyone in Graecia knows what happened to the Morlane Confederacy.” Perseus said with a shake of his head. “An entire inner-Rim nation powerful enough to be a true multi-stellar state, and with the economy to challenge the outer-Verge powers just… dismantled.” he shrugged and continued. “All of it happened within the span of a few Solar months, and the timeframe was only that long due to the Imperium’s forces having to travel over a thousand light years.”
“It might have been before we were born, but we’ve met people from Morlane.” Endymion added grimly. “Most Rim citizens have. You don’t forget stories like theirs.”
Arthur was careful to nod seriously, but otherwise avoid overt reaction.
“And Myrmidónes—” Arthur said while shifting the topic back for the sake of his own clarity “—are something similar to Aurelian Chevaliers, I’m guessing?”
“In essence.” Endymion agreed with a slight shrug of his armored shoulders. “They are independent investigators and enforcers, tasked with rooting out spies, traitors, and extremely dangerous criminals or dissidents. Their psionic gifts make them particularly skilled at the work, and give them formidable capabilities in battle.”
“Their Callandium compatibility must be high.” Arthur murmured half to himself.
“It is.” Perseus confirmed. “They have a generous helping of psions, too. None of them are above Delta in strength, and most are apparently Epsilon or lower. Otherwise I don’t doubt the Paladins would have forced them into service already… though I’ve heard a rumor their Strategos is on the cusp of Beta.”
“Andino!” Endymion growled.
“It’s just a rumor…” Perseus grumbled.
Arthur held up a placating hand. “I get it, Endymion. Thanks for answering at all.”
“It was our pleasure.” Perseus said a moment later with genuine warmth. “You’re an interesting man, Arthur. I can’t say I’ve met anyone as effortlessly charismatic in a while.”
“Just good genes.” Arthur half-joked.
“We did notice that.” Endymion grunted. “Symmetrical features, powerful frame, not a blemish or flaw to be seen, and you move like a man that can and will leap to violence quickly if properly provoked.” he folded his arms and shrugged shamelessly. “Part of why I consented to escort you was to observe your nature for myself. You could do a lot of damage very fast if you wanted to, I’d wager.”
Arthur’s eyes tightened a little at Endymion’s assessment, but he didn’t try to deny it.
“You’ve got me dead to rights, it seems.” he said with a half-hearted smile.
“Not quite. You could be a Parthian spy.” the senior Kidemónas said flatly. “But I doubt it. You’re not the type they’d want. There’s too much to notice about you, and you’re too easy to like. We’re extensively trained in Parthian tactics—and they haven’t tried to trojan horse us in decades.”
“What happened to the last one?” Arthur asked despite his better judgment.
“Defected to Graecia.” Perseus said with a laugh. “Hilarious when you think about it. I heard the Parthians were livid. We landed a whole cache of intelligence as a result.”
“Normally I’d reprimand him for that, but it really was decades ago. It’s history at this point.” Endymion remarked gruffly. “And as I said, you’re too easy to like. I almost felt your anger at the idea of Parthian slavery, odd as it is to say. I can tell you’re not like those animals on Xerxes.”
“That’s… genuinely flattering, Endymion.” Arthur said with a wry smile. “Thank you.”
“Mm.” Endymion grunted.
“Before we go, Arthur, would you answer a question of my own?” Perseus asked curiously.
“By all means.” Arthur said permissively. Turnabout was fair trade, after all.
“Which sort of Freelancer are you?”
Arthur hesitated for a moment at Perseus’ question, and then felt a small encouragement erode his natural wariness. He’d kept his skills under wraps during his negotiation with Larriman, but something—instinct or otherwise—told him it was important he be honest with the Kidemónes.
So he was.
“I’m a Knight-Errant.” Arthur said as calmly as his spiked heart-rate would allow. Despite his mind telling him it was the right thing to do, a deeply rooted part of himself balked at the idea of giving away that information. “I can pilot and build Ninth Generation Eidolons.”
Both men went very still when he said that, and then turned to one another rapidly.
The clicking was rapid-fire almost immediately upon them turning to each other.
Engineered Interaction Dual Origination Linear Operation Neuralink Weapons, also simply called Eidolon Weapons or Eidolons for short, were the hardest to pilot and most difficult to master warmachines in the Humanosphere. They stood on average between 15 to 25 meters tall, with the ability to transform between a highly maneuverable starfighter and powerful humanoid form.
Eidolons were easy enough to build. Finding pilots was a far more difficult prospect.
The largest reason, of course, was that the people that could even be considered as pilots were one in a million, while only one in ten million might be considered truly formidable.
And beyond those, perhaps one in a hundred million would be classified as a prodigy.
Capability was only one part of it, of course. The other factors were far more esoteric. The mental bandwidth required to operate one of the machines was hard to gauge without simply putting candidates in a cockpit with a neuralink to test them, and the result could range anywhere from a failure to move the training machine, to the too-common-for-comfort cases of sudden-onset brain death.
And the likelihood of which result would manifest was difficult at best to predict.
“Arthur.” Perseus said after several long moments of silence. “Are you telling us that you are a trained and veteran Eidolon pilot from the mid-Fringe with the capability to replicate mid-Fringe technology?”
“Yes.” Arthur said simply. There was no point lying, for all that part of him was raging at his own stupidity. The urge to be honest remained, but another part of him was livid for agreeing with that urge. He couldn’t have explained the compulsion if he’d wanted to.
“You realize what that means, right?” Perseus asked skeptically.
“I’ve got a pretty good guess.” Arthur replied with resigned amusement.
“We’re going to have to ask you to follow us.” Endymion said grimly.
“You’re not in trouble, Arthur, but if what you say is true…” Perseus trailed off.
“It’s going to cause a whole fucking circus of bullshit.” Endymion said flatly.
“Yeah.” Arthur said simply. “I figured.”
“Hey, there’s a bright side to this.” Perseus said while Endymion signaled to some nearby officers, and started barking orders for them to clear a path through the crowds after they ran over.
“What’s that?” Arthur asked skeptically.
“If all goes well, you’re gonna find that work you wanted, and then some!”
Arthur couldn’t help himself at that.
He laughed.