> 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.

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 a Hexaron 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.

Arthur’s quiet admiration and peaceful enjoyment of a seemingly idyllic society was only damaged, in fact, when they drew closer to the mentioned security station. The sounds of raised voices and metal on flesh reached his ears, and he automatically tensed for confrontation while some part of him he didn’t recognize began rapidly assessing escape and attack routes.

It was only when he and the Kidemones rounded a final corner and came within sight of the immaculate police station that the source of the commotion revealed itself.

Several blue-uniformed peace officers were in the midst of restraining and corralling a group of men in unassuming attire, each of them bearing similar features that only truly became apparent in their uniformity when compared to one another, and their difference to the Graecians when compared to the mass of officers around them.

“Parthians.” Perseus said with quiet disdain at Arthur’s side. “Spies, most likely, trying to infiltrate Hellas through Asfalís.”

“They do not appear to be trying very hard to blend in.” Arthur observed while steeling himself against the surprising urge to intervene against the over-enthusiastic police officers.

Another baton smashed into the ribs of one of the Parthians, and he grimaced in disapproval.

“They likely were smuggled aboard a trade container using Callandium obstruction matrices.” Endymion muttered. “The Parthians have some few skilled psionics. I would not be surprised if one of their so-called Immortals was behind the scheme.” his voice was not disdainful, as much as it was cold—as if he were commenting on the habits of animals, rather than people.

“Parthians have neither honor nor compunction when it comes to such things.” Perseus said as if it were fact. “They would sell their own mothers for benefit if they believed it would get them ahead.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“This is why we maintain our presence throughout Asfalís.” Endymion said on the heels of Perseus’ words while turning toward Arthur. “We cannot afford more of this filth infesting our home. They are a malcontented, vile, and repugnant people. Slavers and rapists run their nation. They are the opposite of everything Graecia stands for.”

Arthur’s gaze shifted from Endymion and Perseus to the Parthians, and despite their words, he couldn’t help but wonder at the complete veracity of their claims. He did not believe the Kidemónes were overtly lying, but it seemed mildly absurd to him that the Parthians were simply a massive collection of evil, slaving, mustache-twirling psychopaths.

After all, history often warned of the ease by which entire cultures could be vilified.

How he knew that, however, he wouldn’t have been able to explain. He simply did.

Silence fell over the trio once again when they crossed the street, and Arthur looked away with a frown when the Kidemónes saluted the police officers in approval of their actions. He liked Endymion and Perseus. They were, based on his instincts, genuinely good men with good hearts.

But he could also see where hatred and bias had warped their sense of perspective.

Parthians, to the Kidemónes, weren’t people any more. They were just targets.

It was a very dangerous mindset to encourage, and he had no doubt it was encouraged. Very likely by authorities far, far above his new companions—and with a very specific agenda in mind, as well. It took two nations to agitate tensions, after all, and for all that Graecia claimed to be the subject of Parthian aggression, Arthur wasn’t quite sure that was entirely true.

Not after the unvarnished loathing he’d seen and heard in the course of the day.

By time he managed to fully parse through his thoughts on it all, they were airborne.

Arthur’s eyes widened when the aircar Perseus had commandeered for their shared transport banked across the metropolitan expanse of Asfalís, and offered him his first unobstructed aerial view of the Port. Thoughts of Parthian and Graecian conflict went to the back of his mind, and he simply focused on drinking in the view offered to him by their flight.

Beautiful had been an understatement.

As if in homage to the land from which Graecia had drawn its cultural heritage, Asfalís was seemingly designed as a massive tribute to everything classically Greek. A beautiful man-made river as blue-green as any one might find in the Terran Mediterranean ran through the city.

Its forks and branches were numerous, and the entire construction of the city itself was built in professionally asymmetrical partitions that lended the illusion of a city built around the river, instead of an artificial ecosystem placed within the station interior.

Olive trees and various other traditional Greek flora and fauna were evidenced, and Arthur could even spot large fields of greenery at several locations across the outskirts of the sprawling metropolis where no elevators had been built.

“It’s gorgeous.” he observed appreciatively with his eyes transfixed by the city below.

“Our ancestors came from many places to claim Hellas and create what would become the Ascendancy, but they all agreed that our heritage was the most important thing to keep constant.” Endymion said quietly from beside him. “Wherever we can we honor the souls of our ancient home, we do so. Even here, nearly twelve hundred light years Rimward from the cradle of humanity, the legacy of men like Pericles, Leonidas, Plato, Aristotle, Diogenes, and Alexander live on.”

“It’s a noble aspiration to want to honor the past.” Arthur agreed with a look back to Endymion’s armored head. “This isn’t something I expected to see, honestly. I knew Graecia and the Hyperion cluster were more advanced than most Rim nations, but this level of artisanry is stunning.”

Endymion grunted in acknowledgement. “The Hyperion cluster defies what many consider normal for the Rim, as you said. If only we had been founded earlier, many of the misconceptions and enforced limitations we suffer through might not have been given a chance to take root.”

“Time is often the greatest barrier.” Arthur said with a thoughtful nod.

“Yes.” Endymion agreed fervently. “Our comparative age to the Fringe, especially given how large the time gap between our colonization and theirs was, means they have had centuries, in some cases, to out-develop and out-build us. The staggered nature of human colonization as a whole has left a diaspora of colonies that seem to have been intentionally forced into tiers of capability.”

Arthur hummed in thought at Endymion’s words and turned to look out of the window in thought. The sentiment struck a deep chord within Arthur, one that reminded me of something he’d largely let lapse into his suppressed memory. He never forgot things, after all, thanks to his gene-tailoring—but he did lose sight of things that were not immediately important.

Gene-tailored memory was very difficult to explain, he’d learned already.

The idea of a grand design behind human expansion was a very commonly held theory, however. The fact it had never officially been confirmed was almost irrelevant given how widespread the belief was, especially in the Fringe and apparently the Rim too, if Endymion was any indication.

“Kingmaker theory?” Arthur asked when the name came to him.

“It would make sense.” Endymion growled with a nod. “It was Terra that initiated the expansion in earnest eight centuries ago. Why did they only send out the colony ships in waves, and why take such care to ensure that each cluster even within the Core held largely homogenous populations across each planet of its habitable systems? Populations whose cultures, in many cases, had rivalries and natural frictions dating back to the bronze age of our species and beyond?”

“I admit I’ve heard the same in Aurelia before.” Arthur said honestly while turning back to Endymion. “The Charlemagne cluster contains Aurelia, Svartheim, Colchis, and Rasputin just to name the major four. If I named all twelve, it’d be a checkerboard of conflicting ideologies and values There does seem to be some measure of commonality in how naturally in-conflict each cluster’s colonized star systems are.”

“And what better way to ensure that no one can ever rise to challenge Terra’s primacy than to make common purpose a doomed dream?” Perseus asked conversationally from the driver’s seat. “It’s an open secret that the Grand Imperium has access to some sort of interstellar communications array, and yet the technology has never been shared.”

That, Arthur knew, was a sore point even in the Fringe.

Some glimmer of understanding surfaced within him when Endymion mentioned the technology, but that understanding vanished as quickly as it appeared.

“It’s brilliant in its own way." Endymion continued while oblivious to Arthur’s thoughts. "Create the seeds for inevitable conflict, and disallow anything approaching real-time communication between star systems. It even limits most militaries from waging overly ambitious wars, given that logistics and a command and control loop become harder and harder to sustain over longer distances.”

Arthur smiled wryly despite the topic. “You almost sound like you approve of it now, Endymion.”

“I’m a warrior, Arthur.” The Kidemónas said firmly. “More than anything else, I respect the bold brilliance of what has been done. Terra has castrated the greater Humanosphere’s natural cooperation enough that we will never be able to dream of challenging its power with any sort of united front, but has left us with enough capability that we will be too busy warring with our neighbors over resources and territory to truly care.”

“Designating a galactic standard language seems to play into it as well, I suppose.” Arthur admitted with a sigh. “A universal tongue for communication allows the hundreds of nations of the Humanosphere to negotiate, argue, and cycle through periods of peace and war—but it is never quite enough of a bridge for true understanding en masse, because it’s outweighed by the sheer immensity of cultural opposition in each cluster.”

“So you do understand.” Endymion said approvingly.

“I do.” Arthur said while turning back to the view, and feeling a stirring of discontent within himself he couldn’t quite identify. “I just wish it didn’t make so much sense.”

“As do we, Arthur.” Endymion growled. “As do we.”

Silence reigned within the car again while Perseus guided it toward their destination, and it wasn’t until almost ten minutes later that it was broken once more—this time by the younger of the two Kidemónes.

“We’re here.” Perseus said while smoothly landing the vehicle.

Arthur took a moment to just see the building.

It was built not unlike an Ancient Greek temple, with twelve marble steps twenty meters in width leading up to a set of open double doors, and an overhang connected to a set of colonnaded white columns built of the same marble as the steps.

A massive golden eagle perched over the doors, and appeared to be gripping three lightning bolts in its talons, while its eyes stared down as if it could see Arthur.

He shivered for reasons he couldn’t quite define and looked at Endymion.

“Is me going in there looking like I just stepped off a starship going to be an issue?” Arthur asked while gesturing to his combination of boots, jeans, long-sleeved shirt, and jacket.

“I wouldn’t expect so.” Endymion said while opening his door and stepping out.

Arthur opened his own door to step out, and Perseus turned to him when he did.

“Don’t worry about the clothes, Arthur. You’re still better looking than most living humans in Graecia regardless.”

“What the hell, Perseus?” Endymion said in surprise.

“It’s just the damn truth, brother. He may as well go in there with confidence. I certainly wouldn’t want to meet the Lion Duchess while worrying about my appearance.”

“The Lion Duchess?” Arthur asked curiously.

“You’ll find out.” Endymion said gruffly. “Come on.”

Arthur eyed the eagle hesitantly, but followed the pair inside regardless.

In the back of his mind, the compulsion urged him on.