The Obsidian Wraith emerged from FTL with a low, harmonic hum, the blue-white swirl of spacetime folding in on itself and dissolving into the serene stillness of realspace. The violent energy of faster-than-light travel gave way to the quiet calm of the stars, and Ethan leaned forward in the pilot's chair, eyes fixed on the darkness ahead.
The Ashen Prime Galactic System sprawled before him like a living tapestry of technology. Orbiting satellites blinked in synchronized intervals like pulses of thought, while towering relay stations anchored gravitic lanes and transponder arrays. Clusters of long-haul cargo haulers lumbered along their assigned corridors, flanked on either side by sleeker transport ships and buzzing, mosquito-like maintenance drones. Federation patrol vessels, marked by their smooth hulls and glowing sigils, glided silently across space in smooth, efficient formations. Constant reminders that this sector was now heavily monitored, and firmly under control.
Then, beyond the web of traffic, Ashen Prime revealed itself.
Still distant, little more than a star-shaped silhouette wreathed in luminous haze. It floated like a dream forged from metal and light. It radiated stillness, yes, but it also pulsed with intent. Like a heart.
Ethan's breath hitched.
It wasn't just the scale of it that impressed him, though it was colossal by any standard. It was the sheer impossibility of it. The knowledge that something so ordered, so colossal, so perfectly structured could exist in the vacuum of space.
This wasn't just a space station.
It was a statement.
"Iris," he murmured. "Status?"
"FTL transition complete. All systems green. Recalibrating course now," came the AI's smooth, ever-reassuring voice. "Sub-light thrusters engaged. We are on target to reach designated approach vector in 4 minutes, 36 seconds. Ashen Prime Control has initiated proximity scans. No immediate threats detected. Awaiting docking instructions."
Ethan nodded, as if she could see him, and adjusted his posture. The transition from FTL always left a kind of phantom tension in the air, like the universe was holding its breath. He toggled several systems on the console, activating the ship's exterior lights and sync feeds. Every movement felt routine now, even if his pulse betrayed him.
There was something sacred about this.
Something he hadn't realized he missed until he saw it.
"Docking vector received," Iris added, and a projection bloomed across the main display. A translucent path curving toward one of the outer docking arms. A three-dimensional vector line shimmered in cyan, locked to the station's rotational parameters.
He took manual control without hesitation.
His grip on the controls was light but precise, guided by hundreds of hours of VR simulations, hours of practice, and Iris's ever-watchful overlays. The Wraith adjusted course with grace, thrusters firing in brief bursts to align with the prescribed arc.
As they advanced, Ashen Prime grew rapidly in scale. From a glimmer to a structure. From a structure to a world.
The first thing to fully register was the shield dome. A massive, seamless barrier of translucent energy encasing the station. Unlike most static shields Ethan had seen on Kynara, this one shimmered like flowing water, cycling through gradients of blue, gold, and amber. It wasn't just a defense system, it was part of a larger mechanism, regulating artificial day and night across the station's upper and lower quadrants.
As they neared, he could see the sunlight inside shifting. The brilliant golden hue of simulated daylight giving way to the warm pastels of an approaching dusk. It was surreal, almost hypnotic. The dome rippled gently, bending ambient light across its surface like a second sky hung above an artificial world.
And beneath that sky… a marvel of civilization.
Ashen Prime wasn't simply built upward...it was constructed with intentional verticality, as if it was always meant to defy the usual constraints of gravity and space. Towering megastructures reached toward the shield ceiling, spiraling and branching like trees of steel and crystal. Layers of infrastructure wrapped around them in coils and platforms, disappearing into clouds of mist generated by environmental regulators. Reflective plates caught and bent light to every corner, creating a dazzling visual ballet between architecture and atmosphere.
Ethan barely blinked as he drank in the view. He could spot agri-domes, residential sectors, corporate hubs, industrial zones, and what looked like entire parks floating within domed glass shells. Transit rails zipped between spires, carving through the air like silver serpents, each one pulsing with the glow of high-speed movement. Life flowed through the station with an energy that was distinctly Federation—precise, organized, and relentless.
"Observation," Iris said smoothly, almost interrupting the reverie. "Ashen Prime is classified as a Model A9-V megastation. One of twelve pre-approved prefabricated designs currently deployed throughout the Orion Federation. Designed for rapid orbital deployment, population scalability, and integrated political and economic functions. Assembly and activation timeline: eleven standard months."
Ethan shook his head slowly, half-laughing. "You're telling me they built all of this in under a year?"
"Affirmative. With minimal deviation from initial blueprint."
He leaned back, letting out a long breath. "Back home, something like this only existed in comics and films."
"Correction," Iris replied, "data shared by the captain from your point of origin suggests such constructs were classified as speculative fiction. Records indicate that orbital infrastructure on Earth rarely exceeded rudimentary platforms with limited self-sufficiency."
He smiled. "Exactly my point."
The final approach vector blinked to life on the HUD, signaling the docking corridor's activation. Docking corridor nine-two, to be exact, marked by soft blue indicator lights lining the walls, and a pair of turret emplacements that tracked them for a moment before disengaging.
Ethan eased the Wraith forward. The magnetic guidance locks extended from the station's umbilical shaft, slowly synchronizing with the ship's landing systems. The ship adjusted with subtle yaw corrections, aligning its airlock ports with the waiting interface.
"Final clearance received," Iris reported. "Docking confirmed."
The Wraith glided forward with elegant precision, its hull making gentle contact with the corridor's clamps. The magnetic locks hissed to life, securing the vessel with a firm pulse of energy. The docking system chirped twice, then fell silent.
Ethan sat there for a long moment.
He wasn't just arriving at another outpost. This wasn't like docking at a dusty space ports he saw in Kynara's desert wastelands.
This was different.
He had arrived at the political heart of the Ashen Sector. A place where power was forged, alliances brokered, and decisions made that shaped the lives of billions.
And somehow… he was expected here.
Not as a nobody.
Not as a survivor.
Not even as a mercenary with a few local victories under his belt.
But as a name on someone's list.
A man with an appointment.
A man whose story, against all odds, was beginning to ripple outward.
He wasn't sure how he felt about that just yet.
But he'd find out soon enough.