The hiss of decompressing air marked the beginning of protocol.
Inside the docking bay, a series of glowing scanner arrays flickered to life around the Obsidian Wraith. Iris dimmed the ship's lighting as the automated security systems initiated a multi-phase inspection. Lines of blue light passed over the hull in calculated sweeps, each wave scanning for unauthorized modifications, hidden compartments, bio-signatures, and weapons caches. Ethan remained in the cockpit, arms crossed, eyes on the diagnostic overlay as the system worked.
"Ship registration: confirmed," Iris relayed. "Transmitting Mercenary Guild ID… validated. No active warrants or criminal history detected. One flag has been raised: Unknown point of origin prior to Kynara registration."
Ethan frowned slightly, though he'd been expecting it. That same detail had come up in Kynara when he first registered for guild clearance. Federation records didn't like gaps. And his life, before waking up in a crash-landed ship, was one massive, unexplained void.
The system paused for longer than usual. The red highlight flickered in his overlay, hovering beside his ID signature.
"Iris?" he asked.
"Standby…" she said. "Governor Krell's clearance authorization has just been verified. His recommendation file is linked to your profile."
A soft chime echoed through the bay.
"Override successful. Clearance updated," Iris said. "Status: CLEARED."
Ethan exhaled through his nose and sat back, watching as the scanners faded and the landing clamps released with a soft, magnetic click.
The docking bridge extended from the corridor and connected with the Wraith's airlock. A moment later, a soft tone sounded. His cue to disembark.
He stood, took a last glance around the cockpit, and moved to the exit ramp.
The interior of the docking corridor was clean, sterile, and brightly lit. No rust. No exposed wires. Just smooth grey panels with embedded control consoles and silent cameras tracking every angle. He stepped off the ramp and was immediately greeted by a small reception group standing just beyond the blast doors.
Three figures waited for him.
At the center stood a man clad in the unmistakable grey of a Federation administrator. His uniform crisp and meticulously tailored, free of ornamentation save for the emblem of the Federation: a blue star encircled by three orbital silver rings, stitched over his chest like a seal of quiet authority. He held a sleek datapad in one gloved hand, his posture composed, his expression polite but unreadable. The practiced neutrality of someone trained to deal with diplomats, mercenaries, and other high profile individuals alike. Flanking him were two security officers, outfitted in reinforced tactical vests and matte-black helmets with reflective visors that hid everything but their vigilance. Their gloved hands hovered casually near their holstered sidearms...relaxed, yet undeniably ready. Even before Ethan reached them, their helmet scanners were already sweeping him for anomalies, registering threat levels, cross-referencing IDs.
The administrator stepped forward as the blast doors sealed behind Ethan.
"Mr. Walker," the man said with practiced professionalism. "Welcome to Ashen Prime. My name is Nellen Varse, liaison for inbound diplomatic and guild-affiliated personnel. Governor Krell sends his regards."
Ethan gave a slight nod. "Appreciate the welcome."
Varse tapped his datapad, and a soft projection appeared above it. A glowing holo-letter, its surface shimmering with a Federation seal.
"Governor Krell has prepared this short message for you," Varse explained, offering the display.
Ethan read it silently:
"Mr. Walker —
Welcome to Ashen Prime.
Your presence here is both timely and appreciated. While much remains to be discussed, know that you have my thanks and the respect of those who matter. Rest well tonight. I look forward to our meeting tomorrow.
— Governor Tallis Krell"
Short. Precise. Federation to the core.
Next, Varse offered a black and silver card with embedded crystalline circuitry etched with Federation sigils. "This is your hotel keycard. You've been granted a suite in the Executive Tier of The Spire View, one of our upper-block accommodations reserved for diplomatic and classified clearance visitors."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "That's... generous."
"The Governor believes comfort breeds clarity," Varse replied with the faintest trace of a smile. "Also, your temporary high-clearance ID has been synced to your datapad. It will allow access through most commercial and public sectors of the station, as well as select private transit lanes and secure lifts."
A small notification pinged on Ethan's pad. Sure enough, the credentials had been logged and integrated. Sector access grids lit up in green across several blocks.
"We've been instructed to offer you a guide, should you wish to familiarize yourself with Ashen Prime," Varse continued. "The station's layout is highly vertical, and the internal transit system can be... intimidating to first-time visitors."
Ethan glanced over his shoulder at the towering silhouette of the station visible through a side viewport, then shook his head. "I appreciate it, but I think I'll take it in at my own pace."
Varse gave a polite nod. "Of course. Should you change your mind, you can contact the liaison office at any time. Governor Krell's schedule is locked for tomorrow morning, and you will be escorted when the time comes."
With formalities concluded, the two security officers gave him a subtle nod of farewell and resumed their passive guard stances beside the corridor.
Ethan gave them a short nod in return and began walking toward the nearby transit hub. The corridors branched into wide, clearly labeled paths that disappeared into sleek glass tunnels and curved elevators. The lighting shifted subtly with every step, responding, he realized, to his ID clearance.
As he approached a private terminal, he paused for a moment.
It hadn't been long ago that he was crawling through the deserts of Kynara, locked in a desperate battle against bandits, syndicate soldiers, and psychotic commanders and warlords.
Now, he was receiving VIP treatment on a capital station, armed with top-tier clearance, a luxury hotel suite, and the personal attention of a Federation Governor.
It was surreal.
Like he'd stepped into some carefully rendered simulation, the kind they used back on Earth in VR novels where nobodies became legends overnight. But there was no artificial gloss here. The floor beneath his feet was cold and solid. The systems acknowledged his credentials. The people addressed him with measured respect.
It was real.
And he'd earned every step of it.
Still, as he boarded the maglev toward the upper tiers, he couldn't help but feel that this place...this gleaming, stratified monument to Federation order was watching him. Judging him.
Or maybe… waiting to see what he'd do next.