Ethan stepped out of the docking hub and into the wider artery of Ashen Prime's public transit zone.
The contrast was immediate.
Where the docking corridor had been sterile and quiet, this transport node buzzed softly with motion. It was one of many civilian-tier hubs, branching out from the station's outer ring like the veins of a colossal heart. The passageway before him was wide and gently curving, its walls lined with security scanners that pulsed faint blue as each person passed through. Uniformed personnel stood nearby, unobtrusive but watchful, nodding occasionally to travelers or assisting with biometric confirmations.
The foot traffic flowed smoothly, people moving with a casual grace born from routine. He saw a mix of station workers in utility gear, technicians with padded gloves clipped to their belts, and a handful of students in blue-collared uniforms chatting softly in groups. Families, solo commuters, and the occasional off-duty mercenary moved past, each absorbed in their own quiet rhythm.
Ethan felt out of place, but not unwelcome.
He carried no visible weapons and wore a simple travel jacket over his light armor. His face wasn't recognizable here, not like on Kynara. He could be anyone.
And for now, that suited him just fine.
He approached the terminal where several sleek high-speed transit capsules awaited passengers. A display above each capsule cycled through destination sectors in pulsing text. One read: "CIVIC BLOCK 04A – Lower Residential Tier."
He boarded.
The doors hissed shut behind him with a soft hydraulic click, and the capsule accelerated smoothly. So smoothly, in fact, that he barely felt the motion. Inside, the air was climate-controlled, subtly scented with what he guessed was floral ionizer output. The floor lights pulsed faintly beneath his boots, indicating the speed intervals of the capsule's trajectory.
The walls played glowing holo-ads in calm, muted colors. A new Galactic Net drama called "Frontier Hearts" played across one screen, while another pitched energy supplements infused with Tyren root. Other ads promoted fashion lines with self-cleaning fabric, home AI systems with adaptive mood lighting, and nutrient-packed cuisine kits designed for stationside cooking.
Ethan leaned back, letting the capsule take him into the station's deeper layers.
Through the transparent segments of the capsule's walls, he caught fleeting glimpses of neighborhoods. Vertical platforms with stacked residential units, wide plazas with open-air balconies and lounges. Each district passed by like a cross-section of city life, designed not for beauty but for pure, efficient function.
After a few minutes, the capsule decelerated and came to a soft stop.
The doors opened with a faint hiss.
Ethan stepped into Civic Block 04A, one of Ashen Prime's lower residential plazas.
The change in atmosphere was immediate. A soft simulated sunlight filtered through artificial sky panels overhead, casting a warm, early afternoon glow over the multi-tiered plaza. Artificial trees with long, sweeping branches grew from hydroponic planters, their leaves a deep shade of green touched with violet veins. Engineered, no doubt, to maximize oxygen output while still looking aesthetically pleasing.
The plaza bustled with life.
Small shops lined the circular edge of the plaza, their transparent facades showcasing everything from basic clothing and comm devices to snack packs and novelty toys for children. Rest benches with built-in charging ports dotted the center walkways. Pedestrian paths forked up toward side-level terraces, where a few pedestrians leaned on rails sipping drinks or chatting quietly.
In the middle of it all, a public news display projected a slow-rotating holo-feed above a stone-textured pillar.
"Federation Trade Guild concludes third round of negotiations with Havarun Consortium…"
"Ashen Sector peacekeeper recruitment campaign extended for two more cycles…"
"Governor Krell's administrative address scheduled for the next planetary rotation…"
Ethan wandered through it all slowly, hands in his pockets, letting his senses soak in the rhythms of everyday life.
He passed a row of food vendors clustered around a recessed courtyard. The scent of grilled protein wraps mixed with spicy simmer-bowls and sharp citrus teas. One booth boasted "Inari Spice Wraps – Authentic Prime Flavor!" A few customers stood in line, chatting softly as they waited.
He paused at a small beverage cart, run by a smiling woman in her later years. Her hair was silver but tied neatly in a bun, and she greeted him with the warm familiarity of someone who had made a thousand cups and heard twice as many stories.
"First time in this part of the station?" she asked with a knowing grin as she poured a steaming drink into a reinforced thermal cup.
Ethan gave a nod. "Something like that."
She handed him the drink. "Try this, Kessar root steeped in citrus rind. Keeps the mind sharp and the soul light."
He thanked her and paid in credits, taking a slow sip. The flavor was sharp and earthy, but the heat settled into his chest with surprising comfort.
As he moved back into the flow of pedestrians, a group of off-duty technicians sat near a bench, half in uniform, half in casual wear, laughing over a shared data-slate.
"Mid-sector resupply's late again," one groaned. "Three cycles in a row."
"Bet they're rerouting through the Elyan Corridor again," another replied. "Or someone's playing dumb to skim fuel credits."
They didn't notice Ethan. He let the chatter wash over him.
He didn't need to speak. Didn't want to stand out. Just being among them, hearing the banter, the work complaints, the day-to-day lives of normal people living on a space station larger than most cities...it was grounding in a way he hadn't expected.
No firefights. No syndicates. No bandits.
Just people.
Ashen Prime was nothing like the grit and desperation of Kynara. It lacked the rawness, the adrenaline, the unpredictable chaos of a frontier world. But in its place was function. Systems that worked. Schedules that held. Clean water, filtered air, stabilized temperatures, and a dozen layers of redundancy ensuring life went on, uninterrupted.
And despite the clinical design of its architecture, the station was alive. In the muted conversations. In the footfalls. In the quiet determination of people who kept things moving.
Eventually, Ethan found a quiet bench beside a glowing fountain. The water rippled with synchronized light patterns, mimicking a natural stream, even though it was completely artificial. He sat down, took another sip of his drink, and exhaled.
For a few precious minutes, he let himself blend in. Just another traveler. Another face in the crowd.
He wasn't here to fight.
He wasn't here to prove anything.
He was simply… existing. Watching.
A man on the edge of something far bigger, taking his first, quiet steps into a space station among the stars.