Ethan decided to call it a day.
There was still plenty of Ashen Prime left to explore.
The Mercenary Guild's Ashen Prime branch, with its sleek corridors, polished formality, and ever-present undercurrent of quiet competition. The weapons districts, packed with armories that stocked everything from standard-issue plasma rifles to exotic gear imported from distant sectors. And the industrial ring, where engineers, shipwrights, and salvagers kept the heart of the station running.
Then there was Raevis Kael and her engineering crew. Familiar faces from Kynara who had returned to the Ashen Prime shipyards after the . He hadn't forgotten the work they'd done on the Obsidian Wraith.
He'd promised he'd stop by. And Ethan Walker kept his promises.
But all of that could wait until tomorrow, after his meeting with Governor Krell.
He left the plaza, backtracking through a local transit hub and stepping into a private capsule terminal reserved for high-clearance visitors. The biometric reader scanned his ID badge with a soft ping, then slid open the door to a sleek, silver-lined transport pod. Inside, the capsule was lined with smooth white leather and ambient lighting that adjusted based on passenger vitals.
The ride was short, swift, whisper-quiet, and unsettlingly smooth.
As the capsule ascended, he passed through levels of Ashen Prime that glittered with blue-white light and high-altitude infrastructure. A few small atmospheric skimmers zipped past the outer glass railings, their lights blinking like silent satellites. Above him, the upper dome reflected the growing stillness of the simulated evening.
When the capsule doors opened, Ethan stepped out into an elevated platform of polished obsidian tile. At the far end of the landing stood The Spire View, a towering structure built from silver-laced composite and obsidian-streaked alloy. Its design was elegant and minimalist, a statement of power without excess. A Federation aesthetic through and through.
The hotel didn't sprawl; it ascended layer by layer, block by block, with open terraces carved into its frame and lightfall features cascading down its sides like digital waterfalls.
Security presence was present but subtle.
An automated facial recognition system confirmed his identity before he reached the front archway. A soft tone acknowledged his access, and a Velkran attendant, with a ridged crest and charcoal-grey uniform greeted him with a graceful nod.
"Welcome to The Spire View, honored guest. Your suite is prepared. Do you require a physical key or shall we link access to your datapad?"
"Datapad's fine," Ethan replied.
The Velkran tapped a sleek black terminal embedded in the wall beside the entrance. A green shimmer passed through the holographic pad, confirming the sync.
Inside, the hotel was immaculate.
The lobby's polished floors reflected the cool overhead lights like a still pool. Aesthetically, everything had been crafted to evoke quiet opulence. Glass-paneled columns, minimalist art installations that hovered weightlessly in alcoves, and an aroma of synth-sandalwood, subtle and calming, filtered through an invisible ventilation system.
Attendants moved throughout the space, each a different species: a Rellian concierge with smooth, deep-blue skin and three softly glowing eyes stood behind the welcome desk, processing a departing guest. A Lorskian, short and covered in fine rust-colored fur, managed a team of luggage drones with quick, efficient gestures. Two Vennari, tall and four-armed, adjusted light fixtures near the ceiling without so much as a ladder, working in synchronized silence.
Ethan took it all in as he passed, nodding slightly to the Rellian, who returned the gesture with a polite blink of its triocular gaze.
His suite was located on the twenty-fourth floor, near the mid-upper tier. A space typically reserved for diplomats, fleet captains, and guild elites.
The door slid open soundlessly as he approached.
Inside, the room was… perfection.
The walls were painted in muted tones of ivory and slate, lit with ambient strips that adjusted brightness based on detected mood and temperature. The floor was carpeted in soft, dark grey weave, cool to the touch and responsive to motion. An adaptive mattress bed, already contoured to his height and posture from synced profile data, awaited him beneath a tall canopy arch.
A panoramic window, stretching nearly the entire height of the far wall, offered a breathtaking view of Ashen Prime's dome. Beyond it, the station glowed with the slow transition from dusk to artificial night, lights dancing like stars against the faint blue of the atmospheric shield.
The adjacent bathroom was a marvel in its own right: a private shower chamber with cascade, mist, and pulse options; a mirror-interface console for syncing with entertainment feeds or monitoring schedules; and a self-cleaning wardrobe that pressed and refreshed any attire stored inside.
Ethan walked through the space slowly, letting it all settle in. It was too perfect, too sterile, and yet somehow, it didn't overwhelm him anymore.
Not like it would have back on Earth.
Not even like it would have after his first few weeks in this universe.
He'd grown used to this kind of treatment. Not out of ego or vanity, but necessity. Ever since his victories on Kynara, people had started treating him differently. Hotel suites. Quieter respect. High-grade clearance.
With a soft sigh, he slumped into the edge of the bed, the mattress shifting automatically to cradle his weight.
He tapped his datapad and connected to Iris.
"Iris, you still patched in?"
"Affirmative," came her voice, smooth and unhurried through the suite's audio system. "All external systems are stable. The Obsidian Wraith is currently undergoing passive diagnostics through the Ashen Prime docking interface. Shall I maintain standard scan protocols during your rest cycle?"
"Go ahead," Ethan replied. "Take some time for yourself, too. Run a maintenance cycle. No deep scans. Just… chill."
There was a slight pause. Brief, but weighted enough to carry meaning. Not hesitation, exactly. More like subtle amusement, as if she was capable of appreciating the gesture.
Ethan had always treated Iris with respect, more like a companion than a tool. The way she spoke, adapted, responded… it made it easier to see her as something more than code. She wasn't human, no. But she wasn't just a machine either.
"Understood," she finally said. "Shifting to low-power optimization mode. I will notify you immediately if anything requires your attention."
"Thanks."
The connection dimmed.
Silence filled the room, dense, comforting. The kind that only comes with perfectly insulated walls and flawless engineering. But Ethan's mind wasn't quiet.
He leaned back on his elbows and stared out the window.
Tomorrow, he'd sit face-to-face with Governor Tallis Krell again.
Their last private meeting, in one of the Grand Aeloria Hotel's luxurious suites back in Valeris City, had been amicable… even respectful. Krell had kept his word since then. The terms negotiated with the coalition had been honored. The mercenaries had been compensated. The rebuilding efforts on Kynara had begun. And Ethan… had been given full clearance to leave, a ship fully repaired and improved, and an official introduction into the wider political web of the Orion Federation.
And yet...
You never put your full trust in politicians.
Not even the decent ones.
Krell was a skilled man. Intelligent, deliberate, and calculating in a way that didn't feel overly cold… but certainly wasn't warm. Whatever he wanted from Ethan now, it would come with layers. That was the Federation way.
Still, if the man had kept his word once, he might do it again.
Ethan lay back on the bed fully, hands resting behind his head, eyes still fixed on the simulated dusk creeping across the dome beyond the glass.