[November 313th, Gale Year 2. New Bran Castle, Power of Europa. 19:16. Universal Europa Time.]

[Earth-Year 2136]

***

A glistening, gray pipe, newly fabricated for a single function, rested against the crate on which Jordan Astros' arms rested.

"Anytime James! I won't keep asking!" Jordan barked calmly. Stared dryly, at James frozen in place before him. Shaking his sand-haired, overgrown head from side-to-side like a leather bag.

James Astros stood 1.78 meters tall, in front of the door. He was born short, by the Clan's standards, and stocky. Like their shared mother. His chest, arms and legs were heavy and stacked with dense muscle like he'd spent of childhood on Earth. Obvious results from a childhood of fighting sports, training and competition amongst the Clan. Despite his mass, he still appeared to be little more than a large child in Jordan's eyes as he stood there. Shifting his button-like eyes between Jordan and the pipe he knelt beside with increasing fervor.

"I- I can't do it." He finally muttered under his breath.

Jordan's chest flared from the sound of James' words. Flashes of irrational heat rose from his gut. Into his face to curl his usual indifferent appearance into a resentful scowl. "Why?" He asked. Soft and coldly in juxtaposition with his emotional appearance.

James stared back with a kind of pity in his eyes that Jordan was certain aligned more with feelings of disgust than sympathy. He had an outstanding poker face, but the light in his eyes didn't lie.

Jordan pushed himself from beside his crate, stomped before James and straightened his face back to its usual phlegmatic disposition before repeating himself softly. "Why not?"

At 1.89 meters, Jordan looked down on his older brother, physically. And had done so in all other aspects since they were children. Whereas James' hair was like beach sand, worn long and unkempt like a high school bully. Jordan's was like the bark of a hardwood tree, tapered into a fade. the sides leaner, held a longer reach and, according to his own opinion, was at least an order of magnitude more intelligent than all but a few of his siblings.

Despite the wildly varying personalities, many of them were slightly tuned mirror images of their father. Subtle differences, such as more or less fat around the face and neck. Variations in skin tone like the cream, light leather skin James and their brother, Jacques shared. Different colored or textured hair like James, beach-sand yellow, unkempt mess and Jordan's tree bark brown fade. As if the entire Clan were playing a video game, and all picked the exact same character. Forcing different colors or features onto the avatar of choice while still retaining the sharp cheeks, pointed chins and piercing eyes that seemed to look through the world just as much as they looked down on it. Subconsciously. Like that of a feline.

Jordan stared at the spiral loop of hair on the crown of James' head as he turned to the side from discomfort. His bulging chest heaved frustratingly. Fumigating the relatively small tool shed with the sour stenches of coffee and pastries until his displeasure became an almost physical manifestation.

"You're my little brother." James finally said with a weary sigh.

"Little brother!" Jordan rocked back as he snorted out a disgraceful laugh. "You have six little brothers, James! And that number will only rise!"

"Bah!" James growled back and waved off Jordan's comment with his hammer-like hand. "Us brothers." He gestured to the two of them. "Were born on the same day. Along with Jacques, you're different." James pulled back with a shrug and peeled his lips to expose his freshly bleached and uncomfortably straight teeth. "To the others, maybe." He shrugged again. "To you? Never."

"Mchtt!" Jordan sucked his teeth and brushed past James. "If you won't, I'll find someone who will."

"No one in the clan will." Just after he emerged in the hall, footsteps echoing quietly amongst the stone James' voice and heavy steps trailed up from behind Jordan. "No one."

Jordan wordlessly continued walking through the hall, ignoring his brother has he moved through a side door and paused as the warm, late afternoon light splayed across his face. The courtyard he found himself in sat square in the middle of the Clans estate. Rectangular in shape, a hundred meters by two hundred fifty to a side and arranged with seating benches, pavilions and an endless array of flower beds, vineyards and square planters blooming with vegetation.

While scanning the area for any would be volunteers, Jordan's eyes drifted naturally towards the horizon. They bounced across the rolling hills and winding creeks until the very land began to curve upwards on itself. Curl backwards in a loop until the slanted rooftops of the neighboring city came into view behind the massive axial truss, glowing with daylight and the thin layer of sparse clouds.

The Astros Clan's home, and the first orbital habitat, or 'Island,' to orbit Jupiter's moon, Europa, was New Bran. The rotating habitat orbited high above Europa's surface and was comprised of a pair of counter-rotating cylinders attached to one another via a static scaffold. Each cylinder, or drum, completed almost half a rotation per minute to provide the illusion of gravity through centrifugal force. Being 4 kilometers in radius and 32 kilometers in length, Each cylinder yielded around 800 square kilometers of surface area on its interior surface alone, and boasted an additional two sub-layers beneath the primary. (1.*)

"Ah, the young masters, James and Jordan." A rasped voice recalled Jordan' Jordan's eyes to the hunchbacked man crouched over himself at Jordan's feet. The Gardener had thin, wiry hairs protruding from his chin line and radiant spot of skin centered square at the top of his head. Half hidden behind an ancient leather hat. He gently held an assortment of flowers in his free hand while he rose courteously to take a bow at both James and Jordan. "What may I have the pleasure of helping you gentlemen with today?" He croaked as pleasurably as he could.

"Good morning, Mr. Dakaan," James bowed and gestured to the flowers. "Someone of interest?"

"A little gift from myself to you three." Mr. Dakaan's face creased into a smile warmer than the artificial sun gleaming overhead. "For you trial."

"That's exactly what I need your help with, Mr. Dakaan." Jordan shoved in front of his brother. "My trial."

"Aye." The gardener tilted his worn leather headpiece down over his eye. "I understand your eagerness, Jordan. But, how am I supposed to help?"

"I want to do things the right way." Jordan attempted to explain. "As our father had done to him. That's the entire point, after all. To learn the lessons our father did. But." Jordan blew out a raspberry, accompanied with an exasperated sigh. "James here won't help me."

"Only a sadist would!" James shouted from behind him.

The gardener's leathery brow folded over his beady eyes as his head tilted to the side. Eyes darted to and from Jordan and his older brother. "The right… way?" He asked hesitantly. "I'm afraid I don't understand, Sir."

"You know what our trial is, right?" Jordan asked semi-rhetorically. To which Mr. Dakaan nodded ferverously. "Well, I left my pipe back there in the closet." Jordan grinned, took a step back and outstretched his arms to his sides. "But you have a spade, or something. Right?"

Like a video in slow motion, Mr. Dakaan's face churned from its wrinkled, confused state to the taut skinned, wide-eyed, quivering visage of a truly terrified old man. "Oh. O- oh! Dear God! No!" He shot upwards, furiously shaking his head and bowing at the waist repeatedly. "Apologies, young master! That's the one thing I can't help with. Unless you want the Don to end me, permanently, that is. Now, if you'll excuse me!"

With a final bow, Mr. Dakaan turned on his heels and waltzed across the courtyard with a speed Jordan hadn't seen in the Jovian year and five months he'd been alive. Muttering somethings under his breath the entire way.

A sudden, hoarse laughter erupted behind Jordan without delay. He didn't need to turn and look to see James rocking back then keeling forward. Holding himself on his knees while he laughed loud enough for anyone nearby to have to look.

Ignoring James and bowing after the departing gardner, Jordan stepped off in the direction of the door leading back into the castle. "So be it."

Their Clan's estate was the namesake of the habitat it resided within, and resembled a large castle significantly lacking in edges or flat surfaces out past the walls. The main keep was fat, squat and round like a leviathan's cauldron potted with a slanted lid. It was nestled neatly in the rear wall section. With half of its body protruding into the rear grounds and the other half extending into the courtyard. Like a massive christmas tree made of carbon fibers, ceramics and metals, smaller, similar spheres repeated along the length of the terraced tower. Through the clouds to the axial truss extending horizontally across the habitat.

"As I said, no one will help you." James snickered as he caught up to Jordan once again. "You may as well help yourself."

"Maybe I will." Jordan snorted dryly. "But first, I'll ask the man himself."

"Hah!" James croaked. "You think Dad will help you? He'll kick you for asking."

"Nah." Jordan chuckled. "He's with the kids. He wouldn't want them seeing that."

The cool air licked at Jordan's pits as they entered the castle. Their steps echoed across the stone, as always. And the perpetual hum of air conditioners and scrubbers loomed through the halls.

"I'm gonna miss this." James sighed. Almost nostalgically. "A quiet castle."

"We'll be gone soon anyways." Jordan snorted as he waltzed through one of too many formal sitting areas towards the main elevator. "And why are you following me?" He barked once inside. Tapping away furiously at the console before James could enter.

"I-" James started as he slid inside behind Jordan. "Well, I know Dad won't help you. I just wanna see what he says. See what you'll do." His chest heaved as he let out a dumb sounding laugh from the depths of his chest.

Jordan studied his brother while his mind lazily moved about to form a response. He was looking more and more unkempt these days. He was often found wearing the same clothes and his hair's been unkempt for weeks. It hangs low over his ears and eyes, making him look like some high school bully. He was never one to care about his appearance, but it was getting out of hand.

"You-" Jordan started. Then shrugged after meeting James' pretentious gaze. Turned away and tapped his toes on the floor to engage the magnetic soles in his boots.. 'Whatever.'

He cleared his thoughts with a series of deep breaths, while focusing on the castle falling away beneath the glass floor.

Almost forty Earth-years ago, shortly after the birth of the Galilean Powers, the patriarch of the Astros Clan had his orbital habitat constructed in orbit of Europa. And then constructed New Bran Castle within a modest corner of the residential drum. Despite owning the structure in its entirety, he relegated the Clan to live a secluded life in their estate. Surrounded by a high wall and surrounded further by a perimeter of thick forests. They asked only for privacy from the other inhabitants, in turn for safety and prosperity in their budding villages.

"Morning boys." A soft voice, seemingly cold and devoid of emotion, welcomed the brothers before the elevator had even hissed open.

Jordan stepped carefully out into the open recreational space in the upper reaches of the castle. In the axis of the habitat, no longer influenced by the spin, it was a physical reminder of where they truly resided. In a massive metal can filled with air. Spinning on end as revolved around and around Europa at around a kilometer a second.

Moving about couldn't necessarily be described as walking in such an environment. More so stepping carefully and having your heel unwillingly slam onto the surface once the magnets take hold. A strange and awkward sensation, no matter how many times Jordan experienced it.

"Dad." James bowed after coming to a rest beside Jordan.

One of the twenty founders of the Galilean Powers, the Don of Europa and head of the Astros Clan, Villan Astros, smiled warmly as bowed at his two sons. Standing at over two meters in height, their father towered over everyone in the clan, no matter the gravity or orientation.

Despite being over sixty Earth-years old, his face was unmarked and broken apart only by a mid-length goatee that stretched a few centimeters below his chin. Off-white skin, like milk with a splash of coffee peered and spied from the neck and unbuttoned collar of a basic button up shirt. Rolled up to the elbows to reveal a pair of black, glistening arms that rested silently in his pockets.

As usual, his father's penetrating eyes invoked feelings of cold-heartedness, and the unconscious visages of certain nefarious, nocturnal monsters to plague Jordan's mind's eye while he stared at his son bow curteously.

"Good afternoon, Dad." Jordan gulped.

He then craned his next to better see the three toddlers orbiting their father. Each splayed out in various orientations, screeching and slapping at their father gleefully as they struggled to work out their space legs.

Witnessing such a sight, it was hard for Jordan to see the cause of fear that so many individuals like Mr. Dakaan had for his father. It was hard to even see him as one of the founders, let alone believe the stories of his past. As much as he studied the man, as much as he learned about him, bonded with him, Jordan could never see him as the Don of Europa. Only as his kind, oddly affectionate father.

Jordan craned his neck further and pursed his lips at the cloud of triplets now screeching towards him. "Cassiopeia, Phoebe, Pandora. How are my baby sisters this fine afternoon?"

Jordan's face cramped from a grin as wide as the habitat was long while his sisters rung bells in his ears with their near-incoherent greetings. After straightening himself out and returning his attention to his father, he started to address his cause of visitation with another bow. "I'd like your help with my trial," Jordan said quickly and matter-of-factly while gesturing to his arms. "I don't just want them tied up for my trial."

Villan's face somehow relaxed, became emptier and even more emotionless than it already was as he gathered up the children in his arms and sent them drifting across the room with a gentle push. "Go play with you older siblings." He smiled and waved to the two brothers born a few months before the triplets, Samson and Saros, playing alone in the far corner.

Together they drifted back to the elevator and descended back to the castle. With their father's eyes trailing behind them each gravity-less step of the way. After a few seconds, he sighed a heavy sigh that Jordan couldn't quite place and turned back to his son with cold eyes. "You all grow up too fast." He sighed again.

'Oh.' Jordan snorted to himself. 'So now you'll have more? How many siblings do you want us to have?'

Wordlessly, Villan pulled off his shirt and presented his arms before him, suspended them in the air between himself and Jordan. Near the edge of his collarbone, his flesh seemed scarred and burned where it sealed with the smooth plates of his implanted arms. The harsh light scattered and glowed off the obsidian-like hands, reflected Jordan's apprehensive expression as Villan turned and clenched his hands in silence for a few seconds.

"It's one thing to have you all inherit arms like these. "His father finally said. "But do you understand why I have you go through these trials?"

"To prevent complacency and hubris." Jordan nodded without hesitation. "To teach us that our hands are valuable tools. Gifts, but still tools. Like any tool, they can be taken, by anyone. Damaged or even destroyed beyond repair. Rendering us helpless and defeated. The trial is to make us understand how difficult life without arms really is. As you had to. So we don't end up abusing them."

"That's the best answer I've gotten yet." Villan grinned wide as he rested a cold, hard hand on Jordan's shoulder. "I'm glad you understand it's importance, as you should. And, I approve of your devotion, even you decision. But... Jordan." He sighed, let what little warmness that was within his cheeks fade, as he shook his head. "You can't expect me to go along with this. I can't disable my own son. Even ignoring that, the circumstances wouldn't be the same. The cause of my arms being taken was overzealousness. Hubris, as you said." The corner of his lips curled into the faintest smile. Faint, yet filled to the brim with warmth. "My arms were taken by my enemies as punishment. A lesson that I certainly learned." Villan softly explained. "You, Jordan, aren't overzealous. You have no enemies who'd seek to cripple you. And you shouldn't seek to make any. Understood?"

"I understand." Jordan bowed at the waist until his face was parallel with the ground. After a long, nerve wrecking pause, he straightened his posture and returned his father's cold, piercing gaze. "However, I have to disagree." Jordan firmly declared. "A few months ago, I read that the first; worst, enemy a person will ever have in their lives, are themselves. It's an enemy many will never acknowledge. Let alone face. Conquer."

Jordan turned without a further explanation. Deactivated his mag-boots and pushed off the ground towards the array of magnetic crates stacked onto the wall.

After having spent so many hours trying to get people to help disable himself, Jordan had a fair understanding of his own physical dimensions and disengaged the mag-locks on the two closest crates. While keeping a cautious eye on his brother and father, cautiously watching him and mumbling amongst themselves, Jordan set the activated voice controls on the consoles meticulously twisted and translated the massive boxes into place.

Once stabilized, the crates remained suspended in place half a meter away from the wall with their respective consoles facing each other.

"What the philosopher meant." Jordan explained, eyeing James in particular as he slid between the crates to nestle himself between them and the wall. "That until you face that enemy, until you challenge yourself. Personal growth is unobtainable. So." Jordan inhaled a deep breath. "With this, I declare war on the enemy that is myself."

Though his focus was on the boxes and maintaining the appropriate positioning of his arms. Through the gap, Jordan could see the whitening eyes of his father and his cherry-faced brother lunging at him. Gaping their mouths wide as soundless words escaped their lips. As veins pulsed on their necks and brows.

With a hiss of cold air rushing deep into his lungs, Jordan braced himself. Before screaming as loud as he could. "Lock!"