[February 101st. GPY 3. Grace Lake, Choece. 1411. UGT]

[Merit: 4,245]

"So, what's the plan?"

Jordan turned away from the vast lake that stretched before them towards Zoltans voice to see the man leaning against a large, sharply angled, gunmetal-gray truck with an impatient expression stamped onto his face. As it'd been since they met, his hair was chopped to a buzz cut that barely made the ghost-white widows peak of his hairline distinguishable against the backdrop of his pale forehead. His coveralls were pulled off his torso and tied around his waist, leaving the skin of his bulging arms exposed to the soft light of the artificial afternoon.

"What do you mean?" Jordan asked, turning back to Tobias and Gelos, currently admiring the ducks and geese and other birds from the water's edge and catching hints of their bored through the bits of conversation he cared to listen in on.

"Well, we've taken care of all we've needed to, haven't we? We have our upgrades. Our rides." Zoltan chuckled, patting the door of his vehicle behind him. "What else is there?"

"Didn't expect you to be so eager to leave." Jordan huffed out a laugh through his nose before glancing down to his hands. While the design of his arms remained the same as they were before, the new hardware that'd been installed came with an apparent downside- A notable difference in weight and a subtle sloshing sensation that took more than a few weeks to get used too, post-installation. And never truly went away.

It'd been a few periods since the last of them; Tobias, received their promotion. In that time, the crew had their upgrades installed, as well as had their vehicles manufactured and delivered. Then, they immediately fell into a cycle of rotating through the Void Lands, the axial cities and the 'wildernesses' of the habitat to familiarize themselves with their new tools and rides.

Since then, their training lessened in inverse proportions with their proficiency, until their time had grown to be filled with nothing but riding around and exploring the mid-levels of Choece.

'You may be right. 'Jordan thought, returning his gaze to Zoltan's. "You are right," he said. Then craned his neck about towards the other two. "Oi!" He called. "You two ready to move?"

Without a word, Gelos and Tobias turned to each other and exchanged excited grins before waddling out of the water and erupting into a full sprint towards their vehicles like children being called for dinner.

"I'll take that as a yes." Jordan laughed as he wheeled on his heels to face a Zoltan, already easing himself into his truck. A terrestrial model from the early 21st century with a sleek, yet rigid frame of stainless steel and bulletproof glass that was contoured into sharp angles. Giving it the definite shape of a squat pentagon with wheels when viewed from the side.

Grinning to himself and shaking his head at their unvoiced impatience, Jordan walked around Zoltan's truck and felt the pride swell within his heart as he saw his motorcycle. A orange, cyan and white electric racing bike with aerodynamically curved fenders and all the bells and whistles that were able to be installed.;Including drive assist, auto pilot and a custom mount for the bat Jordan acquired from Biff, placed where the muffler would traditionally be on a combustion variant.

Parked on the other side of Tobias' car sat Gelos' motorcycle. A machine similar in design to Jordans, only painted Martian-red and black, and stripped entirely of its fairings to expose the electronics, battery banks, gearboxes and other mechanical parts that were tucked beneath the skeletal frame.

As for Tobias, seeing him do away with his tricycle brought immense satisfaction to Jordan; to no surprise. The coupe was squat with a long body and painted a ghost-white. Its most defining feature was the two angled windshield panels that were slanted sideways and canted backwards to a forty-five degree angle, causing the two panels to meet at a ridge-like point at the middle that extended along a prominent ridge along the hood and T-topped roof of the car.

On approach, Jordan reached out to the bike with his mind and was met with a cluster of augmented widgets that hovered above the vehicle, giving him an assortment of actions to choose from. After a little conscious effort, Jordan relaxed as the headlights flashed to life and the bike wheeled itself over to where Jordan stood before slapping out its kickstand and leaning to a rest beside him.

As he mounted it, the digital apparitions that plagued his vision suddenly became denser as clusters of gauges and speedometers and the real-time data from the engines fell into view around his peripherals. With his destination input, his bike automatically pulled itself onto the road, allowing Jordan free reign to access the hangar services in search of a shuttle bound for Ananke.

'One day I'll have my own ship.' He sighed to himself after thinking of the hassle involved with travel.

"The next shuttle bound for Ananke leaves in about eight hours, at ten," Jordan said after connecting the party to a voice chat. "You guys think you can be packed by then?"

"I think I can manage." Tobias' curt reply echoed through Jordan's helmet after not even a second.

"I didn't take much up from the lower levels." Zoltan explained. "Didn't have much to begin with."

"You guys unpacked?" Gelos belatedly added after a brief moments pause.

"Alright." Jordan nodded. "Ten it is."

After confirming their departure and regaining control of the vehicle beneath him, a few moments of silent riding quickly grew between the crew. Filling Jordan's sphere of awareness with the varying frequencies of electric engines working through their comms connection as the trees and occasional grouping of log cabins passed them by at a blur.

"Ananke." Zoltan eventually commented, seemingly to himself, like he were trying to recall something. "The Power of Jemenna Desai. You never told us what was there."

"Say nothing, Gelos." Jordan immediately replied before switching to a more amiable tone. "My mother. A visit to her is long overdue. And." He paused, if only for dramatic effect. "I'll try to get you all some new suits as well."

"New suits?" Tobias asked.

"Yeah. Like mine."

With his words, a few minutes of companionable, silent riding passed before the crew began to disperse one-by-one, taking various exits and ramps to their respective homes until Jordan was eventually left to view the passing vistas in solitude, until he too pulled off the highway onto a side road, and later eased into a lot that sat right at the border of a thick woodline.

With a sudden sense of urgency, Jordan hopped off his bike before it fully came to a rest and skipped up the porch of the building to go inside. Only to feel the stinging slap of disappointment as he meekly gazed about the cabin from the entrance.

Being a temporary residence, the place was significantly barren, if still spacious. The interior consisted of a large open floor that combined the kitchen, living room and dining room into a single space. On the left facade, coming in from the front door, was the entrance to the sole bathroom and the storage and retrieval systems access, nestled between a wooden ladder that gave access to the sleeping loft.

The disappointment only grew as Jordan took a few more steps into the room and looked around to the different areas in search of something to pack. Towards the bathroom; where only toilet paper and a few towels sat in wait to be transported. As a result of his enhanced digestive system, the former was rarely used; and the latter was able to be recycled and replaced at virtually no cost.

So, no work to be done there.

The kitchen area held only the AutoChef, and a few stools sitting before it. Eagerly, the contents of his fridge and pantry augmented itself onto the wall next to the robot as he turned his gaze to it. Extensively listing how much of each item was stored within the climate controlled walls and floors of the structure, all of which stood ready to be transported across the habitat at a moments notice.

The living area sat as barren as it'd been on the day he'd moved in. And the loft was much the same as the bathroom- in possession of only a few clothes and Jordan's bedding, items that'd take no time at all to pack and recycle respectively.

Leaving Jordan with more time than he cared for to kill.

His shoulders sagged as he let out a heavy sigh and began trotting off to the bathroom. Muttering under his breath. "Why did I even pick the last shuttle?"

Within half an hour, Jordan had his clothes packed, his toiletries and bedding recycled, and his pantry and personal storage queued for shipment to the Ganglands; save for a few ales, which Jordan promptly took to his back porch to drink as he watched the birds and small animals wandering around the forest.

On the third view, Jordan turned his attention away from nature and decided to scroll the various news feeds floating around the Powers.

In an instant, the soft afternoon glow of the daylights became tainted with the grayed windows, panels and screens that'd been augmented onto the floor in clusters. Each of them representing the various Powers and singing various tunes about the current events playing out within them.

Perhaps habitually, Jordan focused on the cluster of broadcasts coming in from the Power of Europa and chose one of the three digital widgets at random.

The ground before him became swallowed by a sea of darkness and beige as the window expanded in an instant, allowing a clear view of a curiously bright pixel that was glowing before the divinely clear shell of Saturn's upper atmosphere.

Despite his assurances from the image, Jordan pushed the picture aside and began scrolling through a condensed script of the broadcast, essentially confirming what he already knew.

Villan Astros was returning from Saturnia.

Along the the confirmation however, Jordan felt his mouth curl into an excited grin as the implications of the image were made vibrantly clear to him.

***

After several hours of lounging about, Jordan gave the cabin a final look over before closing the door and terminating his lease. A short ride along the highways eventually brought him into view of the absurdly large support spire that connected the middle and lower-levels of the habitat to the inner surface and axial truss extending across the habitat.

Like the columns below, the spires in the mid-levels retained the high-ceilinged walkways in the center, and the cavernous interior structure. The only notable difference in this level were the arrays of garage doors and docks that all led to sets of towering vehicle elevators that were emplaced along the corners of the spire, texturing the metallic black structure with long strips glass tubes encased in trussed shells.

At the base, Jordan caught sight of Zoltan and Tobias vehicles, parked off to either side of Gelos' bike, and the three of them sitting or standing the tailgate. Upon catching sight of Jordan, they eagerly hopped down and began moving to their vehicles into the queue to prepare them for shipment.

Pulling up, Jordan wordlessly joined them in locking his bat onto its mount and pulling the bike into the garages to secure it to the platforms and choose the shipment destination by remote access of any one of the numerous consoles emplaced around the garages.

Once done, Jordan watched both his points dwindle by a few numbers, and their vehicles descending towards the skin of the habitat. With the last of their vehicles sinking beneath the bedrock, the crew turned as one and merged with the crowd funneling into the spire's interior and quickly filed inside of the nearest elevator to ride in silence to the hangars.

It wasn't until they were a few hundred meters above the inner surface that Jordan noticed the nostalgic aura emanating from his friends. Each of them had their necks craned to see past the glass walls in order to view the curved landscape around them, as if they were committing the landscape to memory; snapping a thousand pictures a second with their eye scanners.

While Zoltan and Tobias had an excuse, Jordan couldn't understand why Gelos was following suit. The formers were raised here. As for Jordan and Gelos, they had never even habituated the inner surface; besides their short sabbatical with Arthur. Moreso, Choece; Ganymede rather, had never been their home.

With the distant landscape giving way to the disoriented infrastructure of the habitat's rotational axis, the others' resolve seemed to suddenly strengthen and be left behind with the passing vistas, until they were more eager than Jordan to egress from their glass chamber and enter the hangars.

The moment the hatch to their transport tube opened, they pulled and launched themselves from every rail and platform available to spring cross the expansive rooms like monkeys on the float, almost causing Jordan to deploy his new hardware in order to catch up.

The shuttle itself was similar in design to every other shuttle Jordan had been in since leaving Europa; with the decks stacked perpendicular to the drives like a skyscraper, the only difference being marginally more space, more amenities, and a cleaner aesthetic.

While taking in the environment, Jordan quickly pulled himself towards a patch of empty seats and buckled himself in. Followed closely by Zoltan securing himself across from Jordan, next to Tobias, and Gelos by his Jordan's side. After a few minutes of watching people enter and seat themselves, the pilot pulled himself in; an olive-skinned man with crimson hair fashioned in a mohawk, and secured himself in the large vector chair at the center.

Ignoring his obligatory address to the passengers, Jordan turned his attention to the nearest screen and prepared to lose himself in his thoughts for a couple of hours.

While staring at the expansive, gray surface of Ganymede from the shuttle's exterior cameras with one eye, Jordan pulled up his first view of the moon from way back in November with the other. While the only differences between the two were the immediate environment of the shuttle and the date, Jordan's heart welled with satisfaction as he reflected on how far he's come.

In Earth time, it'd been just over three years since he'd completed his trial and left New Bran. He'd experienced campaign like he'd wanted; possibly more so than he bargained for. He'd gained a few friends, succeeded in the challenge of slaying a Saturnian Knight, and received his first promotion.

"All in all, a good run." He sighed to himself.

Without pause, Zoltan turned to face him and jutted his chin across the space between their seats. "Huh?"

"Nothing." Jordan shook his head and muted his surroundings in favor of some music.

Just as the song began, a soft ring rang throughout the shuttle, followed several moments later by the soft tugging feeling of the thrusters pushing the ship away from the habitat. By the end of the song, the main drives ignited. Contouring Jordan's chair around his backside and cueing the perpetual hum to rise through the music and even out in tempo to a steady ring.

After a few hours of watching Ganymede recede to a relatively large spot in the foreground of Jupiter, the irregular moon Ananke slowly fell into view and enlarged over a period of hours as they steadily killed off their relative velocity.

Small and insignificant when compared to the Galilean moons like Europa or Ganymede, Ananke was a small moon with not enough mass to compact it into a round shape under its own gravity, leaving it as a lumpy, red rock that still managed to dominate the group of smaller moons in its vicinity.

The habitats surrounding it however, were just as large as anywhere else in the Powers.

Perhaps even a degree larger.

On approach, Jordan first saw the extensive exterior scaffolding system curving around a massive cylindrical shell, only to disappear at a distant point in space. Magnificent, fan-shaped radiators protruded from the scaffold like an array of wings, their flat, glowing surfaces extending as far out into the void as possible to bleed away the heat generated by hundreds of billions of people.

As they grew closer, the shell steadily grew larger, yet the views to what lie beyond became more and more apparent to Jordan's eyes. As the seconds became minutes, what was thought to be empty space in the background grew to become bathed in the combined lights of the shuttle and the faint luminosity of the sun, saturating the background with enough light to render a rapidly spinning, planet-sized structure into clear view.

With such a sight, it became clear to Jordan that what he witnessed before was just the hangar, service and communications modules of the habitat. And the behemoth of a structure in the background was in fact, the habitation drum.

Despite the numerous times he'd seen such a sight, the sheer scale of the habitats humanity called home never ceased to amaze Jordan. In a way, it was a testament to humanities arrogance and perpetual rebellion against nature. As if life extension and the end of incurable diseases weren't enough for us, the entire species went ahead and colonized the most inhospitable place known to life.

And thrived.

The awe stuck with Jordan for the rest of the docking procedure with the habitat, lasting until the moment they emerged into the hangars, giving his sense of amazement a new object to obsess over.

The first stimuli to pull at Jordan's awareness was the intoxicating smog of perfumes and colognes that both melded together into something remotely distasteful, and remained separated by influence of the implanted olfactory cells within his nose. Automatically, each of the scents were designated a color code, and represented to him as a thick fog made of layered smoke trails of varying colors.

Muting out the smells entirely, Jordan pushed against the nearest surface to freely rotate about the place in midair to take in the nostalgia.

The hangar was a cubical space. Walled and floored entirely with stone blocks that were etched and carved into beautiful depictions of various Greek gods and goddesses; but mostly of the primordial goddess, Ananke herself. At each side of the room, large arches gave way to expansive alcoves that granted entry to the various terminals, sub-hangars, exterior airlocks and transport tubes arrange about the complex.

And each of them were compactly filled with elaborately dressed people drifting through the air or walking on mag-boots in every direction and orientation imaginable.

From what Jordan could see, there wasn't a single style among the people present. Some wore classy suits, others wore eccentric gear that neatly synergized with their implants and augments. Others had dair, skin, eyes, teeth and even tongues that were pigmented and textured in every color or pattern imaginable.

In other words, exactly what one would expect from the fashion capital of the Galilean Powers.

"So." Gelos came floating up towards Jordan. "What now."

"Someone should be here for us," Jordan said, securing his feet to the closest surface. "Let's wait."

Surely, after a few moments of… admiring, the various types of fashion being displayed, a slim man who appeared to be no older than Jordan was, came walking up to them.

He was a slim man, with milk-colored skin and long brown hair that was pulled over and around his head, allowing the strands of hair to drape over the other side of his face. He wore a white, frilled dress shirt that was neatly buttoned at the elbows, causing his implanted, golden arms to appear more as a pair of long gloves, than artificial appendages.

"Astros?" He asked with a slight bow, looking straight into Jordan's eyes.

"That's me."

"You may call me Timothy. Please." He turned without hesitation. "Follow me."

As requested, Jordan and crew followed their guide through the hangars and down almost the entire length of the transport tubes, where they transitioned to an elevator that stretched down to an expansive patch of green brown terrain sitting amongst a vast canvas of blue.

'It's been a while.' Jordan thought to himself, seeing the view steadily descend into clarity.

While the surface loomed closer, the awed gasps and whispers coming from his friends increased from a periodic pace to a steady hum of noise as they pointed out the rows of slanted terracotta roofs and narrow alleyways that curved around the amber bathed strips of blue that stretched throughout the floating city.

"Welcome to Moirai Island." Timothy ceremoniously announced as the elevator crept to a halt, permitting him to promptly exit the elevator and guide them through the maze of cobblestone walkways.

[February 102nd. GPY 3. Moirai Island, Ourania. 0649. UAT]

[Merit: 4,242]

Hundreds of apartments and the dozens of booths, shops and restaurants that were arranged to their flanks came and went as they continued through the alleys and around a seemingly innocuous corner. Around which, Timothy suddenly halted as the walkway came to an abrupt end, and peered over the vertical face to gaze down the rippling blue waters of the canal.

Looking to where he was, Jordan saw dozens of boats trudging along in the canal and any number of people idly going about their business on the waters edge.

Within a few moments, a small boat appeared, autonomously pushing itself from the power of a small, gimballed rotor that pulled and pushed a long stick against the canal floor.

After stepping aboard, he gestured for them to follow and kindly separated himself at the front of the boat while the others took up the rear. Everyone; Jordan excluded, watched the scenery passing by with their mouths agape until they reached a walled, terraced estate at the end of the island, closest to the habitats end-cap.

They were led through a comically normal sized and designed door set into the wall, and into an expansive courtyard that rivaled the one found in New Bran. Its centerpiece was a towering tree that could only have been imported from Earth; possibly Mars. To their left was a canal that crept beneath the wall that ended at a private dock, secured by a large steel gate that gave the estate an feudally ancient feeling.

With a wave, they were led to a terraced hut that sat isolated from the main estate. Inside, they were greeted to a high-ceilinged room with long wooden support beams that protruded from the exterior walls of the place; allowing mounts for things like wind chimes and flower pots to be hung from. Off-centered to the middle of the room was an extensively designed lounging area that was filled with a collection of recliners, sofas, sitting mats and chairs, all of which were arranged around a long coffee table and wall screen. Beside the screen, in the corner next to the door, sat a Kiva fireplace that'd been rounded out into a semi-spherical shape with the same mud or plaster-like material as the walls, giving the piece a strong sense of permanence when compared to the rest of the decor.

"This will be your lodging." Timothy bowed. "Please wait here, or in the immediate area outside the estate. Your Mother will delegate someone to send for you shortly."

"Thank you." Jordan bowed, attempting to throw more meaning behind the words than just the gesture allowed. 'For not saying too much.'

After watching Timothy retreat from the room, Jordan waited a few moments to allow everyone to settle into the new environment before amiably attempting to break the silence.

Only to be interrupted by Zoltan. "Is your mother a high-ranker or something?" He incredulously asked as he gestured around them.

"Something like that." Jordan chuckled nervously as he shot a glance over to Gelos. "Anyone hungry?" He instinctually asked.

"Eh." Gelos shrugged first, not even meeting Jordan's gaze. "I can eat." Without another word, he rose for the door. Promoting the others to repeat his shrugging and starting for the door.

With the population density of the place, finding a bite to eat wasn't necessarily a tall order, the issue came with finding something that agreed with everyone's tastes. After more bickering than Jordan cared to take part in, they arrived at a relatively modest seafood restaurant with a demolished wall on the waterfront. Allowing patrons to enjoy their meals while the sea lapped away at their feet.

Continuing with a tradition that started not long ago, the four of them collectively ordered a mountainous platter of food to share between them, along with a round of ales to start them off with. On the second round, their food arrived- a heaping, steaming platter of shellfish, oysters, crab, lobster and side dishes like pasta, cobbed corn and potatoes.

Without words, the crew dug into their meal as if they were starving. Bringing about uncomfortable gazes from nearly everyone inside as their platter quickly diminished in size. Gazes that only increased when a lanky woman with a brown ponytail and matching eyes waltzed in like she owned the place and started to scan the establishment with a cold indifference.

With eyes like a hawk, her head rotated around the room until she caught sight of their table; of Jordan, and purposefully stomped over.

'God dammit.' Jordan forcefully swallowed his food.

In one smooth motion, she slammed the heel of her palm against the table and gave Jordan a menacingly ferocious scowl as she leaned across the table and spoke in a raspy, tomboyish voice. "Let's go, Jordy." She spat with a jerk of the neck. "The Gem wants to see you. Now."