The further Jordan clawed his way to the cap of the habitat, the more desperate he became to rid himself of his frozen clothes and be done with this trial once and forever. Perhaps from his haste, or from the blistering cold, his stumbling became more frequent even as the snow thinned to a transparent powdery film. Lungs nearly shriveled dry, Jordan groaned, grunted and growled louder with each passing step while he fought to pushed forward.

Jordan's decision back at the river was a gamble. Any choice he could've made was, he supposed. If he'd gone with the other option and continued searching for a way across, he'd have missed the deadline. A fate presumably worse than dying out from hypothermia.

Reaching the final clearing at the end of the habitat, Jordan stomped to a fearful halt. Immediately, he put all his effort into controlling his breath, his rising panic, from locking eyes with the the twin beasts who crept from the darkness to stand before him. To study him with piercing, golden eyes that radiated a violent intelligence and a primal, fearful pressure.

The two of them stood less than a meter apart on thick, long-nailed paws that rested threateningly on a snow capped boulder ten meters away. Clumps of snow fell gently from their snouts and gray, bushy tails as they raised their heads higher. Dropped down from the boulder in unison to take up wide positions around Jordan and lazily stalk his flanks. Ears pointed high, eyes locked. Unblinking and unflinching behind the thick clouds condensing around their whiskered snouts with each powerful breath.

"G-Great" Jordan shivered to himself.

He had an hour at most, he assumed. Uncontrollable shivering, numbness, loss of dexterity. The warning signs of hypothermia had reached out to greet him soon after his plunge through the river. It was only a matter of time before he became confused, delirious and exhausted before collapsing onto his face to slowly die out. The last thing he needed to deal with were a pair of wolves.

His father's favorite. So it was no surprise they'd be found within his habitat. Jordan only hoped they were tame. Or were at least benevolent enough as to let him pass.

A blur in his peripherals; more specifically, a glint of light, brought Jordan's attention to the beast on his left.

As it looped around, it's head was tilted on its side, as if curious, while it maintained eye contact with its potential prey. Most obvious to Jordan were the ears. Leaf-shaped, semi-conical and vertically erect. Shaking periodically to loosen the accumulated snow.

Splaying glints of light across Jordan's eyes from the silver ring pierced into one of its ears.

Slowly, the two beast looped around Jordan. Staring all the while with heads hung low over the ground. Once at his rear and again side-by-side, they promptly lowered themselves in unison to lay flat on the ground, legs tucked underneath them, snouts poiseid ahead. Pierced ears raised high in the dark.

As he stood awkwardly, Jordan got the slight inclination that the beasts were pointing Jordan towards his destination. Almost encouraging him.

However, Jordan Astros wasn't one to leave something something like his life up to chance, arbitrary assumptions, fuzzy feelings or even the word of his shady, edgelord older brother.

So he held his breath. Backpedaled cautiously halfway up the end cap. Until only the gold and silver glints of light could be seen dancing on the edge of the woodline and he was sure the floor was now too steep for them to follow.

Jordan felt his body squeeze out out a distantly heard scream after the last signs of the wolves faded from view. His legs almost collapsed beneath him in that instant, exhaustion finally hitting him like a storm once the adrenaline began to wane.

Fortunately, at such an altitude, the spin-gravity was significantly reduced. Causing his body to lazily slump down the surface. Held aloft only by awkwardly bent legs still magnetically attached to the floor.

Fighting against his fatigue and the mass of his equipment slumped across his back, Jordan fought with all his mental might to climb further up the cap. As the floor beneath him became more like a wall, shifting his body perpendicular to the ground now kilometers below, his core began to burn from the large sum of mass strapped to his frame.

The abs surrounding his ribs quivered and rattled with enough force to pulverize the bones beneath. His belly was aflame with fatigue. The lungs beneath his chest heaved desperately, forcing gelid air to scrape against his already hoarse throat while his back felt as if each individual disk were slipping straight from his spine.

As a distraction, Jordan visualized the perspective of someone floating high above the station, looking through the skin of the habitat at Jordan. Stomping his way across the end cap of a cylinder. Spinning 'round and around on an absurdly large carousel.

A carousel with living walls. Living walls, stacked kilometers high.

With the mental gymnastics playing heavily in his mind, the journey became significantly easier to endure. Simultaneously, as his temperature continued to plummet with each step forward, Jordan found his distractions became increasingly difficult. The coriolis only added fuel to the flame. He felt as if his brain turned into a spinning top inside his skull. His path became more erratic, swayed harder from left to right with each meter closer to the fire lit passage.

At the peak of nauseousness, Jordan could no longer keep up the mental images. The exhaustion, cold and overall stress of his journey finally caught grasp of his struggling will. Pulling the strength from his body in form a dying flicker.

Despite his feelings of physical detachment, the feeling of verito, the fall, never came. His body felt light. Unnaturally so, considering the hulking mass still bound tightly against his frame. At the front of Jordan's concerns however, was his body's stillness. The noticeable lack of shivering. Which he knew instinctively was the calling of a death sentence.

Forcing his eyes open with all his will Jordan moved his eyes about to gather his bearings. He was unaware of how long he was out, or if indeed he'd even passed out. Yet he'd drifted from the relatively flat surface of the end cap's center and now rested snugly between the thick girders of the axial truss. Without thinking, he kicked against the steel beams and gave himself a gentle kick towards the open chamber in the cap's center.

After drifting, after nearly passing out once more, Jordan felt the welcoming hisses of an airlock cycling. Soon, his gamble would pay off. He'd return to a climate controlled environment and the cozy heat of a civilized world. Change his clothes. Better yet, he'd finish this trial and finally get his arms back. Receive his implants. Set on the journey to obtain his version of freedom, in their presumably free Galilean Powers.

After a dense pain abruptly rang from the crown of Jordan's head, his body compressed itself while his motion was halted by the interior airlock door.

"Hah!" Jordan cackled out a triumphant laugh as the exterior door hissed shut to begin its cycle. "I made it!"

He winced through the pain whilst welcoming the blooming warmth pouring out of the vents. Cradling his dying body in the blessed energy even after the interior door hissed open above his head.

"Congrats! You're the second to make it."

Jordan fluttered open his eyes to see his little brother, Jacques peeling back his lips to reveal a row of perfectly straight, coffee-stained teeth.

"H- Hey, Jacky." Jordan shivered through his smile.

His curled mop-hair swayed lazily in its suspension as snorted contemptuously loud from above Jordan's face. Then pulled himself back through the airlock. "The look on your face tells me you weren't expecting me." He stifled out another snort. "You shouldn't look down on others, Jordan."

It was true that Jacques wasn't as refined, physically, as his brothers. Entirely by choice on his part. But that didn't mean Jordan had underestimated him. Contrary to Jacques assumptions; which were usually correct, Jordan was simply surprised. After having spent a day being ambushed by strange, Earthen beasts, being startled by a human face was a warm change of events.

Explaining such things to Jacques however, was more trouble than it was worth.

Instead, Jordan smiled amiably while kicking his feet underneath him until he gained traction and propelled himself into the room. "Let me guess." His laugh matched his amiable visage. "You already knew the layout of the hab? Had a route planned out for any all situations?"

Jacques acted as if he didn't hear and kicked off another wall towards an island of couches mirrored on both the floor and ceiling in the middle of the room. Jordan watched as the the cushion absorbed his kinetic energy in a powerful wave of fabric and air that blessed Jordan's body with another gust of warm, dry air.

Jordan shrugged his brother's rudeness and his own curiosity away as he pushed off into an alcove towards the restrooms to change once again. Besides his arms, still sealed in their case and secured to the inside of his carrying pack, the entirety of his carried equipment was either waterlogged or missing articles. Fortunately, there were laundry facilities in-house. Which aided Jordan in reemerging ten minutes later in dry clothes and dampened, instead of sopping, equipment dragging along behind him.

As Jordan emerged from his near-death recovery, the entire interior suddenly rang with an electronic hum. Jacques suddenly kicked himself off the couch to drift gently towards the airlock. Presumably to greet James just as he had Jordan.

Suredly, just as his head was to impact the metal, it hissed open. Seamlessly allowing Jacques to continue drifting forward into the chamber until his feet quickly splayed outwards to hook into the frame and tug him to a stop.

A second later, James' pack scraped against the frame as drifted inside the room from above Jacques. As dry and as pale as a bone. Brows furrowed with concern towards Jacques before throwing a surprised glance towards Jordan after making eye contact.

He continued to the far side of the room without a word. Jordan pushed after him at once, followed in turn by Jacques drifting back out of the airlock towards the far alcove opposing it. Where a porthole led to a wide, octagonal glass tube capped with a thick airlock. Positioned at regular intervals along the railed walls where mounting stations, footholds and fold-down restraints that the three brothers promptly positioned themselves in, face forward towards the glass.

Once secure, the rear door hissed shut just moments before a soft bang toiled through their capsule. Moments later, the skin of the habitat raced past to reveal the endless void beyond.

The ever so distant stars, fat glowing disks of the other Jovian moons and the smooth, cracked surface of Europa far, far below fell indifferently across Jordan's eyes. He was exhausted; enough to have to fight against slumping into a slumber where he stood. More than that, he was anxious. Excited about the prospects of the not-too-distant future. He bathed in the glory of completing his trial, his endless errand running, and found himself at the precipice of reaping the rewards.

'Finally.' He grinned to himself.

Jordan had worked his entire childhood to prepare him for this point. Years of disciplining himself to keep up with his lessons, focus on his studies, train his body in order to develop himself into someone knowledgeable enough, self-dependable enough, to live as freely as he dreamed. To wake up and have the freedom to travel anywhere on a whim. Be it Mercury or the sovereign nations starting to sprout up past Pluto. Like a truly free person could. Like the founders of the Powers could. Like his father could.

Like the Starfarer could.

Instead of the support a loving family should give after querying a young child about his dreams however, his elder siblings, their parents, even his, repeatedly reminded Jordan that in the Galilean Powers, such things required Merit.

The transport tube halted abruptly, firmly pushing Jordan's shoulders into the foamy restraints above his shoulders before suddenly accelerating again. Looking around, he only saw a dark, cavernous space surrounding them. Rails along the floor and ceiling curved in each direction. Merging and diverging from each other while boxes, cargo containers and even a few capsules such as theirs swarmed about endlessly to their various destinations.

Racing through the airless skin of the habitat, it was easy to appreciate just how fast their tube could get up to speed. With each passing second, the rails and various transports atop them blended together until Jordan's eyes could only render a blur of blacks, grays or primary colors before it began to slow.

Less than five minutes later the brothers slowed to a halt on the far side of the residential drum, deep below the foundations of New Bran Castle. Where the tube pitched vertically to ascend the trio to the lowest chamber in the Castle's basement.

After their clamps released their bodies, the brother's stepped down and backwards to dismount the tube, entered the chamber in a file and presented themselves before their half-dozen siblings with a respectful bow.

Each of them stood in the order of their birth, dressed in casual Europan clothes. Slacked pants, button up shirts, vests and suits. With the exception of Vera at the far left, who was still donned in her vac-suit, ready to campaign.

At their center was a large throne with round angles, shaped in a slight recline. Obsidian black with a crimson quilted seat and backing. Etched in silver with with bulbous ends on the armrests. On which their father's hands tapped idly as he silently observed his sons presenting themselves before him.

As one, the three brothers positioned their packs at their feet and depressed a thumb-sized button near the base with their big toes.

The packs that had been thrown to them at the start of their trial were compartmentalized into two seperate sections, shared by the bulk of their arms to be. The primary compartment held the supplied their siblings packed for their trials. Extra clothes, food, water and other necessities.

The secondary compartment was shrouded in an impact-resistant shell, and served as a dedicated storage for their implants.

The compartment unlocked with a subtle click before springing open as if under pressure. The lid compartment folded into the upper with a squelched thud before promptly locking in place. Jordan took a quick glance over before he returned his attention to his Father to present his design.

And his eyes widened after surveying the equipment once more.

It was certainly more than he was expecting. Eight vials of differing lengths and girths were arranged neatly in the soft foam to the left of his arms. To the right of them was a bag of clear fluid topped with a powdery substance labelled, 'Respirocytes. Standard augmented dose.' At the top was rectangular box around the size of a playing card. Emblazoned with the orange logo of Carpo Industries on all sides.

"James Astros." His brother announced boldly from his left. Summoning Jordan's attention back to the current situation. "26th child of the Astros Clan." At the sound of James' words, the wall behind their father's throne lit up with a digital schematic of James' arms.

Like James' body, his new arms were industrial and bulky.Un-aesthetically skinned with flat, angled plates colored in a matte gray from tingers to family crest. Unremarkable to look at but surely functional, Jordan was sure.

"And what path did you choose for yourself, James?" Their father asked warmly.

Jordan's eyes quickly fell to the throne at his front to gauge his father's expression against his tone. The buttoned cushions blinked back at Jordan blankly. He blinked back, just as curious as the inanimate furniture before then snapping his head to the left. To his father, now kneeling before James.

"The path i chose." James bowed. "Is to be both the Clan's shield and spear, for as long as I live."

Their father smiled subtly and nodded to James. "So, you wish to be the Clan's Bruiser?"

"I do." James affirmed. "After I refine myself in the House of Trass."

"I look forward to seeing your progress, James." Villan bowed.

With a final glance to the screen above him, their father slowly turned his attention to Jordan. Amiable smile still betraying those cold, penetrating eyes.

"Jordan Astros." He bowed at the waist until his chest was parallel to the ground.

In comparison to James', Jordan's arms seemed almost overly elegant in design. They were mostly hollow in design in order to make room for tools and weapons Jordan's rank couldn't yet afford. The hard outer shell was contoured identically to his biological arms and were composed of a boron-carbide shell. Paper-white in color and painted with mangled, green, thorned roots clumped on the backs of his hands that twisted and coiled up his arms. Split at the biceps to form two flowery heads on the front and back of his shoulders. Forming a wreath of black dahlia's and black roses around their coat of arms and his position within the Clan.

Most notable were the palms, recesses of the elbow and armpits. All of which were treated with a gilded coating that now screamed vanity to Jordan's eyes.

"27th child of the Astros Clan." Jordan continued. Waited patiently for father to complete whatever mental process he was undergoing.

"The path I chose, is freedom." Jordan declared once asked. He met his father's firm gaze and continued resolutely. "I'll travel wherever I please. learning about humanity, about myself, as I build my Merit. Rise through the ranks. Until the day obtain true freedom."

In truth, it didn't matter what Jordan said. According to the rumors, at least.

He'd been told many times that his siblings had set, 'strange' goals for themselves in the past. If their father ever agreed with those seemingly asinine goals was up for debate. Regardless, he showed the utmost support for each of his children, no matter their aspirations.

Despite his knowledge of such rumors and his honesty, Jordan felt his unknowingly panicked heart soothe as his father's smile curled into a grin.

"You want the Solar System to be your playground?" Villan almost chuckled. "Admirable."

"Jacques Astros." He bowed as their father stopped before him. "28th child of the Astros Clan."

Looking at the screens above, the first difference Jordan noticed with his brother's arms were their incredible smoothness. Seamless, tapered and bleach-white, they resembled tentacles more than they did arms. Sprouting from the spherical palms were masses of coiled, fibrous strands stacked tightly to resemble digits. Through a GIF, the digits, along with the arm itself, was shown to unstretch like sentient vines as it reached out and coiled relentlessly around a cup five meters away. Then reeled it back to Jacques body in a mangled grip.

'That's... gross.' Jordan shook his head as subtly as he could.

"I chose an artist's path." Jacques declared. "I'll bring the universe I've envisioned into a digital reality. A virtual world. And as I continue to cultivate knowledge, this world will develop alongside me. For as long as I live." Jago rose from his bow with a deterministic grin.

Villan bowed once again before returning returned to stand in front of his throne, then began his monotonous rambling. Which was somehow almost faster than his mouth was moving. As if a recording already heard a thousand times were playing from his throat. "As you've all surely noticed, your siblings have already provided you with your basic set of implants. A neural interface, artificial red blood cells, an artificial lung and upgrades to your senses."

As he spoke, summaries of each implant in question flashed by on the screen above at a rate much too fast for Jordan to track. Much less comprehend.

"If there are no questions, we'll start immediately."