The moment the Wraith emerged from the Helios-9 relay gate and into Caryth space, Ethan knew they had entered a different galaxy altogether.
Not literally, of course but the feeling was there, immediate and unshakable.
Out the viewport, space itself seemed more structured. There was a precision to everything: freighters gliding through defined transit lanes in silent unison, patrol ships weaving between routes on pre-established vectors, and orbital control platforms humming with automated guidance relays.
There were no drifting ships. No random traffic. No low-tier smugglers barely clinging to regulation.
Just clean order.
It was like watching a cosmic dance, refined, orchestrated, and utterly unlike the chaotic free-for-all highways of the Outer Sectors like Aldaron or Ashen. In comparison, those areas now seemed like rural backwaters, jumbled and unpredictable. Even Haltris seemed underwhelming, despite having once impressed him.
"Welcome to Caryth," Iris said, her voice calm as usual. "This is one of the Orion Federation's three Core Galactic Sectors. You are witnessing the logistical standard of civilization's upper strata."
Ethan leaned forward in the pilot's chair, eyes tracing the sleek silhouettes of ships gliding past. Some bore the insignia of the Mercenary Guild. Others belonged to towering corporate entities or weapon manufacturers, their names etched in golden letters against chrome hulls. Lyvex Integrated, Orion Phage, Helion IX, SoverTech Armaments, Brion Dynamics, Arxilon Interstellar, Veltrion Forgeworks, Helix-Karn, Sons of Orion Shipwrights .
There was no wasted movement. No margin for chaos.
Every flight path was mapped, monitored, and enforced with machine efficiency.
"How much traffic control is automated?" Ethan asked, watching a frigate slow and align perfectly with a docking ring that extended from a station shaped like a hexagonal tree.
"Eighty-four percent," Iris replied. "Human oversight exists primarily for security escalation and anomaly intervention. Every ship within Caryth must pre-register route logs and receive priority codes before inter-sector movement."
He exhaled slowly, trying to absorb it all. It felt less like flying through a sector and more like entering an exclusive vault.
"How restricted is entry?" he asked.
"Extremely," Iris replied without hesitation. "Access to Caryth, Solmere, and Talveth is limited to a fractional percentage of the Orion Federation's total population. Entry is granted through only three recognized channels: proven national merit, sponsorship from a sanctioned institutional entity, or the purchase of a sovereign-tier residency license."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "And how much does that license cost?"
"Between four and seven billion Galactic Credits," Iris said evenly, as if quoting the price of a modest spacecraft.
Ethan blinked, trying to process the number. "That's..."
"Equivalent to the GDP of a mid-sized planetary economy," she said, finishing his sentence for him. "A sum designed to be unattainable to the average citizen. By design."
He leaned back, exhaling slowly. "So if you're not born here, you either have to be a hero, someone important, or stupidly rich."
"Precisely," she confirmed. "These Core Sectors were never meant to reflect the demographic makeup of the Federation at large. They are functional constructs, optimized for governance, technological advancement, and administrative centrality. Population sprawl is considered inefficient. Every citizen in the Core has a purpose, a designation, or a legacy that earned them the right to reside here."
Ethan glanced at the sensor data on the Wraith's screen. His ship surrounded by a lattice of orbital stations, data nets, and high-grade defense platforms. The traffic patterns alone were probably more coordinated than entire inner-sector militaries.
"What's the population here?"
"Caryth supports just under one hundred and twenty million permanent residents," Iris replied. "Solmere and Talveth are even lower. That's a rounding error compared to the hundreds of billions across the Outer and Inner Sectors. But the wealth, influence, and decision-making concentrated within those few individuals..."
She let the implication hang.
Ethan nodded slowly, letting her words settle like weight on his chest. These weren't just capital sectors. They were the brain and spine of the Federation. The place where the future was debated, directed, and decided.
"Alright," he said. "Break down the other two for me. I know Caryth's the Guild seat for the Federation. What about Solmere?"
"Solmere is the Federation's political nucleus," Iris began. "Home to the Senate Chambers, it also houses the Interstellar Mediation Courts, the Peacekeeping Charter Assembly, and a dozen major diplomatic enclaves. Every law ratified by the Orion Federation originates in Solmere. It is where treaties are born, where diplomacy is wielded like a blade."
He gave a low whistle. "Sounds... stiff."
"It is," she said without amusement. "And efficient. Solmere is also the most heavily monitored of the three Core Sectors. No unauthorized thought-streams, encrypted pings, or sub-layer comms are allowed within its domain. Surveillance isn't a secret; it's part of the infrastructure."
"And Talveth?"
"Talveth is the hammer," Iris said. "The military and economic backbone of the Federation. It contains the Fleet High Command headquarters, which oversees every Orion operation across the known galaxy. It's also home to the Central Orion Galactic Bank, the monetary axis of interstellar commerce, and every elite command academy worth its name."
Ethan imagined vast hangars stretching across planetary surfaces, full of prototype warships and orbital strike drills.
"Talveth's orbital defense platforms alone," she added, "could obliterate an entire Outer Sector fleet in under three minutes."
He didn't doubt it. The Federation had teeth, and Talveth was the jaw.
"Each Core Sector is designed to perform a very specific role," Iris concluded. "Solmere legislates and speaks. Talveth enforces and funds."
"And Caryth?"
Iris paused, as if allowing gravity to form in her next sentence.
"Caryth is where the great powers converge," Iris said. "It houses the Federation's primary Grand Hall of the Mercenary Guild and the headquarters of nearly every major interstellar corporation. While the Guild operates independently across all galactic nations with Grand Halls embedded in their capitals, the one in Caryth is its bureaucratic and archival center for the Orion Federation."
She added, "Every nation recognizes the Guild's neutrality under interstellar law, and Caryth's Hall reflects that, serving not just as a base of operations, but as a diplomatic symbol."
Ethan remained quiet. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, it was necessary.
Outside, a quad-winged escort ship passed nearby, its hull lined with mirrored armor and pale blue stabilizer thrusters. It bore no name or markings.
He glanced down at his temporary Guild-issued clearance badge. It shimmered faintly, digital glyphs pulsing along its surface.
Without it, he wouldn't have even made it past Helios-9.
"Most people never see this place, do they?" he asked.
"No," Iris replied. "They live and die in places that will never even receive data packets from here. The Core is not a dream. It is a firewall between the architects of the secession war and the rest of the Federation."
The Wraith cruised forward on a narrow lane outlined by soft blue beams. A series of beacons pinged them one by one, auto-authorizing their vector toward the Guild zone.
Ethan's hand rested against the controls, though he knew Iris had everything under precise control.
It wasn't fear that filled him. Nor ambition.
It was awareness.
Of where he was. Of what he represented here.