The team wasted no time in the harbor, and so Lukas peered longingly at the raucous scenes around him. But the soldiers plowed ahead, forming a path for the others, and there was no opportunity to stop and take in the sights.
Pulling up his feed's navigation function, he was presented with a map of the station, translucent against the view of reality. Onyx, a hollowed-out asteroid, had apparently chosen to forgo the classic style of station-design. Instead of multiple layers, each devoted to a different function, Onyx was a single level, mimicking a traditional planet-bound city. It had been organized to resemble a massive spoke-and-hub, with several large avenues that stretched out in various directions. Between these spokes were tangled, sinew-like streets, and Lukas could tell the map was attempting only an approximation of those spaces.
Although the station was densely packed, there were three clearly defined features on the map: the spaceport, located at the very end of the largest of the spokes, some sort of agricultural space on the other end, and a large building in the center of Onyx, where all the avenues converged.
From the corner of his eye, Lukas spotted a boisterous couple veering close. The soldiers tensed up, dropping back a little to cover the group. But the pair, laughing and stumbling, barely glanced at them as they passed. He watched as the soldiers relaxed, stepping back into position, then shot a glance at his mother, but her expression revealed nothing about the tension in the air. The crowds were dense, and loud, certainly - but people drank and let loose back on Ferrum, too.
Although the colors around him were a little too bright, and the outfits on the garish side, it didn't seem enough to warrant the wary, defensive behavior of the people around him.
Turning to his mother, he said, "this place doesn't seem too bad."
"We're surrounded by soldiers," Erin muttered. "Most people don't have that luxury."
She was distracted; Lukas could tell by the tone of her voice. Instead of looking back at him, her gaze was pointed ahead, focused on a large building that loomed, high enough to brush against the station's skylights. He didn't need the map to guess at what it was - it was clearly Onyx's central point. He also didn't need to ask where they were going at this point; it was clearly their destination.
With his mother distracted, Lukas quickened his pace to match step with the lab assistants. "What is that place?" He asked Aleksan, pointing at the building.
"No one told you?" He laughed, but it came out shaky. "That's the Purist Embassy. They won't come out to meet us, so-" he shrugged, "It looks like we've got to go to them."
"I can't believe we're actually here," Mila added, her voice a low hiss. "What the damn are we going to get out of this?" Glancing at Lukas, a little guiltily, she added, "I'm sure your mother's found a pretty good contact to meet, of course, but here...?"
Lukas frowned, eyeing the fast-approaching tower. He understood how they felt, to some degree. It didn't exactly look like an embassy. If anything, the building resembled a fortress, solid and as dark as the asteroid surrounding it. Blocky and utilitarian, the flat planes of the structure boasted absolutely zero decorum. Closer now, Lukas could make out a small group of people standing beside the embassy's gates. Beyond that was a heavy-looking set of doors. The figures' solid-black robes and tinted lenses did nothing to ease his impression of the place as generally unpleasant.
"Hello there!" Viktor called out to the Purists, the soldiers pulling back to let him pass. Lukas hung back, besides his mother. He'd never seen a Purist before - was fairly certain that they never ventured out beyond their territory in Independant Space. But the stories about the cult were legendary.
It was believed that no Purist had ever set foot on a planet, and indeed, Purist space consisted of only two space stations and nothing else: Purica Centralis, their forbidden homeland, and Onyx, which was the limit to which they ventured out to interact with outsiders.
Of course, most people in their right mind would never attempt a visit to Centralis, even if they could. Purists were believed to be violently bigoted - which was true - and anti-Factor in every way. It was why every member was an off-worlder. To them, being born on a planet - a living Planatae - and inheriting a Factor from one was the ultimate sin.
Although their bigotry was proven, it was unclear how intense their hatred ran. Still, there were some dark rumors out there, most less-than-proven. A particularly horrible theory were the Purists' labor camps, where it was said they imprisoned Factor-borns they had stolen from Onyx for their own uses.
Despite Viktor's warm greeting, his voice was strained, and Lukas was hit by a sudden realization. Mila's confusion about their visit made a lot more sense when he considered the Purists' hatred towards all things Planatae and Factor. Why would a planetaelogist be here, of all places? From what he knew, the freaks were so afraid of the Planatae that they refused to live on them.
He kept his questions to himself, however, and warily watched as Viktor spoke to the Purists in low tones, too far and soft for him to hear clearly. Then, the robed figures began to approach, and Lukas had to force himself not to retreat. He prided himself on being open-minded, but the Purists' reputation had set him on edge.
"Welcome," one called out, moving faster than the rest. "We're glad you survived the journey." Along with the others, the figure's head was clean-shaven. Along with the robe's ambiguity, and the lenses that hid their expression, it was hard for Lukas to guess at their gender.
If Erin noticed the hostility dripping from their tone, she ignored it. "Thank you for allowing us this visit," she said. "I'm Erin Adamas, Chief Scientist of the Ferrum military. Will you be escorting us?"
"Yes," the figure said. "You'll be screened before being allowed to meet." With that, they turned, cuing the others, and marched towards the embassy. Viktor, still standing amidst them, scrambled to move out of their way.
"I guess we're supposed to follow them," Mila muttered under her breath. Lukas moved to follow her but felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Stay very close to me," his mother spoke low, in his ear. "Don't say a word unless I tell you to." Unnerved, Lukas nodded. His mother had never been the coddling type, but there was an iciness to her tone that frightened him more than the Purists ever could. Keeping silent, he followed her as they passed through the embassy's gates.
...
Screening, as the Purists had called it, involved a nondescript room and a series of interrogations. They'd been bustled through the front doors, only to find themselves in a closed-off room, with yet another set of doors on the far end. It reminded Lukas of a ship's airlock. In much the same manner, he mused, the Purists probably used the space to remove anything they thought of as contamination.
One by one, the lead Purist moved through the group, asking a series of questions and accessing each person's feed. The soldiers initially resisted the inquiry, but a sharp word from Erin had settled them.
Lukas had entered near the back, so he watched as the others before him were asked about their birthplace, and to offer up some basic records from their contact-feeds. The Purists never said it explicitly, but it was clear what they were searching for.
Soon enough, they found it. Although most of the soldiers were station-born - which Erin had likely arranged on purpose, one was revealed to be from the Ferrum colony of Darava upon questioning. Suddenly, all the Purists in the room had surrounded the man, and there were shouts of alarm from the rest of the expedition team.
"I don't have the Factor!" The soldier protested. "It's a Mind-class ability - not everyone born there gets it!"
"We can't know for sure," the lead Purist said. "We must ask you to leave."
He stepped forwards, his voice taking on a challenging tone. "I'm telling the truth -"
"Listen to them," Erin's voice cut through the argument like a knife. "We would like to respect their wishes."
He subsided, stepping back. A pair of Purists split off from the group, and herded the soldier through the doorway leading outside.
"Good thing there's no Body-type Factors here," Lukas heard Mila whisper loudly to the others. "They'd have a damn fit about it." She could have messaged them privately on the feed, but he had a sneaking suspicion that she wanted the Purists to know how she felt about it. Luckily, if they had a reaction, they chose not to show it.
"Will he be alright out there, on his own?" Viktor asked Erin in a low voice. "Maybe we should take this moment to send anyone else who was born on-planet to head back to the ship-"
"There is no one else with a Factor here." Erin spoke over him. The others shifted uneasily. Lukas opened his mouth to speak, but closed it. His mother was gripping his shoulder again, hard enough to be uncomfortable, and her silent message was clear. He kept his head down, trying to ignore the glances from the rest of the team.
The Purists resumed their questioning without incident, seemingly satisfied with the others' accounts and their accompanying data.
Then, suddenly, the head Purist loomed over Lukas, and he flinched, startled. The members of the expedition had been cleared and escorted deeper into the building. Lukas and his mother were the only two left.
"Where are you from?" They asked simply.
"Santiago. It's a military station in the Ferrum system," Erin responded. She needn't have explained; Viktor and a few others had already reported themselves from there.
"Birth location?" They asked.
"The same. Me and my son both."
Lukas kept his head down, his nerves fraying. Then, an overlayed notification appeared in his vision; the Purist was requesting access to his basic profile. He hesitated, but Erin said nothing, so he nodded his assent.
A few moments went by, the Purist scanning both his and his mother's basic history. Then they nodded, and stepped aside to let them pass.
"Thank you," Erin said, her expression calm, and they entered the embassy.