Parkastos stood beside a pallet full of materiel, studying the various filters and devices. He was quiet as the radio continued to squawk, the occasional bark of gunfire coming from the other end. Apallis and PFC Strommat were busy photographing and logging the equipment before them. âI think weâve got a few shipping numbers intact, might be able to get something from that.â Apallis remarked, resting one elbow across his knee as he stood crouched before the pallet.
âI dunnoâ whatâs been goinâ on in your neck of the woods but whoeverâs been trying to get into Aschen space has known their way in. Weâve had traffic disappearing around this constellation for months.â Strommat replied as he caught the question of one of the Adepts, taking a small vial swab and promptly shoving it back into the pockets of his ballistic vest.
âWhoever it is theyâre definitely a pro, some of this shit reeks of Red Halo.â Apallis tossed away a packet of air filters and then promptly stood up. Looking over to the Adept by the window, the din of the glassing was slowly growing closer and closer - and Apallis even tasted carbon and atmosphere in the air while he adjusted the G4K rifle at his side. âWeâve heard some odd shit about this little trafficking ring - whatever theyâre smuggling, thereâs not a buyer in Aschen space for it. Not one intel has determined, at least.â
As the Aschen Sergeant called to the Lance Corporal, Parkastos shook his head and cleared his nose with a huff. âLet it burn with the rest of the planet. Weâve got all we wanted off it, tags and prints. This should have been more well defended if they needed this stuff to make it all the way into Aschen space, wherever they were taking it.â Parkastosâ eyes narrowed then, thoughts running through his mind.
âIf you needed this big of a safety just to get through the Local Region we shouldâve stepped off into a fucking shitstorm right, Parkie?â Apallis inquired, coming to stand with the marines and other Adepts.
Parkastosâ face suddenly turned, eyes widening a second as he looked over to the Adept Sergeant. âThis planet was listed uninhabited on our starcharts - we havenât had a probe in the constellation for years though, what do your charts read?â He barked to the Sergeant, then promptly turned to look out the window as he brought his JEMI short-band radio to his lips.
Onboard the CNS Elyxion, Captain Jakob Aatos took a sharp breath as he watched the displays before him. The port had been secured, but as the marines and Adepts groundside linked up, questions began to filter through Aatosâ mind. He had expected more resistance, or at least a more determined attempt to keep the marines from the docks.
Now things were simply going too fast for him to think. It had been mere hours since the Aschen begun their glassing, and at his estimation they would only have a few more hours more before there was a complete collapse of the biosphere on the planet and any investigation would become exponentially more difficult. âFuck. Whatâs our timeline looking like here?â The Captain barked.
Down below, an Ensign in Systems stood over the working pit while three other technicians were working. âEstimated sixteen hours before a biosphere collapse and anyone groundside will need to be in a vac-suit. Atmospheric boil to begin in six to eight.â
Just then, a Lieutenant let out a deep yell from Comms, holding a receiver tight to his ear. âCaptain, we have comms from Commander Solomonâs unit! He needs connection with both the Elyxion and the Far Sight Lost!â Aatos gripped the rail tightly as he heard the report from the Lieutenant, then firmly nodding as he agreed to the request. As the link was established, the expeditionary carrier tethered its high-powered communications beam to the Aschen ship, a channel soon opening that was first marked with loud gunfire.