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Snippet #2816357

located in Pagourano Spaceport, a part of The Multiverse, one of the many universes on RPG.

Pagourano Spaceport

Despite not being the largest and well hidden, the sounds of what few ships arrive and depart echo throughout the surrounding peaks & down into Dracos Valley. Thankfully Pagourano is relatively quiet despite.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Maxim Heath Character Portrait: Michael Lewis Character Portrait: Tigwald Mayweather Character Portrait: Paul Walton Character Portrait: Aris Adalet Character Portrait: Maksim Vytalion Character Portrait: Aleksander Gregor
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Onboard the TVSV Erikoure

The Winstohl was fueled and ready to depart, Maksim standing at the back ramp as he prepared for the away team. He first spotted Doctor Walton stepping off from the lift to the bridge, carrying a small pack with him that was drawn over one shoulder. Leaning against one of the struts of the Winstohl’s heavy ramp, the mercenary gave a curt nod to the Azrican as he approached.

“Doctor Walton. Want to be the first on the ground?” Vytalion inquired, studying the main intently. The way he carried himself, Maksim estimated he was a veteran of some sort - not just of scientific expeditions like this, but even in the service. Whatever his past might be, Walton hid it well.

“Mister Vytalion: I take it you’re our escort to Pagourano.” Walton responded promptly, tossing his pack onto a nearby jumpseat as he fished a Focus out from his pocket and began to fit it in his ear. “Ah - before we go further, I have a question … Maksim, was it?”

Walton was tall and broad, not large but one could tell the doctor wasn’t the picture of the weakling researcher. He leaned in close to Vytalion, who stood dismissively with his arms crossed. “I’m only privy to what Professor Sigismund has told me but, I’d value your opinion too … even if you’re merely a consultant.”

Vytalion steeled himself for a moment, then gave a curious glance sideways to the doctor. “What opinion might that be, doctor?” He began, tilting his head away just slightly while drawing the pack of cigarettes free from his light ballistic vest once more. As he began packing the smokes, Walton pressed one hand onto the strut of the ramp elevator.

“What’s a paramilitary like Vostok Security have with the expedition here? I understand the need for protection but this is a scientific mission … unless?” Walton let his words trail for a moment there.

Vytalion had to grit himself when the man reached forward, flicked open the carton and pulled a cigarette for himself. Promptly sticking it between his lips. The mercenary held a neutral facade, but internally swelled. He’d love to just punch Walton in the face right now.

“That sounds like a question for our security director, doctor. Valera Stashalen - “

Before the two men could spar more though, another voice rang out. A dark haired, bespeckled man in a black jacket carrying a shore bag of his own over his shoulder. Both Walton and Vytalion stopped mid-sentence, their little sparring match over in an instant with no decisive winner as a booming voice suddenly drew a bright smile onto Paul Walton’s face.

“Aleks fucking Gregor - is that you?!” Walton barked, suddenly stepping away from Vytalion and walking down the ramp of the airjet. As the two men met, they first joined a handshake, which quickly turned into a warm embrace between what were obviously two old friends.

“I’d heard they let you lead the research team for a little party in the wilds.” Gregor offered briefly, giving his old colleague a firm pat on the back. As they stepped back, he first adjusted the glasses seated on the bridge of his nose, and then the strap of the shore bag on his shoulder. “I got bored, needed to get away from campus - and particularly off of Eden Prime.”

Gregor's jokes and jabs caused Vytalion to steadily watch the two men. The Tsov’s cautious eye seemed to catch Gregor attention, who unslung the shore. “What’s goin’ on here, Paul. What the hell is this, since when do you need secur - “

Walton stretched a hand up to Gregor’s shoulder, giving him a comforting squeeze. “Yeah yeah, it’s just a precaution, Exogarden wouldn’t let us through Federation space without a presence.” He said quietly, twisting the cigarette he stole from Vytalion over in his fingers as Gregor gave a dismissive huff.

“Something’s don’t change I guess, huh?” Gregor said with a simple shake of his head, then walking his way up the ramp and passing Vytalion. The mercenary chewed on the end of his cigarette, bringing two fingers up to pull the stick from his lips.

“Space is quite dangerous Mister … Gregor, was it?” Vytalion spoke dryly, stamping the cigarette out on the ramp of the Winstohl and flicking it away. “Especially a place like the lands down there. Not very friendly to our kind.” Gregors adjusted his glasses and gave Vytalion a short chuckle after stowing his shore bag in the overhead compartment that ran along the bay.

”Oh, I’m sure it isn’t. That’s why we often don’t bring guns along down to places like that. Humans have a tendency to make a lot less mistakes about their place on the food chain when we don’t have something to convince us we’re safe in a chaotic world.”

The flight down to Pagorauno was an uneventful one, if a bit bumpy as the Winstohl began its de-orbit and entered the atmosphere. There were five personnel in total from the expedition dispatched to the first, cursory landing at the spaceport: three of the scientific team and two members of the shady Vostok private security.

After the final deceleration, the inky blackness of space had given way to the soft blue of atmosphere, Gregor leaned back into his jumpseat and let out a contented sigh. Walton had a prankish smile across his face, shaking a small bag.

“Don’t ride the star lift at the Institute Campus much?” Walton joked, stuffing the bag away as Gregor shook his head and wrapped both of his hands down onto the straps across his chest.

“I haven’t been on a lander in a minute, if you can't tell.”

Up in the cockpit, the two pilots were working quickly to bring the Winstohl’s speed down and correct the last leg of their approach, one of them reaching up to snap on the comms with the spaceport. “This is Erikoure Lander 1-1 on terminal approach, burning low.”

The Winstohl’s heavy frame shuddered as the airjets grumbled, a deep, booming shriek filling the mountainous skies as it completed one final turn and then lowered itself towards the landing pad. The great bird’s wings bounced and wobbled slightly at the first impact of her massive tires stamping down onto the landing pad. As the ramp began to crawl open, everyone inside was first greeted with the bright shine of the sky - and next the sharp, cold bite of mountain air.