Amidst the clutter of ships coming and going, a single cruiser seemed to linger in the travel lanes of Bastion IV, holding a distant orbit above the planet. The TVSV
Erikoure was rather large for a science vessel, though from its hull and structure the assumption that it had once been a military vessel wouldnât have been hard to make. At nearly three hundred and thirty meters from bow to stern, she dwarfed some of the smaller freights and lighters that came to and from Paguarano, and due to her size those aboard had opted to keep the vessel in orbit rather than boldly attempt an atmospheric entry so early.
In her bridge, a man stood with two hands gripping at the rails of the captainâs deck before him. His drab jumpsuit bore two identifiers, on his left breast on shoulder, of the Xamoyos expedition. Studying a display, Doctor Paul Walton clicked his tongue as a fellow researcher beside him spoke.
âWelcome to Bastion IV, Doctor.â The scientist remarked dryly, leaning over the shoulder of one of the
Erikoureâs pilots and studying his nav-display. âWeâll be launching stratolitte after sending a dropship down to the spaceport, Iâll be sure to feed you all the diagnostics from the passes.â He offered, finally stepping away from the pilotâs chair and holding a small tablet of his own.
âWonât really tell us much we donât already know. Model-Terran, rich atmosphere, reports of the megafauna have been more ⊠interesting, though.â Walton said, his eyes focused on a readout of the planetâs cursory scan by the
Erikoureâs quantum tunnel telescopes and RAILS sensors.
âYeah, I wonder what allâs really down there ⊠â The young researcher began quietly, his eyes settling on the holographic display of the rotating world some thousands of kilometers below. Walton noticed that sparkle in the young manâs eye, curiosity of the unknown dribbling into the manâs mind.
âYou ever been to a planet with megafauna, Mister Dralland?â Walton inquired, promptly turning away from his readout to address the young scientist. âIt looks beautiful from up here, peaceful even,â He continued, stepping around to then stand beside the young man.
âBut on a world like this you must understand one thing: natureâs ruled this realm for millenia, and the truth of what may be down there can be even more dangerous than anything soldiers or armies or the machinations of mankind can possibly dream of.â
Maksim Vytalion stifled a short cough as he finished the final disinfection of the Winstohl dropshipâs main compartment. Stretching nearly 39 meters from nose to tail, the single Winstohl airjet was by far the largest vehicle held neatly in the
Erikoureâs bays. They needed two whole bays to hold the expeditionâs complement of airjets: four small Vultures, two old, medium Arukas and the larger Winstohl dropship. Holding up the spray wand, Vytalion heard the soft chirp of his comm-bead and flicked his finger across a haptic display in the corner of his vision. With a quick screech, the comm-line was opened and Vytalion was greeted with the voice of the expeditionâs illusive director, Professor Willart Sigismund.
âMister Vytalion, is our dropship ready for her first voyage planetside?â The cold voice inquired, and Maksim slowly turned to trot back out of the Winstohlâs large bay and into the cacophony of preparations that were taking place in Bay No. 2.
âAh, I believe so - hull disinfection was completed three hours ago, and just finished on the insides.â Vytalion replied, stepping off the rear ramp of the Winstohl and making room for the pair of pilots that were soon boarding the dropship.
âVery good Mister Vytalion. I believe Doctors Walton and Adalet will be joining you and the first away team.â
Maksim gave a soft huff as he laid the disinfecting wand against a stack of crates and then seated himself atop one. Producing a pack of cigarettes, heâd take the time to enjoy one last break before the venture planetside. He scoffed at the mention of the scientists. While the pay was good, they hadnât paid him nearly enough to simply babysit scientists and researchers.
As he lit the end of a cigarette and took a short pull, his comm-bead squawked once more, this time a call from the head of security - Valera Stashalenko was a retired Home Guard captain, and normally the two would be despised enemies. Funny how money changed that.
âVytalion, this is Stashalenko. Weâre in communication with the uhh ⊠Pagaurano Traffic Control. Patching you in now.â
Leaning back, Vytalion took another long drag as the call connected with his haptic Focus, the lines giving brief bursts of static. While time delay was a factor, Vytalion estimated it was negligible however. Perhaps only a few seconds, at worst.
âThis is Traffic Control to the TVSV
Erikoure, we have authorized your landing at Dock 11. Welcome to Bastion IV and Pagaurano. You are green to approach.â
Maksim steadied a hand on his ear, pressing a delicate finger to the comm-bead. âThis is
Erikoure Lander 1-1, we read you loud and clear. We estimate uuuh, a two hour flight and then a 40 minute entry.â He spoke, soon nubbing the cigarette out and promptly dropping it into a refuse bin and standing up. âWeâll be relaying flight telemetry and underway soon.â With that, the connection was severed to the planet, leaving just Stashalenko and Vytalion on the channel.
âMister Vytalion.â Stashalenko then said quietly, Maksimâs boots thudding against the ramp of the Winstohl as he then stopped in his tracks. âThe Director said no weapons planetside yet but, weâll keep that to ourselves. Donât let the eggheads know but ⊠keep a strap, for insurance.â
Vytalion chewed on the inside of his cheek as he listened, first taking a cautious glance around before adjusting the breast of his jacket, and checking the grip of the heavy blaster pistol strapped beneath his shoulder. âOne step ahead of you, Stashalenko. Maksim out.â He remarked dryly, then severing the comms-link and obscuring the blaster with his jacket once more.