Aleksander Gregor's Story

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 wouldn’t 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 captain’s 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.

“Welcome to Bastion IV, Doctor.” The scientist remarked dryly, leaning over the shoulder of one of the Erikoure’s pilots and studying his nav-display. “We’ll be launching stratolitte after sending a dropship down to the spaceport, I’ll be sure to feed you all the diagnostics from the passes.” He offered, finally stepping away from the pilot’s chair and holding a small tablet of his own.

“Won’t really tell us much we don’t already know. Model-Terran, rich atmosphere, reports of the megafauna have been more … interesting, though.” Walton said, his eyes focused on a readout of the planet’s cursory scan by the Erikoure’s quantum tunnel telescopes and RAILS sensors.

“Yeah, I wonder what all’s really down there … “ 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 man’s eye, curiosity of the unknown dribbling into the man’s mind.

“You ever been to a planet with megafauna, Mister Dralland?” Walton inquired, promptly turning away from his readout to address the young scientist. “It looks beautiful from up here, peaceful even,” He continued, stepping around to then stand beside the young man.





Maksim Vytalion stifled a short cough as he finished the final disinfection of the Winstohl dropship’s main compartment. Stretching nearly 39 meters from nose to tail, the single Winstohl airjet was by far the largest vehicle held neatly in the Erikoure’s bays. They needed two whole bays to hold the expedition’s 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 expedition’s illusive director, Professor Willart Sigismund.

“Mister Vytalion, is our dropship ready for her first voyage planetside?” The cold voice inquired, and Maksim slowly turned to trot back out of the Winstohl’s large bay and into the cacophony of preparations that were taking place in Bay No. 2.

“Ah, I believe so - hull disinfection was completed three hours ago, and just finished on the insides.” Vytalion replied, stepping off the rear ramp of the Winstohl and making room for the pair of pilots that were soon boarding the dropship.

“Very good Mister Vytalion. I believe Doctors Walton and Adalet will be joining you and the first away team.”

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, he’d 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 hadn’t 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.

“Vytalion, this is Stashalenko. We’re in communication with the uhh … Pagaurano Traffic Control. Patching you in now.”

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.

“This 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.”

Maksim steadied a hand on his ear, pressing a delicate finger to the comm-bead. “This is Erikoure Lander 1-1, we read you loud and clear. We estimate uuuh, a two hour flight and then a 40 minute entry.” He spoke, soon nubbing the cigarette out and promptly dropping it into a refuse bin and standing up. “We’ll be relaying flight telemetry and underway soon.” With that, the connection was severed to the planet, leaving just Stashalenko and Vytalion on the channel.

“Mister Vytalion.” Stashalenko then said quietly, Maksim’s boots thudding against the ramp of the Winstohl as he then stopped in his tracks. “The Director said no weapons planetside yet but, we’ll keep that to ourselves. Don’t let the eggheads know but … keep a strap, for insurance.”

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. “One step ahead of you, Stashalenko. Maksim out.” He remarked dryly, then severing the comms-link and obscuring the blaster with his jacket once more.

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.




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.