Monochrome (FT; Semi-Open)

[Rethan]

OOC: Please see theOOC thread for information

---

---

This planet could be beautiful.

Cassilda sighed and turned away from the dust streaked window and watched as roaring ice tore at the monastery’s exterior. She returned to the book that lay perched delicately on her knee, an old thing with withered and yellowed pages. At first the appeal of such an archaic thing had eluded her, but the musty tome had grown on her and now she found herself spending her days in the library, eagerly absorbing whatever stories or knowledge was left intact upon its shelves. Outside, echoing through the passages of the library, the sounds of Cassilda’s hosts could be heard making preparations to ride out the storm. At her feet, the quiet form of her sister slept on - oblivious to the hectic activity of the monastery or the ravages of the storm. Cassilda smiled and read on in her book, and was taken by surprise when a kindly Child disturbed her.

“Mistress Cassilda, I’m sorry but the Patron has informed me there will be no search today.”

The young man had a handsome face, and Cassilda could not help but let her heart melt at the genuine concern in his eyes. She closed her story, making sure to mark her page with a stray strip of paper, and took the Child’s hands in her own.

“It is alright, Silas. I did not expect there to be one. Not in this weather, I could not ask your people to risk themselves for my sister and I.”

“I understand, Cassilda. Still...it has been a week and there is still no sign. I cannot imagine what your sister and yourself are going through.”

“It...is difficult. I’ll admit that, and it is much tougher on Camilla than on I. Still, your hospitality has helped make it easier for us. Better to be here than searching the ruins ourselves, I suppose.”

Silas smiled and sat down beside Cassilda, stroking a tender hand across her cheek to brush back a stray strand of hair. Cassilda had always found something soothing in the rich green of Silas’s eyes, and the almost human features of his face. Perhaps the Patron knew that, and that’s why Silas always seemed to be the one delivering messages to her. She took his hand in her own and kissed it lightly as he spoke.

“If there is anything more we can, just let me know.”

“I have all I need in this library, thank you Silas. Though...Camilla will be hungry when she wakes. Could you bring us some food? Human food...if that’s not too difficult.”

The Villin laughed, the powerful hissing sound no longer shocking Cassilda, and stood. He brushed down his robes, removing what little dust had collected on the bone coloured robes and made to leave. The hissing that served as villin laughter faded away and he turned his face back to Cassilda, flashing her a toothy grin before speaking again.

“One day, Cassilda, you’ll learn to like my food.”

“Perhaps when I’ve lost my tongue to this bitter cold.”

Another grating hiss, and Silas vanished behind a bookcase. The Villin had been the one to find Cassilda and her sister in the ruined city of Alar, and had caused Camilla no small measure of unease at his not-quite-human appearance. Still, the monastery was mostly human and Camilla had learned to enjoy her time here even if - unlike her elder sister - she had not grown used to the alien life that called this place home. At least she didn’t stare wide eyed at Silas anymore.

Cassilda stroked Camilla’s hair until her sister stirred awake. The youngest wiped sleep from her eyes and pulled up against the wall beside Cassilda’s seat.

“There’s not going to be a search today, is there?”

Heartbroken at her directness, Cassilda shook her head and cupped her sister’s head in one hand, pausing her stroking for a moment as she pondered how to respond to that.

“No, but Silas is bringing us food. Human food this time, I made certain.”

Camilla’s tired laugh brought a smile to Cassilda’s face and a warmth to her chest that even the most well written story could not. The younger sister stretched her legs out along the stone floor and leaned on Cassilda’s knee, drumming a short rhythm on the soft fabric of her dress.

“Good. I’m starving.”

Cassilda resumed her stroking of Camilla’s hair and stared out at the storm. It was growing thicker with every passing second and ice was beginning to cling to the window alongside the dirt and dust. She hoped it would not last long, it would be nice to see the sun rise again. As Camilla began to hum a tune alongside the drumming of her fingers, Cassilda pushed her book to the edge of the window ledge and leaned against the glass. She felt the cold chill of the outside air even through the thickness of the window, and a part of her wondered if their father would ever be found. This was only the first storm since had had gone missing, but there were other dangers on this blasted world. Especially within Alar, and there had been no word from the girls’ father in a week. Only the persistent checking in of his harness’ radio let them know he was still alive somewhere within the city’s ruins. Though where exactly the Children of the monastery had not yet discovered, and Cassilda had to admit that hope was thin at this stage.

The sound of footsteps and the clatter of plates brought her out of her thoughts, and with a smile she welcomed Silas back to the library, a tray with meats and bread clasped in his hands. He sat down on the floor with the girls, his own food stashed away in his sack, and together they ate.

[Huerdae]

I.A.C.S. Fleabitten, on landing approach to Carcosa

As Fleabitten finished its final gate, the planet Carcosa suddenly lay before Sa'Mauni's eyes. It loomed before her, like some great marble in space, dead and empty as hope. It wasn't much of a world, to be honest, but it had drawn more than a few people to it, and that meant someone down there was scared enough to buy her fare. Truth be told, she hadn't had enough people to sell to, and this was just another stop on her way elsewhere. She needed food and supplies, and a backwater world full crazed scholars who don't know what the galaxy is like is a great place to sell to the goons that inevitably get dragged along. Almost immediately after seeing the world, light shone around the horizon, searing into her eyes with its garish, blue-white rays. It seemed only proper that a world so dead as this would be lit by such a painful color.

Turning away from the cockpit, she let the ship continue forward - it would be nearly half an hour before she had to make preparations to enter the atmosphere. Still, she had already decided she hated the place. It wouldn't have been so bad if it was another mining world, or even a pirate lay-away. But instead, it was a broken little world with barely enough people on it to make landing viable. If there were many more, they wouldn't need her. If there were any less, there wouldn't be anyone to kill. She whistled to herself while the ship thrummed forward slowly, while she pulled together her armor and gear. A quick glance at the readouts showed what she feared - the place was certifiably unpleasant. The ship had found her target quickly enough - a little expedition called 'Perrier', but even just after mid-day, the temperature read at 272K. Just one more reason to hate the place.

She had her legs covered in armor, and was belting on her pistols when she noticed it, the door to 'the closet' was unlocked. It was where she took the whores she used to convince others she was just some other damn gunrunner, and locked them in for the night. It was always locked. Striding over, she tapped the keypad and gave a small, confident smirk when she heard the heavy bolts fall into place with a comfortingly mechanical 'thud'. She barely gave it a second thought until she was almost fully geared up, her pale skin and the black steel of her arm concealed behind layers of used body armor. Her hair hung down to her neck, straightened and cared for, and she sighed at the thought of covering up again. There was freedom in the trips between worlds, when she could strip down to only what she needed, in a comfortable, light shirt and something to keep her legs warm. Sometimes, she would simply lay upon the cabin floor with a blanket and her data-tab. The thought made her smile, thinking about the peace in which she sometimes lived. If only that peace would pay for food and air.

Strapping the cloak over her shoulders, the heavy synthetic fabric designed to block the wind and insulate her in the cold, she slowed, glancing back at the door to the closet. It only took a moment to reach over and check the display that showed the small chamber, barely two meters on a side. What she saw drew her lips down into a scowl, the peace forgotten as she looked at the kitsune who sat upon the bed, as if he owned it. The pillow was against the wall, where the heat ductwork kept the metal warm. She was fairly sure he was awake, but she didn't even care enough to leave the display on. Flipping it off, she snagged the helm, including the rebreather, and started toward the closet's door, hands on the hilt of her pistols.

Only the insistent chirping from the cockpit made her pause, as it informed her that they were nearing the planet's atmosphere. Without time to deal with it, she turned her back on the now-locked closet, heading back to pilot the ship down. The Huerdaen barely even remembered the trip down, or talking to the group below as she came in to land, a short distance from their camp. She kept some distance between the expedition and her ship, across the unreasonably flat ice that the world pretended was a surface, but there was little need. Anyone could see for miles here, there was almost nothing to hide behind, no cover, and nowhere to go except the ramshackle 'home' that the Perrier Expedition had created for themselves.

Once the heavy craft settled down, she let the ship wind down, her face set grimly as she locked it down, before returning to the door to the closet. By now, with the wind against the hull, she was sure her new 'friend' would know they were landed. She stood there a moment, listening for movement, any sign the being was preparing to leave.

Whoever it was gave no sign that he was even awake, let alone that they had landed. In annoyance at the other's lack of planning and awareness, she grabbed free one of her pistols, unlocking the door and sliding it open, shoving the weapon firmly against the stowaway's forehead. The git didn't even try to fight back or hide, not that it would do any good. With her cybernetic arm, she gripped him by the shoulder and threw him roughly to the center of the messy cargo bay, with weapons and ammo stacked haphazardly around the area. She made sure he didn't even consider that an option, by shoving the pistol down into the base of his skull, pinning him to the floor. She automatically fell into her 'landfall' mode of speaking, barely even having to think about it as she spoke through the muffling rebreather.

"Well, I didn't think I'd ever have this problem. Bugs, probably. Rats, maybe. But a mutant fuzz-butt with two tails? No, I did not see this coming."

It was all part of a series of events that had to unfold, of course. Startle the passenger, shove a gun in his face, and lay down the law. The obligatory intimidation act, followed by whatever oddities of that particular ship. For her, it was fairly straightforward.

With a quick tear, she removed the kit's clothes, down to his underwear, leaving anything he couldn't wiggle out of in shreds on the floor around him as she searched him for anything he may have stolen. A glance to the room showed that he had at least brought his own food, and not stolen hers, but that did little to lighten her mood. Without so much as a warning, she checked the kit's orifaces with two fingers, to be sure he wasn't hiding anything, first his rear, then rolling him over and checking his mouth with the same two, black-steel fingers.

Only when he was laying on his back, naked, with nothing found by her 'search', did she stop. The gun never lowered, but the faceless plate seemed to gaze down on the kitsune. Her hand didn't waver or shake, like most traders who felt the fear before a first kill, but she didn't pull the trigger, either, and for a moment, she considered killing him and stealing what little food he had. Thing was, it wasn't even worth it, and people may not do a deal with someone whose first act on a new world was to dump a body.

Keeping the gun trained on the kit, she walked over to check the room, making sure it was at least moderately acceptable, and returned to him.

"I'd shoot you if I thought it would help, but you've gone and breathed my air, slept in my bed, and snuck away on my ship. If they had slaves here, I'd sell you, but I doubt they do."

Taking a step past him, she leaned over and slapped the door release, letting in the freezing air that swept over the cargo hold in no time. She could see his body react to the cold, but it brought a grimace to her lips. It would be a kindness to simply kill him, instead of leaving him to the cold. But as the door opened, she could see a pair of figures walking toward her ship, and thought better of it. In an instant, she grabbed a tarp, tossing it over the boy with disgust.

"Put that on, you fuzz-laden parasite. Don't even speak. You belong to me now."

She wiped the soiling from the boy's rear off her hand on the back of his head, and grabbed a belt, stripping the holster from it. Without a word, she snaked it around the being's neck, tightening it and using it to yank him to his feet, clothed only in the tarp, just in time to meet her new guests. Holstering the weapon, she strode out of the mess-laden bay with the belt held right behind the kit's neck, barely letting the kit breath. She kept below the half-wing of the hauler, out of the garish light of the sun, and keeping her captive in front of her. Luckily, she didn't have to fake a smile, with her face concealed behind the rebreather.

"I'm Sammy. This is my new rat, found him hiding out on my ship. He doesn't get a name just yet. Who might you be?"

Both her pistols were holstered, but her free hand rested lightly on the one at her right side, ready in case of trouble.

[Xiscapia]

I.A.C.S. Fleabitten, passenger compartment...

The freighter coming out of transit shook him awake. Lifting his head from the pillow where he'd been resting it, Nenohi opened his eyes, golden orbs bright in the gloom of the little compartment, though there wasn't anything to see except the unchanging three bulkheads and hatchway that he'd become familiar with during his stay aboard. The passenger compartment of this vessel was far from the worst accommodations he'd ever had, and rated up there with the night he'd once spent in a heiress's walk-in closet: there was a bed, pillow, and even a warm spot on the bulkhead where he suspected a heating pipe was routed. He'd taken advantage of the mattress and sheets and the long, dark hours to sleep, only waking up to eat or sneak out and use the lavatory. His unwitting host had no idea he was there.

What he knew of said host and the ship could have been written in the palm of his hand. He'd guessed due to the configuration that it was some manner of Huerdaen hauler, but exactly what it was carrying, who would buy it or where it was going were all mysteries to him. So was the freighter's sole pilot, who he'd only glimpsed on a couple of occasions before he boarded the vessel. Heavily armored and well-armed as Huerdaen tended to be, and as androgynous as the captain's voice was the scent told him that it was a she. Who she was mattered as little to him as the details of her ship: at the end of the voyage he'd be gone, and she'd never know the difference.

It would take them some time to make planet-fall. He knew this without ever having seen the ship's schematics or knowing anything about her class or modifications, but because he'd listened and felt how it moved between FTL transits and worlds and he could tell that it was designed to carry a lot of goods over a long distance, not for speed or agility. Stretching his legs and arms, suffocating the fox-like whine that had risen in his throat, he lay back for a moment, watching his toes flex and splay, exposing their claws for a moment before the muscles relaxed and retracted them. In thirty minutes or so he would need to put on his socks and boots, strap his board to his back, sling his bag and get ready to leave. For the moment, though, he could enjoy a final few minutes of relaxation.

Whistling filtered through the hatch to him and his ears flicked as his listened to the noise, tracking the woman by the sound. She did that quite often, presumably while at some menial task, and he found that he'd miss hearing it. The pilot could hold a tune, at least as far as he could tell, and it made it very easy to tell where she was. For a moment he had to wonder who had taught it to her.
Then, as if she could hear his thoughts, the whistling stopped.

Boots stomped on the deck as she walked over, a more obvious cue than the whistling, and he sat up, swinging his legs over the side, heart pounding. She'd never even come near the hatch before. What had changed? The noise of the bolts locking home made him start, tails sweeping over the bed, but then she was walking away, apparently unconcerned. After a moment he realized that she must have noticed that the hatch was unlocked. That was immediately followed by the unpleasant revelation that the hatch locked from the outside.

Sitting still, he stared at the expanse of metal, hardly even blinking. How was he going to get out? The lock was probably integrated with electronics, which would make any lockpicking he might attempt futile. He wasn't in any immediate danger, at least he had food, but if she stepped off the ship he had no way of telling when she'd come back, or if she'd unlock the hatch again when she did. For the first time he was confronted with the idea that he might have to deliberately get his host's attention -and that might not be any safer than just wasting away in a locked room.
On the other hand, wasting away in a locked room meant certain death.

The very fabric of the ship shuddered and strained under the stress of atmospheric entry, and when it finally set down he could hear the wind buffeting the hull. A whining hum permeated through as the trader powered down, settling into whatever new and temporary home she'd berthed herself in. Thinking quickly, he rationalized it to himself. He didn't know for sure what kind of lock the hatch had on it, and that meant that he could attempt to pick it after the woman left. If he could then he would be gone, and if he couldn't...he'd approach that problem if he got to it.

Back came the thudding of feet, and again he stayed still. He didn't really believe that she could somehow sense him from the next room, but the habit was ingrained far too strongly for him to resist. But seconds ticked by and he didn't hear her moving away. Ears rising, Nenohi strained them, both triangular shapes dipping forward as he sought to hear any indication of what the Huerdaen was about to do. He just managed to catch the noise of metal sliding against metal before the hatch was flung open and light flooded the cabin.

In the tiny space there was nowhere to hide, but he recoiled anyway as the pistol flashed out at him, barrel grinding against his forehead. He didn't even have time to make out all the details of the figure before him before a strong metal arm seized him by the shoulder and pivoted, tossing him bodily from the compartment and into the relative brightness of the cargo bay. The kitsune curled before he landed, instinctively minimizing the damage as he hit the deck, but he didn't have the chance to do anything else before that same gun pressed his head against the metal, pushing its black length into his alabaster hair. He didn't even try to wriggle away, suspecting that if he showed any resistance she'd shoot him on the spot, tails limp on the deck. As a rule captains didn't take kindly to stowaways.

His jacket went first, untorn only by virtue of the fact that it hadn't been zipped up, tossed away followed by his shirt, which was ripped from his body with a tearing of fabric. A hand seized the hem of his trousers and he struggled reflexively, claws grinding against the deck, but she shoved the gun against his head again and he stopped, letting her yank the pants down, one of his knees breaking through before he kicked them away. Last was his underwear, snapped off his body with a motion, and before he could adjust she'd jerked his tails up, crushing them together by way of warning, and shoved two cold, hard fingers into him. The sensation made him groan as she probed, but that was the only noise he made even when she flipped him and made a circuit around his mouth, the kitsune gagging silently as his eyes rolled in his head. She let him down, falling onto his back, and he turned his head and spat, too little food in his belly for him to vomit.

The pilot looked down at him, or at least her helmet tilted in his direction, gun still trained solidly on him, and Nenohi curled up on his side, winding his tails between his legs and hugging himself. Without his clothes, lying on the deck in the open air of the cargo bay, it was suddenly frigid, but his eyes never left the woman any more than her gun did him. She said her piece, and he said nothing. At this point whatever she did to him was at her own discretion. All he could do was cooperate, or earn a doubtless bullet to his head.

Walking over, she hit the button to the cargo doors and he curled up tighter as the chill wind rolled over him, fur rippling even as he cringed, body seizing up tighter. Maybe she didn't have the guts to shoot him and was going to let him freeze to death instead. The tarp landed on him and he flinched, rolling again, only to realize what it was and grab the material like a life preserver, drawing it around himself on the deck. Before he could get to his feet something wrapped around his throat and he choked, writhing even as she wrenched him upright, the Xiscapian staggering from the trauma, mouth open. He gasped silently, lungs working to get just enough air to breathe, and he stumbled haplessly forward as she pulled, pulling the tarp tighter around his nude form as his feet hit the ice.

They halted but he didn't stop moving, constantly picking his feet up where he was sure they'd stick to the ground if he let them. Both tails were wrapped around his waist and groin under the tarp, offering what protection they could, but he still shivered violently as the wind blew over him, only keeping his teeth from chattering by grinding his jaw shut. Despite it all Nenohi didn't say a word, and he kept his muzzle pointed at the ground, keeping all of his limbs together to conserve as much heat as possible. Even from his hunched position he glanced over the landscape, finding it horribly barren, and if his shoulders hadn't been raised they would have slumped. From under the fringe of his hair his eyes flicked between the two people that had come out to meet them, as unreadable as his blank, empty expression.

[Rethan]

Hastur
A cold winds rides on a dying sun; A star at last shall bear a son

---

---

Hastur burned brightly, casting its fierce blue gaze upon the remains of its domain. Its light graced debris and dust spread out across the vast gulf of the star system, all that remained of whatever had orbited the violent sun. Clouds of obliterated rock floated in eccentric orbits, drifting in and out of the shadows of titanic asteroids that spun far too quickly upon their axes. Only the presence of a single terrestrial world betrayed any indication that Hastur was not alone, coupled with a mighty super-jovian on the far side from the quiet, rocky world. The ferocious cosmic wind of Hastur drove against both planets, instilling a chaotic beauty in the gas giant of Demhe while apparently leaving the terrestrial world itself unscathed by its impact. The terrestrial rotated through its orbit, thankfully cleared of all debris and obstacles, and through its crystal clear atmosphere a surface plagued with permafrost and sheets of ice. The last vestiges of some nightmare storm were dissipating in the northern parts of the world, and with it died the last evidence of any kind of weather patterns. Even from orbit, the world appeared impossibly still. There were no oceans - neither ice nor water filled the deep canyons and beds which remained to separate the continents, and only the barest outlines of mountains could be seen on its surface spare a single range which had been revealed with the passing of the storm. Only an endless blanket of white ice and rust coloured dust decorated the world, an utterly uninteresting ball of rock that was no different to a billion others on its surface.

But this was Carcosa. Blessed, blighted Carcosa.

Within the grasp of Carcosa's hushed atmosphere, vast canyons were all that remained of rushing rivers and idyllic lakes and most everywhere was flat and dull. But for those with eager eyes, remnants of some ancient civilisation traced veins in the planet's surface. The all too straight lines of once busy canals, the shattered and half buried remains of highways, the toppled and eroded gravestones of once towering skyscrapers. But these were barely even echoes of whatever people had called Carcosa home, lines in the dust and nothing more. Only the region in the north, so recently battered by a storm of lethal ice and grating dust, stood as a true testament to a dead civilisation. Beside the immense dried bed of lake Hali sat the twin cities of Alar and Ythill. The full length of Hali separate the pair, the larger Alar standing the most proud against the weathering of time. Some of its buildings still stood, and its roads were not entirely buried beneath soil and ice. Ythill clung desperately to the cliff face that dropped away into Hali's lake bed, each year inching closer to oblivion as more and more of the lake's edge collapsed into the depths. The sheering of rock had buckled Ythill's streets, and where Alar's buildings shifted between upright and worn down, Ythill's paths were littered with toppled buildings and vast seas of rubble. In both cities, small evidences could be found of those that had once called them home, but they had sat sterile and quiet for centuries - perhaps millenia. Dust had gathered on thick blankets in the shelter of what buildings were still standing, and the roaring violence of storms and time had worn off most surface detail. What signs remained standing were blank and stripped clean, and every building bore the same colour of concrete coated in a thin veneer of frost and ice.

Life had returned to Hali, even if it was alien life. A monastery had been founded, and its stark white walls stood on the edge of Hali as though trying to mimic the ancient cities of Carcosa. A full two hour walk from Alar, and a half day from Ythill, the monastery housed an assortment of alien life. Though Carcosa was not welcoming, they had eked out their existence and in their faith and tenacity they almost managed to flourish in the shadow and shelter of ancient empires. Their monastery had faced the storms well, and light still glowed from its windows and behind its walls. Though it did not advertise its location, the occasional leak of transmission betrayed the presence of those who called it home, the first time voice had been heard beneath the light of Hastur for some time. Ythill too had new inhabitants, far viler than the kindly men and women of the monastery. Greedy men who had come for riches, and stayed only because they were stubborn and beyond convincing that Carcosa did not want them. They had laid claim to one of the few standing buildings in Ythill, and now that city was a dangerous place indeed. No longer did the Children of the Hali Monastery have to fear only fallen rubble and collapsing streets, but also the sting of an energy weapon and the force of a rifle. The once peaceful people of the monastery had taken on a tone of paranoia in recent days, with the self styled 'Stalkers of Ythill' plaguing them weekly for supplies. Evidence of violence lay scattered about the rock and soil before the walls of the holy citadel, and great pockmarks in its marble walls betrayed the efforts of those vile interlopers to break inside and take what they saw as theirs.

In the distance, a day and a half's walk from Hali, sat the last mountains of Carcosa. Like a broken spine they stood defiant against the elements and in the evening their great shadow was cast all the way to hali and beyond. A small valley lead beyond their charge, out into the endless plains of monotony and cold, and it cut through the mountain range in a sharp path that was barely traversable. Sheer cliff faces flanked the pathway, and scree littered the makeshift road, making it difficult to pass. Everywhere throughout the passage, the walls of the mountains threatened to collapse on those who traversed below and sought either to escape the region of Hali or delve deeper into the last place on Carcosa that had not been blasted clean. On the far side, a motley collection of temporary structures sat like a mess of crates beneath the shadow of the mountain, hiding from the ferocity of the storm beneath rock and static fields. A man named Perrier had sent them here, and the group had spent the past week complaining of the dullness of Carcosa. At last, however, they were making their way to Alar and they were certain there venture would pay off. If only they could traverse the mountain pass....

---

The Perrier Expedition

"If we never see another storm like that I'll be a happy man."

Hefting the box from the floor, Frederick slammed it down on top of his bunk bed. He carefully lifted the lid open, scanning the contents briefly to make sure it was his own personal box before eventually throwing it open fully apparently satisfied. Across the room, in stark contrast to Frederick's thick and well built form, sat the decidedly smaller Elise. She was already fully prepared to head outside into the bitter cold of Carcosa, and had a full face mask that obscured her expression from Frederick. As he slipped his own mask on, securing it tightly to his face and pulling his hood tight over his head, she stood and double checked all the seals on his suit. During the day, one could survive the freezing conditions of this awful place with little more than a fleece and some wooly boots. But Elise and Frederick did not take chance, their crew had already almost lost a member to frostbite when evening fell on them suddenly. She hated how Carcosa could do that. One minute it would seem to be mid day, with that horrifically bright sun in the middle of the sky, and then all of a sudden night has fallen and the temperature dropped low enough to freeze a woman's blood.

She slapped Frederick on the back, letting him know that he was all good to head out and made to leave. Behind her, she heard someone's alarm go off and envied them their extra fifteen minutes in bed. She waited for Frederick to check her own seals and environment controls, and depressed a button on her suit's wrist computer. There was a dull hiss and the alarm clock was suddenly muffled as the bulkhead sealed behind them. Elise took a deep breath and could feel Frederick do the same beside her. In her head, she ran through the dozens of things that could go horribly wrong in the next two seconds and was beyond thankful none of them did as the door before them shot open. Even beneath their layers of clothing they shivered at the sudden rush of the planet's frigid temperatures. At least the wind had stilled, and so they'd only have to worry about the ambient temperature. She dimly remembered something the project lead had said about it being impossible, a sun that bright should have had much more warmth to it. Elise shook her head and stepped forward. All the evidence was against the man's professions of science. And besides, he was an archaeologist....what did he know about weather patterns and stellar objects? She let Frederick take the lead and fell into step just behind him. Ahead of them, a ship had settled down on the planet. Somewhat messily, she had to say, but it was obviously a great deal bulkier than the flashy thing Perrier had dropped them here in.

"I'll be back in one standard month. Find me something shiny!"

That fat moron. She didn't see him risking his wrinkly ass here. Heaven forbid he wear clothing that was actually functional and wasn't several thousand bits worth of gaudy monstrosity. Elise, it so happened, was a tad bitter about her whole end of the stick. She needed money, some guy was hiring, and now she was stuck here on a frozen wasteland with a crew of men who pretty much unanimously wanted to 'share a bunk'. At least Frederick was a gentleman about it, she thought, as he quickened his pace. She hurried along to catch up to him and soon found herself standing face to face with some armoured man that was almost hilariously short and a...thing.

With a tail.

Two tails. Nobody had said anything about tails. Fortunately for her, Frederick liked to talk, and she kept herself silent while she watched the thing. How it hadn't immediately fallen catatonic in this cold wearing just a tarp she would never understand, but hell it did have fur. Beneath his mask, Frederick's voice was muffled - but still Elise found herself caught out by the eerie quiet with which he spoke. Even accounting for the mask his voice was far too muffled. Still audible just...dull. Another impossible quirk of this damn world, it wasn't like it had a thin atmosphere or anything it was just...too damn quiet.

"Well that explains why there's two of you. And why he's so badly equipped to deal with this fucking place. She. Whatever it is. It's on your dime, we only accounted for one of you, leave it behind if it slows us down."

And leave it to die, thought Elise. Could at least be subtle about it.

"I'm Frederick, this is Elise. We're second and third in command of the Expedition. The good doctor James is back in the bunks getting ready. We were planning on digging about in the pass today, then maybe heading through to see this settlement we saw on the other side. Might want to leave your ship here until we know who's calling this rock their home."

Elise tracked Frederick's finger as he pointed to the narrow passage in the nearby mountain range. It was barely one hundred metres away from where they were currently standing and Elise could just barely see the other side of the mountain range through it. It was practically a straight line, but the precariously perched rocks all along the top of the cliff face made her stomach churn at the thought of examining the scree and debris in the pass. Sure, like the doc said, there would be artifacts in the rubble. A single passage like that was bound to have been used by whatever nation lived here millenia ago. Didn't mean they should all stand beneath landslide territory and go digging.

"Any more questions, or shall we bring you and your pet back to the bunks to meet the rest of our crew?"

[Feazanthia]

There was a wave of pseudomotion, and a burst of exotic Hawking radiation. Dispersed interplanetary dust seemed to leap out of the way as space-time warped to allow matter through its twisted membranes. In seeming defiance of all Newtonian and Einsteinian laws of physics, from nothingness emerged a slender, aerodynamic shape which tumbled toward the frozen rock below.

"Jump coordinates in perfect alignment," came the soft, almost whispering voice of the Pa'i Palaoa. "Astrography confirmed, system matches input parameters of system 'Hastur'. Single human-congruous planet detected. Shall I set a course for a low orbit?"

"Slow our approach," said a voice into the matterless dreamscape. It was high-pitched, naturally cheerful yet cautious now. Contemplative. "Deploy the probe, set for one rotation."

The vessel shuddered, and a large cylinder broke free from its mother vessel only to sprout a tail of flame as its engines maneuvered it into a high orbit. The probe blossomed, active and passive systems deploying their delicate machinery to scan the planet below.

"I am detecting several small ruins, Taitaja. However, there is a single large ruin near one of the larger mountain ranges. It appears to be at the coast of a large depression, likely a former body of water."

"I am also detecting several active settlements, Taitaja," came a new voice. It was hard, masculine. "One not far from the ruin. Taitaja, we were led to believe this planet was uninhabited. I recommend caution."

"Your recommendation is noted, Aref," said the taitaja. Her name was unpronounceable by most humanoid vocal cords, and so she simply went by the moniker of Nitalaaia most of the time. A large, false-color topographical map loomed in front of both her and her Kiithsid bodyguard, showing the settlements in angry red. "However, there is a time for caution and a time for eagerness. See here. The settlements are tiny, and there is a starship near one of them. I would say trade outposts, would you not agree, Pa'i?"

"They could be rival digs, Taitaja," stated Fartiin Aref uln-Hakem. This was something Nitalaaia had not contemplated, but in hindsight it seemed logical. Another dig on the planet could be either beneficial or a hindrance to her goals. If they were privately funded, they may seek to drive her from any finds. However, they could just as easily be willing to share their knowledge and findings. It was a gamble, and she was in an adventurous mood.

“Plot a descent to that depression,” ordered Nitalaaia to the ship's synthetic intelligence, a mental gesture indicated the great lake bed adjacent to the largest set of ruins. “Make it about a klom from that inhabited settlement. Prep the ComVee.”

“You sure about this, Nita?” asked Aref, slipping into the informal as the ship's engines burned the vessel into its controlled descent. “They would have to be blind to not see us coming.”

“Trust me, Aref,” said Nitalaaia reassuringly. “I highly doubt that, whoever they are, they'll be aggressive against us.”

“That is what you said on Tehomik,” said Aref flatly. Nitalaaia sighed.

“You always bring that up. Tehomik was a simple misunderstanding brought about by an improper translation lexicon.”

“They threw spears at us, Nita.”

“Details!”

---

The Pa'i Palaoa broke free of its fiery, atmospheric sheath roughly a kilometer and a half above Hali Monastary, braking thrusters slowing the craft in its descent. I spiraled lazily towards the surface of the dead world, thick landing struts uncoiling from its manta-like body. VTOL thrusters swirled the icy dust of the dried lake bed as the Kiith-built craft touched down and it settled into the soil. The carbon surface popped and sizzled in the frigid air of Lake Hali's late morning, and gasses hissed as hatches blossomed open. There was a rumble, and a large rectangular vehicle rumbled down a telescoping plank that emerged between the craft's twin engine pylons. Its skin was dark gray, with no windows to speak of. Instead, sensor strips surrounded the vehicle, and it rolled forward on wheels covered with hundreds of telescoping spokes. Each spoke extended, tipped with a treaded “shoe” that gripped the surface of Lake Hali.

From a hatch on the craft's side, a wide stairway emerged. The first figure to step onto it was definitively humanoid, but covered in material similar to that of the vehicle. A boxy weapon was held in his hands, and he scanned the horizon for threats. Upon making it to the bottom of the stairs, he motioned back inside.

“Your continued paranoia is appreciated, my dear Aref,” said Nitalaaia as she emerged. Her pointed beak and almost spherical head were fully encased in a clear sphere of stiff material, and her body was obscured by a yellow-painted vehicle of some sort. Long, agile graspers folded up beneath her head, and rings encircling the vehicle shifted so that the spindly double-jointed leg on each ring was angled towards the ground. The entire contraption seemed almost like a terran lobster in appearance, but her expert navigation down the ramp to the surface of Carcosa demonstrated at least part of its agility.

“The command vehicle is prepared, Taitaja,” said Aref, holstering his weapon. “Hickory and Dickory are standing by, and Doc is exiting his powerdown cycle.”

“Very well. Let's go say hello to the natives, shall we?”

[Steel Union]

The planet spun below Daria Landau, lifeless and cold. Barren in all but a few locations, Carcosa seemed as uninviting as any place could be to normal humans. Daria, however, was not normal human. To her, Carcosa was just another opportunity to explore, to discover, and to learn. She had spent most of her adult life bouncing from one planet to the next, uncovering mysteries and braving dangerous situations. She poured over the scans the ship was reporting, her eyes twinkling at the thought of new opportunities and discoveries.

"Wow. I have never seen a planet as shitty as this one. Why are we here again?" Of course, not everyone saw things the same way Daria did. She shot an annoyed look over to the co-pilots chair where Roger Dennell sat, his feet up on the console in front of him. The ex-soldier returned her glare mockingly. He was the hired muscle for this voyage, intended to keep her safe as per her families wishes. Not that she needed protection, she thought. But what was a few extra cred so she wouldn't hear her family moan about how much danger she put herself in.

"You're here," she replied, swatting his legs until he moved them from the console, "because I'm paying you. I'm here because this is exciting."

"Right. Exciting. Could'a fooled me." He yawns and rolls his eyes at her, before stretching in the most theatrical way he can manage. "Twelve days," He said, holding up a finger, "with three people in a ship meant for two," a second finger, "to find this shitty little ice ball at the end of the trip," one last finger. "Yep. Exciting." He gives a wry smile, then ducks as Daria throws a nearby pen at him.

"I'm excited. You're getting paid quite a bit for this, so you'd better be more excited." She turns back to the scans. "Now, I've decided where we're going to land. Go wake Georgiy and tell him to get up here." Roger climbs out of the co-pilots seat, heading back into the rear of the ship. Her voice trails after him, "and get suited up! It's fucking cold down there!"

Roger moves slowly, stepping over debris lying across the floor. Bits of clothes, equipment, writing utensils, data sheets, and bits of discarded food wrappers litter the floor after twelve days in this cramped ship. With one bedroom between the three of them, they'd been sleeping in shifts, making the most of the limited space. Roger quickly crosses the ships tiny kitchenette, reaching the sealed door to the bedroom. A soft press of his thumb to the wall panel triggered the intercom. "C'mon, Sarka. We're here. Time to earn our pay. Daria wants you up front."

Inside, Georgiy Sarka slowly sat up, triggering the lights to dimly glow from his 'plant. "I'm up. I'll be there in a couple minutes." The footsteps outside the door receded. Presumably, Roger had left. Georgiy groans, sliding himself out of bed and to his feet. He slowly manages to get his pants on, then shirt. He slides the door open, and stumbles out into the hall, heading towards the cramped bathroom. A few splashes of cold water later, Georgiy heads back down the hall, towards the cockpit. As he passes the dining and living area, he gives a brief nod to Roger, who's now wrestling with his combat armor as he attempts to gear up. Georgiy thumbs the panel next to the cockpit door, the light from the distant sun flooding over him as the door slides open. "Uuuurrr..." A groan escapes his lips as he slides into the co-pilot seat next to Daria.

"We're here?" He looks over the scans in front of him, then up to the view from his seat. "It's... duller than I expected."

"It's a dead planet. What did you expect?" Daria slides a panel over towards his chair. "I've decided where I'm putting down." She points to a location on the scan. "It looks like there's a larger city here, mostly intact. I think its our best bet for finding something interesting." She moves her finger on the map, now pointing to a nearby highlighted area. "There's a ship that seems to have landed recently here, next to a structure of some kind. Seems like as good a place as any to start. Might be some locals we can talk to, and it's well within walking distance of the city."

Georgiy eyes the scan. "You really think anybody's living on this planet? I know I wouldn't if I had an option."

"Well, people rarely do the logical thing. Someone's bound to know something about this place. Buckle up, I'm taking us in."

---

The small craft streaks through the planets atmosphere, red hot tongues of flame licking at it as it descends. Electric blue lights flash among the fire as the shields flare into view, protecting the ship from most of the heat of atmospheric entry. The nose of the ship still glows red as some heat passes through. A crack, then a deep rumbling boom echoes across the barren landscape as the ship breaks the sound barrier, before its jets slow its momentum. The ship begins to settle down onto the surface, about 1400 meters from the Kiith ship. The ground underneath it cracks and steams as the still hot hull thaws the ground around itself. Pings and pops ring out as the hull cools, before a few minutes later the side hatch slides open on the ship.

Two figures descent from the ship. One larger, around seven and a half feet tall. All angles, the large figure carries a long rifle, pouches and straps all across its torso. Roger slowly scans the area, the sensor suite in his combat armor constantly searching for anything it might deem a threat to his employer. Finding nothing but the cold barren terrain around him, he waves the second figure forward. Daria follows behind him, her lighter environment suit a stark contrast to his heavy armored one. She carries a small pistol on her belt, and a rugged backpack slung over her shoulders. She looks across the terrain for a moment, before pointing towards the distant structure they had scanned from orbit. "There," she radios. "That's the place."

From inside the ship, Georgiy radios back. "Got it, Daria. I'll be monitoring everything from in here. Let me know if you need any help."

"I don't think that will be necessary, Georgiy, but I'll keep you informed." She nods to Roger. "Shall we?"

The two figures march off, heading towards the monastery in the distance.

[Huerdae]

The Perrier Expedition

The two who came out were about as receptive to standing out in the cold and talking as Sammy was, and she was glad for it. The cold, even sheltered as she was in her ship, was already sinking through the armor and padding beneath, and she could feel it stinging at her fingers and toes already. For a second, she almost pitied the tarp-wearing piece of fuzz next to her. However, there was negotiation to be done, and the groundwork had been laid. They'd already put down the claim that he was hers, but they would supply nothing for him. That meant she'd have to get some profit out of him, but it also drew her lips down in a scowl. At last, being uncomfortable would work in her favor.

"If he's on my coin, then I expect a few things. He's my property now, and just like I don't expect you touching my guns, I don't expect you touching my Fuzz. If you feed him, it's your problem. I'm not going to run up a bill because of this two-bit shit. I'll pay for his needs, but anything given by your crew without going through me, and I'm not paying for it."

She snorted. It was a practiced art, and it always said 'male' more than 'female'. The more derisive the snort, the less they figured you cared, the more hair they assumed you had on a theoretical sack of balls hanging between your legs. All part of the same stupid show. Sammy, for her part, probably seemed to have quite a bit of hair. When she heard no objections, she turned around, grabbing her small bag of things, and was about to shoulder it, before she tossed it to the ground next to the tarp-wearing naked man. As she was turning back, she saw the pile of shredded clothes. With an uninterested kick, she sent most of them flying out the open door, into the cold, where they settled. Only one piece was really still intact, but she grabbed that and tossed it at the boy in the tarp.

She gave him just enough time to pick up her bag and his jacket before she tugged the belt, dragging him past the door to the ship, and spent barely a moment slapping the console to close the ship up. There was a low, healthy thud that said the ship wasn't about to open to some stranger, and she was ready to go.

Except she hesitated. What lay before her was a good long stretch of open ground, under a garish sun. Flipping out of the optical view from the visor, she forced herself to start walking after the pair, her shoulders hunched, and she kept her head down, as if the wind was screaming by, but there was no wind. Instead, she simply hunched against the sun, and the dead emptiness of the world. Everything about the place felt wrong. The crunch of stone and ice beneath her boots felt deadened, and the cold stole through her like she was as naked as the boy she tugged along.

Normally she didn't have too many problems if she switched her visor to heat-vision, but it was as dead-looking as any, and there was barely any heat to see. Instead, she switched back to optical, her hands clenched against the ordeal of marching across so much open ground, on a planet that barely looked like a planet. She searched, desperately, for something to think about. The only mountains on the planet loomed nearby, but that only made her feel so small on the world, in a place where the sky was empty above her. The only thing of interest was the boy, who stumbled along behind her. Her attention turned to him about halfway across the ice and snow, and she found herself betting he wouldn't make it. He looked a little malnourished (for a foreigner) when most seemed plump and bulky. He had that gaunt, drawn look to him that generally meant he probably ate a little less than he should.

His steps, also, appeared a bit labored. She wasn't sure he was having an easy time with her things, but she didn't care. He did seem to have managed to put on the jacket at some point, which probably helped, but he was fairly obviously desperate. Still, he was hers now. And if he died, she'd probably feel bad that she didn't even know his name. Best if she at least dragged him the rest of the way if he made it close. Somehow, she didn't think he would.

Still, as they neared the 'compound' (if it could be called that), the boy continued to labor along with his burdens, and she found herself quietly impressed. The dullness of sound was already starting to seem 'normal', even though she could find no reason for it, but it did work in her favor, as she spoke toward him.

"So, you can probably guess I'm not going to kill you right away. Let's lay some ground rules. If I catch you stealing, or if someone thinks you're stealing, I'm likely to toss you back out here. If you so much as pick up a knife, same thing. Unless I say otherwise, you follow me around, carry what I want you to carry, and don't even talk when others are around until I say otherwise. If I tell you to do something, I want you to do it. They say I'm paying for you - that means food, and that means I'll get you something to wear, if they have a spare suit, but it doesn't mean I give two shits if you die because you're dumb."

She glanced at him again, flipping to heat vision a second, and surprised to see that he was at least maintaining some level of warmth, probably due to the fur. She didn't admit to herself she was worried about him, so she quickly switched back to optics and looked toward their destination. "You've been either smart enough, or dumb enough, not to say anything so far. That may just keep you alive. Keep being smart, kid. I don't plan on being here long. If you earn what you owe me in what it costs to keep you alive here, and what you owe me for boarding up on my ship in my room, I'll let you go eventually. It won't be here, if that's the case. While we're here, you cost me. Don't cost me too much."

By now, they were pretty much on top of the compound, and she glanced back, with the realization she didn't know his name. Looking at the pain he endured, and the cold, she almost felt the need to ask his name, but her resolve hardened, and she looked forward again.

"Nobody cares about your name. Nobody wants to hear it. You're 'Fuzz' for the time being, so get used to it." It sounded more confident than she felt, and she kept from looking back to check on him again.

If he dies, it's my fault, damnit. Maybe I should have just shot him. It would be kinder.

[Heliocalypse]

A metallic glint bounces off the cold embrace of the void as Carcosa slowly revolves its dying blue-white star; unfazed by the intense radiation and apparent harshness of the brilliant blue solar mistress, parcel orbiter T-3RV3 slowly materializes into reality after shifting through superluminal speeds. The parcel orbiter is no more stranger than ordinary Principality military dispatch drones that numbers in thousands in variations and homogeneity.

Contrary to all glory that are reserved for time critical deliveries, the parcel orbiter is tasked with the worst and boring job ever in Principality logistics mission list; wander aimlessly in space with no discernible location or starmaps other than a handful of 'coordinates', execute the usual scouting routine and then try to report back while avoiding getting eaten by native life form or colliding into a nasty space weather or plunging into a random stellar object.

To make matter worse, such 'coordinates' are usually determined haphazardly random at best although Principality navigator AIs would attest to such notion, stating the 'coordinates' are prepared with 'most favourable statistics'.

Will it be all bad luck for T-3RV3?

If it could speak to someone, the orbiter would say it's happy to serve the Principality and flying into undiscovered worlds. Even though it had encountered a particularly deadly cloud of space plasma just a quarter of a cycle ago, it remains faithful to its duties as directed by its seers. T-3RV3 quickly activated its gravity drive, gliding amongst the gravitational field surrounding the dead planet that is Carcosa. Every few minutes it would blink its collection of passive sensors, to search for any interesting anomalies during the descend into polar orbit.

Is this planet active?

Sensors indicated the planetary mass have just enough magnetoplasmodynamic fields to resist the blue flare of its parent star but there's no telling when the fields could collapse.

Is there any trace of intelligent civilization?

T-3RV3 rapidly dispatches several discrete smaller drones into high orbits and cislunar orbits while trying to take passive images of the surface. Anecdotal evidence from stray interstellar communications in the void suggested Carcosa is real, and something would be there. Brief orbital snapshots revealed certain ruin imagery but the most compelling evidence would be a plasma flash that streaked just past the medium orbit and into the planet. What puzzled the orbiter would be the eerie silence of the planet apart from radio waves spewed by the dying parent star while spectral analysis of the plasma plume suggested the object didn't match with the ones emanated by the planet.

Are there any living life forms there?

T-3RV3 gives a collective quantum sigh as sometimes even its nearly flawless logic is irrational at best. It extrapolated the recent data compiled by its extended sensors while reaching deep into its cold storage memories. The apparent condition of the planet suggested it had been long abandoned whilst the plasma plume might indicate a scout to do check of sorts considering the orbiter figured the central star might be in its last legs before wiping everything away.

Is it a race against time?

T-3RV3 rapidly switches off some of its quantum circuits noting substantial distortions. It's not for the orbiter to decide, but its payload to investigate. The orbiter browses through its memories again in order to access information about its payload but found its data engine blocked on multiple levels. It must be a banned military payload, thought T-3RV3 though such matters wouldn't matter much to the drone.

The orbiter then take a gravitationally steep dive toward the planet whilst pushing what air molecules left on the fringe of the planet's atmosphere; rapid trachnometry scans suggest the planet is curiously cold even though its fragile magnetoplasmodynamic fields are getting bombarded by trillions of energetic ions from the central star in every second. While this supports the orbiter's hypothesis that some power is at work here, it hopes such powers-that-be wouldn't consider the orbiter as free lunch.

T-3RV3 rapidly engages its gravitational drive field to slip past through the thin arid atmosphere, followed by diamond trails of plasma as the modulated gravity field quickly suppresses the plasma sheath. During this critical moments, failure in signature masking would mean instant death should there are anti orbital weaponry on the ground. T-3RV3 slowly decelerate into thrice the speed of sound without the usual sonic boom, thanks to its masking fields but a slight computational error sent the orbiter slightly off-course, again.

Noting it's quite futile anyway, the orbiter slammed into a hard basalt facie jutting from the ground with the force of some hundred thousands of kilograms. Apart from the obvious rumble and a loud thump which could be heard some kilometers away, the orbiter itself is hardly damaged in exception of blunt nose and charred outer skin. The gravitational field drive helped to cushion the impact just before it gives away, allowing the orbiter to survive in one piece.

It then cracked into four seperate pieces from the central axis, revealing its content; a pseudo fluid with no particular colour, save near translucent appearance emerges from the orbiter albeit quite startled on the apparent coldness of the atmosphere. The fluid then expands into a solid object whilst absorbing the orbiter within itself, leaving nothing more than the impact crater. It then assumes a humanoid form, covered with several thermal protection panels salvaged from the orbiter; T-3RV3 had noted that it must be the second phase of its duty which is to guide this synthetic, unassuming life form.

The object then utters its given name a few times, "Mashine B..Mashine B.." while emulating a slightly stuttering speech. By now, the orbiter role would be support for this 'Mashine B', to aid it on investigating the harsh world of Carcosa. Whatever that left the planet in such state would be an exceptional curiosity while simultaneously laced with looming sense of unexplained danger.

[Vocenae]

Some time earlier...

Independent Salvage Vessel "Slim Pickings"
Location: Checkpoint Station 7, Hadenar Outbound Route, Vocian Corporate Sector

The tavern was loud, even at a time when the drunkest of the drunk would have wandered off to pass out in some forgotten corner of the station. As was usual for a checkpoint station, the tavern was small and exceedingly cramped, every inch of space either filled with seating or dubious looking crates of beverages. Exposed pipes and support beams ran across the floor and ceiling, and the stench of old beer, stale sweat and vomit was almost overpowering. The only sign that it was still in use was the automated serving droid that was stationed behind the slim bar, it's spindly legs constantly in motion washing and restacking the same glasses over and over again.
To call it a miserable dive was insulting to more 'reputable' dives that captain Corin Trivec had visited in his long years of dredging through the asshole of inhabited space. It was here, in the most secluded corner that he could find between a support beam and a rusty crate, that Trivec stared at the woman sitting across from him and her towering bodyguard that loomed just off to the side of the booth. Even in the low light of the station's jury-rigged emergency lighting the captian could tell that the woman was strikingly attractive in the ice-queen sort of way, but between the noise, the lateness of the hour and the uncomfortably large shotgun the bodyguard was carrying, Corin had to focus on what she nearly screaming at him.

"The job is simple captain! Simple cargo hauling once we get to the location!"

Corin shook his head before yelling back, "I don't carry passengers, crew only!"

"That's fine" The woman yelled back, "I have my own ship! you'll tow me to the job location!"

"I have to know beforehand where that is!" Corin shook his head once more. A proper businessman, especially a desperate one, would be lying through his teeth but Corin took pride in being one of the few licensed civilian ship captains in Vocian space. There were other jobs he could take, but the mission was almost pure profit from the short initial contact message the woman had sent him several days earlier.
And what he needed now was as much profit as he could manage.

"The Gamma Quadrant!"

Her reply sent a shiver down Corin's spine. Although the Imperial Star Republic was always quick to deny or downplay the rumors about the Gamma Quadrant, true spacers who had been around the galaxy knew that Gamma was the galactic frontier and that there could be some scary shit out there. He shook his head again, kicking himself mentally for not just taking the job and being done with it.

"Are we talking deep space or planetary?"

"Planetary!"

"My ship isn't rated for atmosphere! I hope yours is!"

The woman nodded back, smiling in the dim light. "That's fine! We can just transfer the cargo over in orbit! I'll just need your manpower while we're on-site!"
Corin couldn't tell if the smile was genuine, forced, or pretentious. He went with pretentious, this woman certainly had an air of superiority about her. He sat there for a moment, studying her, trying to ignore the grinding sound of some horrible guitarist blaring from the tavern's speakers. Again the money was good, he's seen the figures and had already received a 'complementary' bonus to fuel his ship and haul it halfway across the corporate sector to Checkpoint 7. The captain knew it was a no-brainer, the money was just too good to make this meeting any more than a formality, he and the woman both knew that Corin was going to take the job. All he needed now were the final details for his own peace of mind.

"Why not hire a larger team or a larger ship? You obviously can afford it! Why meet here and not at a proper spaceport?"

The woman's smile quickly morphed into a deep frown and her bodyguard shifted from his post to stare at Corin through the now visible helmet her wore. Corin watched as the bodyguard's fingers tightened around the shotgun before turning his gaze back to his soon-to-be employer. Her eyes were glaciers of icy blue and seemed to suck all of the warmth right out of him. After several long minutes of silence the woman relaxed and waved her bodyguard away. The tall man gave Trivec a final hidden glare and began patrolling the rest of the tavern, hands still tight on the savage weapon.

"If you're worried about the legality of this job, don't be." Her voice was as cold as her eyes, low, firm and without a hint of emotion. She didn't blink. "All this secrecy is for my safety, not yours. Be content that I'm letting you know that much."

The thundering music died with a muted rumble and the sound of crumpled metal as the bodyguard slammed the stock of his shotgun against the tavern's automation server. The serving droid let loose a shrill his of static as it lost it's vital connection with the server, it's arms flailing across the bar and sending it's meticulously stacked glasses shattering to the deck plating.
The sudden silence was almost physical in it's impact and Corin shook his head as his senses adjusted.

"Then I...I need a name. I can't accept the job without knowing who my employer is." Trivec said, already feeling the burning rawness in his throat from the extended shouting mere moments before. "I have to know!"
The woman pulled hersel from the booth and composed herself immediately beside Corin, most of her form lost in shadow as she towered over him. Suddenly the warm feeling of smug pretentiousness was gone, replaced entirely from the chilling aura her eyes seemed to produce. She extended aboth of her hands, small, pale, exquisitely manicured to perfection one holding a small data pad, towards Corin and he reached his larger, leathery hand up to meet them.

"For now, call me Valkyrie."

As his hands closed around hers Corin could make out a single word on the data pad.

CARCOSA
_____________________________________________________________________________________
At first there was nothing.

And then there was light.

The Slim Pickings appeared in the empty space in high orbit over Carcosa, it's protective FTL energy sheathe shimmering as the radiation bled into open space. Onboard the starship the crew exchanged nervous glances with one another as the hull creaked and groaned in protest to the sudden transition back into real space and from the still unfamiliar mass that clung to the underside of the hull. A second starship, one that had been incapable of making the journey itself. The starship that held their mysterious benefactor. Another loud groan of straining metal rippled across the ship and Corin Trivec felt the artificial gravity disengage. There was no need for it outside of faster than light travel, especially when they needed the energy and resources to keep the rest of the ship up and running. The captain took a deep breath as he subconciously tightened the straps in his seat and turned to look at his navigator, who was nestled deep within the small control pit near the front of the bridge. From here Corin could only see the pale skin and the spiky red top of her pixy cut, but he knew she was already flicking the ancient switches and diodes that controlled the Slim Pickings.

"Well, are we here, Faora?"

A rustle of movement and the metallic click of a buckle releasing, and his pilot floated up out of the small station like a ember escaping the fire pit. The woman spun in slow motion as she manuevered around her console and framed her thin, spindly body dramatically around the rising blue-gray bulk of the planet. Despite her pose, her the way she glared at Trivec said leaps and bounds about her mood.

"We're here, but as it's beyond my pay grade I can't possibly begin to tell you where 'here' is. Feel free to confirm with the bitch in the luxury hotel though" The redhead barked, her voice cold, harsh and filled with hate. She pushed herself back down into her private throne, "Unless her fatass tears this shitbag apart before we can even correct our positioning..." She muttered as she vanished beneath the exposed wiring and circuit boards that surrounded the cockpit.

Corin frowned at Faora's attitude but let it pass as he turned to flicked open the communication channel to Valkyrie's yacht. To the left of him, Zerava and Beacomb, his salvage crew, unstrapped and pushed themselves towards the hatchway that led down into the rest of the ship. Zerava flashed him a weak smile as anchored herself onto his command console. Beacomb slid through into the ship proper without a word.
"Permission to go for a walk, captain?" Her voice was soft and entirely different from Faora's, and Corin was still utterly bewildered why such a soft spoken and unistakably cute woman was on what had to be the single most run down starship in the galaxy, but he wasn't complaining. She was more than capable at her job. The old man nodded and Zerava planted a quick kiss on his cheek before vanishing through the hatchway and the old man allowed himself a goofy grin as he opened a channel with Valkyrie's ship. The response was immediate, and the beautiful but cold face of his current employer filled the ancient monitor embedded in the command console. Corin was again put off by the glacier-blue eyes and the impossible cold that seemed to slide into him, even over the monitor. He shook it off mentally and put on his best businessman face.

"Ms. Valkyrie, we've arrived at the coordinates you provided. We're currently aligning with our PERISCOPE probe, but my pilot would like to know if she's flown to the right place."

A single bony hand shot up from the cockpit, a single slender finger sihlouetted against the planet below. Corin suppressed a grin as he watched Valkyrie look off screen before giving him a curt nod.

"Yes, this is the place. I'm ready to disembark as soon as possible captain, the quicker we get down there the quicker we can start making our money."

Trivec nodded, "I've already sent my EVA out. It should just be a few minutes before they've suited up and begin disengaging the locks. They'll be on the general frequency if you'd like to follow their progress."

His employer nodded, and a smile no less cold than her stare split her face. "Thank you, captain, I believe I shall".

Corin felt an imaginary wave of warmth wash over him as Valkyrie ended the conversation. No matter what the woman assured him, there was something definitely wrong about her, but the money she had paid, and the money she was further offering over-rid his misgivings. It was just this job, and she was being fairly hands-off. All he had to do now was get her disconnected from the Slim Pickings and wait.
As the captain brought up the port airlock's camera feed and acknowledged his salvage team's greenlight, a dark thought crept up in his mind.
Sometimes waiting is the hardest part.
_____________________________________________________________________________________

The airlock hissed as the precious oxygen was bled out, and Zerava allowed herself a shiver of excitement as the outer airlock door slowly swung open to reveal the empty expanse of space. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, the salvager pushed herself forward out into the void. Her suit's built-in thrusters activated and she moved herself back towards the hull of the Slim Pickings, hearing the more labored breath of Beacomb in her ears as the less enthused man did the same. The dented, tired looking hull of the Slim Pickings rose up to greet her. As she and Beacomb made their way towards the underside of the ship, she ran a gloved hand across the vessel's surface and a wave of pity rose up within her. Every time she had to come out here Zerava couldn't help but feel sorry for the old girl; she deserved better than what she had gotten over the years.Here and there the two EVA salvagers could see the patchwork jobs they had done to the hull. Some old, some new, and some that had been there before the two of them had signed on with Trivec. It was a miracle that the Pickings had lasted so long without a complete refit, but Zerava knew that sometimes the oldest technologies were the sturdiest.

But even old stone buildings crumble over the centuries. Sh thought sadly.

The worn hull of the salvage vessel curved away and there, in the blue-gray light reflected from the planet was the sleek hull of their current employer's yacht. It was a smaller craft, half the size of the Pickings, but almost as massive due to what Zerava had called 'pointless extravagance'. And she felt it was true, the strange starship was all curved metal and flashy decals and a engine cluster that far more showy than any engine needed to be.

"Who needs four engine pylons when one can do the same job?! What a goddamn joke!" She had said over dinner one night.

Beacomb didn't agree, but he had known better than to correct her.

Together the two crewmembers flickered about the conjoined hulls of the Pickings and the starship whose name was apparently above their pay grade, releasing the ancient manual locks that clung tightly to their employer's ship. Here and there Zerava and Beacomb would engage in small talk with each other or captain Trivec, but there was a hushed intensity to the job that dulled their usual joviality. The fact that they were splitting up and Beacomb joining the surface team did little to ease the tension. Within an hour they were finished disconnecting the ships. Every magnetic lock, every secondary tow cable had been removed and stored in their proper place beneath the Slim Pickings hull. The two of them manuvered to the unnamed starship's single airlock and Zerava pulled her partner close. Their helmets clinked together as they floated in the blue-gray light of the planet below as they switched over to a closed communication channel.

"You keep your head on a swivel down there, okay?"

"Z, relax. All I have to do is operate a heavy loader, otherwise I'm just going to sit in the ship and probably play cards with their crew. This is no big deal, plus I miss working planetside, sometimes you just need some dirt under your feet and real gravity."

"Still..."

"Listen, I'm going. Quicker we get this done, the quicker we can get back home and you don't have to spend your nights fucking some has-been boy scout who has run himself into the ground! Just think, we can pay everything and finally be allowed to get real jobs at Celeste! All you have to do is let go and let this ship take off with me."

"Just...just make sure you don't blow all of our cut on poker, all right?"

"Deal!"

And with that, the two parted ways, and two different airlocks cycled shut.
_____________________________________________________________________________________

"We're disconnected, ma'am. The contractor you wanted is onboard and second is out of the danger zone. Permission to proceed?"

Calina Osvaros hoped that the nervousness in her voice hadn't shown through. Her hands flexed around the unfamiliar joysticks, searching for the grooves that she had worn into those on her personal shuttle back on Larani, and finding no reassuring coarse indentations. She heard the sharp click of footsteps as Valkyrie stepped beside her, and Calina suddenly remembered to start breathing again. She cast her gaze out of the ship's strange viewport and tried to ignore the feeling of being exposed by the viewport that seemed to stretch a full 360 degrees around her. The view did little to calm her however, it was split between the desolate bulk of the planet and the shadowed underside of the Slim Picking's hull.

"Permission granted" Valkyrie hissed. Her voice was full of anticipation and cold command. Calina had known voices like that from...before, and she mentally kicked herself for buying into the act back on Larani.

Osvaros tried not to think about the two armed men watching her every move, or about the alien in the cargo bay as she eased the joysticks forward. There was the slightest vibration in the ship's structure as the engines pulsed to life and the hull of their parent vessel slid away behind them. Their approach window was good, and Calina had to hand it to the pilot of the Slim Pickings; he or she had parked them in an orbit where the truly dangerous debris wouldn't hit either ship. The vessel's display laid out a solid course that would bring them down over what seemed to be a heavy urban area and Calina ust hoped that the planet truly was abandoned. The last thing she needed was to start dodging fire from any air defense batteries. The bulk of the planet filled the yacht's viewport quickly turned red as the vessel slipped into the atmosphere with little incident and soon they were circling high above a city larger than any she had ever lived in. It was also the most ruined city Osvaros had every laid eyes upon, broken buildings and urban sprawl stretching in all directions until it met the colorless blasted landscape surrounding it. Here and there colossal skyscrapers stood, the tombstones of whatever civilization they had once belonged to clawing against the sky. Calina took a glance atthe atmospheric readings as they circled, searching for a good spot to land amidst the rubble; it was definitely cold out there, almost cold enough to rival a winter on Larani. ..

"There" Valkyrie's voice sounded out from somewhere behind her, "Those two towers there at the western edge. That is our entry point into the city. Land us out in the desert, we'll walk in."

Calina had no choice but to obey.

[Xiscapia]

The Perrier Expedition...

One of the two figures was looking at him. There was no eye contact because of the mask, and he allowed his eyes to slide away, staring off into the distance as the other one spoke. He wasn't surprised. Any ideal of compassion had long since been starved out of him, and in a harsh place like this, with humans who couldn't tell what his gender was and easily determined him to be a thing -it- there was no chance. It was impossible to be dependent if there was no expectation of support.

The woman spoke, and he glanced at her, just for a moment. That did surprise him, for a moment. If she was going to pay to keep him alive then she had some kind of use for him. Thinking about the why of it headed into unpleasant territory, so he focused on the mountains as he kept picking up his feet, already feeling his extremities starting to go numb, ears sagging to keep them close to the warmth of his hair while his fingers and toes curled. But she moved, and he turned to watch her, caught between the twin foulness of her and the cold.

The bag landed beside him and he looked at it, wondering if she expected him to carry it, before she kicked at the rags of his clothes. He lunged, tarp flapping as he caught his jacket, pulling it under the sheet and against his body even as the frigid metal zipper bit into his flesh, spying his trousers a second after, and a second too late. Nenohi reached, fingers outstretched, and she pulled hard on the collar, dragging him away, his feet sliding painfully across the ice even as he exhaled, breath fogging the air as he stared at his discarded pants, almost desperate enough to resist the pull. In the end he turned back, tugging at the bag to keep from incurring the Huerdaen's wrath, and followed. Like everything else in the universe, it wasn't worth dying for.

Struggling into his jacket under the tarp, anything to get another layer between himself and the dead air, he walked behind his captor, staring into her back. One foot in front of the other. Her legs weren't any longer than his at least, and she moved slowly enough for him to keep up. She'd been making a concerted effort to appear male, he realized, her whistling utterly gone to be replaced by someone who at least wanted people to think that she was some kind of rugged, hardened person. He hugged the tarp closer to him, feeling its edge cut into his ankles. Why, he had no idea, but he lived because he noticed things, and he filed that piece of information away. Other than that it was one meter after another, Carcosa not inviting any kind of examination.

It was a long trek, the biting chill and rawness of his feet competing with how he was starting to feel and hear less and less. At first he didn't even realize that she was talking to him, only lifting his head after the first few words. Even her rules sounded like orders. He shuddered as the cold sunk its icy needles into him again, but that was his only reaction apart from staring at her. If there was any defiance, any acceptance, any life at all in those dull eyes, they didn't show it.

She turned back, and he let his head drop again. It struck him that he knew her name, or at least what she wanted to be called. Sammy. The name meant nothing to him. But in the back of his mind, as the welcome sight of the compound finally came into view, he wondered what she would extract from him as payment. It almost didn't matter.
There was nothing he wouldn't do to survive.

[Rethan]

Hali Monastery

The storm had passed, and Cassilda relished the newfound quiet in the library. Without the sound of angry winds it was much easier to focus on her reading and distract herself from less pleasant things. Outside the library's doors she knew the Children were preparing for another excursion into the city to find her father, among other things. Half the books in this library were recovered from the above surface archives in Alar, and some part of Cassilda hoped the Children would brave the Undercroft to find new materials. She still had trouble translating much of the writings, but she'd always had a knack for linguistics and so had offered to make her way through the recovered books in return for the monastery's hospitality. They'd insisted it was no bother, naturally, but she wanted to help in some way that didn't involve venturing into the damned ruins of the city. Even though her father was still in there somewhere, she had no desire to go back into its boundaries. The whole place just felt off, like the walls themselves were watching her every move. She never felt safe among those collapsed towers like she did in the library, and so she stayed. Maybe she'd find some useful pieces of history which would describe an artifact her father might have gone looking for - a long shot, but it paid to hope.

A sudden clamour arose in the library, and with a sigh Cassilda watched her sister come careening through the bookstands a look of sheer elation on her face.

"Cass! Cass!"

"Now what could have you so excited. Has Silas said you could go on the se-"

"Aliens. Their ship just landed in the lake bed. And they're not the only ones. Silas says there's a small group walking here, their ship set down a good bit away, and the Children picked up at least two other objects making controlled descents through the atmosphere."

Not exactly what Cassilda had hoped for, but she could at least understand Camilla's excitement. With just a week within the monastery, both the girls had gotten very used to its walls and the sapients inside them. Having fresh blood would make things interesting at the least. It also meant people were probably here to try and find their riches in Carcosa, and Cassilda had seen and heard enough about the Stalkers to know that wasn't a good thing.

"Did Silas say what's being done about them?"

Camilla nodded and flopped down onto the floor beside Cassilda's chair, twirling a pencil between her fingers.

"Since they seem to be on their way here anyway, the Children have greeting parties prepared. Members of the Sword are touching up security, and the search through Alar is going to be delayed until we know what they want."

"That doesn't bother you?"

Camilla paused and let the pencil drop from her fingers, and her smile faded ever so slightly.

"Well...dad's held out this long. What's another hour or two, right? If...if he was injured badly enough that he'd...you know...then his beacon would have stopped, right?"

Cassilda nodded, eliciting a beaming smile from her younger sister. "So as long as the beacon keeps beeping away, we have time. I'm going to go say hi to the aliens, do you want to come with me?"

Cassilda nodded again and set her book down on the table before pulling herself and her sister up off the floor. Camilla skipped away, leaving Cassilda to make her way behind her. She left the library and followed her sister down the flight of stairs that took them into the domed courtyard. Above them, the curiously blurred sky of Carcosa could be seen through the glass. It had been a long time since Cassilda had actually looked at Carcosa's sky and all the curiosities that were hidden away in it. The bright blue sun that barely graced the world's surface with its warmth, the ghostly masking of every star in the night sky. Almost beautiful. Camilla had already made it to the front atrium, where a team was already getting ready greet the aliens. Cassilda put her arms around Camilla's shoulders and waited, watching as the outer doors slid open and the assorted aliens of the team shivered in the cold.

"I wonder why they're here."

"So do I, Cam. So do I."

The first aliens were making their way up the lake's side, and a pair of Children - clad in the bone white of their environment suits - stepped out to greet them. GalStandard was the language of choice for the monastery, with so many alien organisms calling it home and the Faith's emphasis on communication it was just natural. The first Child, hidden behind the frosted glass and glowing HUD of his suit, stood before the humanoid individual and spoke for both of them.

"Greetings, distant stranger. I am Child Loam, of the Erum species. This is Child Erin, human. We welcome you to Hali Monastery and to Carcosa, please come inside. It's warm and I'm sure you'd like to be out of the cold. Hopefully we have something palatable to you and your companion's tastes, though I must ask that you keep your machines outside. Not much space inside the monastery."

He pressed his right palm against his chest and his left finger between his eyes before turning to lead the pair of aliens in. Erin did the same as they were led past him but waited outside for the others to come forward. He silently cursed his companion as the doors slid shut behind him, sealing Erin outside in the cold, and he turned to face the approaching newcomers. He could have walked out to meet them, get some warmth flowing in his legs, but he didn't want to potentially offend them. Better to let them come to him, and if he got shot well at least there was a small army within the walls behind him to avenge his death. He chuckled at that thought, and composed himself when the pair finally got close enough for him to speak. He made sure to raise his voice to be heard over the suffocating silence of Carcosa's air.

"Greetings, distant strangers. I am Child Erin, of the human species. Welcome to Hali Monastery...yada yada, let's get inside. I didn't lock in my suit properly and I'm going to lose my legs."

Rubbing his legs furiously, Erin led the pair in through the stalwart doors of the monastery where they were greeted by a group of Children all seemingly beyond delighted to meet them. Cassilda and Camilla remained in the back, the only two not wearing anything in the bone colour of the Monastery's inhabitants, their gold and red outfits standing out against the crowd. Loam had already taken the first pair aside, leaving Erin to speak to the second pair. Camilla was hopping up and down excitedly, but Cassilda restrained her younger sibling.

"Easy now Camilla, let them get the formal stuff out of the way, then you can go pester the newbies."

---

The Perrier Expedition

"If he's on my coin, then I expect a few things. He's my property now, and just like I don't expect you touching my guns, I don't expect you touching my Fuzz. If you feed him, it's your problem. I'm not going to run up a bill because of this two-bit shit. I'll pay for his needs, but anything given by your crew without going through me, and I'm not paying for it."

Frederick nodded, "Seems fair enough. Heck, if he pulls his weight I might revise that little rule and see if he can't earn his keep."

Frederick turned and moved away, leading Sammy and Nenohi back to the small cluster of prefab boxes he called home. Elise lingered, her gaze washing over the pitiable fuzzball for a moment before turning to follow Frederick. She made sure her mask's radio was on, not willing to speak loudly over Carcosa's smothering quiet, and caught up to Frederick.

"Is that really necessary? The damn guy looks like he's in bad enough shape as it is."

"Hey, I had to look tough. In charge, that kind of deal. If you're that worried about 'Fuzz' then make a plea to the Doc. He's got a heart, unlike the rest of us, he'll probably get the guy a suit at the least so he doesn't freeze to death. I just didn't want to piss off captain gunslinger by making nice with the stowaway."

Elise grunted, but Fred's logic was sound. The merc's treatment of Fuzz had seemed harsh enough that they were clearly on unpleasant terms. No sense making an enemy out of the angry man by rubbing shoulders with his apparent slave. Elise turned aside as Frederick re-entered the airlock, waiting outside for the others. She gave them a curt nod, her gaze again lingering on Fuzz before they vanished inside. She shook her head, trying to dispel her concern. She knew she wouldn't be alone in worrying for the guy, whatever he was, but she wasn't covered in a thick layer of asshole to hide it.

Inside the compound's main room, the rest of the six man team was already assembled and locking down their suits. The expedition lead was barking some orders to make sure everyone was on time, earning himself more than a few backhanded compliments and snide remarks. It was only when Frederick, Sammy and 'Fuzz' entered the room that the noise cut out, everyone staring at the newcomers. Someone made a retching sound before whispering "furball", and a few giggles made their rounds before Frederick yelled out.

"Alright, we've got maybe eight hours of good warmth to work in before we have to be back in these blocks. I don't want anybody outside when the sun starts to go down, not like last time. Right, Beckett?"

A 'fuck you' emanated from somewhere near the middle of the assembled group, and behind his faceplate Frederick smiled.

"This is Sammy, and her 'Fuzz'. Sammy's on our payroll, Fuzz isn't so anything you give to him is on your own dime. We're going to head out into the pass, should take about a half hour hauling the gear. Beckett you're staying here to watch the habs, I'll radio in when we're coming back. Everyone clear?"

There were a few murmurs of assent and the group began to file out into the cold wastes carrying an assortment of boxes with them. A tall, thin and well aged man paused beside Frederick, holding his helmet and breather under his arm. A look of concern was etched across his face and he leaned in to whisper in Frederick's ear.

"Should 'Fuzz' be out in the cold like that?"

"He's got fur."

"It doesn't look to be doing much good."

Frederick rolled his eyes and turned to face Sammy and Fuzz, pointing over his shoulder at the taller man behind him. "Meet Dr. William Iles, team lead and the guy who insists we dig up half the planet. He thinks Fuzz can't handle the cold so he's kindly offered to lead him back and find a suit-"

"What, no..no I did no-"

"That's awfully kind of you Doc, we'll see you at the entrance to the pass."

Frederick slid past Sammy and out into the cold, slapping Elise on the back as the pair ran to catch up with the others who were already a good distance away. Iles sighed and rubbed his eyes, glaring at Beckett who sat at the back of the room chuckling quietly to himself, nursing a frostbitten foot. Iles was surrounded by idiots.

"Right, well...we better hurry. The others can't get too far ahead without the crawler, but still. Better not waste valuable daylight. Over there in that locker-" he pointed to a large steel door set in the side of the room "-are a bunch of extra suits we brought. Your companion can find a suit if he needs one and if there's one to fit him. Don't get one too big, get one too small if anything. A small one leaves pieces of you exposed, but a big one doesn't do anything at all."

The doctor extended a hand to greet the pair of them.

"A pleasure to work with the pair of you, Sammy. Fuzz. A rather interesting name choice, Fuzz, given your fur. Must be a cultural thing, I'd like to learn about it some time. Anyway, yes, do hurry. I'll wait here for you and then we can be off. So much to do and so little time! This world is just ripe with history, I can feel it."

---

Alar

The vessel settled down barely a hundred metres out from the edge of the city, directly in front of the remains of a monumental arch. The edges of a highway could be seen disappearing beneath the rock and frost as it exited the city's carcass. Half toppled skyscrapers cast their shadows in the muted light of Carcosa's sun, each stain of darkness stretching far further than they had any right to. The arch had long since fallen to the elements, leaving only the pillars that had once held it proudly above the city's entry, their once finely etched details barely visible in the sandstone having been worn to near nothingness by the ravages of time. The arch itself lay across the roadway, shattered into a multitude of jagged shards of stone and metal, rusted and worn smooth. An eclectic collection of buildings flanked the road, stretching away into the depths of the city where the shadows stole away their outlines. The further in the taller the buildings stood, some even reaching nearly two hundred metres into the sky, their shattered tops standing like jagged glass against the sky. The road too fared better as it went deeper, having been better sheltered by the buildings all around it. Its path was busy with rubble and rusted steel, a maze of concrete and brickwork that made moving into the city a chore.

A kilometre inward, the road had dropped away into a sinkhole almost forty metres deep. The collapsed earth had also claimed a building as its victim and brickwork of what had once been a short and stubby building was buried at the bottom of the hole. Beneath the dust and dirt, a collection of metallic items could barely be seen - the remains of whatever the store had once sold. The road was obviously a main entry to the city, and the buildings all along it were all filled with a mix of items which seemed to give the image of a commercial district. Much of the shelves had collapsed, but what was left intact was nearly empty. Whole shop floors had collapsed down onto the ground and many of the buildings were utterly impossible to enter so clogged were they with the collapsed floors from above. Just past the sinkhole, a large bulletin board was still remarkably intact and though the runes were washed out and unreadable, the map which had been etched into it was well preserved, sheltered by the skeletons of towers that surrounded it. The map showed that the road had once lead to a mighty tower at the core of the city, but with the writing illegible little else could be discerned beyond the layout of the main roads in the city. The highway the explorers would enter on lead to a core that had five other identical roads, and a series of rings throughout the city allowed access to areas between each of the highways, giving the city an obviously planned out structure of concentric circles going ever deeper.

---

The Mountains

The machine was trapped almost six hundred metres in the air on the side of the planet's last surviving mountain range. If anyone had heard the resounding boom of its crash, they had decided not to investigate in any timely manner. In truth, its crash had been muffled by the ethereal silence of Carcosa and so its approach was detected only by the monastery's sensors who had assumed its uncontrolled descent belong to that of a meteorite. A small amount of rock and ice slid away towards the base of the mountain, the sound very quickly vanishing in the air as it pulled away. In the distance, over two hundred kilometres away, sat the ruins of Alar. Much closer, however, at just under fifty kilometres were the much smaller ruins of Ythill. The barest shade of purple could still be seen in the stonework of the city, giving it an easily noticeable silhouette against the red and grey of the soil all around it.

[Steel Union]

Daria and Roger trek forward, their footsteps muffled in the vast plains. The silence was... unsettling, Daria thought. She quietly checks the gain on her suit, wondering if it had been dialed down somehow. It hadn't.

"It's not your suit," Roger murmurs. "I checked mine a few minutes ago. It's this planet." He trudges on, his gaze continually sweeping forward as they walked. He knew Georgiy would have warned them if anything was near, but he felt safer somehow trusting his own eyes.

"Well, that's just part of the mystery, isn't it?" Daria nods her head next to him. "Why is it the way it is? Is it something with the atmosphere? The terrain? What makes everything so quiet out here?" She looks over at him. "I don't want to explore boring planets that we already know everything about. That's not any fun at all, really."

Roger grunts. The pair continue walking for another twenty minutes, with nothing but their footsteps daring to break the silence between them. Eventually, their radios crackle in their suits. "Georgiy here. You have two somethings ahead of you. Looks like they just came up from the lake bed. Probably from that other ship we saw on their way down."

"Are they heading towards us?" Roger asks, his rifle raising slightly, almost unconsciously.

A slight pause. "No. They're heading towards the structure, same as you are. It looks like they're going to reach it ahead of you."

Daria pivots as she walks, putting herself a step ahead of Roger, walking backwards. "Well," she states, "it looks like we weren't the only ones interested in this place." She pivots again, and heads off at a slow skip. "C'mon, Roger. You're not going to let them have all the fun, are you?"

---

They approach the structure, its bone white walls stark against the dull gray terrain. Daria treads a half step ahead of Roger, her weapon holstered. A single figure stands in front of the doors to the structure, clad in a white environment suit, the same color as the walls it stands before. The other travelers had entered the building a handful of minutes before Daria and Roger had arrived, disappointingly, or she would have liked to meet them. As they approach, the figure calls out to them. A man, by the sounds of it.

"Greetings, distant strangers. I am Child Erin, of the human species. Welcome to Hali Monastery...yada yada, let's get inside. I didn't lock in my suit properly and I'm going to lose my legs."

Daria's head turns ever so slightly towards Roger, her smile barely visible behind the darkened visor of her suit. "Oh, I like him already." Roger shakes his head in incredulity as Daria steps forward. "I am Daria Landau, also of the human species, and this is my bodyguard, Roger Dennell, of the same. As you are probably fairly attached to your legs," she chuckles slightly at her own joke, "I'd say getting inside would be a wonderful idea. After you, friend."

The figure turns and leads them through the doors of the... monastery, did he say it was? The monastery then. As the doors shut behind them, Daria presses her hand to the throat of her suit. The durable material silently unseals, and she pulls the hood of her suit back over her head. Her short blonde hair falls across her shoulders, and she shakes it out, glad to be free of the suit. She sets her gaze about the room, noting that all of those present were wearing white, just as 'Child Erin' was, asides from two figures at the rear of the crowd. Daria turns her attention back to Child Erin, and bows her head slightly.

"Thank you for allowing us in. The elements of this planet don't seem to take too kindly to human life, it seems."

[Huerdae]

The Perrier Expedition

The 'compound' could have been a pile of crates for all it looked like, but it was more akin to what Sammy knew for home than the rest of the frozen world. But to say that it was 'home' was about as far from the truth as it could get. Just like any other place that couldn't pick up and leave the planet, it was little more than a deathtrap to her. Too many people's lives had ended because of stupid little places like this, and if not for the cold sweat running down her spine because of the damnable sun and empty sky above, she'd have preferred to never step inside. Still, a roof was a roof, and as that airlock opened, and her HUD registered warmth, she wasted no time in crossing the threshold.

The 'introductions' and 'tour' were about what she'd expect. Tell everyone who she was, let everyone know the ground rules regarding Fuzz, and get back to work. For all the fanfare, it could have been a Huerdaen station with as much as they cared. Still, it served its purpose, and she didn't even have to buy the kitsune a suit. Looks like that much, at least, had been volunteered by the team. Good enough for her, even if it looked like it was offered only because the girl - Elise - was pulling the strings behind it all. It left her with a curiosity over who actually ran operations in the joint. Frederick, for all his yelling, seemed to be motivated by the easiest path, which was something she could take advantage of. This 'doctor', for his part, was about as confident and assertive as chunk of rope, going about doing what he was told with no significant protest. But in the end, the order itself came from Elise.

As everyone filed out, Sammy lingered, watching as Iles tried to make conversation. She simply let the faceless plate that was the front of her helmet stare him down for her until he lowered his hand, then went about releasing Fuzz. It wouldn't do to have the man too close or comfy when she had to make due for herself, and the more that people whispered and distrusted her, the more they were likely to fear her. In the end, it made it that much easier to get paid quickly and get off world. To top it off, it gave her enough room to get a few words in with Fuzz without anyone else hearing.

As she slipped the belt off of Fuzz's neck, she leaned in close, passing him a small radio receiver into the palm of his hand, a small set that could be set around his neck with a single earpiece that was fairly simply concealed. Her words on the matter were short, but far from sweet, before she turned back to Iles.

"Put this on, and turn it on. We're going to have a chat."

As soon as it was passed, she turned to the doctor, as if just now realizing that not only had he spoken, but he had spoken to her.

"He didn't name himself. I named him. He was on my ship when he landed, and he sure as hell didn't belong there, so he deserves what he gets. I don't think he has any culture he wishes to share with you right about now. What I don't know about is this world. Looks like any old rock to me. Cold, sure. Dead, beyond a doubt. What do you expect to learn here, Iles? It's not that different from any world. May as well have been a sub-modern civ that just nuked itself to hell, or never built up in time and perished beneath a cold star. Another planet of screams and dead bodies, so why do you care about it?"

She glanced at Fuzz, and she scowl could almost be heard in her voice as she looked at him. "He said 'a little' small, not a bikini, boy."

Annoyed, she strode over, giving him a quick once-over for dimensions, then checking against the suits available. Without a moment of hesitation, she snagged one, tossing it at the kid in annoyance.

"Keep the jacket on, it'll help fill out the suit. You won't fit without it with how little you ate, and stuff the tails down the pants. Keep the belt high."

She was probably a third of the way done helping the kid dress before she realized she was doing it, and abruptly turned away, smacking him not-so-lightly on the rear to hurry him up as she did it, turning her attention back to the doctor with a grimace. "You'd think a kid who sneaks his ass onto a ship would know how to wear a suit."

She sat, and despite everyone's protests about time, she seemed in no hurry to head outside. When Fuzz was finally ready, she simply stood, making sure her things were out of the way, and checking at the small lock that lay on the bag - not that it would help much if someone wanted to rip their way in, but at least she'd know.

She led the way outside, doing a quick check of the two with her to be sure they weren't spilling heat out too obviously, and scanned the horizon for the rest of the team. On any other world, any other day, she would have had no chance to find them. Hills, plants, trees, or grass would have obscured them. But here, on this frozen rock, they were off in the distance, stumbling their way like any other group forced to make their way in the cold. Still, the reminder forced her to shrug her shoulders up, starting the long trek toward the rest of the group in the distance. She let them walk for a short time before she keyed into the headset she had given Fuzz, a device she had used in the past with crew, and her father, when there had been more than one in a place they didn't trust.

"I'm going to get what I want out of this, Fuzz, so you're going to help me out with something. The girl, Elise. She's got a soft spot for you, so I expect you'll make good on that. Probe her a bit for information. Not around me of course. If I catch you at it, you will feel my fist, you got that? But I want you on their good side. If we need gear, you're going to help me get it from these people, but I want them to think you're getting it for yourself. You earn my trust, you get yourself a bed to sleep in, and a way to stay warm, but I expect you'll be smart enough to know how to play this game, or you'll get yourself killed, and I'm sure not going with you if you do that."

She didn't once look back at him, always speaking in low subvocals, but the side to it that she couldn't hide was her voice - it was fairly clear over the comms that she was a woman, and she knew it. "If I hear a peep from you about me, though, or people start thinking anything other than what they're supposed to think, and I'll see that you feel it. I know how to hurt a boy, remember that. I can make it look bad, or I can make it hurt like hell. Working for me, I'm sure you'll learn both of these soon enough. So get your head on your work now. Some of these fools aren't about to warm up to you, like the idiot racist in the damn camp. They're a waste of time and they'll be happy to turn you in to me as soon as they catch a whiff of it. Don't give them the chance, leave their sorry asses to me."

She considered what else she could do, but fell silent, thinking. After a moment, she finally asked. "Got something you want to ask, boy, or are we clear?"

[Xiscapia]

The Perrier Expedition...

Even inside the base camp he hugged the tarp around himself, silently grateful for the shelter but not about to let go of even the most flimsy, useless cover. Though he'd gone from being 'close to death' to 'uncomfortable' as far as the cold went, he still kept his head bowed as if drawing it in against the elements, though his ears finally rose from his head, tinged blue but peeking through his snowy hair. He made no reaction to the muttered comment against him or the introduction he and Sammy got, just staring at the floor as his shivering began to subside. Getting warm and letting feeling flow back to his fingers and toes was the only thing that mattered. Suddenly the heating pipe in the bulkhead of the woman's ship seemed like an incredibly luxury.

But he did hear, better than most sapients, and his ears flicked at the whisper not too far away by the doctor. This was what passed for compassion in a place like this, a tentative suggestion that maybe he should have the necessities for survival, but it was more than he'd expected. Even so, he didn't even look the man in the face as he was introduced, still getting his own heat back and not wanting to do even the slightest thing that could incur Sammy's ire. Nenohi did look up when the man pointed out the locker, blinking at it as he took in the information. In spite of himself he did, slowly hold his hand out to shake -Iles deserved that much at least, though it didn't stop him from rolling his eyes unseen.

Palming the radio from Sammy was child's play, and putting it on while she distracted the doctor was even easier. Walking over to the locker, he let the tarp fall to the floor, naked from the waist down and unabashed, and opened the door, peering in at all the suits. He'd worn hardsuits and the like before, usually to survive in a ship's hold that was left without life support, always purloined and then discarded, but it often wasn't easy to find suits in his size and this time was no exception. Leaning in, it took him only a few seconds to figure out that Ile's advice to get a too-small suit was useless -the expedition's planners hadn't anticipated a five foot person needing to wear one of their suits, so they were all too big. At a loss, he glanced over his shoulder, half hoping they might just leave him behind.

Then Sammy was next to him, picking out the smallest size and shoving it at him. He barely had a chance to hold it before she was taking it away from him, helping him get his feet in and pushing his tails down the legs, yanking the rest of it up with quick, practiced motions. Thoroughly nonplussed, the kitsune glanced up at her, not daring to try to do any of it himself in case he got in the way, and she seemed to realize what she was doing and dropped it, slapping his exposed bottom and turning away. Wincing, he pulled the suit up, ignoring the sting as he got it as snug as it was going to get around his limbs before pulling the hood over his head and strapping the mask to it. Given his muzzle it wasn't close to fitting, but the hood was so oversized that he could draw it shut around the mask with room to spare inside, giving it an oddly deflated look.

It was better outside than before. He wasn't exactly warm, but he wasn't going numb either, and so he started walking at the tail end of Iles and Sammy as they strode after the rest of the party. For the first time he could look around without shaking, and he wondered at the frigid, clear brilliance that spilled itself over the desolate landscape. It was hard to believe there had ever been any civilization here at all. What would he have done if he'd actually managed to get clear of Sammy's ship without her finding him?

The radio crackled and he listened, watching the woman's back as they trudged over the ice. How she'd managed to tell that about Elise when she'd never heard her speak or even seen her face he didn't know, but she'd know better than he would. But information he could get. If he had to play the spy for the Huerdaen then so be it. She was offering him a bed, a way to keep warm and, presumably, the most important thing: food. Iles and his momentary kindness aside, these were things that no one else would give him at the moment.

She still didn't want anyone knowing she was a woman, and he still didn't know why. It seemed completely inconsequential to him. But she could and would hurt him if he revealed it, and he knew that the revelation was not likely to give him enough of an advantage to make that worth it. That was enough motivation. Still he kept silent until the very end. Her rules had been very clear, and even the question tacked on at the end didn't seem to rouse him. But after a moment he spoke, the throaty, almost whispering burr of someone who hadn't spoken to anyone in a long, long time pulling itself out of his throat and across the comm channel.

"The name," he rasped, "is Nenohi."

He said nothing more: there was nothing more to say.

[Rethan]

The Hali Monastery

"Thank you for allowing us in. The elements of this planet don't seem to take too kindly to human life, it seems."

Erin laughed, pulling his head free of his helmet and running a hand over his cropped hair. He tossed the helmet to another Child who promptly vanished to have it stored away, leaving Erin to violently rub the heat back into his legs.

"They don't take kindly to any life, at least none I know of. Hits 80 kelvin at night in the shadow of the city or the mountain, it's a miracle the atmosphere doesn't turn to soup."

Erin waved away the clamouring collection of Children, though his gesture proves unnecessary. A tall figure, clad in bone white robes trimmed in gold, swept into the room and called to the Children in a whistling language leaving Erin and Loam to look after their charges as the crowd dissipated. Erin nodded his head after the others, "That's Patron Mattis. Another human, serves as our leader here. He's a good man, rigorously devoted to the Word. He's probably getting the others to prepare a meal for you, we've quite the array of food here given the number of species who call this place home."

Erin caught the eye of Cassilda, chuckling as he noticed her quizzical look and motioning her over. She paused for a moment, before pushing her younger sister who excitedly bounded across the room towards the human visitors. The young Camilla linked arms with Erin, standing a full head shorter than him at his side, and wore a beaming smile on her face.

"And this young beauty is Camilla. That girl over there is her sister, Cassilda. They've been staying here at the Monastery for the past week, though they're not of the Word. Camilla, this is Daria Landau and Roger Dennel."

The teen extended a hand, trying desperately to hold it still despite her excitement. "Hi! It's really nice to meet you, are you here to go exploring too?" Erin ruffled the girl's long hair, and she playfully slapped his hand away as he did so.

"Cassilda and Camilla came here with their father about three weeks ago. Explorers, as far as we can gather. Here to unlock the mysteries of the most miserable planet this side of the universe."

Camilla pouted as best she could, but a small grin slipped past her facade as she stared up at Erin.

"Hey, you're here too. And it's kinda pretty...or it was. Winter's coming fast, the days get too short."

"It's always winter here Camilla."

From across the room, Cassilda watched with a kindly smile as her sister introduced herself. Thinking it would only be polite to do the same, she eyed up the much stranger aliens who had arrived first. Loam was still speaking to them, so Cassilda made her way over slowly and waited for a gap in the conversation to introduce herself.

"Hello, welcome to the Monastery. The name's Cassilda. What brings you to this...lovely planet."

---

The Perrier Expedition

"He didn't name himself. I named him. He was on my ship when he landed, and he sure as hell didn't belong there, so he deserves what he gets. I don't think he has any culture he wishes to share with you right about now. What I don't know about is this world. Looks like any old rock to me. Cold, sure. Dead, beyond a doubt. What do you expect to learn here, Iles? It's not that different from any world. May as well have been a sub-modern civ that just nuked itself to hell, or never built up in time and perished beneath a cold star. Another planet of screams and dead bodies, so why do you care about it?"

Iles tilted his head in confusion, trying to absorb the avalanche of bluntness that had forced its way into his head. For a moment he blinked confusedly before regaining his composure, straightening his back and settling his suit helmet on his head.

"No sapient being deserves to be treated so brutally, but I'm not going to try and convince you otherwise. As for why I'm here, you can ask Mr. Perrier - if you ever get to meet him. I've been in his employ for some time, finding trinkets for his collection. As much as I dislike the man, he does usually wind up giving his trophies to museums where they belong, so I put up with his escapades. I'm here to find a story he can tell the socialites he spends his time with. A shiny gem or statue is much more interesting when it has a story to go with it.

Now, I'll be waiting for you and your friend at the site. And if his name is not Fuzz, I will not degrade him by calling him that. Adieu."

Iles' suit hissed shut as he stepped out into the frigid air, jogging to catch up with the rest of the group. Several of their number had pulled ahead, and Iles consigned himself to falling in step beside Elise who had kept back at her own comfortable pace. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed Sammy and her companion leaving the glorified box that served as their home, and he grimaced behind the suit's mask.

"Something bothering you, Doc?"

"I will never understand how you know when I make an expression behind this awful mask."

Elise shrugged her shoulders, "A women's intuition I suppose. You don't like Sammy."

"And you do?"

Another shrug served as Elise's answer, which only served to draw a grunt out of the archaeologist.

"Come now, Elise. I know you better than that, you're not some wall of muscle and testosterone like everyone else on Perrier's crew. It's why I asked he hire you."

"Exactly, Doc. I'm not going to but heads with our security detail over a stowaway like the halfwits we work with are bound to. Leave things as they are, and let's just get off this godforsaken rock."

They walked in silence for a little while, Iles running over a checklist in his mind and Elise humming a tune to herself. The silence eventually got to her, made all the worse by the muffled sound of her own footsteps.

"So what are we risking a landslide for, exactly?"

She heard Iles' excited spluttering even over the suffocation of Carcosa's atmosphere, something which never failed to draw a grin from her. The doctor had found something he loved to talk about and indulge himself in, and she liked to see him cheered up. Even if she did envy him.

"Well, from the aerial examination we could tell this is the only major pass through the mountain. Most of the tunnels have collapsed, so if there's any intact roadways it's going to be in there. We might not find anything for Mr. Perrier, but we should find something for me. Just one piece of archaeological evidence would serve to make this day just a little more bearable."

Elise laughed, a quiet, breathy noise that barely made it out of her suit let alone through the air to Iles. The silence fell again, as she left the doctor to his checklists and imagination. She glanced over her shoulder, turning slightly to wave the Huerdaen and alien onwards. Iles looked back as well, and she could hear the concern in his voice.

"Look out for the other one, won't you?"

Elise sighed, more for theatrics than anything else. She'd already decided to do just that, and with a slow nod she made her promise with the doctor. Ahead of them, the first members of their group were beginning to set up camp just at the edge of the pass and as Elise passed under the shadow of the mountain she could feel the chill pierce her suit. A quick check of her HUD let her know the temperature had dropped twenty kelvin just crossing into the shadows, and she cursed Carcosa under her breath. Boxes were being unpacked and tools carefully laid out on the icy ground. Frederick's voice rang out over the radio, loud and clear and uninterrupted by the silence that plagued Carcosa.

"Alright ladies. And Elise. Simple routine, you know how to dig right at this point. We got five, plus the two slowpokes in the back. I want two people watching for movement on the mountain. Call out if it looks like the thing is coming down on top of us. Elise, you take first watch with Sammy and Fuzz."

"That's three numbskull, and why me?"

"Because you can't lift worth shit. And Sammy's here as security, so I want him watching out for actual life. We know we're not the only people here, so I don't want him focused on the mountain tops, I want him in the pass with us. There's fuck all this side of the mountain, so no sense having us between him and the religious nutjobs over by the lakebed."

Elise grunted and crossed her arms aggressively, but Frederick either didn't notice or didn't care.

"Doc's gonna make the rounds between the rest of us. We got three diggers plus the Doc, you find something interesting you call him over. You hear Elise call out you run like your ass is on fire out of the pass. Any questions from the peanut gallery?"

Silence met his question, and as he hefted the first pack of tools off the ground and headed into the pass the others followed suit. Iles patted Elise on the back, giving her a sympathetic look before realising his mask was mostly opaque and promptly blushing at his mistake. Elise waved him off and sat down on one of the now empty crates as the doctor moved off into the pass with the others. She waved with far too much enthusiasm at Sammy and Fuzz and patted the crate next to her in an all too inviting way. As the pair closed in on her she called out to them, unsure if they had actually been listening in on the radio transmission or not.

"I trust you got all that. Or not, I don't give a damn. Fuzz is with me, I guess Fred doesn't trust him to not break something fancy if they find anything. Much the same reason I'm here, I suppose. We get to stare at rocks, god I bet you're jealous."

She jerked a thumb over her shoulder towards the pass where at least one of the crew had already started working on loosening the layers of frost and frozen earth that had fallen from the mountain to cover whatever roads had once lay there.

"Report to captain meathead when you're all set, Sammy boy."

[Huerdae]

The Perrier Expedition

It would be easier to know what to do if the boy was stupid enough to say something, or to react, or try to make a break for it. Some excuse to do something with him. But as he was, he was about as pitiful as he could be. He barely even seemed to be able to stand up straight, weighed down by shame. The thought of it set her jaw, and she had to remind herself he had been the one to choose this fate. She could have shot him. Could have left him dead in the snow, it would have been just as effective in dealing with these people, but no, she couldn't pull the trigger. She had to let him crawl about in the snow with the rest of them, and probably die frozen like them, too. Brilliant. A grand stroke of mercy. The thought of it made her sick.

So when he responded with something she didn't ask for, the response he got wasn't kind or concerned, or even polite. It was snapped, rigid, and brutal in tone as she spoke without even turning to him. "I told you I didn't care what your name was, Fuzz. Tell someone who cares. You owe me, and until that changes, this is how things stay. I'm not your friend, kid. Don't think I am. I'm your boss, so you call me that, or sir."

It occurred to her that the whole time they were in transit, he had been in that room. At best, he had heard her singing. At worst, he had been about, moving her things, maybe even watching her sleep for those long days of the trip. The thought made her skin crawl, and she shot a venomous glance back at him, covered by the helm, but said nothing. Part of her wanted to just backhand him, for the image she now hand of him standing over her, unprotected, vulnerable. Part of her wanted to just shoot him down, right there. But she stayed her hand, as they came upon the group as the man finished doling out roles. She didn't even slow as Elise gestured her forward. The comment needed a response, so she didn't even miss a beat with the reply.

"You can report to my captain meathead when we get back."

All told, it wasn't the best she could come up with. It reeked of just the sort of disgusting thing she wanted to portray, and she didn't even slow as she passed the woman. A few steps after, though, she completely stopped, turning. "If he's on watch, he's on your payroll. You'll pay me an additional one-third my price for his services until I say otherwise. You break him, you buy him. He's still mine."

She continued to amble onward, keying over to Fuzz, grumbling at him in annoyance. "Don't fuck up. Fuck her, if you want, but I don't want to know about it. Just don't fuck up. Remember, I'm the only ride off this rock. If not for me, you get to be part of Iles and his little storybook for a rich boy on a warm world."

[Steel Union]

"Hi! It's really nice to meet you, are you here to go exploring too?" Daria shook the teens outstretched arm. The girl seemed to be shaking with excitement, her whole body trembling with the barely contained energy. Daria didn't blame her. She'd only been on this planet for a few hours, and it already seemed like a miserable place. Being stuck here for an entire week, presumably within these walls... it didn't sound pleasant. Not one bit.

"Cassilda and Camilla came here with their father about three weeks ago. Explorers, as far as we can gather. Here to unlock the mysteries of the most miserable planet this side of the universe." The girl tried to look upset, but her smile gave her away.

"Hey, you're here too," she quipped, sounding as if she was accusing him of some grievous crime. "And it's kinda pretty...or it was. Winter's coming fast, the days get too short."

"It's always winter here Camilla."

Daria smiled at the two of them. The bright eyes Camilla reminded her of herself, many years before. Bending down slightly, she grasped the young girls hand.

"Well Camilla, you're completely right. Me and Roger are here looking for some exciting adventures on this planet. We're explorers just like you and your family." Behind her, she could feel Roger's gaze on the back of her skull. Even with his helmet still on, she knew he was frowning. He probably disapproved of her choice of words. Something about 'life threatening situations on a daily basis are not adventures' or some other such nonsense like that. Daria straightened, her eyes scanning the room. Not far from their small group, she saw the sister -- Cassilda, was it? -- talking to the aliens that had arrived just before them. Interesting... Daria would have to speak to them some time soon to find out their purposes for coming here. It always was exciting to meet new people. Well, except when they were shooting at you.

Still smiling, Daria focused back on Erin and Camilla. "Speaking of your family, where is your father? I'd really like to meet him. Maybe share some tips between us explorers."

[Xiscapia]

The Perrier Expedition...

"I told you I didn't care what your name was, Fuzz. Tell someone who cares. You owe me, and until that changes, this is how things stay. I'm not your friend, kid. Don't think I am. I'm your boss, so you call me that, or sir."

He didn't flinch or even try to feign some kind of indignation that he didn't feel at her response. It was what he'd been expecting. But now he wasn't just kid, or Fuzz, or whatever disposable thing she wanted to make him into. Now he had a name that made him a person, a name she couldn't forget if she was staring down a gun barrel at him. Sammy hadn't killed him when she'd found him, and he was banking on the chance that she'd been even less ready to kill him now. If that wasn't true then she cared less than he thought.
I could make you care.

Shuddering as they walked under the shadow of the mountain, knowing his fur kept him warmer than any of the humans in theory but unable to believe it, he watched as the group started to set down their operation. They were looking for something, but the what and the why eluded him, and in the end it didn't really matter. Warmth mattered, food mattered, life mattered. Trash from a people who had died a long time ago didn't matter, except insofar as it could secure warmth, food and life. The unnatural quiet that permeated the frozen world made Frederick's voice irritatingly loud to his ears, but he listened anyway for all the good it would do.

At least watching didn't involve any actual work. He wondered what other people could have chosen to make this lifeless little planet their home, and not for the first time his thoughts strayed to how things might have been different if he'd come down somewhere else. The notion left him just as quickly. There was never any sense in daydreaming about what could have been. His eyes focused on Elise as they got closer, veering towards her.

"You can report to my captain meathead when we get back."

Sammy was facing away from him, so he felt safe in rolling his eyes. Slowing as he got to the crates, he stopped on the ice, looking to the Huerdaen as if waiting for her instructions even though he knew exactly what she wanted him to do. The kitsune stayed where he was even as she spoke to him surreptitiously over the comms, just watching her walk away. He let his silence follow her. Without needing any further invitation, he settled onto the box beside Elise, hands in his lap.

Looking up at the mountainside, he tried to figure out if it would be better or worse for him if an avalanche did come down and crush them all. Being outside the pass, he and Elise would survive at least. Between Sammy's ship and the base, now nearly a half dozen people lighter, there would be a sizable amount of supplies left over. He'd still be stranded, but he'd have options, which was decidedly better than his current position. And maybe, if that left Elise with nothing else to do on this expedition...he wondered if she knew how to pilot a starship.

Nenohi let himself turn his head to look at her. If he hadn't known any better he wouldn't have been able to say that she was a woman at all, and the mask hid her face almost as well as Sammy's helmet hid her's. What did she look like? He liked how she sounded. In another time, the idea of her and Sammy in a duet would have made him laugh.

"I'm being well-treated, all things considered," he started, voice still phlegm-filled and scratchy from disuse. "Sammy could have sold me on the flesh market to Vipran slavers, and a lot of them would pay highly for a young kit like me. I wouldn't have lasted long, but that doesn't matter. But if I'm useful I'll get food, as long as I help with...whatever's happening here." The tod went quiet, looking back at the mountain.

[Vocenae]

Alar Outskirts

The meeting was underway shortly after the ship had touched down on Carcosa's surface. Calina could feel the unease on the bridge as she tried her best to hide in what little background there was with just six humans and one hulking alien as she powered on the holographic display. The bridge's windows tinted automatically as the lighting faded to almost nothing, giving way to the large wireframe of blue-white light that appeared in the center of the circular compartment. It was a map of the city, built by the sensor sweeps the ship had taken automatically on their descent and there on the very outskirts was a tiny representation of themselves poking above the desolate plain that faded into nothing. Valkyrie wasted no time.

"As you can see, this is the city we're currently parked outside of. We've all seen the...unfortunate state of things, but there is no doubt in my mind that this is where we'll find what we came here for" The tall, leggy blonde said, her voice authorative, commanding.

Cold.

Calina only half-listened to the woman's briefing as she let her eyes wander as discreetly as possible over her fellow 'crew'; most were Vocian, one of the hired guns was definitely Bavinese, and then there was the massive alien who looked as though he'd rather rip all of their throats out with his maw of sharp teeth. The dark haired pilot had never seen an alien of that size before. Sure, there had been the occasional mostly-humans that were just passing through, but the creature that was called a 'Thaetian' was nearly ten feet tall, and what parts of him that were not covered in faded heavy armor were covered in thick gray-white hair. The creature's face reminded her of a bear mixed with a gorilla, a short snout that terminated in vicious rows of fangs and topped by two eyes that seemed so full of restrained fury that they seemed to glow a soft amber. Two arms that were bursting with muscles ending in hammer-like fists, a impossibly thick trunk of a chest and towering legs that ended in heavy metal boots. And somewhere, the Thaetian reeked of some horrible stench that she couldn't place.
It was a creature that you didn't want to have the misfortune of meeting in battle, that much was clear to the pilot. Next her eyes settled on the man called Oril. She had only spoken to the man a handful of times, all of which immediately after coming onboard. The Vocian seemed to keep all his conversation for Valkyrie, whoever she truly was. The man's helmet was off, it's wedge-shape nestled securely in his arms, and the blue-light of the swirling holgram only served to heighten his horrible looks. His nose was crooked with two gashes running across it, the scar tissue clearly recent in comparison to the roadmap of older scars that covered the man's face. His eyes seemed slightly too large for his head, and his mouth was ringed by two thin lips that seemed almost non-existent. Calina could only wonder what the rest of his body looked like underneath the power armor the man had seemingly never removed.

Was there nothing right to this job?

Valkyrie was tracing the highlighted route of the small hovercraft that would take the salvage crew into the city, a slender finger gliding over a dotted line of light to the holographic representation of a sinkhole. It was the first location that she had apparently picked to search, although a fainter, dimmer line stretched all the way to the heart of the city towards a colossal half-ruined tower.
"This is our primary destination for now. Our salvage team will proceed towards this point releasing their BLOODHOUND scanning probes. We'll stop at each of the largest landmarks along the way and check for anything, valuables, weaponry, artifacts, andthing that might be of value" Calina's employer was saying, the woman's glacier eyes darting across the faces of the three hired guns and the fidgeting engineer they had brought on to operate the cargo lifter.

Calina couldn't place just who or what Valkyrie was. During the interview the woman had seemed all smiles and pleasant understanding of Calina's hesitance but the moment the she had departed the woman had almost instantaneously dropped any pretense of care or concern for Calina or the hired guns.

Good job girl, you've gone and got yourself looped in with another crime-

Osvaros's thoughts were interrupted as the yacht's command console lit up with light. All seven heads surrounding the holo-map snapped towards it, and on the console's screen Calina could see that they were being hailed by their FTL transport. She blinked dumbly for a moment before quickly opening the communication channel, fully expecting to see the face of the Slim Picking's captain or it's pilot; but all that came through was a harsh, angry sounding female voice that barely rose above the static of interference. Or perhaps faulty equipment.

"Slim Picking calling...uh, Valkyrie. Pick up the damn phone please!"

Calina glanced as her boss, who was already crossing the deck with the rest of the crew in tow. Within moments she was next to Calina and not-so-gently shoved the young woman out of the way of the panel.

"This is Valkyrie, Slim Pickings. I believe your captain and I agreed to use this only in emergencies. Is there an emergency, or am I going to reduce your payment because you were bored?"
There was static filled silence for a heartbeat.

"Right. I was trying to be nice a give you a heads-up about the ship that just entered the atmosphere right on top of you. But if you're going to be a bitch about it, you can figure out their heading your own damn self!"
The channel went quiet as the voice in orbit cut the channel.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Carcosa Orbit.

Faora gave the transmitter a vulgar gesture it didn't deserve and pushed herself away from the sunken cockpit, grinning to herself as she stared at the streak of fire that was the unknown ship entering Carcosa's atmosphere. Her captain, Corin, had disappeared below deck only moments before It's arrival, the new starship simply appearing on the edge of their sensor range mirroring their passenger's earlier trajectory toward the planet. There had been no hails or attempted communications and the limited sensors Faora had at her disposal had revealed precious little. Luckily the unknown ship had at least seemed like it wasn't carrying any weapons. In any case it had slid past the Slim Pickings with no disruptions and for that, Faora was extremely grateful. Before pushing away from her console entirely she had PERI, the pet name she had for the battered little probe that was currently some hundreds of kilometers ahead mapping out their orbital path, do one last broad sweep for anymore surprises. The redhead didn't realize she was holding her breath until the probe reported back that there was nothing but orbital debris whirling around the planet in erratic, but so far avoidable, orbits.

Hopefully they stayed that way.

With a slight, content nod Faora checked that the autopilot was still working and pushed herself away from the console towards the hatch that led down into the rest of the starship, her mind drifting towards taking a piss, getting some food and maybe seeing what Zerava was up to.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Alar Outskirts

The woman that most people knew only as Valkyrie stood on the dead, icy soil of Carcosa and watched was the hovercraft containing the three mercenaries sped off towards the two massive arches that were their gateway into the city. The low, blunt craft would have already been beyond the sight of a normal human, but Telora Nedali was not burdened by the failures of lesser men. Or women, in this case. The three barbarians were alone, the sudden appearance of the unknown ship had forced her to change her plans. Instead of sending the mercenaries out with the engineer from the Slim Pickings, Telora had made the peasant stay behind. There was no time for artifact scavenging when a ship full of bounty hunters or IStaR authorities was landing right on their proverbial doorstep. The mercenaries would head for the area where the pilot girl, Calina, had designated as likely landing zones. And then they would find and eliminate the problem. Or die trying. Her bodyguard, Oril shifted in his suit and stared at her with the wedge-faced helmet. She knew the stare he was giving her, and she so rightly wished that she could just force it away with an idle threat like she once could. But things were different now, and Telora, Valkyrie, was forced to cooperate with beings that were in every way beneath her if she wanted to survive.

This is what she had been reduced to. Working side by side with peasants and foreign barbarians. Grave robbing. It infuriated her.

Without a word the icy blonde turned and stepped back into the yacht's cargo bay, ignoring the nervous looking engineer who was strapping the power lifter's joints back down, or the heavy footfalls of armored boot on the deck plating as Oril tromped after her like a very well armed shadow. Telora put all the distractions out of her mind as she went over the names of all the bastards and bitches, all backstabbers and filthy peasants that wanted her dead and what that ship could mean. Should she leave? Take the yacht back up to the starship in orbit and leave the system? Keep running while what was left of her fortune dwindled away into nothing?
No. She was Telora Nedali. She was Valkyrie. The Composer of Oread. The Witch of the Lanthe. She would make her stand here and if she had to spill the blood of those loyal to her then so be it. They were less than human. They didn't matter.

Door and lifts opened and closed around her in her silent fury, Oril's towering presence not even registering even as her crowded in next to her in the lift as it raised them up to the bridge and before she knew it, gliding softly into the circular chamber with impossible grace. That was when her concentration was broken, the veil of control was lifted and her icy appearance of control shattered. It was the voice of the pilot, low but not quiet as the distracted young woman stared out at the ruined city before her. Time seemed to stop.

"Nothing beside remains, 'round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare. The lone and level sands stretch far away..."

Valkyrie, Telora, shuddered visibly, and she waved Oril towards the pilot, retreating back to the lift as the armored brute crossed the bridge, his footsteps causing Calina to spin on the spot and stare at him with two wide, blue eyes that were full of surprise. And fear. The two were silhouetted against the ruin of the city laid boundless and bare in the viewport as the lift doors closed and Telora closed her eyes as tight as she could, her mental screams trying in vain to block out the flood of mistakes that had brought her here, a tidal wave of self-hatred that broke through her walls of self-control.

You are Ozymandia, queen of queens! Look upon your works 'ye mighty', and despair!

[Heliocalypse]

The Mountains

As Mashine B rearranges itself into a more stable yet androgynous form, multiple translucent monowires erupt from its recently solidified leg appendage, securing itself on the slightly concave rock face. It peers through the absorbed probe memories on attempt to emulate a suitable personality and camouflage for its recently assigned scouting mission to reduce any amount of suspicion by the planet natives to nil. While the machine is more comfortable with its original unassuming blob form, its high dimensional quantum logic reasoned humanoids are prevalent in this galaxy as back then in its home galaxy.

After all, Mashine B only followed one of main axioms of Principality reconnaissance doctrine; one of the crucial steps to gain understanding on an unknown humanoid civilization is to literally blend together in their society. The same reasoning is what led to the ban of such exotic weapons in the Principality in the first place; artificial life forms were no stranger for the Principality yet a single life form that can demolish an entire civilization? That is a different matter completely which Principality military commanders and analysts had deeply feared ever since the uncanny valley had been breached some thousands of cycles ago. Mashine B may rank the lowest in such scale but its covert operation skills are too valuable to be left alone.

The planetary invasion weapon accesses the probe memories again, morphing its current form into more of female-like shape; Mashine B had noted the prevalence of males to prefer a slightly different treatment to females but such conjecture is based on psychological data on certain quarters in States of the Principality and may not as well apply on the new galaxy with different norms and culture. The machine decides to assume the form anyway given the diminutive size of human female offer some compactness that could serve in close quarters combat while the form lack of reach is easily solved by the machine's transformational capabilities and stored monowire system.

A wave of cold hits Mashine B which sent its automatic sensors to trigger an artificial shiver to make its impersonation of a humanoid as realistic as possible. Multiple translucent monowires then erupt again from its body, atomically rearranging and morphing the thermal protection panels salvaged from its carrier probe into a suitable heavy-looking coat, blazed in grey and dashed in olive drab.

The machine noted it encountered slight geometric computational complexity on its chest area as the machine continues to morph form but as soon as it accesses the probe memories again, its transformation is then completed in a fraction of a second. From a formless translucent blob, the machine had morphed into a diminutive female-like androgynous humanoid, complete with artificially synthesized short white hair and characteristically purple irises as it stands some sixty degrees from vertical plane. Mashine B then looks directly toward space, accompanied by multiple faint red flashes hovering on its emulated eye organ.

Asynchronous protocol initiated. Beginning power transfer.

The machine proceeds to wave its recently solidified form around, setting up twist and movement limits akin to a baseline human to aid in its planetary infiltration mission. Mashine B then moves its left hand upward, discharging multiple silvers of translucent pseudo-fluid which are later swept away by the incoming cold front; the machine quickly boots its trachnometry sensor constellation system by accessing mini probes in orbit of Carcosa and the recently deployed ones to make out of the current situation. It realized situational awareness is extremely important in any covert missions and the strange weather and condition of Carcosa only serve to solidify that fact.

Intelligence report synchronized. Charging process complete, severing protocol.

As soon as the gravimetric link was established, it is over in several seconds as Mashine B seeks to reduce its operational signature from being positively identified from nefarious forces. Upon triangulating a favorable landing spot, the machine rapidly recoils its deployed monowire anchors and jumps out of the concave depression. True to its mechanistic nature, it displays no facial emotion or concern plummeting some hundreds of meters from the mountain to the jagged rocks below partly due to the fact it had transfigured a portion of its body into a wingsuit and partly because it cannot accurately comprehend the mortal fear felt by ordinary humanoids.

The machine then interfaces with its recently deployed mini probes as it cruises out of the only mountain range in Carcosa in a gentle curve and into previously verified landing spot. Should Mashine B encounter any problem during its descent, it is quite confident such matter would be no case for the weapon as it was purposely built to factor in unknown factors and dangers associated with planetary infiltration missions.

[Rethan]

The Hali Monastery

"Speaking of your family, where is your father? I'd really like to meet him. Maybe share some tips between us explorers."

Camilla's eyes dropped to the floor for a moment, and Erin squeezed her shoulder lightly. No wanting to be rude, she quickly recovered and met Daria's eyes again. The exuberant smile, however, had faded into something slightly less solid.

"Daddy's lost. Did you see the ruins near here when you arrived? They're really big, and daddy went in about a week ago..."

Erin took over, squeezing the young girl's shoulder again in a subtle show of support. "We figure he's in the Undercroft. The construction of those tunnels seems to mess with radio signals, which includes his suit's beacon, so we know he's in the city we just don't know where exactly. Alar is vast, and the Undercroft even more so, and we can't spare a lot of men for the search. Even with all the technology we have here, we still need a lot of well trained people to keep things comfortable. We don't the cold getting in only to find our climate control guy is fifty feet underground in some dank tunnel."

Camilla nodded in agreement, taking Erin's words easily. She'd heard it all before in the week she'd spent with the Children in the monastery, and it wasn't like her father couldn't take care of himself. No sense being upset about it when she'd done all she could to help. For a moment she was silent, before a thought took root in her mind and brought the same ecstatic smile back to her face as she looked up at Daria.

"Oh! Oh! You're explorers too, right? So you'd want to see the Undercroft, it's like...the only place with anything left standing in the whole city. Except for the odd library or two, the Alarese-"

"Alari," corrected Erin.

"Yeah, those guys. Huge book worms. Maybe...maybe you could go with the Children when they next go into the city to look for Dad and...y'know..if you see him? I know it's not why you're here, but Dad went looking for exciting things, and you probably want to find the same stuff he did so...y'know. Two birds."

---

The Perrier Expedition

"You can report to my captain meathead when we get back."

It took just about all of Elise's willpower to prevent her hand making contact with her face, and instead she waved pleasantly as Sammy walked past her trusting in her helmet to obscure the grimace she wore on her face. Such a painfully cliche response, and yet she hadn't expected it. She wasn't sure if she was more disappointed in Sammy for his unimaginative comeback, or herself for not predicting something like that coming out of the hired gun's mouth.

"If he's on watch, he's on your payroll. You'll pay me an additional one-third my price for his services until I say otherwise. You break him, you buy him. He's still mine."

Yes, because staring at a mountain is worth being paid for, thought Elise. Of course, she was being paid for it so she figured it only fair Fuzz got paid too. Though why Sammy had addressed such a topic to her and not the doctor or Fred baffled her. She chalked it up to idiocy and turned to face Fuzz as he sat beside her, watching as he made himself comfortable before turning her gaze to scan the mountainside - focusing in particular on the area above the dig site. Surely there was some kind of machine that could do this for them, but Perrier had probably not accounted for Carcosa's silence and thought it unnecessary. Normally, at sites like this, the team trusted their ears to listen for the telltale slippage of rocks and pebbles. Who knew if that stuff could even be heard here at all before the whole mountain came tumbling down.

""I'm being well-treated, all things considered. Sammy could have sold me on the flesh market to Vipran slavers, and a lot of them would pay highly for a young kit like me. I wouldn't have lasted long, but that doesn't matter. But if I'm useful I'll get food, as long as I help with...whatever's happening here."

Elise let her eyes flick back to the alien for a brief moment, letting out a grunt to show her distaste for the idea of slavers. From Fuzz's perspective, she may as well have never taken her eyes off the mountain at all.

"I've never liked slavers. Perrier used to go to them to expand the crew until the doc joined up with him. Refused to work with someone who was treated like property, and Perrier needed his expertise to make money and look cool to all his rich friends. Least, that's what the doc said. I'm a latecomer to the crew as is. This is my first time planetside with them for anything more than looking pretty and making coffee, and I'm only good for the second one."

She chuckled at her own joke and turned to face Fuzz properly.

"I'd hate to come from...wherever it is you come from, Fuzz, if being wrapped in a tarp is 'well-treated'. Just...if you're willing to lift heavy shit then the Doc could convince Perrier to hire you if Sammy proves to be as big a jerk I think he is. The man's got a soft spot for 'interesting' people. As for the what's happening? Hell if I know. We've been here for a week and have found exactly one interesting thing: the inexplicable quiet of the planet. Still, if Perrier's willing to pay us to explore a land of endless grey I'm not going to complain."

A few metres away, beneath the freezing shadow of the pass, Frederick stood up from his place in the dirt to greet Sammy. He pointed down the far end of the pass, out across the vast plain and dried lake towards the white walls of the monastery, their pristine shine managing to get lost in the icy grey of the landscape. A dull haze fogged the view, blurring the edges of the walls almost as though there was a heat shimmer rising from the soil. Frederick either didn't notice behind the thick lenses of his mask, or didn't care. He dropped his tools to the frozen earth, a few cracks and gouges showing his limited progress in carving up the frosted soil.

"See the monastery? That's where we saw signs of life, so you let us know if anyone looks to be coming this way. It's two days walk, but we've no idea what kind of vehicles they have so they might rush in on us if they decide we're not someone they want poking around. There's also a city closer, a couple of hours walk away, but it's out of sight unless you're out of the pass. Don't think there's anyone in there, but stay ready just in case. You let us know if you see movement of any kind, especially if it's coming our way."

He knelt down again, placing a small trowel into the soil and pressing down with his weight against it. It sank deep into the soil with little effort, but when it came time to lift out the dirt it stuck solid. He cursed, stood, and kicked at the handle and finally the clod of dirt came free. Beneath it lay dark, unfrozen soil, and he breathed a sigh of relief at its sight. It was dry and moved like dust at his touch, so with renewed vigour he sank his tool into it and effortlessly hefted a shovel full of the material out of the ground.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry you got stuck here with us. Usually it's a little more colourful at least. The job's always shitty, but it's unusual for a planet to be this...boring. Even dead worlds have some evidence of excitement. Civilisation nuked itself to death, or sublimed into gods or some bullshit...they leave something behind. This place has been dead so long there ain't even a landscape to look at. Just ice, frost and rock. Boring as fuck."

---

Alar

The towering arches passed over the hovercraft, a shadow darker than it had any right to be, and the three found themselves in the grips of the ruined city. Here and there passages were suddenly swallowed by a sourceless darkness, and the edges of distant buildings blurred behind the reaches of some invisible fog. The cold of the plains was nothing compared to the chill of the city, but there was no ice and little in the way of frost despite the frigid environment. The ruins of buildings shielded the little sunlight from reaching the roads, small patches of light dotted across the city's landscape providing enough illumination to see by but little else. Weak, flickering candles in a the dark.

Down one of the lanes, obscured by the shimmering air and creeping tendrils of shadow, a blurred outline sped along a parallel path to the hovercraft for barely ten metres before disappearing behind a broken wall and never appearing again. A shadow, a near perfect silhouette of the speeder itself, but without a light to cast it. There for a second, a trick of the bending fragmented light of the city. The faux heat shimmer fueling the illusion. The sound of the hovercraft did not travel far, barely making it past the street the craft was on before it was swallowed by the impenetrable silence of the world.

There were three likely landing spots within the city. The most obvious being the clearing around the central tower, a square some eight hundred metres in area with plenty of space for a craft to land. The ruined brickwork of whatever small stalls had sprouted up around the tower were barely noticeable, scattered to the edges of the clearing. South from the tower lay a massive open space, something which had perhaps once resembled a park of some kind before the frost of Carcosa and passing of time had claimed its wildlife and foliage. Huge, empty and perfectly flat, it was the most likely candidate for a ship to land at. The third and final space was half the size of the park, the grave site of some building that had been almost entirely cleared away by the ravages of storms and time. Only the faintest outline of it remained, little pieces of steel and concrete reaching up from foundations caked in dust and broken rubble.

---

The Mountain Range

The rumbling of rocks betrayed the instability of the mountainside, but thankfully their sound did not carry beyond a few hundred metres and Machine B was high enough that nobody could hear it. It was safe, for now. It's sudden lunge from the mountainside dislodged a small collection of boulders, sending them careening down the mountain and out onto the plains surrounding lake Hali, but Machine B was itself unharmed. The air was thicker than it should have been, forcing the war machine to monitor and control its descent more than it probably had anticipated, the density providing extra lift and slowing the machine's descent as it caught in the wingsuit. At times it would have seemed that the air was dragging against the machine, trying to hold it back from landing, momentary pockets of air pressure and density that appeared sporadically and randomly during the otherwise boring descent from the mountain. Streaks of ice clung to the machine as it descended, frozen gases that sublimed almost immediately upon impact. There was no regular ice, no frozen water, just the solidified gases that floated inexplicably in the windless atmosphere.

As the Machine sets down, the outline of Ythill can be seen just shy of fifty kilometres away. A short walk, no doubt, for the construct.

[Huerdae]

The Perrier Expedition

Sammy looked on where her attention was directed, taking note of the two landmarks. It seemed something of note to her that there were three such landmarks in one place on this planet - the mountains, the monastery, and the city. Almost the entire rest of the planet was covered in...nothing. No landmarks, not even so much as a somewhat more impressive hill, and here they were. Still, the man's description was completely accurate. 'Boring as fuck.'

Standing with her hands resting on her pistols where they lay holstered, she began to get a feel for exactly how long the day was going to be. Here she was, paid, to simply stand there and look in one direction on a planet that probably had less than one hundred living things larger than her hand on the whole thing. What a job. It would be nearly perfect, if not for the cold that made her fingers ache already. At this rate, her hands would be numb by noon, and she'd feel dead and frozen by the end of the day. Still, it could be much worse, and with the guy cursing nearby she couldn't help but glance over, surprised to see that only the very upper layer of dirt was frozen. Shrugging, she turned her gaze back out where had directed, more toward the city than the monastery. A group from the city could see them and arrive in one day, and get back by dark. The Monastery would need a vehicle, which would make them easy to see, and less likely to sneak up on them.

Offhand, she spoke to the man working, making small circles near the group to keep moving and keep warm. Once in a while she'd walk around the group, but it was mostly for her. She'd spare glances toward the people working to see if they carried weapons, or any gear worth having. It was a habit, and a good one that often kept her alive. It was important to know who could kill her with her back turned. "Frederick, right?" She knew he was, so she kept going, regardless.

"Is it always frozen only a short way down? Seems like with this cold, it'd be frozen solid straight through. Is it warmer beneath the surface, or is this just something odd where I don't know enough science to realize it's normal?"

The question was genuine - she really had expected them to have to cut through ice, and the sight of such light sand seemed...wrong.

"Have you been bothered by the monastery types before? Or is this more you paying me so that you feel safe? Doesn't matter to me either way so long as I get paid, but I'd like to know if you've already started firing at anyone. It tends to dictate how jumpy I am."

It was fairly clear that she wasn't going to be doing much more than chatting today, so she spent a moment checking on her ship. There wasn't much blocking signals here, so even at the range she was at, she could reach it. It couldn't be controlled from her suit, and it most certainly couldn't take off and fly to her, but the ship wasn't completely useless. It served as a beacon for her - she knew she was at such a bearing that she couldn't just run across open ground toward it, she'd have to at least head out of the pass before she would be able to see the ship.

It was unfortunate, but it was unlikely anyone would go for the ship. She could check and re-check the scanners on the thing to get a simple integer response - life forms within a two kilometer radius of her. That's all she really wanted. Keep that displayed, and it makes watching for enemies much, much easier. After that, it's a simple matter of trudging across frozen rock, looking tough, and sectioning off a piece of her HUD for some fine video entertainment. Smiling to herself at what sort of jobs get her paid, she decided to key over to Fuzz for a moment, to listen to what was being said.

Her own headset was a 'command' headset, buried in the helmet. It gave her the option to listen to the other microphones linked to it. Of course, it didn't inform the other users of that, and she had no reason to let anyone know. Unfortunately for her, she only had the two - she used to have a set of five other headsets to connect to the command headset, but as time went on and deals went sour or subordinates worked against her, the headsets had the tendency to become 'lost'.

So it came to be that she was slowly shuffling about, head turned out toward the pass, and paying little attention to what she was supposed to be doing other than the simple counter of living creatures in the area, and to make sure that she continued in generally the same path so as not to arouse suspicion.

It could be a worse job. They may expect me to actually do something.

[Red Talons]

Hastur system, high solar orbit.

The Icarus slipped out of a twisted crack in space. The smooth gull reflecting the star's blue glow. It slipped quietly through the void, passive sensors acquiring it's exact position in the system.

Allen could feel the shudder as the ship transitioned out of slipgate. He set his personal tablet aside. The white haired male Icatan slid from his bunk. A red and black skin suit was peeled down to his waist. He was peeling up as the speakers in his room buzzed. -We're here, lets get things ready to go.-

He sighed, 'If this turns into another god damn wild fulmen hunt I'll shoot him.' Allen half growled to himself, pulling the skin suit up and sliding his arms into the sleeves. Leaving it unzipped down the front, he pulled a harness off the wall, a pistol seated firmly in a holster. Stepping out of his cabin as the last fastening belt was clipped in place.

Alf was passing by at that moment, the Merr almost looked like his brother, their matching hair the source of more than one occasional joke from the others. He wore a white and purple skin suit, a simple belt around his waist on which hung a hand made holster. Carson's cabin door slid open a moment later, directly across the hall from Allen's. The two stared at Alf, who had paused in the hall. Carson and Allen blinked at each other, then looked at Alf, it was Carson who spoke first, zipping up the front of his own black skin suit. “Hey... Alf... who's flying?”

Alf chuckled, sliding between the two confused warriors. Ruffling the S'arr's hair as he passed. “Don't worry Carson, Nuwisia's a quick learner. She took care of the last jump... Don't look so concerned, we're still alive she's doing great.”

Carson was about to say something when Allen clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, lets get going.”

The three of them arrived on the bridge, each walking without pause to their stations. Alf patted the back of his seat, which was occupied by Nuwisia. She turned to him with a look of confusion, ears flattened down to trhe sides. “I swear, I thought I had input the vectors properly.”

Alf smiled, “It's alright, I double checked them before we jumped, we're just out of place a bit, nothing that can't be fixed.”

Nuwisia stood, her twany fur showing through the open seal of her black and purple patterned skin suit. It's seal only half done giving it the illusion of a deep v neck. She slipped out of the way, allowing Alf to take the seat as she moved to her own station.

Ertun watched quietly, waiting for everyone to get settled. The green scaled Saurian's arms were folded. He, as much as the saurian species has such gender pronouns, spoke with a tone that was both cynical and sarcastic. “Alright, since we're here, and it will take a bit longer still to arrive on the planet... Carson, I want you to go and prep the truck. Nuwisia, two pulses, lets make sure we're alone here. Alf, put us in to the planet, best possible speed.”

There was silence as Carson stood and half jogged from the bridge, Nuwisia and Alf both tapping away at their consoles.

The Icarus issued forth two bursts of energy, spaced by a few seconds, the pulses speeding off into the void. Simultaneously, it began a hard burn, correcting its orbit and speed to encounter Carcosa.

“Correction complete, our ETA is half an hour.” Alf said, looking back from the console. Nuwisia continued to check over her console.

“Confirmed, nothing moving out there right now. We're all clear for approach.” Nuwisia said with a sigh of relief.

The hold was mostly empty, save for a stack of cargo crates against the wall. Carson had donned an his security armour before entering the bay. He slid through the doorway and drifted down to the deck. Walking to the wall of containers, he opened the largest of them sitting on the deck. Inside was a grav-truck, some would consider it large, though it was actually small by most Technocracy standards. He keyed the vehicles door open and climbed inside. Where he began to casually run though system startup. The generators humming to life as running lights glowed to life.

Nothing much was said durring the transition to the planet. Allen and Ertun each went to the armoury to get suited up. Returning, Ertun was first, wearing light combat armour. Allen was close after wearing medium security armour. Nuwisia gave a nod and did the same, returning in an Exo-suit. A few minutes before they arrived into orbit, Carson buzzed the bridge. “Hey, truck's loaded and ready to go.”

Ertun poked a button down on his console. “Affirmative, we're entering high orbit of the planet now. Deploy the drones, then get suited up and ready to land.

Silence responded, Carson already on his way. Leaving the container, he pushed off and glided up along the containers secured to the wall of the hold. Opening one of them he pulled out roughly rectangular object. Sliding it part of the way out of the container, he opened a panel and entered information from a printed sticker in the container. Pushing back to slide the object out all the way, he lowered it to the deck carefully setting it down. Moving back up to the open container with a swift leap,. He reached in and opened another panel, greeted by a wall of lenses...

The vessel slipped neatly into first high orbit, making a single pass around moving in the opposite direction of the planet's spin. One of the cargo bays opened with a slight puff of atmosphere. The swarm of drones exited the bay and spread out into a roughly spherical formation around a larger object, which trailed behind the Icarus.

Nuwisia was the first to notice something. “Looks like we're not alone, optics picked out other ships on the surface... Looks like the most activity is centered on this place.”

The forward screen shifted to show the area of Lake Hali. She kept talking as Ertun folded his arms in thought. “Looks like the best spot to start. It looks like those are the most intact ruins on the planet, and other ships means possible trade.”

“Agreed, Alf, put us down nearby, but not too close.” Ertun said with a half smile.

The Icarus engaged it's engines once more, rapidly bleeding off surface velocity, eventually it began to slip down through the atmosphere. Falling on a cushion of artificial gravity it descended rapidly, though well below the crashing speeds of uncontrolled entry.

The vessel settled into place ponderously, floating to a stop neatly about a foot above the ground. A few minutes passed, and then one of the cargo bays facing away from the other vessels cracked open and swung out. A rather garishly painted truck moved down as if on a ramp. In place of wheels, four skid plates dominated the undercarriage of the red, green, and brown camo painted truck. The front two plates grinding into the dry lake bed as the vehicle reached ground level with a lurch. It pulled around, coming to a stop below the bay just before a single figure dropped down, the bay door closing afterwards with a thump.

Grav-Truck, Lake Hali

The figure was Ertun, carrying a vaguely shotgun looking weapon, who dropped swiftly before suddenly slowing to land firmly in the bed of the truck. Looking over four containers which were secured to the deck with a metal mesh cargo net. Taking only a few moments to make sure they were properly tied down before ducking into the cabin through the back hatch. “Alright, Move over Allen, you and Carson are on lookout, come on, you know the drill.”

Allen nodded to Carson, who stepped out the back hatch of the cabin, a rifle vaguely resembling a modern day DMR secured to his armour breastplate by a sturdy strap. He settled in against the back of the cabin in the cargo bed, watching behind the vehicle with a sigh that momentarily clouded the faceplate. Ertun and Allen traded places, the Ship's commander taking the wheel as Allen moved around the seat to fold down a small seat from the ceiling before opening one of the top hatches and climbing up onto the seat. Resting an arm on the assault rifle secured to his own chest-plate by it's carry strap. He instinctively squinted slightly despite the helmet faceplate's protection. The small bits of dust and particulate in the air whipping by as the vehicle moved still made him slightly nervous in the way that no one quite gets used to seeing things flying at their face.

Ertun brought the truck around and began to head for the monastery, staying away from the other parked vessels, snaking along the lake-bed. Carson leaned over, looking around the cabin to where they were going. “Hey, any particular reason we're driving towards what is probably the only occupied building on the planet?”

Allen was quick to respond, “Well, do you have any idea where to go first to ask where to look for ancient artifacts?”

Icarus, Lake Hali.

Alf sat back in the chair at his station on the locked bridge. As usual he got to sit and watch the ship. He had wired much of the systems into the navigation station using a pair of data-pads. He stared at the external camera view. “I never get to go exploring... Stupid treasure seeking egg sucker...”

[Vernii]

A white and brown sphere crawled below them, its edges blurred with haze from its thick atmosphere.

"What an ugly world. You dragged me out here for this?"

Marcus smiled thinly, "I'm sorry I couldn't find a dead civilization in the tropics. A pity we won't be able to unfold the sun deck for you while the rest of us creep around in dusty old ruins."

Amira, his girlfriend, turned from the window, fixing him with her eyes as he lay draped across a comfortable couch. Other than Marcus' friend, Robert, they were alone in the Zerua's lounge, its deck to overhead viewports providing them a spectacular view of Carcosa that slowly grew as the yacht's orbital trajectory began to gradually descend.

"A month spent traversing the Lanthe, without even a stop over in Vessader, and another month spent just getting here once we left the Lanthe."

"Vessader wasn't on the way, I told you that."

"It wasn't that far off though. I don't think your ruins are in danger of going anywhere."

"I'll take you to Vessader another time. It's certainly not going anywhere either." Marcus raised his voice in pitch slightly, to add "Unless you think the Viprans are going to roll it over..." in a tone that skirted just safely on the side of being mocking without being contemptful.

Amira shot him a glare. Marcus had always thought that anger accented her features, but he was seeing that aspect of her beauty more than he cared to lately.

Robert finally interjected,"She's mad because we missed the solar sail regatta. The festivities surrounding it are pretty spectacular."

Amira didn’t respond and moved away from the window to the far side of the lounge, her gold and black dress clinging to and complementing her athletic figure.

She stopped at the bar, an antique piece made of Brazilian rosewood and trimmed in aged brass with a chrome and copper BarBot lurking attentively behind its bulk. The bot was roughly humanoid in shape and turned its exceedingly geometric head toward Amira as a mark of its attention.

"A paloma," she ordered, "a strong one."

"I'll have a whiskey and club soda, use the Glenmorangie." Marcus interjected as it whirred into action.

Moments later she brought both of their drinks over, sliding his legs out of her way so she could sit next to him.

"Yes, Vessader will have to wait now, but we'd better be famous when we visit it."

"We will. This little adventure will make our reputations" Roger added. The couple’s view of him was distorted by several holograms controlling the ship’s exterior feeds. His hands fiddled with basic editing, caressing them in an overly conscious imitation of the old Ortagan duchy’s exploration film directors.

The intercom chimed politely, "Sir," came the voice of Olson, both pilot and bodyguard to Marcus. "There's another ship in orbit. It appears they were on the other side of the planet when we jumped in, but our trajectory and velocity has overtaken them."

"What type of ship? Have they taken any action?"

"Looks to be civilian as well, but out here you never know. No action so far, just plodding along in orbit. Do you want to hail them?"

"Hell no. I'd rather not be noticed by anyone for as long as possible. How close will our course bring us to them?"

"Just under three hundred kilometers, we'll be passing beneath them to their starboard."

"Take whatever action you feel is necessary to get us to the surface."

"Roger that."

Robert’s holograms vanished and he looked balefully at his friend, “I don’t see the harm in at least pulling us close enough for some solid long-range footage. We could play it off as a pirate encounter. You know that will play well with subscribers.”

“They’ll believe us even if we don’t have the footage.” Marcus took a sip of his drink, attempting to ignore Amira's stare before finally caving with an exasperated, "It'll be fine. "

---

Zerua streaked through the atmosphere, a silver flying wing etched with art deco patterns of pale gold, the trail of flame in its wake fitting it appropriately. Its descent began to level off, then curve into a shallow, wide ranging spiral as it bled velocity and gave its systems time to map and analyze the terrain below.

A suitable spot was quickly identified; a large, flat expanse of terrain surrounded by the crumbling ruins of a vast city. Braking flaps and counter-grav brought the Zerua banking in, stalling out, and then gently floating to the ground near the edge of the clearing.

It sat there, steam condensing off the heated hull, it's sole laser turret scanning across the horizon. Minutes later, the front hatch swung open, as a red painted ramp telescoped from its lower edge to the ground. It wasn’t a red carpet, but probably as close to it as one could get on this world. Soon a white suited figure emerged, followed by two more.

The suits were identical; painted entirely off-white, lightly armored, and fully enclosed, each suit's faceplate obscured by a flip-down visor studded with four cameras on its face.

The first figure carried a black, bulky rifle, not pointed at anything in particular but his movements and how his head surveyed his surroundings betrayed an alertness for danger. The other two weren’t nearly as concerned, standing idly to stare at the ruins nearby.

One finally turned to the other, words passed unheard by anyone else between them, and the other ran back inside the ship, returning momentarily with a backpack. He hauled his load down the ramp, then unzipped it and began handing out softball sized grey spheres one at a time to his comrade, who in turn activated unseen controls on them and gently lobbed them into the air, where they failed to return to the earth and instead continued on, silently flying onward over the ruins on rapidly diverging courses from each other.

They watched the spheres dwindle into the distance, and then the three returned to the ship.

---

"Everyone is to be suited up before we lift off."

Charles Olson's voice was firm, clearly demonstrating that he would accept no argument on this matter. "And yes, we will be doing an inventory checklist before that aircar is even started. I'm not going to get into trouble on this rock because someone 'thought' that they packed the batteries."

"Or bullets for that matter," added his subordinate, John Foster.

Tents, guns, bullets, food, batteries, radios, sensor drones, rope, counter-grav climbing gear, the checklist went on and on as Charles insisted each be accounted for, and John insisting each be properly stowed.

Finally the Zerua’s dorsal hatch swung open, exposing a dark blue six passenger aircar in its cradle. It didn't have the smooth lines and graceful styling that would be expected of its type back in the Imperium; it was an old staff car from the Imperial Army, purchased as military surplus like much of the rest of their equipment. What it lacked in style in made up for in durability, and its pressurized, climate controlled cabin allowed for a substantial degree of comfort and safety from Carcosa's hostile temperatures.

“I think I’ll stay with the ship,” came Amira’s voice, soft and tinged with nervousness.

Marcus sighed, “No, you’re coming with us. You could be here alone for days, and I don’t want to have to turn around and come get you because you got bored.”

“But someone has to guard the ship!”

“The controls are locked out, the ship has self-defense mechanisms, and if we need to Charles can remote it. Besides, it’s not like you’d do any good against aliens or pirates if they came knocking. Though you might be a decent little bonus.”

Amira glared at the dubious expressions the rest of the party regarded her with, silently admitted defeat, and climbed into the aircar, quietly sulking.

[Xiscapia]

The Perrier Expedition...

"I've never liked slavers. Perrier used to go to them to expand the crew until the doc joined up with him. Refused to work with someone who was treated like property, and Perrier needed his expertise to make money and look cool to all his rich friends. Least, that's what the doc said. I'm a latecomer to the crew as is. This is my first time planetside with them for anything more than looking pretty and making coffee, and I'm only good for the second one."

He stayed quiet, letting her speak without so much as a murmur or even a nod. As anyone who had ever been in a psychologist's office knew, silence was the best way to get someone to talk and keep them talking. As it was his lack of commentary made it clear what he thought of Perrier, Iles and all the rest. Only so many words, and he didn't deal in words. When Elise finally turned to him he shifted his body but kept watching the mountainside -no point in getting cuffed by Sammy for not earning his nonexistent keep.

"I'd hate to come from...wherever it is you come from, Fuzz, if being wrapped in a tarp is 'well-treated'."

"I could be dead," he said. "Any kind of life is better."

"Just...if you're willing to lift heavy shit then the Doc could convince Perrier to hire you if Sammy proves to be as big a jerk I think he is. The man's got a soft spot for 'interesting' people. As for the what's happening? Hell if I know. We've been here for a week and have found exactly one interesting thing: the inexplicable quiet of the planet. Still, if Perrier's willing to pay us to explore a land of endless grey I'm not going to complain."

The kitsune didn't say anything for a moment, still staring up at the mountain as if it was the more fascinating thing in the world -which, considering this was Carcosa, it could very well be. "I don't know," he told her. "Maybe if the offer is enough, but I think Sammy likes the idea of having a slave. Someone he can push around to make his balls feel big who won't fight back. That's his idea of mercy."

Nenohi took his eyes off the mountain for a moment to look at her, though he couldn't tell any more details of the woman at this range than before. "Don't tell Sammy," he hesitated. "My name is Nenohi. I probably shouldn't even be talking to you right now. If he finds out, he'll..."

Trailing off, he shrugged and went back to looking at the mountain, tails contorting inside their metal prisons.