EXO 729

1200-1600

Pebbles and dust flew under the pressure of the repulsors until Faye engaged the landing gear and powered them down. The cloud created by them lasted for only a moment, a lone figure standing in front of a ship with two rows of long wings that pointed to the sky in a sharp V. With the sun high overhead, the shadow was short and squat, despite belonging to someone who looked tall and lean. The tallest of the mountains was now behind them, wind racing down the peak and clearing their dust cloud instantaneously. Faye and Desmond stepped out unperturbed. Joan slouched for a second, waited for them to get a couple seconds head start, and charged a shotgun blast.

She slung it onto her back, careful not to bump anything as she forced herself out from the backseat. She slid Faye's door closed as if she was sealing a tomb, staring at her partial reflection in the slotted windows. Behind her Faye and Desmond were greeting the captain, and she heard the words 'Tobiah Reed' meet her ears. A tiny smile crossed her face and was no more.

"We had a bit of a monster altercation in these parts yesterday, so pardon my friend Joan here who's armed," she heard Desmond introduce as she caught up with them. Whatever Tobiah's face had looked like before Joan joined the conversation, it was a painfully tight neutral expression now. He stood with arms crossed leaning on one hip, his long brown coat stopping above his ankles and a droid resembling an upside-down pyramid hovering over his left shoulder. Joan wasn't sure how much the other two knew about weapons, but she recognized it immediately as a particle amplifier droid for a long-distance stealth weapon. The accompanying sniper rifle didn't seem to be on his person at the moment, but she was sure it wouldn't be far behind.

He mumbled something none of them could hear, the words caught up in his fair blond beard. "Where was I," he said in a gruff rumble. Joan could tell now that he was much more muscular and imposing up close, now that they were grouped in a roughly five-foot-diameter circle. "The diagnostic we ran caught some bug in the positioning system. The couple of us know more about the Holsteiner's hardware than software, so we have no idea where we are or how to get to where we need to be."

"Oh, a software issue," Faye remarked with a touch of disappointment evident in her voice. She had her hands on her hips and looked lovingly at the roughly trailer-sized ship, its eight wings of varying lengths reaching for the sky. In the partially glass front of the ship Joan watched movement carefully, feigning a yawn to appear disinterested in their conversation. There were one, two, three distinct figures inside. It seemed the Terrors had picked up another member.

Tobiah shifted stiffly in his stance, his eyes continually drawn to Joan, who watched his interest out of her peripheral vision. There was some small talk between Desmond and Faye about where Desmond was going to finish his work, and Tobiah describing his crew and what work they had done in spotty bursts. His face shone with sweat, more than was expected in the early September weather. Joan met his gaze a handful of times with half-lidded, sleepy eyes. She looked just past him to get a good look at the amplifier droid and the wrist-wrapped computer unit on his left which presumably controlled it.

"That's all I can tell you," he admitted at last as Faye began to speak fluently her technical jargon. "You can go on inside and the crew'll get you set up, I'll join you in a minute. Just, need some fresh air." Faye and Desmond walked ahead, Desmond shooting a look of confusion back to Joan, who rested a hand on the strap of her shotgun and shrugged.

Their footsteps on dirt faded away to footsteps on the metal drop-ramp, Joan looking past Tobiah's hat to watch them go. His right hand was dug back farther in his crossed arms than was normal, and Joan knew a man reaching for a holdout pistol better than anyone on GI0054. She swung the shotgun's strap over her shoulder. He loosed the pistol out of its hidden holster. Neither shot. Joan's pre-prepared blast shone white on his sweaty face, and his pistol looked like a toy confronted with the gun resting against Joan's shoulder.