Wrong Turn

Funny Business

The howling winds pulled at the large man standing atop the bluff of sand, grabbing furiously loose strips of fabric and metallic equipment strapped to him. He squinted through his goggles against the light of the late afternoon sun, watching the undulating desert for signs of movement.

Beside him, his first mate, Keys, stood watching his face intently. He felt uncomfortable with the both of away from the ship – having a ship and crew was like having children, the moment you turned your back they were up to some terrible mischief – but he needed her presence for the upcoming meeting.

She usually was a woman of few words, yet he could see she was itching badly with unasked questions. She was professional though, he knew that from years spent together, so she wouldn't question him in the presence of his crew.

Speaking of the landlubbers.

He turned halfway and glanced down the side of the sand dune where a small group of his men lingered out of sight, in the shade. They were dressed in the familiar formfitting uniform of skyship crews, completely black with a few personal touches.

Two of them, Fitz and Janus were trading weathered cards furiously as they played a game of Rush, muttering loudly when they gained or lost an advantage. The other person, Carver, remained silent if not alert, lying on his back on the dune, an arm over his head as he pretended to doze. The burning heat of the sand didn't seem to bother him.

Not the captain. His underclothes below his flight suit was soaked and he itched in places he wasn't aware could itch. He was thankful the sun had already come down from its highest point, sparing them most of its heat.

"Captain." Keys called his attention. "They're here."

His eyes shot back to the stretch of desert, immediately snagging on an approaching dust cloud. It was a small one, led by a small metallic craft running up and down the dunes, headed in their direction.

He caught sight of another sight far to his left, a rising swell of sand like a fist punching upwards that hadn't been there before he looked away. Years of experience told him he was staring at a fresh sandstorm. He gritted his teeth as he sought to exercise patience. Why did it have to be now?

When crap goes wrong it goes wrong all at once.

"Captain, the wyrms will start surfacing." Keys said quietly, also staring at the storm. "We shouldn't be here."

"Aye." He grumbled. "I really want to hear this man out though, so we'll give it a few minutes."

Keys gave him a look, side eyes asking 'are you sure?' through her tinted goggles. He ignored it, watching the approaching vehicle. No, godsdammit, I'm not sure. But we probably can't afford missing this here meeting. We need a new client.

The craft, a weather scoured rover came to a stop before them at the hollow of their dune. The dust cloud it had been stirring blew past them, diamond sharp sand whipping around them.

A man hopped out of the single seat vehicle, walking up the dune towards them.

From above, the captain studied him, noting his fashionable stark white loose outfit whipping in the desert winds, his confident stride despite the way he glanced warily at what was clearly an unfamiliar environment.

"Captain Dumont?" He called out, coming to a stop within conversational distance.

"Aye. That'd be me." The captain answered. "And you are?"

"You will forgive me for protecting my identity until I am reasonably sure you will accept my proposal. Are you open to listening?" The man answered.

"Brave of you to come alone." The captain let a slightly wild grin stretch his lips. He meant no malice, but he needed to test the man's resolve before they went any further.