RIPE & DRAGGERS

CHAPTER 2

The orange planet looks dry from the ground as it would seem from space.

However, the climate is colder than he expected. And now that sundown is on the horizon, the bright orange surrounding is turning to pale blue.

When Bob landed on the a desert plain twenty clicks west from the scavenger site, he adjusted himself to the lighter gravity of the planet. A few twitches on his belt and his footing stumped sturdier. Making each step from his heavy boot to lift orange dusts from the dry planet's ground.

He put on his goggles as a steady breeze from the north lifts more dust into the air. Oxygen is thin but bearable, and a 200 yard walk would be tedious he thought but he had no choice. He doesn't want the outlaws alarmed by his arrival.

Due southwest is a small city to start with, but pointless. He always prefer the direct approach.

And he wanted this done smoothly.

He's here to find a friend not start another conflict in another fragile area.

If the capital hears that a rouge outpost man escalated an encounter, the balance of economy will again shift to more building of outposts through-out the known galaxy. A redundancy that he hates. Much like the redundancy of finding Gener again, or more accurately rescuing him again from his dangerous pursuits to expand peace in his beloved galaxy.

He has trekked many terrains before, much like this now as he recall from what the ancient texts call a 'hell-hole'.

Gener you fucking genius, if you're dead on the ground you better be buried. Coz I'm not going to touch you to bury your smelly ugly ass.

He reached a small gorge overlooking the scrap site that started to tear the station's wing into pieces of trade value. Looking through his scope, he could not help but be impressed how fast these scavengers work. Necessity equals efficiency he guessed, and he wondered if they would tolerate him disturbing them by asking questions about his friend.

He counted about 2 dozens of outlaw cruisers landed nearby and about 50 working scavengers on the site.

No choice, he told himself. Must approach.

With deep sighs he took off his goggles and put it in his backpack. Next he removed his side arm along with its holster and also slid it hidden in his bag.

The wind breeze is gone now and his eyes adjusted to the blue surrounding.

He jumped off from the cliff and started to walk towards the site.

As he reached 50 feet from the nearest working outlaw, each of them started to pause one by one as he approached.

In the middle of the early night in scavenger desert here comes someone, walking alone towards them. For the Callesten scavengers it is both odd and stupid.

You do not approach an outlaw group in the middle of nowhere. You'll get shot that way.

"I'm looking for someone..." Bob said as he raised his hands, and continued to walk more slower. "I just want to talk."

He stopped about 30 feet from the giant metal scraps, and debris until one Callest outlaw realized something.

"Brahman shit-hole.....he's a fuckin Runkan!..." he shouted, as he hurriedly reached for his rifle, and cocked it to point directly to Bob.

The echo of the gun preparing to fire alarmed a few others and they began to do the same.

For a few seconds nobody moved and even breathe so Bob slowly put his arms down and declared "I'm only looking for my friend. If you're not interested to help me then I will leave immediately."