Grey Horizon

Belgrad'sk

The consistent clunk, clunk, clunk of the Helms outer bay doors rings in my ears as I stand patiently within the crowd of heavy breathing passengers just dying to be released from this cramped prison of a ship. The sharp smells of body sweat, oil, and iron fills my nose and settles on my tongue like a film as my eyes glare dully at the bleak metal door before me. 

The docking procedure for Belgrad had been announced over the ship's comms over an hour ago, and faster than I could blink, the crew appeared from the dark, slick halls and corralled everyone to the waiting hangars. 
"This is the worst part..."
I turn my head ever so slightly over the shoulders and arms pressed so tightly around me to catch a glimpse of Jäger. After meeting the dirty blond the day before, Snojyn informed me he would be our contact to the Syndicate, guide us on Mars, and get us to them in one piece. 

Her confidence in him, unfortunately, did not stretch to cover my own. 

Despite his crooked smile, smooth way of talking and the overabundance of knowledge of Belgrad, I could still feel a sense of distrust. 

"What do you mean?" I question lightly, forcing my brain to not over think. 

Already I could feel my head spinning from the close proximity of the hundred and fifty passengers of the Helms. 

If we don't dock soon, I'm going to vomit... Again.
Jäger shrugs, a surprising feat considering I could barely move my toes without shoving someone. 
"It's the waiting," he replies whilst keeping his crisp blue eyes glued to the metal door before us. "They say we're in Belgrad, but, there's no real assurance that we are until they open that door."
Eyes widening, I turn back to the grinding metal slab that was the only protection us humans had against the vast black vacuum of space and swallow the large lump in my throat. 
Great . . . Just great.

"Leave him alone, Jaeg." Sno's voice pipes up. 

Standing on the balls of my feet, I catch the curly sheen of black hair waiting next to Wolfgang. Knowing she was here gave me just a boost of reassurance. Despite all that was happening - all this new information being thrown at me at once - I still had that gnawing space of nothingness in my head. A space that continuously told me that I was no one, a nothing. An Amsterdam called Uriel in a space ship ready to dock on Mars for a cause that I had no real proof of being a part of in a world I had no connections to. 
Say it like that and you sound like an idiot...
I glower at Rysks musing voice in my head. It had taken me some time to be able to distinguish the two projections voicing their opinions in my head. In view, it was unmistakable, but in voice within the confounds of my own thoughts, having two people who sound just like you talk independently of each other was much more difficult than one would think. Eventually, however, my brain was able to pick out the minute differences that made Rysk and Haven so unique. 

Shut up...

I mentally snap. 

Attention Passengers - Bulkhead doors will be opening shortly - Proceed to Immigration 

Jumping at the announcement, I shift nervously on the corners of my feet. As if on cue, the doors before me release a giant hiss of air as the floor shudders before slowly receding into the wall. Sucking a sharp breath at the intense light bursting from the doorway, I shield my eyes with a forearm and begin to shuffle forward with the crowd into what I could only hope to be Belgrad, the capital city of Mars. 

~

Stepping onto the thick, grey concrete street outside the Immigration and Travel Bureau, I let the air whisk itself away at the sight before me. Though I had no memories to compare it to, it was like no other. Built a thousand feet below the surface of Mars, Belgrad was two miles in every direction with buildings that just barely scratched the holographic imagery of an afternoon sky with scattered clouds. 
Stumbling forward, I let my eyes rise up to the hover vehicles zipping by above and the motorists trundling past on the street. Taking a deep breath, my eyes sharpen at the sweet smell, like honey soothing my lungs. 
"Okay, enough sightseeing-"
Feeling a hand on my shirt, I turn to find Sno pulling me away from the street and down the thick walkway leading away from the port hub and into the depths of Belgrad. Within moments, my senses are consumed with the unfamiliarity of the Mars' people and atmosphere. The majority of them were darker skinned with dark hair, yet their clothes were much lighter. Creams, tans and whites were the standard colours and the designs were far more middle eastern -
Was that it . . . The right word?