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Brooks floated out of the abandoned structure at speed.

“Craton, come in,” he messaged.

Until now, he’d kept radio silence.  Messaging out, even on a secure frequency, was going to draw attention, and it wouldn’t be hard to triangulate the position of someone trying to beam a message to the only Sapient Union vessel in the area.  He had to try, though.

But he couldn’t get through.

“Are we out of range?” he asked his system, grabbing a pole as he floated and turning himself around a corner, following the same route he’d taken in here.

SIGNAL JAMMING PRESENT, his system told him.

Was it Dawn, or someone else . . . ?

Movement ahead of him caught his eye and he grabbed a bent metal bar poking from a broken wall, pulling himself into the partial cover.

There were people approaching him.

Everyone local had kept their distance, which meant these people probably weren’t local.

Taking out his sidearm, he took aim as they came into the light of a bent lamp.

“Stop there,” he ordered.  “Identify yourselves.”

The two men were strange figures.  One was tall and lanky, his joints and angles not human, and he was covered from head to foot.  Around his head was a single strip of black cloth, wrapped around it with only a single large eye piece, tinted black, piercing through it.

The positioning in the middle of its head made Brooks feel certain; it was not a human, but a Latarren.  The isolationist species let none of themselves show, at least to outsiders.

Knowing the species did not put Brooks anymore at ease, as the Latarren were not typically friendly, and those outside of their home territory often mercenaries.

The other figure was clearly human, but no less worrisome; broad of shoulder, a furred hood covered part of his head, and underneath Brooks saw the glint of light off armor.  It appeared to be a powered suit, which was unusual – most people just used augments.

The armored man spoke.

“We are sent by Dawn,” he said.  His voice was surprisingly soft.

Brooks did not lower his pistol.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because you will need more than one set of hands where you are going.”

“. . . and where do you think I’m going?”

The man tilted his head back, and Brooks saw that his eyes glowed with an internal light.

“To find Hoc Rem,” he said.

Brooks took a deep breath and lowered his pistol.

“Let’s go, then,” he said to the two.

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