Miranda gazed out of the window, enjoying a short break. Looking at the spaceport made her think of Adhara again. That chunk of volcanic rock may have been inhabited by a few thousands of scared miners and metalworkers, trying to leave before the Nomad’s fleets reached them, but with nearly thirty thousand hungry, scared or injured people, crammed into what was essentially a storage area, RX seemed to be even worse. Miraculously, the six days she’s spent on RX so far have gone by without any major incidents, although she has only been made aware of the colony’s general situation prior to her arrival and hasn’t bothered to catch up on the details yet.
 
When she arrived six days ago, the first thing she saw was a crowd of people held back by security officers who were desperately trying to explain that whatever supplies the ship brought will be unloaded and distributed among the people shortly. The people didn’t even seem to listen to them. As far as she knew, these incidents occurred every time a ship came through, but so far none have escalated to violence. It made her wonder why she was sent to RX in the first place. Did they expect more trouble? Or was she sent here because they knew it would mostly be an office job? She turned to her desk, currently cluttered with various reports. But one important file was missing. She started pacing around the office, looking at her watch. The Scythian was due to land in less than an hour, but someone at customs forgot to send her its cargo manifest. She thought it was merely a clerical error, but when she asked the head of customs about it, he said he thought they skipped him and sent it to her directly. She was tempted to ask the administration, but given the swarms of people that flocked to the Administration building, she was reluctant to contact Director Ogilvie as he probably had his hands full.
 
Whether this was just an error or something shifty happening, it didn’t matter. Either way, there was a ship on its way and no one here seemed to know what it was carrying. She stopped walking back and forth and sat down. Nobody knew what was on board and that could be problematic. Even if nothing happened concerning the Scythian or its cargo, someone could still use that as fuel for their argument if something happened in the future. She could imagine Major Jankowski as if he stood right in front of her: [i]‘Look at the Scythian! They let them dock without any security checks! Who knows how many others got a free pass to RX3248 and what cargo they brought with them?’[/i]. Maybe she was just paranoid, and definitely negatively biased towards Jankowski, but in such a scenario, this could be used against any member of the administration, customs or security.
 
Aside from this predicament, there was a minor annoyance in the form of a dozen or so requests by the local Apis tribe to be granted permission to go out and salvage the Nomad fleet hanging in orbit. That was another thing she was not about to let happen if she could. She still remembered what it was like. The reports they received while stationed on Proxima III as the Nomad and its hounds approached still haunted her. Than the sky lit up and command channels fell silent. Her PAD beeped, announcing an incoming message.
[b]“Chief, this is Solothurn, customs. The Scythian is about to land. I figured you might want to ask a few questions. I’m heading there right now.”[/b]
She reached for the device and started picking herself up.
“Thanks, Dave, I’m on my way. See you there in ten minutes.”