[i]Harbinger Flagship[/i]. 
[i]50,847 Kilometers above Savran[/i]. 
[i]Command Deck[/i].

Admiral Corvus strode powerfully onto the Command Deck, stepping past highly trained men stationed around the raised dias he was to command from, in the form of a semi-circle. When he stopped at his station, before him was displayed the information of the world Savran, though he had read the details a thousand times over since given leave to bring the planet to heel. The High Lords had offered him this fleet to see the task done. 

On the Display Monitor, the green world of Savran whirled slowly before his eyes, hanging amid a velvet black sky dotted with twinkling stars. It looked almost beautiful from up here, but he had seen the reports from down below. Massive and dangerous local fauna along with a high amount of methane in the air made it a essentially a powder keg that bit anyone who touched it. And of course that was not mentioning the so-called ruler of the planet, Val-kan Hatcher, who's oppressive grip on the world was tighter than a Vorlax tentacle. 

If Corvus did not have orders to the contrary, he would have simply blasted the place from Orbit and flown his fleet back home. But the instructions had been clear. An anomaly, mechanical in nature, had been detected by one of their informants before he had mysteriously been killed. Or eaten, perhaps. So far all negotiations with Val-kan Hatcher had been unsatisfactory at best. The old man wanting a fortune, as well as official independence from Terra Imperial rule, in exchange for allowing them to land on-world. Needless to say, Corvus was not returning to Terra and informing the High Lords he had made costly deals on their behalf. 

They could invade, but there would be massive casualties. Val-kan knew where to place Anti-Orbit gun emplacements, and he knew the terrain. Corvus knew the High Lords would be growing impatient, and he could not blame them. He was, as well. The Admiral gripped the railing of the platform he stood upon, and brooded. 
[hr] 

The music was catchy and smooth, played by a ragtag band of long haired humans adorned with indigo and brown tattoos that looked to be in the vague shape of swirling atoms. The crowd within looked much like the one outside, only now sitting at squatted tables. Smoke from pipes and lung-sticks wafted around Sayeeda and Neil, the latter of which wrinkled his nose at the smell. 

The bar was 'manned' by a woman not even 35 summers old, statuesque and supple of figure, though her features had aged prematurely due to stress and lack of nutrition. She wiped the counter with a cloth, stray strands of hair framing her sun tanned face. Beside her was a monstrosity of a Xenos. With three chins, eight arms crossed, smokey-coal scales for skin, and a head taller than either Sayeeda or Neil, it looked repulsively ugly and mean, eyeing anyone who came up to the bar to speak with the barmaid. 

Three tables from the bar, a suave man with blonde hair spoke to three men in Terran uniforms, and Sayeeda could hear the short cropped, blonde haired man talk openly of gun running while he chewed on what must have been the local cuisine. It had the look of a sponge-y crab leg that crunched from something deep within its flesh. 

Just across the way, one burly mutant with red eyes stood up suddenly from his table, his chair knocking back to totter and hit the ground. He didn't look at the newcomers, but at who he had been sitting with, who also in turn stood up and began cursing the mutant with profanities that had Neil smirking. "Go home if you don't want to die!" The mutant cried, and threw the bottle of brew in his hand at his partner, who ducked the spike. 

The bottle sliced through the air, only to be caught by Neil with a nonchalant offhand. "Ooo, still got some in it." He said, popping the cork off and taking a swig. 

"Can I help you?" the Bar woman said, placing her garment down and putting her hands on her hips. 
[@Penny]