Junebug heaved a sigh of relief as the Highlander clattered to rest on the landing pad. The metal hull pinged as it cooled and machinery whine as the onboard systems began to power down. Though she and Neil had both agreed that the radical modifications they had made would work, the word ‘probably’ had been very heavily implied. She wanted to congratulate him but he was busy answering some question or another that Indra had breathlessly put to him. Pursing her lips she popped her restraints and stood up. 

The landscape outside was picturesque. The steeply rising sides of the mountain were clad with something that approached a Terran fir tree, though their were odd metallic bronze inclusions in the bark that meant it was either a native, similar evolution to answer similar circumstances, or some kind of hybrid. Broad stone steps climbed the mountain in an elaborate spiral and doors of some sort of polished crystal were set into the mountainside to give access to less picturesque but more practical elevators. The frangible nature of the volcanic rock that formed the mountain had allowed human engineers to enhance naturally occuring tiers, sculpting the rock to permit space for landing pads and other structures, such as the anti-aircraft emplacements they had seen on the way in, and other small structures. The base of the spire, where the rock met the greenish sea was half rimmed with pristine beaches, and half surrounded by an industrial dockyard at which a dozen vessels lay moored at short jetties that protruded like spines. A pair of them were obviously pleasure yatz but there was also a large gray vessel painted in a disruptive pattern that was clearly a surface going warship, another smaller pair of hydrofoils might easily have been escorts though Sayeeda lacked the technical knowledge to say for sure.   

In a world where plasma guns could reach out to line of sight and smash anything that was light enough to move, surface vehicles, like the tanks of Andor’s armored were the primary method of fighting modern wars. Aircraft struggled due to the fact that sensors could pick them up when they cleared the horizon and the couldn’t carry enough armor to survive targeted shots, though certain stealthy models, observation drones for the most part, could sometimes be of use. On a world where there was ocean rather than land, wet navies could provide the same service as tanks, mechs and other armored vehicles did on other worlds, providing mobile artillery and direct fire capabilities. The islands and archipelagos would provide bases and tall spires like this one would provide vantage points from which heavy weapons could reach out many hundreds of miles, providing natural bastions, not unlike medieval castles, for the aristocracy that controlled them. In areas where there were few tall islands, the pirates and smugglers Indra mentioned could find havens. On some worlds a united world government would have installed a satellite network that made such activity impossible, but anyone with basic sensors could pick off satellites with ease be they rival noble or pirate either way. Indra’s insistence they use clearance codes to approach suddenly made a lot more sense. 

“Junebug?” Taya repeated as Junebug snapped out of her ponderings. 

“We got company.”

The party that met them at the bottom of the Highlander’s forward hatch was part formal greeting part familial reunion. A quartet of women, each wearing gilded breastplates and carrying round ornamental shields as well as very functional looking plasma pistols escorted a beautiful woman in a tailored business suit and a hard faced athletic looking man with a short iron gray beard and an official looking robe. 

“Mother!” Indra cried and rushed to hug the other woman. There was little in their apparent ages to suggest a maternal relationship rather than a sisterly one, but this was obviously a testament to whatever anti-aging drugs the older woman employed. She caught up her daughter in a relieved hug. The granite faced man managed a smile of his own, though it was obviously not his usual expression. 

“We didn’t dare believe it when we received your private code,” he intoned gravely, nodding his thanks to the assembled crew of the Highlander. Sayeeda was dressed in her usual combat pants and boots and while she wore a t-shirt emblazoned with the words ‘smooth operator’ she also wore a black jacket with silver piping that gave her a slightly more formal and dignified look. Though she didn’t openly carry a weapon, she had a pistol tucked into her waistband concealed by the jacket.

“We rescued your daughter from a bit of difficulty,” Sayeeda said graciously. The old mans eyes were searching as they regarded her, flicking left and right to take in Neil and Taya and Saxon.

“She hired us to bring her home.”