“I notice he gets a plasma rifle,” Rosaria groused, still a little sullen as the pistons began to hiss as they extended the belly ramp of the Bonaventure. The weapon hung infront of Rene’s body armor from one of the integral attachment points, muzzle down across his body at a steep angle. The armor itself was standard marine battle dress, mottled gray carbon fibre cored ceramic. It was actually heavier equipment than had been issued to the troops at the Rat Trap back on New Concordia which hadn’t been considered combat conditions. That Ten had been able to get his hands on a set of the stuff was impressive and more than a little unnerving. When the day came that Solae assumed her responsibilities as Duchess of the Eastern Cross, he was going to suggest a serious audit of Imperial logistics.
 
“Well,” said Rene judiciously as the ramp thumped down and the internal hatch hissed open. There was a slight outrush of air as the cargo bay depressurized slightly to the local ambient. A moment later the air of HK-421 rushed in. Rene had found that each world he had visited had a certain character to its air which was in its own way unique. New Concordia tasted like the wind before a storm, Panopontus tingled slightly with sea borne salt, Zatis tasted of the lubricants used in the atmosphere reprocessors. HK-421’s air had a slightly spicy taste, like the memory of cinnamon prickling at the back of his throat. The snuffed fires of the landing and the cooling metal of their reentry mingled with the slightly wrong scents of grass and trees.

“If you ever feel like enlisting in the Marines, they have an excellent course on how to use one,” he told the girl, catching Solae’s eye and controlling the slight exasperation with a quirk of his lip. The moved down the ramp and onto the grassland beyond. The landing site Solae had chosen was between two small hills that formed the toe of a range that rose to mountains to the north. Scrub forest seemed to predominate in their planned direction of travel, likely a sign that weather formed on that side of the range while this side was in the rain shadow. The grassland appeared to be all but flat but the occasional line of short shrubby trees suggested that what rainfall runoff there was was channeled into shallow stream beds that were not visible until you stumbled onto them. The most striking feature of HK-421 was its sky. Whether due to the higher concentration of argon, or the reflection of the gas giant around which it orbited the sky was a wash of rose colored pastel, like a gorgeous sunset that was never ruined by dusk. Thin wispy clouds were swirled at high altitude further enhancing the impression that the sky had been painted by some ancient artist rather than occurring naturally. 
 
“What I mean is, you are armed to the teeth and the rest of us have…” she made as though to grab the butt of her pistol but Rene’s eyes slapped her hand away before she could actually draw the weapon. He had made it abundantly clear to her in their brief training that one should never draw a weapon, particularly a pistol, unless it was for use. Rosaria’s experience with guns was more as a theatrical tool, where Thorne’s thugs had swaggered around to intimidate and impress. It would take time and training to grind away those subconscious lessons.
 
“Why do you think that is?” Rene asked, taking his queue from Solae to use the bitching as a learning opportunity for the girl. Either she would learn something, or she would learn to stop bitching. To her credit Rosaria bit back a retort and considered the question.

“Because you think you might have to shoot Bouradine?” she hazarded after a moment. They set off to the east, skirting the hill rather than climbing it. Rene had planned their route to the downed escape pods before they left and it was projected onto his retina by a holographic projector in the brow of the armors helmet. The unit had a blast shield, but Rene kept it retracted for the moment in order to better observe the terrain and so that his companions could see his face rather than the blank plasteel shield. 
 
“Solae is the representative of the Empress in this sector,” Rene explained as they climbed over a small rain cut streambed. It was deeper than Rene expected, and cut to the bedrock where mineral salts dispositive by run off glistened in metallic rainbows.

“Under normal circumstances, her head of security and military liaison would have at least a squad of troops with her if she insisted on visiting an unexplored planet, probably more like a platoon, and that goes double for meeting an unknown contact in an unsecured location. Wearing this,” he rapped his knuckles on the armor.

“And carrying this,” he tapped the butt of the plasma rifle.

“Everyone in the Stellar Empire recognizes marine battledress, so he isn’t going to mistake us for pirates or bounty hunters and he is going to take Solae seriously because if he doesn't he has a visual reminder that the whole weight of the Empire can come down on his head,” Rene explained.

“So it is all political then?” Rosaria asked. Rene chuckled softly. He wondered if there were any aspect of life in the upper tiers of the Empire that wasn’t political. He glanced sideways at Solae and smiled fondly at the image of her wearing her fabricated interface gear. He didn’t doubt that some, perhaps most of the nobles he had met on Capella would be utterly horrified to even think of trekking across an unknown world, with improvised equipment.

“Partially,” Rene admitted, “There is wildlife to consider and... “ he trailed off for a moment trying to consider the best way to phrase his next words. There were too many variables tumbling in his head to allow for him to make a clear decision this far in advance. In the end he decided it was best to go with the plain and unvarnished truth.

“...and because yes, I might have to shoot Bouradine.”  There was a long and grim pause before Rene's mind spun away from a future where a panicing Bouradine pointed a gun at Solae Falia and Rene Quentain burned him down with two plasma bolts as precise as the certainty he would regret doing it.

"You should name it you know," He said, turning to Solae before making a guesture to encompass the world around them.

"You are the first official Imperial contact after all, and we can't keep calling it HK-421."