1 –

A voice crackled in Davik’s earpiece, covered in static and a little bit of a high pitched whine, “This is control, go ahead.”

Davik responded, “Control this is delta-victor-tango-eight-five-two-charlie, requesting permission for takeoff.” A pause. He stared into the darkness of his inactive headset visor. “Copy five-two-charlie, provide flight plan numb-“

Davik cut him off, already familiar with the song and dance necessary to clear the remote aircraft for flight, “Plan golf-mike-charlie-yankee-niner-five-five…”

He tried not to sound too annoyed and waited while the control agent pulled up the documents submitted a few weeks ago.

The static-laden voice returned to his ear, “Affirmative five-two-charlie, releasing locks…now.”

Davik heard a “thunk” as the magnetic locks on the aircraft were disengaged, allowing the drone to take off from its housing in the back of the sandcrawler vehicle. Davik briskly thanked the agent and terminated the call. The remote camera system on the drone activated, lighting Davik’s vision and acting as his eyes. It lifted into the sky, its repulsor thrusters making a low-pitched pulsing noise.

As the craft lifted higher into the air, Davik’s mood improved considerably. He lived for flight. The freedom of the skies, the act of defying that which nature had denied him, the rush and twist of acceleration and turns, there was nothing quite like it. Davik adjusted the control sticks in his hands, executed a barrel roll, and grinned. Perfect.

A woman’s face overlaid itself on Davik’s visor. The grin disappeared. “Dav, don’t get too carried away; stick to the flight plan or control’s gonna have a field day with your second strike”, she said plainly. Davik shrugged his shoulders, “Don’t worry Talia, she hasn’t been out more than two minutes. Besides, I’ve gotta run a test on the systems somehow, right?” “Alright boss, s’your wrist getting slapped, not mine.” She rolled her eyes and her visage disappeared from the visor HUD.

Davik ignored her and tuned his communicator to broadcast on the general aviation frequency. “This is five-two-charlie beginning flight plan execution…” He thumbed the controls to bring the drone up, blasting the stinging desert sand around him into a cloud. Despite the gaitor he wore over his nose and mouth, Davik couldn’t help but spit sand out of his teeth. Damn stuff got everywhere out here…

The drone flew higher and higher into the sky, rendering Davik as an ant next to the beetle-sized blob that was the team’s sandcrawler. He panned the drone across the horizon over the city of Divinity’s golden, grasping peaks afore the shimmering blue ocean. Davik sighed one of contentment, back in his element again. For all the filth the City spat, it sure did look beautiful from up here.

His visor lit up with a series of beacons marking the path the flight plan laid out, and obscuring the view he was admiring. “Stay on task, Dav…”, he reminded himself, bringing the first beacon into line on his HUD. He breathed in deeply, and slowly let it out, the hum of the repulsors his calming mantra.

He brought the drone into a wide graceful sweep to line up with the main thoroughfare of the City’s north gate exit, pulling back on the throttle and aiming his camera’s view down towards the ground. He toggled the drone’s autopilot, something he considered a crime he’d have to get back at himself for later. His hands shifted on the controls to a different, smaller, set of thumbsticks. Toggling a switch, Davik assumed control of the camera onboard the aircraft, zooming in and sweeping the central road.

“Gotcha…” he mumbled to himself.

Davik spotted a cluster of people wearing dark, ragged robes, moving at a slow pace. They all carried large, lumpy, packs wrapped in cloth and linens, nearly no better off than their bearers. A few of the members of the group turned awkwardly to look back behind them, waving for others to hurry and keep up with the rest of the group. At the head of the pack, Davik noticed a man wearing slightly less dingy robes and assumed that he was the leader of this entourage. He marked him and began rotating the drone around to pan for threats.

Given the view mode Davik had his visor in, connected to the drone’s camera, the HUD sent a call from Talia to his earpiece only, hiding her face from his view.

“Hey cap, did you find ‘em?”, she asked. Davik grunted in response. “Mm, they’re moving, slowly. Drone’ll beat ‘em back to the gate, but we’ve got enough flight time to watch them stationary from our hold position. No issues so far.” “Let’s hope it stays that way.” He could tell Talia was a bit on edge, antsy. Could hear it in her voice. They all were. “Everybody knows who’s been hired to keep the peace on this gig. They won’t try anything.” Davik tried to be reassuring. “Don’t let ‘em see you sweat, Tali.”

Davik heard another voice through Talia’s mic: distant, male, impatient. “Little too late for not sweating… how long he think’s we’ll be sittin’ here?” Davik eyed a pair of civilians paying a bit too much attention to the robed group moving towards the gate, trying not to get distracted by the salty words of his team’s new recruit.

“If you’re bored, Lonni, why don’t you go meet our contact at the gate.” Lonni scoffed. “Double-time, that’s an order, soldier.” Davik heard the top hatch of the sandcrawler open and slam shut as Lonni climbed down onto the dune.

Lonni joined the comms channel. “…aye, sir…”, he grumbled into his microphone and trotted off towards the city, sand spilling down the slopes as he stepped.

“Tali, you see these guys?” Davik called out, referring to the suspicious duo he was eyeing. Talia mirrored his video feed to her own visor. Davik described his mark, “Left side, dark brown pleather coats. One has a hood, the other a respirator mask and shades. I don’t see any weapons or identifying marks…” Davik could almost hear Talia squinting at her feed. “Yeah, I see ‘em. Think they’re trouble? Not every day you get to see a funeral procession in this city. I think they’re just curious.”

Davik furrowed his brow and sighed. “Just a hunch… Lonni, acknowledge copy on that description.” Lonni responded, a little out of breath, “Solid copy, chef.” “You know these lines are recorded, right, greenhorn? Company policy.” Talia asked with a tinge of aggression. Davik cut in, “Keep it in line, squad. Lonni, cut the shit.” He panned the drone camera to spot Lonni. The crawler wasn’t far from the gate, and it only took Lonni a minute or two to get there.

The north gate didn’t open often. Most traffic to and from Divinity was through the western gate, off the port, that connected to the ocean. Following that metric, the south gate. No one had much reason to head north to the cursed, gray lands beyond the mountains. No one except rouges and others seeking unholy asylum.

The north gate didn’t open often, and Davik could hear its shrill squealing of the massive metal gears hauling the door up out of the way of the pilgrims. He tightened a little, wishing that this whole scenario could be a little less conspicuous. A minority religious group walking with large lumpy packs through the loudest door in the City. How much attention could they possibly draw?

“Lonni they’re starting to approach the gate. Eyes up, be respectful, and keep our VIPs moving.” Silence on the comms. Davik took that as a good sign.

He panned back to watch the procession. His marks were gone; he cursed under his breath. “Eyes up.”

2 –

Lonni turned his trot into a walk, feeling the eyes of Davik’s drone on him from the air, and watched as the pilgrims spilled out of the north gate. The ground outside the behemoth gate had been pounded down into a more firm surface, and Lonni was thankful for that. He raised his hand up to signal to the procession leader who waved back; a smile beamed on his face. Lonni groaned. He wasn’t in the mood for enthusiasm today.

The man approached Lonni, his dour robes frayed at the ends. He carried a tall, gnarly wooden walking stick in his right hand. He moved the stick into his left hand and made a motion with his right two fingers and thumb, moving from his forehead, pausing at his lips, and ending with a gentle fist over his heart and a slight bow.

“I greet you like the sun greets the morning, warrior.” The man spoke with trilled R’s and elongated E’s that took Lonni a moment to parse.

Lonni nodded, “Gonna be real, I could do with a little less sun right now, sir.” The man offered a small smile and raised an eyebrow that wrinked his already aging face. “Your speech betrays your inheritance, ralyestas.”

Lonni stared blankly from behind his visor, glad his expression was hidden from the sage’s eyes. He sure as hell didn’t know what the man just called him, and almost didn’t understand the Teluris Common before that.

“Sir, we need to keep moving. Continue heading north, just over that dune. There’s a vehicle to escort your people.” Lonni pointed a finger towards Davik and Talia.

The man waved a hand slowly, as if in dismissal. “Please, you call me ‘seeyr’, I am called Rydhaluyk.” He proceeded to break down the pronounciation for Lonni, layered thick with an accent. “It is spoken, Reed-haa-loo-eek. Like so.”

Lonni sighed. “If you say so.” he responded, dryly.

Rydhaluyk squinted at Lonni. “Yes, I just did…but we waste time! We must continue, or you might get your wish, eys taron? Less sun.” He nodded assuredly and continued north, raising his hand for the rest of the flock to follow, pack wobbling on his back.

Lonni felt his temper rise, forcing himself to take a couple deep breaths. Something he’d been working on. He continued walking toward the gate, motioning with his left hand to guide the procession after the elder. The other hand he kept ready on the rifle strapped in front of him.

Lonni never interacted with “these kinds of people”, as he thought of them. Haggard, desparate, dirty. Nothing like the people from the Precidium. Yet these people, who had so little, looked at him with eyes full of gratitude and hope. Lonni was used to the piercing, searching stares of the snobs looking for a way to cripple him socially. Most of the reason he ended up looking for a way out of there, and into employment at Gramercy Kinetics. For all he left behind, he couldn’t leave his temper. Something his father was keen to remind him of.

Lonni scoffed at his father’s words in his mind. Hypocrite. That cold, steeled expression buttoned up an internal pressure that was always a few pounds short of bursting.

A chirp from the radio in his earpiece brought Lonni back to reality from his own personal dreamworld. “Lonni, the drone’s time is up. The last of the pilgrims are clearing the gate. Fall in behind them and make sure everyone makes it back to the crawler.”

Lonni’s eye twitched. Davik. Lonni didn’t hate Davik, he just hated people like him: obedient, strict, a by-the-books kind of person. Breathe.

“Copy that. Falling in.” The response from Davik was almost that of surprise. Lonni grit his teeth. “See you soon. Davik out.”