Smugglers

Location - Planet Oxian III - Berian Rim

Chayne idled his roamer and took in the garish green bulk of the Vorkan outpost. Snapping his suit visor into place, he exited the Exocraft and leaned into the dust-landen wind that was already promising to accelerate to Extreme levels by the time the system’s huge red sun sunk below the craggy horizon. Working his way around to the left of the observatory, he keyed the entry pad and the pneumatic doors parted. He almost had to leap forward to clear the quickly-closing portal. Even the static field that was intended to keep out debris was not strong enough to stop the fine powder of wind-driven sand.
The Vorkan at the station’s terminal turned to scowl at the intruder.
“Greetings stranger, state your business or be gone.” The massively muscled warrior growled.
Chayne unsealed his hip pack and drew out a container holding four transparent ampules of a pearlescent fluid that shot prismatic fractal reflections from the sourceless lighting. The Vorkan gave an involuntary grunt at the sight of so much concentrated Splice.
“I have come to satisfy our arrangement, may HO'j smile upon it. Do you have what I need?” Chayne did not bother to unseal his helmet, and his other hand rested at his side near the grip of his blaster. The Vorkan bared his huge teeth and barked a guttural response. He reached to tap a sequence of controls on the console and a slim wafer of crolium popped from a slot.
“I have programmed the nanites as you requested. All that need be done is to activate this device and place it in contact with the system you wish to contaminate."

He held out the device and Chayne placed the Splice on the console, reaching for the wafer without moving his gun hand away from his weapon. The Vorkan dropped the silvery sliver into the lockbox in Chayne’s outstretched hand.
“It is well you are cautious wandered," the warrior growled. "But, if you soil the name of HO'j again with your unworthy tongue, I may forget my honour.”

Chayne placed the lockbox in his hip pouch and sealed it without ever taking his eyes off the glowering Vorkan.
“May you howl loud and long.” He said as he backed toward the portal. The wind hit him like a fist. Only the magsoles of his suit kept him upright. He leaned into it and fired the jetpack, propelling him out and up and leaving a satisfying scorch mark on the floor of the Vorkan pristine station. He climbed into the roamer from the left side and began making headway against the wind toward the rendezvous point.

He had 6 sols to reach his destination. He had to accomplish the switch and be long gone before then.

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