Borite / Sindal (Trojan Reach 2219)
Urien, Rhane, Lindsey, Eirene, Kesperziaiepr, Mahan
Landed at Downport, Borite
019 (Harrier, Week 2) 1105, Imperial
Once the Delta Vee and the station were dealt with - properly sorted, bodies brought over to the Reclaimer's Intent, and the orbital paths and progress of both plotted into the flight computer to aid with finding them later, and the commerce raider pulled away - getting down to Borite's surface is a simple matter. You can descend down through the thinner atmosphere, passing through an intermediate cloud layer to find yourselves. And as you sweep down a long beach with sands black from years of volcanic activity, you catch the sight of the 'downport'. Something that Earrod or any of the other three natives up and about are happy to indicate to you if anybody in the bridge finds the port guide available from the ship's library to be insufficient for the task.
When radiong in for landing on the frequency that is advised by the port guide you were able to pick out from the ship's library, a rather young voice - doing his best to sound stern - responds in heavily accented Galanglic, "U-understood, Reclaimer's Intent. Please a-adhere to within one mile of all radio locator beacons on your approach or - or you will be fired upon."
Following a series of radio locator beacons is easy enough as they guide you down a shallow valley, closer to the downport until you are able to spot the landing area.
To call it a proper 'downport' is... generous. After all, this planet sees perhaps a few starships a year at most. Or at least, a few per year that aren't here with hostile intent. So you are directed to a clearing amid short, fat, golden-colored trees where a space roughly large enough to fit the Reclaimer's Intent twice over has been hewn away and uprooted, with a third again left around that as stumps. Landing sends up a cloud of pollen and loose tree limbs. And as the ship settles, Earrod makes a point to suggesting that he should be the first to step off the vessel before any cargo is unloaded or before other passengers are disembarked.
Offloading can be done easily enough. Dropping the cargo ramp or the airlock steps as desired in order for the passengers to gather their belongings from their alloted cargo space before offloading. Low-berth passengers awakening with soft gasps as they first feel the comparatively warm air of the cabin-space around them when they are brought back to the world of the living, giving the Doctor appreciative nods and murmered thanks as they gather their belongings and head out.
Earodd makes his way out - and in shorter order, rushing up through the muddy and wheel-worn path up to the landing pad, a small collection of troopers in dark clothes and with bolt-action rifles in hand come rushing up. They dispersed to either side of the only roadway up to or out of the landing pad and regard your ship warily even as Earodd raises his hands in some mixture of surrender and greeting. He shouts something to the nearest of them, they shout something back. Voices echo between felled trees and fighting positions.
A few moments pass. A bit more shouting back and forth.
Then two young soldiers are motioned for by the man leading the detail, and with a few inaudible, barked orders they quickly jog back the way they came. The man who gave the orders steps out from cover and approaches. At a glance he is wearing a uniform not unlike the outfit worn by Selly, with similar markings on his collars. He looks like... a much younger Earodd, trading a thick and bushy beard for a full head of dark, cropped hair hidden under a forest-green beret. He approaches the older man and its clear they know each other, conversing.
The air of pressure seems to alleviate. The soldiers who still wait in cover lower their rifles.
It seems that, at least for now, that it has been made abundantly clear you aren't the raiders they've come to fear.
The passengers - as well as any crew who wish - are ushered down the road to a small series of white-washed wooden buildings with tin roofing. A stablehouse, a maintenance shed where they indicate you can find a single buried liquid hydrogen tank and the tanker truck to ferry its contents, and more sheltered building that resembles something like an old train station inside. Uncomfortable, large wooden benches. A service desk with a clerk who clearly is only doing this part-time. Behind that desk, carefully secured, is a phone with a pictographic keypad.
Passengers make calls, and over the course of thirty minutes to an hour, a small collection of trundling open-top cars and trucks arrive to ferry them all. The majority seem to be arranged by Earrod, to include the eight individuals in low berths who he does happily identify - now that they are all back on Borite and accounted for, healthy - are some of his employees. Comparatively, Chrone and Aman seem much less pleased to be back, and spend a good deal of time doing what can only be described as sulking quietly together on a bench out front.
While you will be under close watch of the seemingly jumpy Self Defense Force garrison of the downport, but the town seems as if it is reasonably well-inahbited and likely to be a good source of business. At least as good a source of business as one might reliably expect from a settlement where the outlying houses are often still made of set logs, with tin rooftops. And where the border of the town is marked by a pair of fire-breaking trenches.
Borite / Sindal (Trojan Reach 2219)
Urien, Rhane, Lindsey, Eirene, Kesperziaiepr, Mahan
Aboard the Reclaimer's Intent, Borite Downport
019 (Harrier, Week 2) 1105, Imperial
The two new passengers are another matter of concern.
The man recovered from the Delta Vee - 'Cat-Killer' as his suit identified him - can be readily identified as 'Dazl' now that he's had an opportunity to strip from his suit. As soon as a medical scan determined that the injury to his arm was 'just' a closed fracture, he was happy to undue the tourniquet, and stripped out of that suit. If use of one is offered to him during the descent or landing, or even during the downtime as passengers off-load - then he is more than happy to make use of a refresher in order to clean himself of sweat and grime and canned air stink.
He expresses this gratitude with a small grunt and nod. All while being carefully guarded of his newly set arm.
In fact, outside of signalling with VSR, that tends to be the only way he expresses himself at present.
The most active he gets is when the soldiers first come rushing up. Clearly not able to access your armory as he lacks permissions, he can be found by the first-deck airlock during the stand-off. There with what seems to be a butcher's knife taken from the kitchen, he stands watching the entrance with sharp eyes until things seem to calm down. Only then does he quit that self-appointed post and return the knife to its place on the magnetic strip on the wall.
With that, he takes it on himself to seemingly do as he pleases for the moment unless there is apparent need of him.
Unless it is requested he be elsewhere or keep himself to one portion of the ship, he instead takes it upon himself to sit with the recovered bodies of his crewmates. He sits at their collective feet, cross-legged, and sipping on the broth from a bowl of ramen that he seems to have invited himself to cook from the shelves of the ship's stores. And there, as passengers are offloaded and a warm summer breeze washes up into the cargo bay, is where he can be found.
Krrsh - or perhaps, Hsrrk if he is to be believed - is... less serene.
He hasn't stripped out of his vacc-suit since he was recovered from the High Watch station in Borite's orbit, and he still seems to be "playing" the part of the whipped dog admirably well. Having been ushered at gunpoint to Urien's quarters, he has been kept under the careful eye of both the cameras that Urien or others might access from any terminal aboard the ship, and of course the hissing and growling sentry that is a disgruntled Maine Coone.
He hasn't moved much from the seat at the desk save to occasionally flinch or draw away from the feline's both real and perceived movements. And over time it seems he's been able to suss out where the camera is, as such things aren't a common addition in most staterooms, and so it was only a matter of time before it drew his eye. This is, after all, a Sindalian vessel. Measures designed to strip crew of privacy from their leadership is assumed. So occasionally he looks up to it, as if the unblinking eye of the reflective half-sphere in the roof will provide some answer or relief.
When he can feel the vessel has landed, he does look to the camera and offer a shaky, "H-hello? Are we landing? Can - can I go now? Please?" And a disgruntled sound from Astrid has him jump slightly in the seat and try to scoot it across the floor away from her on reflex.