Trade Era 1235, Day 164. 18:30 UTC
Zyronis atmosphere
The descent through the thick, smog-filled atmosphere of Zyronis was rough. Peter Morgan gripped the armrests of his seat, his mind racing with thoughts of what awaited them in Calypso, the bustling capital of this ecumenopolis. Beside him, Mercer seemed nonchalant, his eyes fixed on the view through the small porthole.
The planet's surface came into view, an endless expanse of metal and concrete, dotted with towers and skybridges that stretched toward the sky. The city was a maze of technology and people, an intricate web that housed millions. As their transport ship touched down at the starport, the two men exchanged a knowing glance.
Disembarking, they were immediately swallowed by the frenetic energy of the starport. People of all origins and professions bustled around them, a symphony of movement and noise. Peter scanned the crowd, his military instincts on alert, while Mercer seemed to soak in the atmosphere with a practiced ease.
"
We need information. We can't just dive into the underways without knowing what we're up against," Mercer said.
Peter nodded. "
Agreed. I suggest we split up. I’ll check in with my old contacts from the Marines. You, meanwhile, can see what you can find out from the locals. Meet back at the bar near the old market in two hours?"
"
Sounds like a plan," Mercer replied
Trade Era 1235, Day 164. 18:49 UTC
Calypso, Zyronis
Peter Morgan, his military bearing still evident despite the casual clothes he wore, stepped out of the starport and into the cacophony of the city. His eyes, hardened by years of combat, scanned the crowded streets for any familiar faces.
He made his way through the bustling crowd, heading towards the Green Beretta, a bar known for its discretion and the military clientele it attracted. The bar was a relic from his past service days, a place where favors were traded and alliances formed away from prying eyes. As he approached the entrance, a bouncer gave him a once-over before nodding him inside.
The interior of the bar was a stark contrast to the chaos outside. Dim lighting cast long shadows across the room, revealing a few scattered figures here and there. Peter moved with purpose, heading towards a corner where a familiar face sat nursing a drink.
"
Lieutenant Harris," Peter greeted, using the formal title as a sign of respect. "
It's been a while."
Harris looked up, his eyes widening in surprise before a grin spread across his face. "
Morgan! I thought you'd disappeared into the void. What brings you back to this hellhole?"
Peter sat, leaning conspiratorially. "
I need a favor, Harris. I need to go armed, more than the law allows a civilian. Do you think you can help an old friend?"
Harris scratched his chin thoughtfully.
"
That's a tall order, even for you. Things have tightened up around here and you're not in the Interstellar Security Division anymore. But... I might know a way. There are a few strings I can pull, but it'll cost you. What are you looking to carry into our lovely little city? Rifles? Combat armor?"Trade Era 1235, Day 164. 18:49 UTC
Calypso, Zyronis
Meanwhile,
Mercer was navigating a different part of Calypso, his sights set on gathering information. The local bar he entered was lively, filled with a mix of rough-looking locals and adventurous souls. Mercer, with his disarming charm, sidled up to a group of patrons, his eyes on a woman with a sharp gaze and a cybernetic arm, clearly someone who knew her way around the city.
"Mind if I join you?" Mercer asked, flashing a smile as he settled at the bar.
"I’m new in town, looking to avoid any... unnecessary complications… in the underways."
The woman gave Mercer a scrutinizing look before nodding. "
Depends on what you’re after. The underways aren't exactly tourist-friendly."
Mercer leaned in, lowering his voice. "
What's the word on the dangers down there? We're planning a trip, and I’d rather not be caught off guard."
The woman took a sip of her drink, her eyes never leaving Mercer's. "
The underways are vast, inter-continental tunnels, big enough for a gravcar. They reek of chemicals and are home to all sorts of nasties.You need specially modified atmofilters to stay more than a couple of minutes there. Moreover, gangs, rogue robotic units, alien animals and mutated creatures from chemical spills... you name it. In some sectors, it’s a lawless place."
Mercer nodded, slipping a few credits to the woman as thanks. "
Appreciate the tip. Anything specific we should avoid?"
"
Stay clear of Sector 15P," she warned. "
The Crimson Vipers have their base there. They're heavily armed and don't take kindly to intruders. If you're looking for something valuable, though, Sector 11N's salvaged tech markets might be worth a visit. Just watch your back."