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air tickled his nose as the scent of dusty, sand and exotic plants filled his senses. It was a sharp contrast to the odorless, recycled air aboard the Rennather. The desert sun felt hot on his face. It wouldn’t be long before the arid heat caused him to break out in a sweat. A strong breeze tousled his hair as he stepped away from the shuttle, reminding Byron that he needed a trim soon. Korden was not as strict as some commanders, but Byron didn’t want to press his luck. He bucked enough rules and regulations.
    Once those on both ships had convened outside, the group by the hanger approached. The Cassan reached them first, pausing long enough to offer a proper salute and greetings to Second-in-Command, Anceptor. The man beckoned the newcomers into the hanger to acquire their security clearance before proceeding further.
    Byron understood the need to follow protocol, but the formality obviously frustrated Mevine. The lad bounced on his heels, the heavy packs across his shoulders limiting his movement. Mevine glanced around and paused when he noticed the pilot staring at him.
    Relax! You’ll hurt yourself , Byron thought.
    Mevine’s eyes widened. He brought both heels down with great force. Sorry, sir, Mevine answered . And thank you for allowing me to ride in the cockpit with you.
    You’re welcome.
    The security check complete, Anceptor ordered the retrieval of the cargo. Byron oversaw the operation, chastising a clumsy science technician when the man shoved a crate into the shuttle’s interior wall. Tempers flared among the men and an exchange of words threatened to bring a halt to the process. Byron maintained order, asserting his authority lest they forget he was the second highest-ranking officer present. The science officers were eager to begin their work but Byron didn’t want exuberance to overrule proper procedure.
    The cargo was loaded onto a large, motorized cart for ground transpiration to the site. Byron eyed the oversized engine with skepticism, concerned the weight of the crates would be too much for the primitive machine. One of the Tgrens climbed into the open seat and pressed several buttons. The cart lurched forward with a roar. The engine emitted a black cloud in response. A couple more false starts and the device achieved a slow but steady speed. The science team followed on a similar cart lined with wood benches. Byron caught Mevine’s worried expression as that cart’s forward progress proved just as awkward.
    Damn, wonder if their ships emit the same smoke when they fly? Garnce speculated in a private thought to Byron..
    Byron chuckled. Make them easy targets, wouldn’t it?
    Movement near the hanger caught his eye, and Byron noticed a man with a patch of yellow on his uniform. The two Tgrens who remained turned to Anceptor.
    “ Sir, our prefect has arrived,” the woman announced, speaking slow and with care.
    The commander nodded at Garnce . Remain here with the shuttles , he ordered.
    Gladly, Garnce thought in a private exchange with Byron.
    A security officer from the Rennather accompanied Byron and Anceptor. As they approached the building, a large Tgren in a dark yellow uniform appeared in the hanger’s open door, flanked on either side by guards. The man’s uniform was stretched across his frame, although the fabric appeared new. He didn’t bulge from the uniform, but judging from his thickness, the Tgren’s years were catching up to him. Byron suspected the man didn’t partake in heavy exertions either.
    Their escort came to an abrupt halt and snapped to attention, saluting the man. “Prefect Orellen, I present Commander Anceptor, from the Cassan ship Rennather.”
    “ Prefect Orellen,” Anceptor stated in his most diplomatic tone.
    “ Commander Anceptor,” the man replied, his deep, gravel voice resonating with authority. “Welcome to Tgren. I trust your team is now on its way to the ruins?”
    “ Yes sir, and I hope to take a look at the site before returning to the