The door of the craft whines open you step out into the warm day. A warm and lazy breeze caresses you sluggishly. A thick, sweet scent hangs in the heavy air, wafting from the sumptuous flowers of the weeds that seem to creep everywhere. A stillness lies on the landscape and it feels like an effort to push it aside.
A couple of Beimini Home Guardsmen saunter over to their shuttle from a group listening to tinny music under an awning. The men wear bits and pieces of uniform but have stripped off their tunics and look dishevelled and lack luster. Only one of the men is armed, with a stub automatic at his belt.
On the northern edge of the landing field stand long rows of fighters, Imperial Navy shuttles, guarded by fully uniformed and armed guardsmen. These shuttles are part of an Imperial force and beyond them lies a camp, properly secured and regularly ordered into neat blocks of more prefabricated buildings.
