/[u]Metadata processed[/u]: [b]DROPSHIP INBOUND[/b]_ [i]The combination of inconspicuous and potentially intel-rich, always attracted scouts.[/i] Through the scope of his long-rifle, brewed a vaporous storm of rust and ice. Flattened prone, high winds buffeted his perch in the upper stories of the aeolian canyon walls, an amalgam of urban ruins and the Martian dunes striving to swallow them. The fast approaching midday sun would soon churn up a blinding deluge, yet, save his methodical panning of the scene, he waited unmoving. Endless ripples of iron dust flurried below, spurred by an overbearing gale cutting through the exposed infrastructure of this curious gulch. Catching his eye, a silhouette approached from the West. The chameleon figure scuttled across the sand, swiftly winding through the sparse cover. Carrot and stick, crosshairs led his cull toward the portico of the dilapidated station. The enemy briefly paused to check angles before it broke cover up the short stair, striding for the entryway. Sharply jerking its head to one side awkwardly, the lifeless body collapsed under its own momentum and tumbled into a sprawl. [i]These days, they just ain't making Vanguards like they used to.[/i] He reached to draw, no time to rappel. Startled, perhaps by the reflection in his scope. Standing at the other end of the crumbling level, was the hooded and cloaked scout he had just killed. "Ah-ah," rasped a filtered, chiding tone. "We should get to know each other before dancing, don't you think?" Hammer clicking, the pre-Traveler era .45 whirred. "Information. Now." "Once more, looking in all the wrong places." The Vanguard sauntered forward. "Point me in the right direction." "Join us downstairs for that heart-to-heart, won't you?" The derisive holo flickered out. Taking another step in the darkening haze, the station loomed beyond the precipice, scrutinized by the Vanguard once more.