The peacekeeper’s craft slithered through the artificial air of Tella’s dome, nearly imperceptible in the light of the false night. It approached with an unnerving silence, a predator stalking through the grass- its only signal a low buzz, nigh imperceptible from Tella’s own hum. Sleek, gray, and deadly, it was a marvel of technology, one well past the capabilities of any modern human engineer.
And yet, it was not the ship itself that had the small crowd on the landing pad shuffling nervously. It was what awaited inside. Every person there had seen a ship like it only once before, and they knew what it foretold.
Eight pairs of eyes saw the memory of that night reflected in the gray shine of the descending vessel. Seven looked with dread. One looked with something else.
The ship’s hum increased in intensity as it descended, the quiet reverberation rippling the metal platform with a discordant beat. The vibration shook the onlooker’s legs numb, but none dared to disconnect their eyes from the vehicle's approach. As it came closer, its shape began to distinguish itself from the night, and one could get a look at its form. It was triangular, but with a rounded front-like the jaw of an alligator. Its exterior was smooth and glossy, mirrorlike. There were no engines or thrusters to break up the purgatory of black, nothing recognizable that made it move. Instead, it seemed to float, the only sign of life that horrible, numbing hum as the ship lightly reverberated.
And then, there was sudden silence as the craft touched the ground. Its reverberation stopped and it became wholly inanimate. For a few brief moments there was simple nothing, until one of the sides hissed open. Out of it stepped two men. They were dressed in black combat armor and carried sleek gray rifles of a simple design promising simple death. These were soldiers handpicked from the Gods’ personal bodyguard, some of the finest you’d find in human space. Both had probably killed dozens to earn their spot here, and yet their presence was largely ceremonial.
For the man who walked out behind them required no protection. A bystander might have been fooled by his simple gray robe, plain but for a symbol above his heart, a ring made up of 11 interlinking circles. They might also have been deceived by his appearance. He made for an imposing enough figure- tall and pale, with sharp features and slick dark hair, showing only the faintest signs of gray- but he looked undeniably human, almost normal. What nobody would have been fooled by, however, was the black gauntlet he wore on his left hand.
It was that gauntlet that marked his status. That gauntlet that radiated the air of nervous dread hanging throughout Tella. That gauntlet that drew eight stares, seven terrified, one oddly excited. That gauntlet was a Hand of God, a weapon all Peacekeeper’s wielded. Without it, the peacekeepers were just human. With it, they were something else entirely.
The Peacekeeper took a second to appraise the skyline as he exited the ship, taking in all that was Tella. It wasn’t a particularly impressive site. Tella was a mining colony, and it looked the part. There were only a few still operating buildings over a few stories, and even they wore the grime of dirt and age. Five-hundred years ago Tella had been a planet on the rise. The materials it mined had once traversed the Human Empire. Since then, like the rest of humanity, all Tella had done was slowly rot.
If the Peacekeeper held any disdain for the crumbling planet, he didn’t show it. Instead, he wore a simple expression of quiet curiosity, taking it all in with trained glances. It was rather like the way a scholar, years past their days of passion, might observe a ruin.
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Whatever Tella showed him seemed to suffice, since he turned back to approach the group without comment. As his steps closed the ground between them, his bodyguards just behind, the crowd of people unconsciously shuffled closer together, preparing for what was to come.
None of them expected what he did next, however. For, as he approached, a warm smile crossed his lips, a seemingly genuine grin. It was something the last Peacekeeper had never done once, and its presence unnerved more than its absence ever could.
“Governor Creighton, I assume.” The Peacekeeper asked one of the onlookers. It was a simple question, said without a hint of malice or ill-will, but the sudden shattering of silence forced out a flinch from several of the eight all the same. Eventually, however, the man did respond.
“Yes sir.” The Governor eventually croaked out. Creighton was a portly man, famous for excess. His light blond hair and jiggly figure spurred many a comparison to a newborn babe, but they were always made in whisper. Creighton had ruled Tella with an iron fist for the past five years, ever since he had taken over from the previous Governor, and only a fool underestimated his temper or his penchant for violence. Yet, as he looked up at the towering figure of the peacekeeper, desperately trying not to shake, it was hard to see him as anything other than a petulant child.
For a few seconds the two simply appraised each other, until the Peacekeeper stepped forward and offered an outstretched hand, the one without the gauntlet, which the Governor gladly accepted.
Whatever relief the human gesture granted the governor soon faded as the Peacekeeper held the handshake longer than he should. The two men’s eyes locked and the Governor suddenly noticed the mirth the Peacekeeper showed earlier was gone.
“So you’re the one responsible for this mess.” The Peacekeeper muttered, loud enough for all to hear.
The Governor’s neck rippled as he fought desperately to suppress his fear. Before he could compose himself enough to stammer out any of his half-dozen pre-prepared excuses, however, the Peacekeeper suddenly smiled once more. “Joking, of course. You were set up to fail. Nothing you could have done.”
The Governor let out a slight cough, as the breath he’d been holding escaped all at once. “Right…. of course.” He wheezed. “Set up to fail. Glad you can see that.”
The Peacekeeper nodded and turned away to greet the others, but not before muttering under his breath. “Somehow, they all are.”
From there, the Peacekeeper greeted each of the onlookers in turn. He shook the chief of security’s hand, complimented the three administrator’s for how they’d been running things, and exchanged a slight joke with the Governor’s Bodyguards.
Then, he turned to the final member of the welcoming party. This one had been hovering near the back of the group, body tense, as if he expected the man to pounce at any moment. The Peacekeeper paused as he appraised him, noting the ways this figure stood out from the rest.
He was younger for one, at least half the age of the next youngest, if not more- certainly not a day past twenty. More than his age though, his general demeanor stood out- twitchy and alert, telltale signs of a difficult upbringing.
The rest of his appearance echoed that upbringing. Fairly tall, especially for Tella, but skinny, so skinny. Light brown skin, made darker by an ever-present layer of dirt, almost sinking into the bones- evidence of a life of hunger and hard work. Mangy, rough-cut brown hair framed a pair of intense green eyes. They were somehow even hungrier than the rest, just not for food.
"And you must be my guide." The Peacekeeper said. "Can I ask your name?"
"Vas... sir."