In a single, perfectly synchronous manoeuvre, the five vessels descended the last one hundred metres, landing gear deploying from the belly of each at the last possible moment, and settled on the ground with barely a sound.
A silence settled upon the scene, Korvane sensing Droon's anticipation, and the defence troopers' unease at their proximity to the alien vessels. Turret-mounted weapons atop each of the craft swivelled, sweeping the area around the vessels, but thankfully not lingering on any one target. As seconds stretched into minutes and no other activity was evident, Korvane envisaged the slaughter that would ensue if violence were to erupt between the five vessels and the ranks of troopers, tanks and artillery arrayed on the valley floor. The damage wreaked upon each would be terrible, he saw, although he could not say with any confidence which side would come off the worst.
Finally, a large section of the underbelly of each ship detached, descending slowly on what appeared to be pneumatic arms. The wide, rectangular platforms of all five vessels simultaneously touched the ground. From the gallery, Korvane could barely see whether any passengers rode on the platforms, but a moment later, he saw a number of disc-shaped objects glide out from under each vessel, spreading out and forming a perimeter around each.
The discs were around a metre in diameter, and coloured a pale, off-green, insignia in the form of red stripes adorning their panels. Some form of antenna protruded from the discs' upper face, and a single lens was mounted in an underslung, armoured housing.
The discs hovered several metres above the ground, another indication, Korvane saw, that this race, whoever they were, had attained a level of mastery of the anti-gravitic arts surpassing those of mankind. Although the discs bore no obvious weaponry, their proximity to the troops was causing obvious tension, and Korvane noted how the NCOs issued growling threats to their men to remain steady and to show no sign of disorder or dissension.
The discs having taken station around each vessel, Korvane saw, through the sights of his magnoculars, that the elevator platforms did indeed carry passengers. A procession set out from the nearest vessel. The first figure to come into view as it emerged from beneath the vessels was more or less man sized, thin, and sporting long, flowing robes of a fine, silvery material.
'Ah! He has come, as they said he would' exclaimed Droon, some relief evident upon his face. Korvane remained silent, he would no doubt discover what concerns Droon had had in due course.
As the tall figure stepped forwards, more emerged behind it. These were of an entirely different build, and it took Korvane a moment to ascertain that in all likelihood they were some form of motivated armour or light vehicles, for they were tall and square, with what could only be weaponry mounted upon each arm. Behind these, more figures emerged. They were more like the first, although shorter and broader of shoulder, each hel-meted and bearing a long, slender rifle. Warriors, no doubt, thought Korvane, an honour guard for the first figure.
Korvane looked towards the other alien vessels and saw more warriors, tall, armoured forms as well as those on foot, marching out from beneath each vehicle. Once arrayed, he could see that each vessel had disgorged something in the region of fifty warriors. Except the process was evidently not yet complete, for now a huge ramp lowered from the rear of each vessel, and before it had even touched the ground, a number of armoured vehicles disembarked, each borne aloft upon shimmering anti-grav fields, and each sporting what appeared to be quite fearsome weapons mounted on smoothly rotating turrets.
At the last, the hovering vehicles moved into formation with the ranks of alien infantry. Each of the five formations appeared to Korvane as large as a company of the Arris Epsilon Planetary Defence Force, though granted far greater firepower thanks to their armoured gunships. The tall alien, his silver robes flowing elegantly in the gentle breeze, stood at the head of the formation. Behind them were the low, wide vessels in which they had arrived, and to either side and behind were arrayed the endless ranks of Droon's own forces. From the gallery upon which he stood, the sight was nothing short of spectacular, thought Korvane. Standing beside him, Droon appeared almost drunk with the vision of power below him, evidently relishing the opportunity afforded to him finally to end the ancestral war with Mundus Chasmata.
Droon turned to Korvane. 'Come, Korvane, and meet the tau'
Korvane stood in the centre of the apartment given over to his use, donning his formal attire, for he was expected at the Imperial Commander's court in mere minutes. There he would be introduced to the aliens that Droon referred to as mercenaries.
Could they really be mercenaries? Korvane had come into contact with all manner of hired guns and sell-swords in his career, and they had ranged from highly professional outfits to near-brigands, but they had never, in his experience at least, taken a form such as these aliens.
It was not the fact that the mercenaries were aliens that bothered him, for he had spoken the truth when he had told Droon that it did not concern him. It was more that this particular race appeared possessed of a high level of technology, and combined with the fact that Droon appeared ignorant of their origin, Korvane was far from sure that they would be as cooperative or as trustworthy as Droon had stated.
Although nervous, he resolved to hold off judging them, but to remain cautious and on his guard nonetheless. These aliens were, he judged, well organised and possessed of highly advanced technology. They might prove a threat to more than the Timbra Subsector, he thought. They might prove a threat to the Imperium.
As he buttoned the gold brocade across the armoured breast of his formal jacket, Korvane's thoughts turned to what course of action his father might take in such circumstances. No doubt, he would brazen his way through, Korvane thought, keeping his cards characteristically close to his chest throughout, before somehow coming out on top. Having been brought up in the rarefied atmosphere of high court, Korvane found such an approach deeply irksome, despite the fact that it was more often than not successful.
Successful in the short term, Korvane thought, but not in the longer term, the future of the Arcadius Dynasty, now, more than ever, looked grim. Granted, his father commanded a flotilla of cruisers and owned other, sizable interests on a string of worlds between the Eastern Rim and Terra, but for how long? If the dynasty could not be maintained those interests would be sold off one by one, until, at the end, just the three of them remained, commanding a flotilla of crewless vessels, their holds empty and their reactors cold.
This expedition had been intended to secure the dynasty's future, until the point, no doubt still many years off, when Korvane would come into the inheritance guaranteed as part of the terms of marriage between his mother and his father. But his mother, Emperor bless her shrivelled soul, had, thanks to countless rejuve courses, lived two centuries already, and appeared likely to live for another two at least. Korvane had already reached the conclusion that only he could ultimately save the Arcadius, and here and now, he knew that to be truer than ever.
As he fastened his belt, hefting the sanctified falchion gifted him by his great uncle, the Hierarch of Terrabellum Nine, Korvane determined that whatever came of this encounter with the aliens, he would ensure that, by his actions the fortunes of the Arcadius would be revived, for all time.
A knock sounded at the apartment door, and Korvane knew it was time to pay court. This, he thought, smiling to himself, was what he was born and raised to do.