Rikkau, a middle-aged man, had an old report before him that left him in doubt. The Bravo Base had acquired the important artifact, he speculated. Unfortunately, all the units and workers stationed there had disappeared without a trace. That was what the scouts had reported that the commander of the Alpha Base had sent out to find out why the contact had broken off. Rikkau scanned the report restlessly; he thought he had overlooked something. The fear, or rather the superstition, which kept the scientist away from this report, had evaporated over the years. The urge to research and curiosity fought against reason and also seemed to be gaining the upper hand. But the man was not reckless, so he had a team of mercenaries look for that would take on this mission. He rummaged nervously in the pockets of his white coat until he finally found his watch. He had bought this antique at a high price from a dealer; it had become Rikkau's most expensive possession, of which he was proud and which he liked to brag about in front of his colleagues.After all, watches were just as rare as the likelihood of finding a gold bar on the street. In the nano-age, microchips were implanted in the brains of newborns, so clocks became superfluous and almost completely disappeared from the earth. Tense he watched the second hand and slowly detached his gaze from the hypnotizing rhythm that the hand was setting. A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts.
"Come in, the door is not locked," said the scientist and went to his desk. Once there, he took a seat in his chair and tried to look serious when a stranger entered. The man, Rikkau estimated him to be over 30, had stepped into the room and was waiting for the reaction of his counterpart. The scientist marveled at the muscular man and discovered some scars, which in no way disfigured the man, rather they made him a role model for the soldiers. The host also discovered that the mercenary had a weapon that he was wearing openly on his belt.Rikkau didn't like that at all, but he wanted to make the best of the situation. "Have a seat," he said, pointing with his hand to an empty chair next to his table. With a nod, the guest sat down and looked at the older man. “May I find out what your name is?” Rikkau had leaned back in his chair and put his arms on the armrests.
"Greg Forten," the man introduced himself shortly. "And I'm the leader of the Guardians. I'm here because they have a job to offer?" Greg got down to business quickly, he wasn't a man who was prepared for long discussions.
"Do you know the reports about the Bravo Base?" Asked Rikkau, who replied the mercenary's directness. After all, time was money, his money to be precise. The scientist hoped to gain new knowledge, fame and money from the recovery of the object that was supposedly on the Bravo base.
"Of course," said Greg boldly.“Those reports are why everyone is avoiding this area,” he added, stroking his close-cropped beard.
“Then you probably have an inkling of what I want to hire her for.” Slowly, without waiting for the mercenary's answer, Rikkau got up and went to the window. The look outside had already become routine, but it did not bring any new knowledge. As every day, everyone went about their hustle and bustle. The scientist turned and crossed his arms behind his back.
“What would our objective be?” Greg asked, looking at the man. He still wanted to delay the negotiation of the payment in order to be able to get more out of it in the end.
“You'd have to find a black box,” said Rikkau, scratching his chin. He noticed that another shave was due. "Inside there is an artifact that I want to investigate."
"That could be dangerous. How much pay would the artifact be worth to you?"The leader of the Guardians spoke slowly.
"I'm thinking of a sum between one or two million credits," replied the client, seeing the astonishment on Greg's face. "Of course only if you agree with the pay," added the older man with a smile.
“That's more than enough,” said the surprised mercenary, but he hadn't lost his business acumen. "A million or two," Greg said absently, then recovered. "What would be the condition for the higher sum?"
"If you leave immediately and bring me the artifact within three days, I'll be ready to pay you two million. As a token of my confidence in you, I'll give you an advance of 250,000 credits, which should cover the ammunition and the back and forth Rikkau promised and sat down in his chair again. "You must know the way to get there?"
"Every mercenary knows that one," began Greg, "but you won't happen to know the location of the artifact?""Unfortunately I don't know him," said the scientist with a slight regret in his voice. "But I assure you that it is still at the base. Are we in business?" Rikkau held out his hand to the leader of the Guardians. This gesture had existed for many centuries and was often used to sign important contracts.
"We are." Said the latter and shook the hand of his client.
"Then you should leave immediately," said Rikkau and rummaged in his pocket. “And here's the advance I promised.” A simple card changed hands. But both knew that there were a quarter of a million credits on it. After all, there has been no real money for several centuries. This only existed virtually, on maps and the like.
The mercenary said goodbye with a nod of his head, leaving the scientist alone.