The<span style="font-style: italic">Shojo</span>came in low and fast, breaking through the dense blue-black storm clouds, its stabilizers struggling to keep the small cargo vessel from being tossed like a child's toy by the powerful winds that buffeted its angler hull. Once free of the storm it drops lower, skimming over the dense jungle until it reaches a massive clearing. Landing gear extending the<span style="font-style: italic">Shojo</span>touched down on the makeshift landing strip, massive engines idling before slowly powering down.<br/><br/>The cargo bay opened allowing the hellishly hot and unbearably humid air to wash in. "Grab your gear and go straight into the compound. Do not stop. Move, move, move." he stood to the side allowing the grunts to grab their gear and file past to make their way out onto the pavement.<br/><br/>The compound consisted of a series of small single story grey buildings with reinforced glass windows that housed a few small offices, a mess hall, weapons locker and meeting room. A set of barracks sprawled behind it. The entire faculty was surrounded with a ten foot electrical fence packing enough voltage to stop a charging elephant and likely stop damn near any hostile alien. Any that got over the fence would be picked off by sharp shooters.<br/><br/>No one came out of the silent dark buildings to greet the crew of the<span style="font-style: italic">Shojo</span>, Grant and the crew of the small cargo vessel would be the only humans to inhabit Hell's Gate for a week or more depending on the weather. He stepped out of the ship and observed the dense jungle that was just beyond the fence. It was quite, too damn quite. It was if someone shut off the sound except for the distant rumble of thunder for the encroaching storm. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He silently swore and decided he was sleeping on the damn ship were it was safe.<br/><br/><br/>The unnatural distant sound of engines rips him from his thoughts. Lurching to his paws he begins to scan the storm darkened skies for the ship, a low growl building in his throat. Turning he darts up the tree with all the grace of a large hunting cat, powerful back legs propelling him up it. He needed to get into the canopy were it was safer. A sense of dread clawed at the back of his mind. The primitive flesh bags had invaded his world before, bringing their massive mining machines that gouged the earth in search of minerals and filling the air with their rank stench. The sound of the behemoth machines had driven off many species, those who remained behind were shot. That had been many years ago, the fleshings had left and abandoned their machinery. The jungle eventually took back the land and the machinery rusted, slowly falling apart but the memory of the damage and the pain they caused was still raw in his mind.<br/><br/>Once in the canopy he could see the faint tendrils of smoke drifting up through the dense growth. If he was lucky the crew was dead and he could indulge in a little curiosity and raid the wreckage for interesting items. While he had no love at all for the primitive fleshlings, they did have the most interesting items.  If the crew wasn't dead then he'd simply wait for the six legged viscous scavengers to finish them off since he didn't want to be shot. Again.