The city was so large and cluttered; he had never seen anything like it. A locking gaze on the cluster of lights behind him caused him to slowly stop in his trail. It was a mesmerizing display, even more so than any Earth Colony. Watching it all day would have fulfilled his daily satisfaction, but the multiple rough open palmed slaps across his shoulder brought him back to reality. The man from customs met his gaze, making sure he was paying attention, and violently gestured in the forward direction. He was irritated that he had to leave his post and waste his coffee break to show this rock man where his destination was. Any tourist or visitor would have gotten lost too. They began to move.<br/><br/>His last crew that he was with was nothing special. They worked for the Earth Colonies, which are a collection of diverse civilizations in different parts of the galaxy that are ultimately governed by their home world, or what was left of it. The crew he worked with was small, only three others. On his final mission with them the pilot had become incapable of flying due to an accident on board. The other three could not pilot; he himself was just a cargo loader. He heroically took the reigns to finish the mission. This turned into trouble when he eventually crashed the ship into an asteroid. It was a total loss, and so was the supply on the ship. He was promptly terminated. It had taken him a lot of effort to get Fersalik to hire him.<br/><br/>Apophis watched the hanger come closer into view. His attention was grabbed again, not by the city, but by someone on a fast moving bike. It zoomed on by him, the only feature he could pick out on the blur was a trail of bright reflective hair. He stopped his trot again and watched the bike disappear into the hanger.<br/><br/>The customs employee slapped him on the shoulder again. It took him a few times before he could regain his attention. The man whispered something to Apophis, and held out his hand. Apophis just stared at him. He didn't understand what this man wanted. The intensity grew in his eyes, feeling dumb and was too embarrassed to ask him what he wanted. The man interpreted his frightful stare as anger, and slowly began to back off. He batted his hand in the air behind Apophis' back, gesturing that he wasn't worth anything, and ran back to his post.<br/><br/>Apophis took caution entering the hanger. He saw three men, and a woman, the one that he saw ride into the hanger. One in bulky armor who looked his physical match, one in black who carried many weapons, the bright haired female on the bike, and the tough looking aged man at the center. This was probably Moorhouse, he thought, but wasn't sure. Adjusting the large equipment pack on his back, he gave a sloppy salute to the party.<br/><br/><strong>"Apophis here.. reporting. Supply Clerk, uh, and General Security and Infantry, Mr. Moorhouse."</strong>The voice was surprisingly clear for a rock man, though his words carried a hint of an accent that could not be exactly placed by the vocals alone. His posture was stiff; he looked like a boy scout.<br/>