The Dig

[BobMacaroni]

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Slight movement. There is a faint rumbling out across the darkness, courtesy of the dig site. A weathered, grim face appears over a sand dune, his hair tossing from the strong winds that ravage Pygar.

This man was Santiago Fernandez.

A noble Outcast from birth, hailing from a proud legacy of the Fernandez clan. Now he was seeking out his own fortune on Pygar, one day to return to the family. He was young, at least for an Outcast. 34 years in age, to be exact. Brown hair and less extreme features than most other Maltese made him blend in better to the locals in Sirian colonies. This he used to his advantage, making him a more amicable sight than some of his other bretheren.

Yet now he is a wanderer through the desert.

Santiago kicked at the sand, launching gusts of the grains into the air, to be stolen by the fierce winds. He shielded his eyes and marched on. His goal was one of little importance - to find and moniter the locals. Yet he made himself a fortune in the desert. He struck a deal with a local cult - Cardamine in exchange for a valuable artifact.

It was something that would make him renowned in his family.

Fernandez glanced up out from his hand to scan the horizon. He could barely make out a sparsely populated village in the distance. It was run down but he saw star satellites. He could send a message from there.

...

"A drink if you will. Sidewinder fang."

Doors swung closed behind the Outcast as he entered a bar, from which he could telegraph a transmission to Malta. He leaned on the counter and stared at the bartender. Something about locking eyes with the Maltese brought fear to the bartender, and he quickly looked away.

"Right. I'll have it right to you."

As the bartender resumed his duties, Fernandez sat at a table. He began preparing a transmission to send to Malta, detailing the deal struck. Several days had passed since then. Before the Outcast hit 'send transmission'
another man entered the bar. He was far more beaten up than even Fernandez. Bloody and bruised, he was out of breath and collapsed at the table next to the Outcast. Turning up to face the Maltese, he spoke in a dry, cracked voice.

"They found us."

Instinctively, Santiago's eyes glanced quickly around. Once he was sure there was no one watching, he turned back and spoke.

"Who."

"The Church."

Fernandez's lips pursed.

"The Infidels! Th-th-those heretics! Help us, help us! You must help us!"

By now the man was begging at the Outcast's feet, pulling on his tattered clothes. Santiago jerked away. His cloak waved behind his back, revealing a pocket cannon which he withdrew.

"Tell me everything. Everything that happened. Don't leave out a single thing."

...

After the man finished telling his story, he looked up to Santiago with pleading eyes.

But you, oh blessed one, will surely... h-help us purge the infidels... r-right..?

He was helpless. Pathetic, Fernandez thought.

The Maltese aimed his blaster and fired. The man exploded into dust and ash before him. The bartender - the now only other inhabitant of the bar - screamed. The Outcast glanced at him with cold, emotionless eyes. The bartender fled and didn't look back. Now that he had the bar all to himself, Fernandez typed a secure transmission to his superiors on Ibiza base.

Now he just had to find those Zoner traitors, who possessed the artifact.

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