Orientation
It's been a long space flight. There aren't a lot of direct routes to the system in the first place, and you weren't brought by direct travel. The transport took a winding path, intended to avoid attention. It's been nearly a month of tight quarters, recycled air, low light, and MREs.
You were kept apart from the other passengers aboard the mass transit freighter. Each of you was provided with your own living space, and allowed to exit it on a rotating schedule. Inside the shuttle on the way down was the first time you were allowed to meet.
Now you step out onto the soft earth of a new planet and look up at the unfamiliar constellations. Before you, the ground drops away into a smooth, rolling valley filled with a dense forest. The trees are a beautiful mix of purple, red, and green.
To the east is a log cabin, rustic but large. It is roofed with corrugated metal, and the walls seem to be constructed of the same beige wood that fills the valley. In the soft dusk light, the small windows glow with candles. A man approaches you.
He is a human male, wearing some military surplus green fatigues. The left arm is buttoned up, indicating an arm missing at the elbow. He is bald. The right side of his face is covered with burns. The left is covered with a thick white plastic dermal replacement.
Without ceremony he approaches you. "Welcome to Dawn Base. Doesn't really meet its name right now, what with the sun setting. And it's not really a 'base' so much as a 'camp.' We appropriated it after some sympathizers got themselves apprehended by the Imps. That's Empire sympathizers; once we found out about their donations we planted a little false evidence and leaked it. If they want Imperial Justice so bad, they can have it."
The man takes out a deathstick, pops it open, and inhales a drag. "Don't ever take these up, they're garbage. I'm Colonel Huxer. Call me Colonel and I'll shoot you. Just 'Boss' will do for now."
Huxer, 'Boss,' gestures with his one arm towards the cabin. "Stow your stuff inside and be back in ten minutes. Wait. Fifteen minutes, I got to drain the lizard."
You hustle inside. The building is a country lodge, with shining varnished wood and spacious rooms. Very little furniture though; mostly metal desks and chairs, with a gun locker and filing cabinet in the foyer. Plenty of rooms though, with simple army cots & blankets aplenty.
You look over your new colleagues for the first time. Now as you choose your bunks, you have the chance to say 'hello.'