"The fat man and the tall man approached the checkpoint cautiously, their hands empty and clearly in sight. It was hot and humid on the colony of Cygnus III, with the cicadas echoing loudly on either side of the trail through the thick woods, and the clothes they wore didn’t help. Dark, old fashioned suits, with white shirts that were soaked through around the collar and armpits. The thin man carried a leather rucksack, not bothering to wipe at the sheen of sweat that trickled down his forehead. It did not seem like the heat or the burden bothered him though, even though his dark hair was matted down with perspiration.
His companion wiped at his broad face every few seconds with a cloth that wicked the sweat away quickly, a modern convenience in contrast to the anachronistic clothing they wore. He was a head shorter than his companion, and walked with an odd waddle. The few strands of greased hair he had combed over his bald head were wildly askew, and he was pink, flushed, and in obvious distress while his companion’s narrow tanned face was composed and calm.
The guards at the checkpoint weren’t quite sure how to respond to this. One pointed his rifle at the two men while the other one looked askance at his companion’s reaction. “Relax,” he told the other guard. They were obviously local militia, with no conformity to the kit they wore, unlike true Janissaries. Both were old enough to have gone through Reserve Training, but if they had, it was showing poorly as they confronted the two travelers." Wisdom of the Serpent, cunning of the Dove" Jack Hanson