Phaedrus turns to face the men, the light of the abyss shimmering off of his sheer black armor. Though the two men are tall, Phaedrus likely bordered on seven feet, with imposing ceramic armor to boot. "For a number of reasons that don't concern you. The Imperial transmissions, before they cut down our sensors, all traced back to Helios, a planet not far from here. You likely know him as well as I do, so you can guess where Hallwinter will be heading. I don't pay you to ask questions, so the current mission stands: find him, and report his position to me." He pauses, cautious of what he says next, and then speaks to Wilson, "If you are who I believe you are, then you are a figure frozen in time, for our galaxy has not seen the likes of you for centuries. Much has changed, but the Empire has not. For any love that you may bear it, you will do your utmost to protect it, and that service includes doing this mission. Oh, and here's your pay." He extends his hand, and a container strapped to his armor flies to his hand, and awaits you. Sure enough, on the inside is 15,000 physical credits, as promised.