Quarter Life
Several short stories based on Sierra's hit game
Story One: Mesa Falcon
LOCATION: New Mexico Desert, Approx. 2000 km away from the Black Mesa Research Facility
TIMESCALE: December 3rd 1998, 0920 hours EVENT TIME PLUS ONE DAY
Captain Jason "Lynx" Stevens sat back in his flight seat and wiped the sweat from his brow. It was hot out in the desert, and even hotter in the heat-retaining cockpit of his F-16 Fighting Falcon. He switched off the autopilot and swung the fighter in accordance with the rest of his Flight Group. The radio's crackled to life, the muffled voice of Major David Stern commanding his pilots.
"Okay men, stand by to drop to 800 feet, nearing objective"
Stevens put his mask up to his face and spoke
"Sir, what are we doing here?"
"We're to provide close air support and air superiority, once we reach Black Mesa you'll all be receiving orders from soldiers on the ground. Should you be attacked, engage all fighters"
The response was typically vague of the Vietnam veteran flight leader. Stevens didn't like it, but in typical military style accepted his orders. He lowered the plane, the ground below becoming clear, individual details becoming more recognisable. There were the large Mesa mountains that dominated the area, the blue winding snake-like river. Then the research facility passed beneath the squadron. Stevens was shocked to see explosions and broken outlines of buildings. Then, all of sudden, the fighter to his left exploded in a bright red flame, the wreckage screaming over Stevens' cockpit.
"Holy shit what the hell."
Strange, unrecognisable craft blasted overhead the squadron, weaning off the sides and re-engaging.
"This is it, all fighters engage, you now operate as separate units, and may God be with us all," panted Major Stern.
Each of the fighters broke off to engage the alien craft. Stevens focussed his attention on the craft that had knocked his wingman out of the sky. It zipped and screamed low over the facility, Stevens concentrating hard to avoid slamming into the ruined buildings below. He struggled to get a missile lock, the consistent bleep of the targeting system serving only to irritate him.
"Come here you little son-of-a-bitch" he swore. The craft then pulled up for just a split second, long enough for the missile to get a lock. Stevens pulled hard on the trigger, an AIM-9 sidewinder missile streaking from under his plane's wing and slamming into the alien craft, which spun end over end before smashing into a group of parked Jeeps below. Stevens punched the air with joy, and turned the jet back to the squadron. Any feelings of success he might of felt faded as he glimpsed the horrors ahead of him. The alien fighters had almost decimated his squadron, most of whom were turning back. Stevens turned his radio on, the full horror of what was occurring ahead of him slowly coming across.
"This is five, I can't shake this guy, he's got a lock on me, I can't.argh!!!!"
"Five I've got him, hang in there buddy"
"Five's down, I repeat he is down, I didn't see him bail out"
"Goddamnit what are these things!"
Then another signal flashed over Stevens's radio
"Hey you up there, the lucky bastard who took out that fighter, we got a group of troublesome guards entrenched in a building, and there are aliens attacking the late flank. Drop 'em a present at coordinates four-five-seven- six, out"
Stevens pulled away from the fight; he'd deal with the aliens later. He flipped on the tracking system, which was receiving the coordinates from the marines down below. He lined the fighter up to the target, which seemed to be a large building at the end of a long highway-like road. Flying as low as he possibly could, Stevens gazed ahead, the bright flashes of gunfire and the burning wreckages of military vehicles becoming ever clearer. With fifty meters to go, he armed the heavy AIM-20 missile and fired, pulling up. The missile smashed into the building, blowing it high into the sky. Several guards ran out, they were on fire. The marines dropped them in a show of mercy.
"Thanks for that fighter man, we owe you one"
"Anytime boys, good luck down there"
Stevens now returned his attention the aerial dogfights occurring above him. By this time the 10-plane squadron had been reduced to two, Major Stern and a rookie pilot. Stevens cried
"I'm back, providing support"
He switched to guns and veered after the fighter on the rookie pilots' tail. It was too late for the poor kid, as the alien fighter unleashed a barrage of laser fire, which struck the cockpit of the F-16, sending it screaming down to the desert floor. Stevens swore and then clicked the fire trigger
"Take this!"
The cannon bullets smashed into the alien fighter, ripping it apart and sending it to its doom. Stevens pulled up and onto the tail of the alien fighter pursuing the Major's jet. Stevens locked on again with the cannons and unleashed a hail of fire. The bullets struck the alien fighter in the tail, causing it to violently explode.
"Thanks kid" responded a relieved Major Stevens "There's a refuelling jet a coupla miles ahead, wanna go get some fuel?"
"Yes sir"
The two jets streaked off towards the bulky C-3 refuelling plane.
"You first Stevens" said Stern
Stevens lined his fighter up to connect with the fuel nozzle. The two planes interlocked and the C-3 began to feed life-giving fuel into the F- 16. But just at that moment, another group of alien fighters screamed from below. One of them fired a huge laser blast at Stern's plane, and it was ripped in half. The Major tried desperately to bail out, but the flames consumed him. Another alien fighter fired several laser rounds at the C-3, which blew up in front of Stevens. The refuelling arm was ripped from the front of Stevens' F-16. This caused fuel to spatter over his cockpit. Stevens pulled the jet away, but his cockpit was filled with red warning lights.
"Warning, fuel tanks empty" Stevens heard the chilling sound of the engine cut out. He fought with the violently bucking plane in an effort to keep it straight. He reached for the ejector lever and pulled it up. Nothing happened.
"Shit, the explosion must have knocked the circuitry out"
Stevens held the plane level, trying to see through the fuel stained cockpit. Below he could make out the sandy desert floor below.
"This is Lynx, I'm going down, and I say again I'm going down, coordinates unknown, get an SAR team out ASAP"
He marvelled for an extra half a second before impact that he'd managed to keep the plane level. With that, the F16 slammed into the ground. A shower of sand was thrown over the cockpit and Stevens was thrust forward, narrowly stopping himself from bashing into the control set. The plane screeched across the desert floor, it's wings ripping off. The plane's momentum was gradually slowed by the sand and it finally came to halt just inches from a rock face. Stevens was pulled back into his seat, and lay there. Smoke rose up from the broken consoles, and sunlight shone through the huge cracks in the broken viewport, the rest of which was covered by a mixture of fuel and sand.
Stevens unhooked himself, and reached for the M4 rifle stowed underneath the control console. Using it to smash through the plexiglass, he hauled himself out of the plane, surprised at how weak his legs felt. He landed with a thud on the sandy floor, then picked himself up and ran away from the plane. Shortly after he had got out, the ejector seat blasted out of the cockpit, smashing into a rock formation above. Stevens breathed a sigh of relief that he had got out in time. But he was greeted by another grim fate. He had crashed miles away from the facility, and the desert sun was at its peak. He had no water, and no compass. He was stuck. Dropping to his knees he held his head in his hands and cried deeply for his lost comrades. Just then however, he heard a deep, thudding sound. Looking up to the heavens he saw several large black helicopters flying overhead. He began to wave at them like a madman, trying to signal them to land. The next second he found himself lying on the floor. He had heard a loud crack, and touched his neck to find he was bleeding. He lay there, choking on his own blood, desperately trying to signal the helicopters. As the final helicopter passed overhead, he blacked out permanently.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------ On board one of the black helicopters, a sinister looking Black Operations soldier leaned back into his seat, and blew away the gunsmoke from his sniper rifle. His fellow soldiers laughed menacingly. The sniper notched up the kill on his well-scored barrel and then set himself back into the seat. The helicopters proceeded towards the burning Black Mesa Research Facility
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------- The following is the causality list from "Black Bat" Squadron, 190th Air Support Unit, one of four such units involved in the Black Mesa Incident
Major D. Stern (CMOH Winner, 1974), Confirmed Killed In Action, 3/12/98
Captain J. Stevens (MSM Winner, 1991), Missing In Action, Presumed Dead, 3/12/98
Lieutenant G. Newell, Confirmed Killed In Action, 3/12/98
Lieutenant K. Barrett, Confirmed Killed In Action, 3/12/98
P/O U. Itonix, Missing In Action, 3/12/98
P/O D. Washington, Confirmed Killed In Action, 3/12/98
P/O J. Nicholls, Confirmed Killed In Action, 3/12/98
P/O S. Forelli, Wounded In Action 3/12/98, Later Died In Roswell State Hospital, 25/12/98
P/O J. Horton, Confirmed Killed In Action, 3/12/98
P/O D. Holland, Missing In Action, Presumed Dead, 3/12/98
The details of the men's deaths were kept and still remain secret. The heroism of the fighter pilots ensured that the marines on the ground were able to pull out safely later on during that fateful day of December 3rd 1998. All but one of the 10 F-16s were lost. The one that was discovered was found in 2002 by a tourist group, half buried under the Black Mesan sands. A body was discovered near the crash site, but it was too badly decomposed for positive identification.
Several short stories based on Sierra's hit game
Story One: Mesa Falcon
LOCATION: New Mexico Desert, Approx. 2000 km away from the Black Mesa Research Facility
TIMESCALE: December 3rd 1998, 0920 hours EVENT TIME PLUS ONE DAY
Captain Jason "Lynx" Stevens sat back in his flight seat and wiped the sweat from his brow. It was hot out in the desert, and even hotter in the heat-retaining cockpit of his F-16 Fighting Falcon. He switched off the autopilot and swung the fighter in accordance with the rest of his Flight Group. The radio's crackled to life, the muffled voice of Major David Stern commanding his pilots.
"Okay men, stand by to drop to 800 feet, nearing objective"
Stevens put his mask up to his face and spoke
"Sir, what are we doing here?"
"We're to provide close air support and air superiority, once we reach Black Mesa you'll all be receiving orders from soldiers on the ground. Should you be attacked, engage all fighters"
The response was typically vague of the Vietnam veteran flight leader. Stevens didn't like it, but in typical military style accepted his orders. He lowered the plane, the ground below becoming clear, individual details becoming more recognisable. There were the large Mesa mountains that dominated the area, the blue winding snake-like river. Then the research facility passed beneath the squadron. Stevens was shocked to see explosions and broken outlines of buildings. Then, all of sudden, the fighter to his left exploded in a bright red flame, the wreckage screaming over Stevens' cockpit.
"Holy shit what the hell."
Strange, unrecognisable craft blasted overhead the squadron, weaning off the sides and re-engaging.
"This is it, all fighters engage, you now operate as separate units, and may God be with us all," panted Major Stern.
Each of the fighters broke off to engage the alien craft. Stevens focussed his attention on the craft that had knocked his wingman out of the sky. It zipped and screamed low over the facility, Stevens concentrating hard to avoid slamming into the ruined buildings below. He struggled to get a missile lock, the consistent bleep of the targeting system serving only to irritate him.
"Come here you little son-of-a-bitch" he swore. The craft then pulled up for just a split second, long enough for the missile to get a lock. Stevens pulled hard on the trigger, an AIM-9 sidewinder missile streaking from under his plane's wing and slamming into the alien craft, which spun end over end before smashing into a group of parked Jeeps below. Stevens punched the air with joy, and turned the jet back to the squadron. Any feelings of success he might of felt faded as he glimpsed the horrors ahead of him. The alien fighters had almost decimated his squadron, most of whom were turning back. Stevens turned his radio on, the full horror of what was occurring ahead of him slowly coming across.
"This is five, I can't shake this guy, he's got a lock on me, I can't.argh!!!!"
"Five I've got him, hang in there buddy"
"Five's down, I repeat he is down, I didn't see him bail out"
"Goddamnit what are these things!"
Then another signal flashed over Stevens's radio
"Hey you up there, the lucky bastard who took out that fighter, we got a group of troublesome guards entrenched in a building, and there are aliens attacking the late flank. Drop 'em a present at coordinates four-five-seven- six, out"
Stevens pulled away from the fight; he'd deal with the aliens later. He flipped on the tracking system, which was receiving the coordinates from the marines down below. He lined the fighter up to the target, which seemed to be a large building at the end of a long highway-like road. Flying as low as he possibly could, Stevens gazed ahead, the bright flashes of gunfire and the burning wreckages of military vehicles becoming ever clearer. With fifty meters to go, he armed the heavy AIM-20 missile and fired, pulling up. The missile smashed into the building, blowing it high into the sky. Several guards ran out, they were on fire. The marines dropped them in a show of mercy.
"Thanks for that fighter man, we owe you one"
"Anytime boys, good luck down there"
Stevens now returned his attention the aerial dogfights occurring above him. By this time the 10-plane squadron had been reduced to two, Major Stern and a rookie pilot. Stevens cried
"I'm back, providing support"
He switched to guns and veered after the fighter on the rookie pilots' tail. It was too late for the poor kid, as the alien fighter unleashed a barrage of laser fire, which struck the cockpit of the F-16, sending it screaming down to the desert floor. Stevens swore and then clicked the fire trigger
"Take this!"
The cannon bullets smashed into the alien fighter, ripping it apart and sending it to its doom. Stevens pulled up and onto the tail of the alien fighter pursuing the Major's jet. Stevens locked on again with the cannons and unleashed a hail of fire. The bullets struck the alien fighter in the tail, causing it to violently explode.
"Thanks kid" responded a relieved Major Stevens "There's a refuelling jet a coupla miles ahead, wanna go get some fuel?"
"Yes sir"
The two jets streaked off towards the bulky C-3 refuelling plane.
"You first Stevens" said Stern
Stevens lined his fighter up to connect with the fuel nozzle. The two planes interlocked and the C-3 began to feed life-giving fuel into the F- 16. But just at that moment, another group of alien fighters screamed from below. One of them fired a huge laser blast at Stern's plane, and it was ripped in half. The Major tried desperately to bail out, but the flames consumed him. Another alien fighter fired several laser rounds at the C-3, which blew up in front of Stevens. The refuelling arm was ripped from the front of Stevens' F-16. This caused fuel to spatter over his cockpit. Stevens pulled the jet away, but his cockpit was filled with red warning lights.
"Warning, fuel tanks empty" Stevens heard the chilling sound of the engine cut out. He fought with the violently bucking plane in an effort to keep it straight. He reached for the ejector lever and pulled it up. Nothing happened.
"Shit, the explosion must have knocked the circuitry out"
Stevens held the plane level, trying to see through the fuel stained cockpit. Below he could make out the sandy desert floor below.
"This is Lynx, I'm going down, and I say again I'm going down, coordinates unknown, get an SAR team out ASAP"
He marvelled for an extra half a second before impact that he'd managed to keep the plane level. With that, the F16 slammed into the ground. A shower of sand was thrown over the cockpit and Stevens was thrust forward, narrowly stopping himself from bashing into the control set. The plane screeched across the desert floor, it's wings ripping off. The plane's momentum was gradually slowed by the sand and it finally came to halt just inches from a rock face. Stevens was pulled back into his seat, and lay there. Smoke rose up from the broken consoles, and sunlight shone through the huge cracks in the broken viewport, the rest of which was covered by a mixture of fuel and sand.
Stevens unhooked himself, and reached for the M4 rifle stowed underneath the control console. Using it to smash through the plexiglass, he hauled himself out of the plane, surprised at how weak his legs felt. He landed with a thud on the sandy floor, then picked himself up and ran away from the plane. Shortly after he had got out, the ejector seat blasted out of the cockpit, smashing into a rock formation above. Stevens breathed a sigh of relief that he had got out in time. But he was greeted by another grim fate. He had crashed miles away from the facility, and the desert sun was at its peak. He had no water, and no compass. He was stuck. Dropping to his knees he held his head in his hands and cried deeply for his lost comrades. Just then however, he heard a deep, thudding sound. Looking up to the heavens he saw several large black helicopters flying overhead. He began to wave at them like a madman, trying to signal them to land. The next second he found himself lying on the floor. He had heard a loud crack, and touched his neck to find he was bleeding. He lay there, choking on his own blood, desperately trying to signal the helicopters. As the final helicopter passed overhead, he blacked out permanently.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------ On board one of the black helicopters, a sinister looking Black Operations soldier leaned back into his seat, and blew away the gunsmoke from his sniper rifle. His fellow soldiers laughed menacingly. The sniper notched up the kill on his well-scored barrel and then set himself back into the seat. The helicopters proceeded towards the burning Black Mesa Research Facility
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------- The following is the causality list from "Black Bat" Squadron, 190th Air Support Unit, one of four such units involved in the Black Mesa Incident
Major D. Stern (CMOH Winner, 1974), Confirmed Killed In Action, 3/12/98
Captain J. Stevens (MSM Winner, 1991), Missing In Action, Presumed Dead, 3/12/98
Lieutenant G. Newell, Confirmed Killed In Action, 3/12/98
Lieutenant K. Barrett, Confirmed Killed In Action, 3/12/98
P/O U. Itonix, Missing In Action, 3/12/98
P/O D. Washington, Confirmed Killed In Action, 3/12/98
P/O J. Nicholls, Confirmed Killed In Action, 3/12/98
P/O S. Forelli, Wounded In Action 3/12/98, Later Died In Roswell State Hospital, 25/12/98
P/O J. Horton, Confirmed Killed In Action, 3/12/98
P/O D. Holland, Missing In Action, Presumed Dead, 3/12/98
The details of the men's deaths were kept and still remain secret. The heroism of the fighter pilots ensured that the marines on the ground were able to pull out safely later on during that fateful day of December 3rd 1998. All but one of the 10 F-16s were lost. The one that was discovered was found in 2002 by a tourist group, half buried under the Black Mesan sands. A body was discovered near the crash site, but it was too badly decomposed for positive identification.