Chapter 2 Contact
Artic Region
0700 hours before contact
"Fuck a duck." Freeman stared at the ship. Or rather, the remains of it. The ship had taken a lot of damage during the landing. It wasn't Freeman's fault, really. The meteor storm had knocked out the entry shield, and this ship wasn't designed for artic climates. It didn't even have a snow filter on the windshield.
"Where the hell did you learn to fly?" Freeman jumped sky high. He had forgotten he wasn't the only on here. He took a moment to catch his breath. "I said, where the hell did you learn to fly?"
"Flight school, the same place they taught me never to land without a entry shield or in harsh climates without proper filters."
"Are you getting' smart with me?" Freeman turned to face the man.
"Why yes, Ladle, and what are you going to do about it?"
"You will address me as sir at all times. Now try that sentence again, and get it right this time before I report your ass."
"Report to who, the passed out captain?" Ladle lunched at him, lifting Freeman off the floor as easily as someone might pick up a coffee cup.
"I'm second in command of this ship, and you will do as I say! Is that clear?" Freeman said nothing. "Is that clear?"
"I think you're choking him" Ladle turned around, still holding Freeman in his grasp.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Johns Gunn. That's gun with two n's. I'm the newest member of this crew."
"Sticking up for your comrades. That could get you hurt. Or worse."
"I don't really care what you do to him. I just want to point out that he is our only pilot and if you kill him, we're stranded." Ladle thought for a second, then released Freeman. He fell to the floor and went into a coughing fit. He managed to squeeze out a thank you.
"Thank me later, we got work to do. We need to round up the crew. Do you know how many managed to e-vac before the crash?"
"All." was all Freeman could manage.
"Right. I'll activate the locator. What about the captain, where is he?"
"I'm here. And my hangover is too. Only question is, where is here?"
Artic Region
0630 hours before contact
"We need to find shelter." No one knew who said it, everyone agreed.
"I might be able to fix up the warthog. Don't know if it will stay above the snow though."
"We might as well try."
"Maybe we should send a search party."
"Maybe we should stay put." Arguments broke out among the group.
"Quiet!" Pulmer yelled. "I got a huge God damn hangover and this ain't helping." No one spoke. "Freeman, I need you to make a rough map of this ring, based on what we saw before the crash. Then try to find out where we are. I want the engineers to fix up the warthogs. The rest of you, set up the emergency tents. And try to keep the noise down."
About thirty minutes later, everything was set up.
"Sir, the camp is up and running." one of the privates said. "What are our next orders?"
"Hit the sack. I know everyone's tired. Regular guard rotation."
"Sir, yes sir!"
Artic Region
0200 hours before contact
"Rise and sine everyone!" A universal groan could be heard across the camp.
"We never should have given him that mega phone." Johns said
"It was your idea" Freeman replied.
"We leave in one hour!" More groans.
"Sir, I think it might be wise to give the troops and extra half hour. They have been though a lot." Ladle suggested.
"We leave in one hour and that's final!"
One hour and thirty minutes later, the crew left the camp. Well, technically they took the camp with them.
"Go this way for about two hours, and we should be somewhere a lot warmer!" Freeman had to yell over the sound of the engines."
"The climates change that drastically?" Pulmer yelled back.
"Yeah! Its almost like a wall! Its cold one second and then balm! You're in paradise!" Suddenly, the two warthogs ahead came to a screeching halt. The driver had to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting them. One of the passengers ran out to them.
"Sir! We found a base!"
Military Research Post Number 456
0030 hours before contact
"One hundred years."
"Nah, more like two hundred."
"One fifty, tops."
"Who gives a damn how old it is, lets go inside! I'm freezing out here!" The crew ran inside. Only Ladle remained outside.
"This is a bad idea. We should stay on track. First rule of the Soldiers Handbook."
"Common Ladle, stop being so paranoid. What could be in here that is remotely bad? Spoiled food?" Freeman teased.
"I'm not going in."
"Fine. Stay out in the cold. If you want to come in, the door's always open."
Military Research Post Number 456
Contact
"Holy Shit!" Everyone stopped what they were doing an ran over to see what the commotion was about. "Look at him! He has holes driven clear though his body!"
"What the hell happened here?" The crew didn't have time to wonder.
Ladle's screams echoed through the halls. Freeman lead the race to the front door where they found Ladle standing, half dead with a hole punched through his body. They watched in horror as another appeared at his heart, his arm, and then his head. He stood for a moment, then fell over in a fountain of blood.
It took the team less then one minute to lock every door and window. Funny how fast people move when motivated by fear.
"Jesus Christ."
"No body panic. We locked all the doors, we're safe in here." Freeman said, although he was most certainly panicking.
"Did anybody lock the cellar?"
To be continued…
Artic Region
0700 hours before contact
"Fuck a duck." Freeman stared at the ship. Or rather, the remains of it. The ship had taken a lot of damage during the landing. It wasn't Freeman's fault, really. The meteor storm had knocked out the entry shield, and this ship wasn't designed for artic climates. It didn't even have a snow filter on the windshield.
"Where the hell did you learn to fly?" Freeman jumped sky high. He had forgotten he wasn't the only on here. He took a moment to catch his breath. "I said, where the hell did you learn to fly?"
"Flight school, the same place they taught me never to land without a entry shield or in harsh climates without proper filters."
"Are you getting' smart with me?" Freeman turned to face the man.
"Why yes, Ladle, and what are you going to do about it?"
"You will address me as sir at all times. Now try that sentence again, and get it right this time before I report your ass."
"Report to who, the passed out captain?" Ladle lunched at him, lifting Freeman off the floor as easily as someone might pick up a coffee cup.
"I'm second in command of this ship, and you will do as I say! Is that clear?" Freeman said nothing. "Is that clear?"
"I think you're choking him" Ladle turned around, still holding Freeman in his grasp.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Johns Gunn. That's gun with two n's. I'm the newest member of this crew."
"Sticking up for your comrades. That could get you hurt. Or worse."
"I don't really care what you do to him. I just want to point out that he is our only pilot and if you kill him, we're stranded." Ladle thought for a second, then released Freeman. He fell to the floor and went into a coughing fit. He managed to squeeze out a thank you.
"Thank me later, we got work to do. We need to round up the crew. Do you know how many managed to e-vac before the crash?"
"All." was all Freeman could manage.
"Right. I'll activate the locator. What about the captain, where is he?"
"I'm here. And my hangover is too. Only question is, where is here?"
Artic Region
0630 hours before contact
"We need to find shelter." No one knew who said it, everyone agreed.
"I might be able to fix up the warthog. Don't know if it will stay above the snow though."
"We might as well try."
"Maybe we should send a search party."
"Maybe we should stay put." Arguments broke out among the group.
"Quiet!" Pulmer yelled. "I got a huge God damn hangover and this ain't helping." No one spoke. "Freeman, I need you to make a rough map of this ring, based on what we saw before the crash. Then try to find out where we are. I want the engineers to fix up the warthogs. The rest of you, set up the emergency tents. And try to keep the noise down."
About thirty minutes later, everything was set up.
"Sir, the camp is up and running." one of the privates said. "What are our next orders?"
"Hit the sack. I know everyone's tired. Regular guard rotation."
"Sir, yes sir!"
Artic Region
0200 hours before contact
"Rise and sine everyone!" A universal groan could be heard across the camp.
"We never should have given him that mega phone." Johns said
"It was your idea" Freeman replied.
"We leave in one hour!" More groans.
"Sir, I think it might be wise to give the troops and extra half hour. They have been though a lot." Ladle suggested.
"We leave in one hour and that's final!"
One hour and thirty minutes later, the crew left the camp. Well, technically they took the camp with them.
"Go this way for about two hours, and we should be somewhere a lot warmer!" Freeman had to yell over the sound of the engines."
"The climates change that drastically?" Pulmer yelled back.
"Yeah! Its almost like a wall! Its cold one second and then balm! You're in paradise!" Suddenly, the two warthogs ahead came to a screeching halt. The driver had to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting them. One of the passengers ran out to them.
"Sir! We found a base!"
Military Research Post Number 456
0030 hours before contact
"One hundred years."
"Nah, more like two hundred."
"One fifty, tops."
"Who gives a damn how old it is, lets go inside! I'm freezing out here!" The crew ran inside. Only Ladle remained outside.
"This is a bad idea. We should stay on track. First rule of the Soldiers Handbook."
"Common Ladle, stop being so paranoid. What could be in here that is remotely bad? Spoiled food?" Freeman teased.
"I'm not going in."
"Fine. Stay out in the cold. If you want to come in, the door's always open."
Military Research Post Number 456
Contact
"Holy Shit!" Everyone stopped what they were doing an ran over to see what the commotion was about. "Look at him! He has holes driven clear though his body!"
"What the hell happened here?" The crew didn't have time to wonder.
Ladle's screams echoed through the halls. Freeman lead the race to the front door where they found Ladle standing, half dead with a hole punched through his body. They watched in horror as another appeared at his heart, his arm, and then his head. He stood for a moment, then fell over in a fountain of blood.
It took the team less then one minute to lock every door and window. Funny how fast people move when motivated by fear.
"Jesus Christ."
"No body panic. We locked all the doors, we're safe in here." Freeman said, although he was most certainly panicking.
"Did anybody lock the cellar?"
To be continued…