A/N:
Hey guys! Sorry for the really long update on this story, I was a bit busy with my immigration to the States that I had completely forgotten about writing this here fanfic. Anyways, I bring you one of the final chapters set in Ferris Fields. I made this a bit too fast so there's bound to be a lot of mistakes. So hope you guys enjoy. :)
January 15th 2185 C.E.
Ferris Fields outskirts / LADAR Site 14
(621 km away from the colony)
The LPQ-287 high-resolution laser detection and ranging (LADAR) transmitter was an impressive marvel of engineering, precision technical skill, and high-end technological prowess. Standing at a height of about seven meters, the hulking Hahne-Kedar built sensor equipment was now in its final developmental stages, where the transmission tower was fully erect and the solar panels providing the necessary power were now properly set up. All that was left at present was appropriately aligning the last communication relay with the other ones, so that it would correctly convey the transmitter's readings back to the militia command post. A task at which the benevolent Steve Cortez was now supervising, as a bunch of guys from the militia's Third Battalion volunteered to help out the colony's head of construction in setting up their protective umbrella.
A few meters behind them, Lieutenant Colonel Henry Rodriguez stood guard, watching them with a bored gaze as they busy themselves with their respective tasks of building up the umbrella's final LADAR installation. He could've just stayed back at the militia HQ and let them radio him once they were done, but the colonel wanted to stretch his legs out for a bit, enjoy the planet's idyllic beauty, hell, maybe even down a few cans of beer while he was it. Which is why he brought a couple of them in the shuttle, as a surprise gift to Cortez and the rest of the construction outfit once there job here was complete.
Next to him, Major Adrian Walters was also keeping an eye on the detail, who were just about finishing up on their jobs. But unlike the good 'ole colonel, the major's gaze was sharp and alert, taking in the view of the nearby surroundings and assessing anything that was out of place, or something that could endanger the entire group; like a proud hawk maintaining an eye in the sky. To him, Walters was basically the picturesque essence of the model warrior: dependable, disciplined, smart and loyal. Any task he'd been given was thoroughly completed while performing admirably; and any situation he'd somehow find himself in, he had about a dozen contingency plans already set in motion. In short, the guy was the perfect soldier. As good as that sounded though, it came with a cost.
The otherwise extremely talented executive officer didn't have a clue as to how to live a usually normal life. Though, it wasn't his fault to begin with; after having been rescued by Knowles from a batarian slaver ring when Walters, alongside several others, were bought by the middle-aged man, practically saving them from certain death. According to the files Rodriguez read about him, he lost his parents when he was three, in an attack from the very same group that enslaved him and the rest of the population of a colony named New Malta, which was also located in the Terminus Systems. Life wasn't exactly fair to the poor kid, and everything he ever did there during his hard tenure under the batarian's infamous hospitality was pretty much too horrifying to describe. He had to endure all of those for eleven godforsaken years, before Knowles found him in the slums of Omega; practically suffering from malnutrition, various ailments, and immense physical and psychological trauma.
The sight of Walters' condition at that time practically broke the older man's heart, and instead of using the funds he had to purchase another water condenser for the colony, he used all of it to free the kid and seven other boys from their erstwhile captors. A few of them hadn't survived the trip back to Ferris Fields, succumbing to their ever worsening condition, where only the major and two others made it out alive. And it took the doctors here at the colony a couple of years for them to minimize the extent of their subjugator's damage to the youngsters' physical and mental health.
Once they were deemed fit and healthy enough, Walters and the rest of the boys decided to help out, by volunteering to join up in the colony's planetary militia. And they served commendably too, right up until the batarian's attack which resulted in two of them getting killed, leaving Walters the only sole survivor. It was tough on the young man, losing the only friends he's ever known, only making his social awkwardness worse with no one else left to relate with his extremely precarious situation.
Still, whenever he was on-duty, he did a great job at ensuring everything was in proper order. But when his shift was over though, he just stayed in his barracks and kept on reading things that were somewhat related to his posting as the militia's executive officer. Having lost two guys he considered his brothers were too much for the major to contemplate, and Rodriguez thought he never really recovered after that. Barely going out to spend some time to relax, or even make new friends with the exception of a certain armored cavalryman, Walters was essentially a machine, whose only sole purpose left in his life was to protect the colony at all costs. Or maybe even die trying.
Rodriguez just let out a sigh, hoping to God that in His infinite wisdom that He would at least grant Walters some small measure of peace, like He did for him when he needed it the most. Life, in all its unpredictable cruelty, chose to take one giant dump on the poor kid, and yet here he was now, still stoic as a rock, ever vigilant in completing his mission as if nothing catastrophic ever happened to him in his existence. The colonel admired that about him, and in a slightly bizarre kind of way, the young major reminded him of himself. After this gig is over, I'm gonna go see if I can talk to him…
Behind him just a few meters away, he could hear someone exiting the UT-47 shuttle, the distinct pneumatic-hiss of the transport's door opening was clearly audible. He didn't even turn his head to take a look, knowing damn well who the only person inside of it was.
"Hey fellas," The exceptional voice of First Lieutenant Albert Johnson was picked up on the colonel's ears, followed by him yawning. Finally turning his head around, he saw the cavalry officer heading their way, stretching his arms out while his bones were cracking from the exertion. Rodriguez just gave out a small smile and shook his head in disbelief, the Southern-accented kid could practically sleep anywhere with a smooth surface on it.
Hailing from the colony of New Canton, Johnson was an exceptional guy, with a knack for just charging headfirst into battle and hoping to God that he wouldn't get killed. In other words, he was pretty much the stereotypical armored jockey. What he lacked in tactics, he made up for it with his explosive bravado and sheer luck. It usually worked. Well, most of the time anyway. When he turned seventeen, he left home with the blessing of his parents to make a name for himself in the galaxy. After he heard that a new colony was going to be developed, he jumped at the chance to finally prove himself, going to Arcturus Station to meet Knowles and signing up to join in the older man's expedition. Fast forward a few years into the future, and here he was now, practically living in a man's wet dream of driving and commanding a bunch of big-ass tanks with their huge caliber guns.
Like the colonel, the lieutenant also opted for the chance to get out and do something. While the prospect of having everlasting peace was appealing for the likes of Rodriguez and Knowles, the very idea of it was revolting for Johnson. For him, the outlook of not being able to shoot at anything hostile was the root cause of, in the Southerner's own exact words, "being fucking insane".
The young officer in-charge of the militia's tank company stood beside him and the major, looking at the group of guys doing their thing. "When the hell are those eggheads going to be finished?" Johnson impatiently asked, directing the question to both of them.
"They're just doing a few calibrations to see if the comm relays are operational and receiving." Walters responded, his eyes still on Cortez and the rest of the construction detail. Johnson pondered on what the major just told him and scratched his chin, trying to think if he was ever going to understand whatever it was the regimental XO said.
"Riiiight, you're absolutely right, with them calibrations and transmitters." It took all of Rodriguez's willpower not to laugh hysterically at Johnson. The guy may be a badass on the battlefield, but on everything else tech-related and complicated, he absolutely didn't have a clue. Let's see if we mess can with him for a little bit…
"Yeah," the colonel joined in. "those two-eight-seven LADARs can be a real pain in the ass sometimes. Think we should've just bought the three-hundred series instead?" The lieutenant noticeably gulped.
"Uh…yeah, sure." Johnson hesitantly replied. Next to him, Walters just smirked, his gaze still looking out ahead. The colonel smiled inwardly, not letting his subordinate catch on.
"Really? Why is that?" Rodriguez asked the lieutenant innocently. "I thought you'd settle for the ones we've got, seeing as the two-eight-seven's performance in detecting thermal and radiation emissions is more superb than the three-hundred series. Though, it sucks knowing that the new transmitters don't have to rely on comm relays anymore to transfer data back on the CP, right?" The cavalryman was now sweating profusely; he always did that whenever he was nervous or agitated.
"Well, you know…it's because of the—uh, that—that thing, needing some sort of advanced, uh…thing." The last bit from whatever it was Johnson was trying to say made Rodriguez break out in laughter, his faux serious tone gone as he couldn't hold it in anymore, nearly doubling over from laughing too much. Even the major gave out a soft chuckle, clearly finding his fellow officer's apparent discomfort amusing. The lieutenant's cheeks quickly blushed in a bright shade of red, which was already mixing with his previously sweat-filled facial features. The young man's eyes looked down on the ground in utter embarrassment.
"You guys suck." Johnson offhandedly said to both of them, a bit distressed towards both of his immediate superiors, who were still laughing their collective asses off at his expense for about a minute or so. Finally, Rodriguez's laugh died down before he looked up to address the lieutenant.
"Oh, lighten up, Al. You gotta admit, it was pretty damn funny." The armored cavalryman still wasn't convinced, though his cheeks' were starting to return to their natural skin tone instead of the distinct red of embarrassment from earlier.
"Whatever, one of these days, I am going to fully retaliate," Johnson said to the colonel with a dead-serious look, his tone soft and deadly—right before the distinct glint of his eyes returned and his usual sing-song Southern voice came back almost immediately. "just not today of course." Rodriguez just grinned at him wildly.
"Even if I ordered you not to?"
"Especially if you ordered me not to…sir." And with that, all three of them spontaneously just started laughing with delight for a few moments, the sounds of their cheerfulness clearly evident. As their laughter started to fade, Rodriguez's gaze looks further out ahead, seeing the entirety of the Bonanza Mountain Ranges, their perfect cone-shaped form supplemented with their snow-capped peaks, further adding testament to their already serene beauty. They were tall ones too; its overall height almost the same from that of Mount Everest in the Himalayas back on Earth, approximately reaching at nearly eight and a half thousand meters.
Stretching for nearly about a dozen kilometers, the mountains were a damn good sight for everyone's eyes, especially to those who greatly appreciated Mother Nature's cunning works of art. At least here in this place, you wouldn't freeze your ass off, compared to where Earth's tallest mountain was located. As he stood there and continued admiring the vast mountain ranges ahead of him, the colonel let out a smile; remembering the range's somewhat…"unique" name. It was all thanks to Patrick Knowles, of course, who thought it was a great idea to name it out of something so random and stupid. Still, whenever he asked him about it, the middle-aged man didn't have any regrets. Just thinking about the time where he inputted the mountain range's official name into the colony's navigational databanks still made him laugh his ass off. And everyone who happened to be at the colony during that time thought it wasn't really a bad name to give to a couple of huge, beautiful rocks.
Overall, this planet was an absolute idyllic paradise. Everywhere you go, you could see the green of grass on the ground, lush forests of untouched trees spreading for miles on end, and the climate was just perfect; the rain not drowning them with heavy floods and the system's twin-stars not searing them with extreme heat either. Everything on this planet was downright perfect. A shining diamond in the rough, or like finding a needle in a haystack, either way, the colonel believed that he was lucky when he ended up here out of all the places he could've been dumped in. If he hadn't, he'd probably end up in some batarian colony, practically screwed the second he got there. No regrets at all. Rodriguez happily thought.
"Hey, colonel!" Johnson's voice broke him out of his momentary trance. "I think their already done." Looking away from the Bonanza, Rodriguez returned his attention towards the direction of the LADAR installation, where the ground crew was already resting and Steve Cortez was heading his way.
"Ahead of schedule, as always." The colonel said to Cortez once he stopped next to the three of them. "Damn good job, Steve." The ex-Alliance officer just grinned gleefully from ear-to-ear. His white teeth were practically glistening in the sunlight, in stark contrast to his skin-tone, which was a brown, dark-skinned complexion.
"I aim to please," The man replied, who stood just beside Rodriguez and proceeded to stare at the immense beauty of the mountain ranges right ahead of them, his mouth gaping in awe. Probably what I looked like a few moments earlier. "Beautiful, ain't it?"
"Yep." The colonel simply answered, as his eyes once again focused on the mountains. No matter how many times he'd look at the rock formations, it'd never get old; nature's beauty at its best. "Say, Cortez, you thirsty?" The man in question just chuckled and stretched his arms out before replying.
"Yeah, sure. Why the hell not? I guess I could use a drink or two."
"Excellent," Rodriguez faced Johnson and motioned for him to get their little surprise from the shuttle. The young lieutenant smiled happily and double-timed it towards the Kodiak. He was in and out in approximately five seconds flat, carrying a medium-sized cooler and placed it on the ground near them. The colonel went near the thing and pressed the button just below the lid, which rose ever so slowly. A few seconds later, everyone was rewarded with the sight of a couple of cans of Budweiser beer, which was surrounded by a lot ice cubes.
Cortez took one look at the cooler's contents and nodded approvingly. Rodriguez grabbed the first can and threw it in the man's direction, and the colony's head of construction caught it in mid-air. "First round's on us." Johnson happily said to the guy as he got two cans for himself and Major Walters. The ex-Alliance pilot just let out a hearty laugh for a few seconds or so, then placed his thumb and index finger in his mouth to produce a rather loud whistle in the direction of the ground crew near the LADAR transmitter. After which, Cortez cupped his right hand near his mouth and started yelling.
"Hey boys, the colonel's buying us drinks, get your asses over here! It'd be damn impolite to say no." The five guys who volunteered to help out Cortez cheered happily as they hurriedly started hauling their asses off in Rodriguez's general direction; where Walters and Johnson started handing out each a can containing three hundred and fifty milliliters of pure, unadulterated, golden goodness. One by one, they received their respective cans and eagerly opened it, chugging its contents almost instantly. A few belches were heard, followed by roaring laughter as some of them have already finished drinking their share. As the major outstretched his hand to give out a Budweiser to the last person on the ground crew without a beer yet, Rodriguez immediately gestured for his XO to stop.
The major immediately complied and withdrew his hand, his facial expression showed he was a bit confused, but he obeyed nonetheless. The young colonel immediately stood in front of the militiamen in question and observed him from head to toe. His hair was tousled, and he had an average height of about 5'9" or so, and he was skinny too boot. Looks a bit young, isn't he? He thought to himself. Rodriguez cleared his throat and then said, "State your name and rank."
The militiamen eyes widened for a moment, then regained his composure. Apparently still a bit nervous from his CO's sudden attention to him. "Hadley, George. Private First Class, sir."
"And how old are you, Private Hadley?" The young man twitched his right eye subconsciously.
"Uh—se—se—seventeen years old, sir." The militiamen stammered out his reply. Rodriguez gave the private a really serious look for what seemed like the better part of a minute, before his lips broke out into a smile and grinned wildly.
"Oh, what the hell." Grabbing the beer can in his XO's hand; the colonel tossed it in Hadley's direction, which the younger man was fumbling to catch. "Make sure you don't get drunk, or I'll have you and your squad get kay-pee duty for an entire week. That clear?" The young private smiled brightly and gave his CO a crisp, perfect salute before answering back, his voice filled with delight.
"Sir, yes sir!" Everyone present laughed heartily before returning to their tasks of tending to their drinks, which were already getting empty at an alarming rate. Good thing Johnson suggested we bring a few dozen. The colonel thought thankfully for one of his officers.
The group that congregated near the shuttle earlier splintered into different groups, with the ground crew spreading near the LADAR tower, laughing their asses off while drinking their respective cans of beer. A lot of them had gone back to the cooler for seconds. Meanwhile, the officers were still bunched up near the shuttle, still captivated by the sheer beauty of the Bonanza Mountains in its entirety.
All four of them just stood there, drinks in hand, staring at the magnificent view ahead of them for quite some time—before First Lieutenant Johnson decided to break the ice by opening his rather loud mouth.
"Hey Major," the southerner faced the regimental XO. "you remember Michelle Jennings, right?" Walters turned to look at the lieutenant; his facial expression showed he was a bit confused and curious at the same time.
"Yeah, so?" Was all the major gave out as a reply towards the armored cavalry officer. Rodriguez just seemed contented to listen to them bicker to each other out of sheer amusement, before the name Johnson gave out clicked in his head.
"Yeah, what about her, lieutenant?" The colonel decided to enter in on their conversation, stressing on the southerner's rank to make him spill out his beans about her. Michelle Jennings was one of the nurses in the colony's clinic, and more importantly, she was one of Therese's closest friends. And was one of her most attractive friends…oh, no. Damn it, Al.
"Well," Johnson just went on to further explain whatever it was he was trying to say, unfazed from what his CO said earlier. "word is that she's been crushing on you lately, major." Walters just gave out a sigh before responding back to him.
"So?" The lieutenant seemed to be taken aback from what the major said, emphasizing it with a theatrical gasp and a hand placed on his chest.
"'So?' Are you fuckin' kidding me? Have you seen her lately? She's like the hottest girl that's out there—" Johnson faced the colonel "—no offense to your gorgeous wife, sir." Cortez laughed out loud from that statement while Rodriguez just gave out a not-so-subtle face palm. For now, the lieutenant kept on rambling. "And for some ungodly reason, she thinks you're cute; and you're still not going to do anything about it?"
Walters just let out a smirk that betrayed none of what he thought on the matter, which made Johnson all the more annoyed. He was about to launch another tirade on the matter when Rodriguez decided to pre-empt him with a civil conversation with the ex-Alliance fighter jock.
"So, Cortez, how're things with Robert?" The fair-skinned pilot just let out a smile and sighed contentedly. Does that mean…? Dear God. I never should've asked. The thought of them doing…it, wasn't exactly the reason why he asked. Maybe he was just overthinking it? Yeah, maybe he was. And so Rodriguez willed his mind to shut the hell up so he can listen on what the man had to say.
"Everything's great, really." Cortez told him. "Every day he wakes up in this paradise, there's practically a smile plastered in his face and he's ready to take on the world or something." The colonel chuckled for a bit. Where they really that ecstatic on being here? It looked like it, and whenever he saw either one of them, the smile was practically a permanent fixture on their facial features. Rodriguez decided to ask him a question.
"Say, Steve," The colonel drank from his beer for a bit before asking away. "what made you decide to quit the Alliance? Based on what you told us, it's practically a dream job to be there." Now it was the pilot's turn to laugh.
"Yeah, it was." Cortez said to him, taking a liberal sip from his own beer. "They let me fly, and that's pretty much the only thing that really mattered to me at that time." His face broke out into a small smile. "That, and meeting Robert."
"How did you guys meet, anyway?" The colonel asked, curious as to what made them drawn to each other.
"Happened during my stint at the SSV Hawking," The pilot told them, Walters and Johnson were already starting to listen intently. "so there I was, tinkering with one of the Helios vector thrusters on my Trident, just minding my own business, when out of nowhere, this guy just walks up to me and asks me what I was doing."
"Did you tell the guy to fuck off?" Johnson asked the pilot in earnest. Next to him, Walters just shook his head and gave out a face palm, still not contemplating the stupidity of the question. Cortez just chuckled and went on.
"No, didn't have the pleasure. I just told him what I did. He asked a few more questions about my F-61 then went on to his merry way."
"So, that's it?" The lieutenant cut in once again. "What happened next?"
"Maybe if you shut up every once in a while, he might actually tell you." Walters angrily told him. Johnson gave him a glare, the middle-finger and a few choice words about him not taking the opportunity to land, in his words, "the second hottest chick in Ferris Fields". Rodriguez just laughed softly at the exchange while Cortez went on to finish his story.
"Anyway, it all seemed unusual and all. So I just finished up for the night and went to my bunk. The next day, while I was starting off from where I left, he came back. Asked another set of questions, then left. It happened for a few days or so, 'til he finally had the courage to ask me out on the sixth day." Johnson laughed wholeheartedly while Rodriguez and Walters just smirked.
"Oh man," the lieutenant stopped to catch his breath. "that must've annoyed the living hell out of you." Cortez just chuckled to signal his validation.
"Yeah, I thought he was just messing with me. I mean, I never really expected that he'd like me. Back at the Hawking, the guy got a reputation as being a heartthrob among the ladies." At that, Rodriguez smiled.
"I agree with that," the colonel said to them. "whenever Rob went to visit Therese at the clinic, the entire female staff there was practically drooling on their respective posts whenever he passed them by." By all definition, Robert was one handsome stud, his muscles practically chiseled, and he had that face where all girls would practically go through hell and back just to be with him. In other words, he was a god among men; so to speak. If he'd been straight, he'd have basically gotten all the ladies of Ferris Fields by now. Fortunately for them, the guy's tastes went the other way.
"So, I dated the guy for about two years, but the regs against fraternization couldn't let us really be together." Cortez told them, going on further on his story. "And that's when we decided to resign our respective posts and settle down somewhere in the Terminus, where we could live the rest our lives together."
"That's really sweet and romantic." Walters told them without thinking, before realizing what he had just said. "If you're into that sort of thing, anyways." At this, Johnson made his counter-attack by mentioning he didn't know jack shit about girls, let alone romance. It made them laugh for a bit at the XO's expense, with the aforementioned person's gaze looking down on the ground in embarrassment. Again, Cortez went on despite the interruption.
"For a while, we had a hard time choosing which colony to settle. Horizon was a bit too crowded, and Freedom's Progress was too urban for our tastes," the pilot stopped to take another sip on his beer can. "but then we heard about this small colony that repelled an entire batarian invasion. And well, we figured this colony wasn't really too big, and it was safe enough, so here we are."
"Nine months later, and still kicking ass." Rodriguez joked, finally concluding the pilot's story. "Where is he now, anyways?"
"Where do you think?" Cortez asked him rhetorically. The young colonel just laughed. As always, he'd be with his wife. They were, in all respects, practically inseparable; with Therese, she was basically the little sister Robert never had. "Because of her, Rob's been talking about adopting a kid, lately."
"Really?" Walters asked him, joining in on the conversation. "You don't mind having a kid? It's a huge responsibility." Cortez started scratching his chin, signifying that he was in deep thought on the matter.
"Yeah, sure, I mean, the only problem is that I really don't have any clue as to how to raise a kid, you know?" And to that, the colonel just grunted.
"And you think I do?" Rodriguez just let out a bellowing laugh. "Steve, nobody ever knows how to raise a child until they actually have one. As for me? Well…" The colonel up-ended his can until it was empty and threw into a nearby garbage-bin Johnson had setup earlier when he went for the beer cooler. "I just hope to God that I'm not going to screw this up."
"Amen to that, Henry." Cortez agreed to his statement. "Anyways, thanks for the beer, though. Not every day we get to drink on the job." With that, everyone let out a laugh once again. After which, Rodriguez checked out his chrono, the time was already twenty-three minutes past 1300. Grabbing the nearby M8 Avenger he had placed on the ground earlier, he motioned for Walters to alert the ground crew about their already late departure and for Johnson to grab the cooler and the trash bin.
They were supposed to leave twenty-three minutes ago, but since they had such a good stint, the colonel completely lost track of time. Still, it was worth it anyways. After all, he was the militia's overall commander; a few minutes off from the regimental time-table could easily be altered in their favor once they get back to the command post.
Steve was already tinkering with his datapad, doing last-minute calibrations on the LADAR tower's communication relays to see if it had been properly aligned. Accessing the installation, he let it do a test scan of the vast area for about two seconds, then observed the readings being transmitted back to the CP in less than twenty microseconds. The ex-Alliance fighter jock smiled. It was all what the colonel needed to know that it had worked perfectly. Cortez looked up at him, his smile never wavering.
"Tell Overwatch that the colony's protective umbrella is now fully-operational, sir." The guy's enthusiasm was contagious, because the next thing Rodriguez knew, he was grinning wildly.
"Alright, I'll be sure to tell 'em." Walking away from the colony's head of construction and development, the colonel went to the UT-47 Kodiak transport, where Walters was already sitting on the shuttle's passenger compartment, fiddling with the holo-projector responsible for their link to the rest of the militia. The major saw him approach and gave him a quick nod, already reconfiguring the device in front of him so that by the time his commanding officer arrived, the uplink was finally established. Good man, always thinking ahead. The colonel thought to himself.
As Walters continued operating the holo-projector, his face froze to a scowl, and his fingers kept on dancing away on the holographic interface. Rodriguez noticed his executive officer's change in demeanor and decided to ask.
"Something wrong there, major?"
"They're not responding to my hails, sir." Walters answered back, his eyes and fingers still not leaving the holo-projector. Rodriguez wondered why the command post wasn't sending an acknowledgement. They were in contact about a few hours ago just before they landed here, and before that the connection seemed solid as ever. What the hell is going on?
"Alright, keep trying 'til you establish a connection, I'll be right back." The XO grunted in the affirmative and then the colonel was off as he exited the shuttle, heading outside to try and find Cortez to see if he can help out on this situation.
"What the hell is that thing!" someone from the ground crew shouted from the top of his lungs and pointed to something in the sky. Everyone turned to the direction the man was pointing at, even the colonel, and was rewarded with an odd sight. Something was entering the atmosphere, like a meteor burning in the sky, but this thing wasn't vaporizing like a meteor should. The thing they were seeing was massive, that's for damn sure. And he couldn't quite make it out. Grabbing his foldable photonic image magnifier from one of his hardsuit's compartments, Rodriguez brought the futuristic binoculars to his eyes and waited for the thing to get a detailed visual. A moment later, his blood ran cold.
It was a ship, its entire hull was composed of multiple pieces of huge rocks, spanning to about five hundred to seven hundred meters, and its superstructure was made of several metallic edifices that were protruding near a circular thing that was enclosing a part of the ship near the engines. There weren't any visible markers bearing which sovereign state or species the ship belonged to, and its profile and composition weren't anything the colonel had seen before on the extranet. It was a complete unknown, and now it was speeding over the expanse of the Bonanza Mountains and were heading straight into—
Oh God, no! Those bastards were heading west, right into Ferris Fields! Beyond those mountain ranges, the colony was somewhere behind it, just a few hundred klicks away from the west. Without any further hesitation, Rodriguez yelled for everyone to board the shuttle immediately and to double-time it. Everyone outside hadn't wavered or paused in any way, but they responded almost instantaneously and snapped into action, grabbing whatever tools, weapons and other equipment they had and were running at the shuttle posthaste. Once inside, everyone on board was starting to buckle up, strapping themselves in and were awaiting any further orders from their commander, who was now in the cockpit conversing with the pilot.
"ETA to the colony?" Rodriguez asked Cortez, where the ex-Alliance fighter jock was now strapping himself in and prepping the shuttle's pre-flight checklist on the holographic interface in front of him.
"At best speed, about ten to twenty-five minutes, depending on the wind conditions." Cortez calmly replied as his fingers began dancing away on the controls. The soft-whine of the engines were starting to turn into a deafening roar as the pilot fed more power to it to quickly bring them into life. Rodriguez nodded and turned around, quickly taking a seat beside his XO and strapping himself in with the overhead guard. "Hold on, gentlemen. This is gonna be one tough ride." The pilot reminded all of them. The four thrusters underneath sprang to life and lifted the lumbering transport in the air for about a few seconds or so, after which the colonel could feel the Kodiak lurch forward as Cortez expertly countered the transport's bulky mass with use of its substantial element zero core, achieving lift and forward velocity.
Facing the occupant beside him, the regimental CO watched as Major Adrian Walters still kept on trying to contact the rest of the militia. And like earlier, he wasn't getting any progress, which was confirmed by a couple of curse words on the XO's part.
"Still nothing?" Rodriguez asked. Walters just shook his head fervently.
"Negative, I don't know what the hell's causing their—wait!" A flash of dense activity was shown on the holo-projector, followed by a series of random numbers and phrases which the colonel didn't have time to understand, but next to him, it made the major excited and his efforts on the device redoubled. "Something's jamming their end of the spectrum, sir." Walters informed him. "And it's definitely heavy."
"Estimated time 'til burn through?" Rodriguez asked.
"Unknown, their jammers are unlike anything I've ever seen before, sir. It's like millions of tiny dots converging on the entire colony, instead of a single massive one that's usually standard in these kinds of operations. And with that, I can't pinpoint the source and initiate burn through, sir."
"Damn it." The colonel swore, whoever the hell these guys were, they were good. And they were already winning. Fuckers. "Can you try to reaching them with the UHF band?"
"I can try, but only for a few seconds, sir." Walters explained to him. "Once the signal bounces off from the comm satellite in orbit and relays it back to the transmitter in the cee-pee, the enemy might track it and close in on the signal's source. Which is us. Like I said, best I can give you is just about ten seconds, fifteen if we're lucky."
"Do it." Rodriguez swiftly ordered with finality. The major gave out a quick nod before he went on with reconfiguring with the holo-projector to achieve its necessary task. A few seconds later, he was finished, and was rewarded with the sounds of heavy fire, followed by the cries of various men as they battle their unknown foe.
"—they just took Ocampo! Those bugs just plucked him out of fuckin' thin air!"
"—repeat, Ferris Three is completely combat ineffective, most of my companies are fuckin' decimated and I'm down to my last platoon and—"
"—left side, left side! Shoot 'em, goddamn it! Wait…what the hell is that thing? Oh God, nooooo!" A loud, ungodly shriek was heard, followed by the dying screams of several men being engulfed in a roaring explosion, after which the line went dead and spewed nothing but static. Rodriguez checked his chrono, the line's total run time hadn't even reached seven seconds, and they haven't even had the opportunity to contact them yet. Fuck. he swore to himself. Those bastards work fast.
"We've got contacts!" Cortez shouted over from the cockpit. "Unknown hostiles, coming in fast!"
"Lose 'em!" The colonel ordered, which the pilot quickly complied by executing evasive maneuvers, starting with banking the shuttle heavily to the left to initiate an insane barrel roll. Rodriguez closed his eyes as Cortez kept doing what he did best for the better part of about a few minutes, dodging a few close calls with their unknown assailants with a nose dive here, or sometimes a loop-de-loop there, making several faces of the passengers inside green with nausea, and some were already clutching their mouths, almost unable to hold it in anymore. In another time, the sight of them losing their breakfasts would've been amusing, but now, all of them inside prayed to God that they wouldn't blow. The last thing everyone needed right now was to be swimming in someone else's puke.
Without anything left to do, Rodriguez activated the view screen next to him and set the cameras on the shuttle's rear to be directed there. Moments later, he saw two objects chasing them in hot pursuit, their front areas were glowing red orbs that just kept on glowing with sheer intensity until he saw it discharged some sort of laser towards them. Apparently, Cortez saw the same thing, because the next thing he knew, the transport banked heavily to the right to avoid the incoming fire.
Whatever the hell was chasing them was small, nimble, and definitely hostile, whose choice of weaponry happened to be directed energy weapons, and a single hit from one of those could completely take them out; seeing as though kinetic barriers were designed to absorb damage from projectiles coming at high velocities, not high-energy lasers. No wonder Cortez is dodging like hell.
One of the enemy drones takes another shot, and this time, the sheer luck that was keeping them alive earlier had failed them now. An explosion on the port side hull of the shuttle was clearly heard, followed by the Kodiak completely taking a dive and spinning out of control, with Cortez letting loose a few curse words as he struggled to regain control of his transport.
"Port-side inertia dampening coil's been knocked offline!" The pilot screamed over the sounds of wailing system alarms on his console. "Flight's profile's been compromised, I'm losing attitude control, everybody hold on!"
The alarms on the shuttle kept on bawling as the doomed UT-47 spun out of control and was quickly losing most of its precious altitude. With its airspeed slightly increasing due to the eezo core's fluctuations, the transport's ability to lower or raise the transport's mass was now severely compromised. Death grew closer at every step as time went past, but Cortez managed to pull the Kodiak's nose at the last minute, bleeding off a critical amount of forward momentum at the right moment that managed to slow down their already precarious descent. But still, a few seconds later, they hit the ground hard. And everyone's visions went black after that.
Rodriguez groaned as he weakly opened his eyes. His head was pounding heavily and he knew it would get worse at each passing minute. But he couldn't do anything about it, for now he had to focus on staying alive. As he surveyed his surrounding, he saw that the shuttle's interior was bathed completely in blinking red, probably from the emergency lights that were pulsating throughout the passenger compartment. He was still attached to his overhead guard, and he slowly lifted it up above his head and stood to head towards the cockpit, his shoulders were killing him, they'd bruise later from the transport's not-so-stellar impact.
All around him, everyone was rousing into consciousness. And like him earlier, were starting to recover. Fortunately for them, nobody was seriously hurt. As he neared the cockpit, he saw Cortez slowly start to get up from his slump on the controls and was clutching his head, probably suffering from the same killer headache as he was.
"You okay?" The colonel asked him.
"Yeah," Cortez responded wearily. "I'm fine."
"How bad is it?" Rodriguez decided to skip the pleasantries, for now, he wanted to ascertain if the only thing getting them home was still working. Cortez tapped away his fingers on the controls to do a systems check on the Kodiak's operational capability, and was rewarded with results a few moments later.
"The shot knocked out the rear port-side thruster's inertia dampening coil, I've got to go outside and reset it."
"Alright," The young colonel nodded "we're comin' with you; give us a few seconds to prep." With that, Rodriguez turned around and went to the passenger compartment, grabbing his helmet and attaching it to his hardsuit, completely enclosing his head with a protective, dual-layered shell of fabric armor and kinetic padding within a light ablative ceramic casing. His heads-up display came to life on the thin visor slit on his eyes, which showed him anything related to communications, navigation, battlefield awareness, and weapon targeting.
"What's the plan, sir?" Rodriguez looked up to see that Walters already had his helmet on, and the others were in the process of putting theirs.
"Cortez is going to try and fix the shuttle, we're going to make sure he succeeds."
"Sounds like a plan, sir." Walters said to him while reaching for an M8 Avenger and passing it on to his CO, which happily obliged and took it.
"Alright, listen up!" Everyone on the shuttle's passenger compartment looked up from whatever it was they were doing and perked their ears up to hear what their commander had to say. "Once we go outside, I want all of you to establish a defensive perimeter around Cortez and the shuttle. Walters, take—" he looked at his HUD for the names of some of the ground crew from their IFF tags "—Suzumi, Novachek, and Pearsons and set up on the northwestern approach."
"Understood, sir." The major gave him a quick, sharp nod.
"I'll take what's left of the others and set up shop on the southeastern approach. Any questions?" He looked at each of them to see if they had any thoughts on the matter. Seeing none, he proceeded to open the—
"Wait, I have a question." A southern-accented twang from one of the people on the shuttle's compartment rang out. Oh, for the love of God…
"Yes, lieutenant? What is it?" Rodriguez asked him curtly as he proceeded to take a few grenades out of the shuttle's equipment compartment.
"Where am I during all this, sir?" Johnson asked him. Oh, right…
"You'll be guarding Cortez while he fixes the shuttle." The colonel simply told him. The lieutenant's eyes narrowed.
"But colonel—!" The armored cavalryman started to protest, but his CO cut him off.
"No buts, Albert! That's an order." The southerner cringed with the use of his full given name, and proceeded to calm down by exhaling loudly.
"Yes sir."
"Alright," Rodriguez decided to do one last equipment check before heading out. Once he was done, he faced the young private near the shuttle's door controls. "Hadley, pop the hatch." The militiamen gave him a nod before pressing the giant button. Moments later, the distinct pneumatic-hiss was clearly heard as the port-side door opens ever so slowly. The light from the outside was searing bright, but his helmet's filters automatically compensated for it.
With the door fully opened, he could finally see the area where they had decided to park. They were in the summit of one of the lush green hills that surrounded the Ivory Valley, which was just a few blocks away from where they were situated. Stepping out, Rodriguez could hear the soft crunch of the grass as his boots made landfall. Brining his weapon to bear, he scanned the area for any nearby hostiles that had camped outside during their brief time being unconscious, and he circled the downed Kodiak once to see if there was anything out of the ordinary, just to be sure. Seeing none, he signaled for the rest of the group to disembark and setup defensive positions.
Cortez was already hard at work, removing the access panels in one of the shuttle's directional thrusters and was using an arc welder to repair anything that was out of place; guarding him nearby was Johnson, who was just a few steps away, his Avenger cradled carefully in his arms.
A few meters away from them, Walters was already ordering his men to go around the downed transport, bringing with them spare thermal clips and grenades to set up on their pre-destined locations. Rodriguez was on his way to doing the same thing on the southeastern part of the Kodiak, putting some distance away from the shuttle. His two companions were following him quickly, their weapons fully locked and loaded. After crouch-sprinting for the better part of a few seconds or so, they had already covered about a few dozen meters, just enough distance from them and the transport.
Ahead of them, the colonel saw some sort of natural shrubbery, which was a few meters high. It was perfect for concealment and providing cover. Sensing the opportunity, he gestured for his men to hide in it, while he racked the arming bolt on his assault rifle, to which he was rewarded with a pulsating whine; signifying that his weapon was now ready to fire. All they had to do now was wait. If they were lucky, they wouldn't even have to engage anything while Cortez did his thing.
Checking his chrono, Rodriguez saw that five minutes had already passed since their departure from the LADAR installation. Not a lot of travel time for them, which meant that they hadn't really covered a lot of ground from there to Ferris Fields; which also meant that he could practically be light years away from the colony and his wife. Damn it! God, please…keep her safe. He thought to himself, gripping the pistol grip on his rifle even harder.
"I've got contacts here, sir." His radio squawked with Major Walters' voice.
"What is it?" He spoke to his helmet's built-in comm link.
"Unknown, wait…Let me take a look." The voice on the other end paused for a few seconds or so, then returned. "They look like humanoid…bugs, sir."
"Say again, major?" Rodriguez asked his subordinate again, making sure if he really was hearing him right.
"Bugs with two legs and wings, carrying a weird looking rifle in their hands, sir." Walters informed him matter-of-factly. "They're just flying their way towards here, engagement imminent." A few seconds later, the sounds of gunfire were heard on the radio and on his helmet's auditory receptors, the distinct canvas-rip, fully-automatic firing of the Avengers clearly noticeable, followed by the sound of Walters yelling on the comm line inside his helmet.
"Give it everything you've got!" A burst from the Avenger was heard, which was preceded by something shrieking, which he assumed was one of the creature's death throes. "Colonel, I'll get comms with you once we deal with these hostiles. Walters out."
"Sir!" Rodriguez looked up, to see Private Hadley pointing at something in the sky. Squinting his eyes, the colonel could see several figures approaching towards them in fast speeds. As they went nearer and nearer, he could start making out the finer details on the hostile's appearance.
They looked like human-sized bipedal insects with a chitinous exoskeleton, four glowing eyes, and a distinct, large, tapering head, along with fully developed wings that they were now using to great effect. It wasn't long till they finally converged on their position, raining down rounds over their heads with deadly accuracy. Rodriguez hit the deck, followed by Hadley and another militiaman whose name the colonel hadn't known yet.
They kept their fire for about a few moments or so, until their weapons started to vent off their excess heat, while making their landing a few dozen meters away from the colonel and his team. Seizing the chance, he stood up from his cover and pulled the trigger on his assault rifle.
The constant stream of hyper-accelerated tungsten slugs from his Avenger connected with a lone hostile, hitting the area between the neck and the lower head. It went limp two seconds later, missing a huge chunk of its jaw and what was left of his bloating neck. Next to him, Hadley and the other soldier, whose IFF tag indicated his name as Alekseyev, followed his example by opening up on them. Their rounds struck home and downed a pair of enemy bugs.
With their weapons finally free of excess heat, the enemy biped insects opened fire once again, forcing the three of them to take cover. Rodriguez pulled on the arming bolt on his assault rifle to eject the spent thermal clip, the sizzling red and silver disposable heat sink falling to the ground as the colonel replaced it with a fresh one.
Again, the enemies' weapons started to vent, and on cue, the three of them rose from their cover and pulled the triggers of their respective rifles. The volley from their Avengers managed to incapacitate a few more hostiles, but it wasn't enough, and Rodriguez decided to take it up a notch. Grabbing an M99 HE-DP grenade from his utility harness, he armed it to detonate on impact, which confirmed the order with a pulsating beep. Rearing his hand back, he lobbed the cylindrical explosive over at the approaching enemy force.
A cloud of greasy black and yellow smoke, followed by the roar of the explosive blast engulfed the enemy's position, with some limbs carelessly flying through the air. The weird thing was, there weren't any blood present by the time those torn appendages made landfall, but it wasn't important. For now, he had to focus. He and the rest of his fire team had already taken out about fourteen of those insectoid bastards, and more were heading their way. He saw one of them emerge from the smoke, just calmly walking past it like it nothing happened, its purpose never wavering. We'll see about that. He thought. Shouldering the stock of his M8, he set the red dot sight on the hostile's head and let loose one long burst. It dropped dead completely a few moments later, its feet still twitching, but other than that it was absolutely and utterly dead.
For the next ten minutes, the three of them held the line. There were a few times were the enemy almost gained the upper hand, but a few bursts of rifle fire here or a single well placed grenade there soon changed that. Rodriguez replaced another thermal clip on his rifle, just about downing his tenth straight kill when his radio crackled to life.
"Sir!" The voice of Lieutenant Johnson rang in his helmet's speakers. "We got us a situation here!"
"Can't it wait?" Rodriguez replied while firing off another burst at an approaching hostile, shearing one of its legs with a well-placed burst on the groin. "I'm a bit busy here, lieutenant." He finished off the target with a round to the head.
"It can't! We're taking heavy fire here, I'm down to my last two clips on my rifle and Cortez can't fix shit if these bastards keep on shooting at us."
"Fuck." The colonel swore, letting loose another long burst at an approaching target. "Alright, I'm sending someone over." Switching frequencies, he chose what he wanted and opened up a line. "Major Walters, status."
"They're advancing in heavy force here, sir." A few bursts of rifle were heard, followed by a grenade going off."We can't take any more of this much longer."
"Pull back to the shuttle, assist Cortez and Johnson in any way you can, how copy?"
"Solid copy on all, Walters out." With that, the connection was terminated. The enemy still kept on pushing forward with their advance, like an endless wave from the ocean, which was completely infinite and never ending.
"Contact rear!" Alekseyev yelled. Rodriguez spun a complete one-eighty, with his rifle in hand, spotting three hostiles trying to sneak up on them, their organic looking rifles already opening up. Several rounds exploded around their position, with dirt gushing out as the metallic enamel-looking pellets smashed throughout their surrounding area. Hadley and Rodriguez immediately took cover, but the other militiaman wasn't so lucky.
A constant barrage of rifle fire peppered Alekseyev's hardsuit, and his kinetic barriers flashed into existence. But the enemy's constant stream of ammo drained them completely after a few seconds worth of sustained fire. Several rounds punctured the poor kid's suits, with the doomed militiaman screaming as he got thrown back from the bullets' impact.
Rodriguez rose from his cover and expertly let loose a couple of long bursts to each of the hostiles' bulbous heads, killing them instantly. Next to him, Hadley sprang into action, going near the shot up body of his comrade, who was now lying on the ground bleeding from several wounds in the abdomen.
"Aleksi!" The young private quickly activated his omni-tool to do a fast medical scan on his friend's injuries. A few seconds later followed by a beep, he was shown the severity of the militiaman's wounds: his liver and lungs were already perforated from a dozen different places, and his stomach was leaking gastric acid, courtesy of a well-placed rifle round that landed there.
The colonel let loose another burst at another approaching hostile, taking him out of the fight. His M8 Avenger assault rifle suddenly began beeping frantically, where the three diagonal red stripes that were above the trigger started pulsating with a dangerous red. Once again, his weapon's thermal clip was spent. Goddamn it! He mentally swore. That was the last one he had, and he passed on whatever spare clips he had left to Hadley and Alekseyev; where the latter was now gurgling crimson red liquid on his mouth, which was starting to seep slowly to the side.
Poor bastard. Throwing his spent rifle on the ground, he grabbed for his M3 Predator pistol and started shooting at the approaching targets who were now getting too dangerously close for comfort. Their advance being left unchecked as Hadley and Alekseyev paused their fire.
"We've gotta go, kid! Now!" Rodriguez yelled, grabbing Hadley's shoulder while firing a few rounds at this one particular hostile who was just a few meters away.
"No!" The young private defiantly screamed while escaping the colonel's grip on his shoulder. "I can still save him, sir!" Hadley grabbed a few medi-gel capsules on one of his hardsuit's compartments and applied it liberally to the dying militiaman's abdomen. Alekseyev was already starting to get dangerously pale, his skin was getting clammy and his eyes were starting to lose their luster. He was already a goner, and the medi-gel was only going to delay the inevitable for just a few more minutes. Why the hell can't this kid see that?
Grabbing unto the shoulder's kid once again, this time a bit too forcefully, Rodriguez looked into the kid's black eyes with his stern brown ones, seeing nothing but pure sadness in them. But the young colonel didn't have any choice left. "Listen, damn it! He. Is. Gone! And I'm sorry, I really am, but if we don't get outta here soon, we might as well join him. Is that clear?" Hadley looked away from him and stared at the ground, still unable to accept the fact that Alekseyev was gone. Goddamn it. He smacked the back of the kid's helmet and looked into his eyes once again. "Is. That. Clear?!"
"Yes sir." Private Hadley's response felt like a whisper, but at least the fact that his buddy was dead had already sunk in. Rodriguez hated himself for forcing the poor kid to make him realize that, but they were already in serious danger here, and survival took precedence above all else. Grabbing his last grenade on his utility harness, he gestured for the private to do the same, while arming his own with a proximity fuse.
"Okay, Hadley, when I give you the order, throw your grenade at them, okay?" The private nodded fervently while he armed his own grenade with a three-second fuse. The hostiles were slowly making their own way towards them, suppressing them with deadly, accurate rifle fire while pressing on with their advance; it wasn't long now till they were completely on top of them. "Now!"
The private reared his hand back and threw it in the general direction of the enemy presence, which happened to be just about fourteen meters away. The grenade went off and filled the area with deadly fragments, instantly killing four of the biped bugs. More were already taking the place of the downed hostiles, their onslaught still progressing.
"Go, get out here, now!" Rodriguez ordered. Hadley hadn't hesitated and pulled back towards the direction of the shuttle, firing his rifle along the way. Now alone, the colonel grabbed his grenade and burrowed it deep into the ground, the proximity fuse already armed, making anything that went to within two meters of this thing an instant barbecue. Grabbing his pistol, the regimental CO quickly ran towards the Kodiak's direction, his Predator opening up on a couple of targets. They didn't kill them or anything, but it somehow managed to throw off their aim somewhat, and he was completely fine with that.
He was completely sprinting now, the downed transport already within visual range. I'm home free. He happily thought. A loud explosion engulfed what was left of their former position, and Rodriguez smiled. That sure showed them.
A lone hostile bug landed unexpectedly in front of him, its heavy landing completely throwing Rodriguez off-guard, and he fell down instantly on his back, with his hands and legs quickly putting some distance away from that thing. The biped bug took one look at him with its four glowing eyes, taking a few more moments to observe him before its organic looking rifle took an aim towards his head.
This is it. The colonel's pistol was raised, trying to make one last desperate attempt to take down the bastard, but he knew it was completely futile now, and he waited for the eventual round that would permanently knock his lights out. Rodriguez closed his eyes and looked away, waiting for the inevitable—
—a loud bang was heard and the colonel cringed, expecting to be in heaven already and meeting Saint Peter on the Pearly Gates. But the sounds of battle still raged heavily, and he slowly started to open his eyes, which widened considerably after he saw what was in front of him a few moments later.
The lone hostile who got him cornered was now lying on its back, a small entrance wound right between its eyes, with another larger exit wound behind the base of his skull. Who the hell took that shot? He looked towards the direction of the shuttle, where he finally saw his one-time savior.
Major Walters was wielding a smoking M92 Mantis sniper rifle, with a smile planted on his face as he gave his CO a playful salute, right before going back to work to hunt for more hostiles. Next to him, Johnson was waving at him to get over there. Without any further hesitation, Rodriguez stood up and ran hard, arriving there a few seconds later.
"Never thought I'd see you slack off on the job, colonel." The lieutenant said to him once he took up position near the Kodiak's nose. "Thank God for Walters being a crack shot, otherwise we'd be saying goodbye to your sorry ass…sir."
"Any word on the repairs?" Rodriguez asked him curtly, completely ignoring Johnson's attempt on humor. He didn't have any time for that, plus the fact that he almost bought it earlier probably rattled the him for a little bit. The lieutenant just shrugged and replied.
"He's just finishing up, he'll be done momentarily." The colonel nodded to him before facing his XO
"Walters," Rodriguez asked him. "whose left on your fire team?" The major eye never left the scope, before firing a single round into the head of an unfortunate target.
"Novachek's dead, sir." The major said to him, his eye still on the Mantis's scope. "And Pearsons bleed out a few minutes ago."
"Damn it." Rodriguez swore out loud. With three of their number dead, there were only four of them left. And it still wasn't even enough. "We've got to get out of here."
"Cortez is done, sir!" Johnson yelled at him, his rifle aimed on the enemy's direction and was letting loose a few more rounds. Right in the nick of time, too. He thought to himself. Without any further indecision, the colonel breathed in and yelled at the top of his lungs.
"Alright, get your asses on board, all of you!" Rodriguez ordered. A few moments later, both of the Kodiak's side doors opened, and every single one of them piled inside. Going towards the cockpit, he saw Cortez tapping away on the controls, as usual. But not before seeing a nasty cut on one of his facial cheeks.
With single-minded focus, the ex-Alliance pilot punched on the throttle, completely surging forward without waiting for everyone to get themselves strapped in. The colonel just grabbed hold to one of the fire extinguishers near him to keep himself from falling off.
Behind him, he saw what was left of their little squad taking a breather, some of them not even bothering to take a seat on their chairs, just squatting on the passenger compartment's cold metal floor. The fight hadn't even lasted for about twenty minutes, and already it was taking a nasty toll on them. Rodriguez grimaced. He hadn't seen them like this since the failed batarian invasion attempt two years ago, and they barely even survived that onslaught. Just like now. He thought grimly.
As they continued putting some distance away from their temporary crash site, Rodriguez wondered how the colony was doing, the last transmission he had heard from them earlier wasn't exactly a beacon of good news, and it wasn't really assuring them anything on their loved ones safety. God, I beg of you, please keep her safe…
"What the hell…" Cortez said, his hands still dancing away on the shuttle control's holographic interface, while there was some incessant beeping being clearly heard. "I got an unknown transmission here, patching it through." There was some hoarse breathing on the other end of the line, followed by someone yelling something unintelligible and screaming hysterically. What the hell…? For the first few seconds after opening up the broadcast, this was all they had heard. Cortez decided to take action on the matter.
"This is Ferris Six, is anyone out there?" Again, no one responded. The ambient screaming and hoarse breathing was the only thing getting heard. Rodriguez thought it was just a stray transmission, and was having some idea of cutting the channel when someone unexpected answered back on Cortez's hail.
"Steve, is that you?"