Monster - Part 11
DeepShadows
Join Date: 2003-02-11 Member: 13408Members, Constellation
Join Date: 2003-02-11 Member: 13408Members, Constellation
<div class="IPBDescription">Part 7, going by the posts</div> <a href='http://members.shaw.ca/jarmart/Monster_Site/main.html' target='_blank'>Part: 1 - 10</a>
I know it's been a couple weeks, but I've finally got it finished. I'm not sure if this will be the final version of this next part, but it is complete enough to post.
The next chapter was originally meant to be part of this chapter, but it was becoming too long to include. So, you'll have to wait for the until the next chapter (gasp).
SPOILER:
(There will be a grand battle against a few skulks and a lerk in the Cold Storage hive)
/SPOILER
ANYWAY, here you go. The site will be updated as soon as I send the new material to our buddy Wolvie.
Enjoy:
<span style='font-size:11pt;line-height:100%'><b>Unpleasant Surprises</b></span>
I covered my ears, but the transmission killed. The commander was blaring at someone.
C.C. - Ashura Demon: “<i>Look out, look out!</i>"
Pseudo: "<i>Relax, we got him.</i>"
Tony: "<i>That skulk ripped out Matt's throat! Drop a medpack!</i>”
C.C. - Ashura Demon: “<i>Is he still alive?</i>"
Tony: "<i>Yes, darnit, drop a medpack!</i>"
A couple seconds of radio silence went by. My ear was still ringing.
Mystery-Matt: "<i>That hurt. You could have told us the vents were about to cycle.</i>"
C.C. - Ashura Demon: "<i>I didn't know.</i>"
Mystery-Matt: "<i>I thought you were keeping an eye on it.</i>"
C.C. - Ashura Demon: "<i>Shut up, I’m busy.</i>"
Darkens: "<i>Hey, Jacket's back online. Maps for us, Jack?</i>"
"Yeah. I have it on disk."
Darkens: "<i>Cool. I'm at Cold Storage. Drop it on by.</i>"
"Is there a phase?"
Darkens: "<i>Yup.</i>"
The bacterium selected damp, humid areas to develop, and humidity usually implies warmth. As one might gather, the Cold Storage hive was cold. The climate controls seemed to be malfunctioning; water was dripping slowly off the ice formations dangling across the ceiling.
This hive was a spacious meat-locker. Two levels of large carcasses swung gently on thick steel wires. They cast shadows across the already dark room, bending and distorting the light moment per moment. Between swings, you could make out a turret here, a marine there. Large crates stacked against the walls on either side of the room. Towards the back was a resource node, munching away at nano-sludge. An armory sat in front of it.
I stepped off the phase, looking around. The Frontiersmen were setting up sentry guns all over the place. Mr. Samsa was building a turret near by. Water dripped on the gunhead.
"Hey Samsa, you ditched me."
Mr. Samsa: "Sorry. The comm. wanted to ‘turret-farm’ Cargo."
Smiling Joe: "He hasn't upgraded motion tracking. Waste of res., Smiling Joe says."
I couldn't see where Joe was. His deep voice echoed amongst the sound of dripping water and the dangling brush of chains. The air was moving from somewhere.
Mystery-Matt: "<i>I've finished welding the vent that goes to, uh... docking-command. Moving on to the Youkja vent. Quiver, you got me covered?</i>"
The beef carcasses were heavy and difficult to push aside. I did my best to worm my way through each row, eyeing about for Darkens. I came to a large, open vent alongside the wall. A sign above it read, "Do not block." To comply, the rows of stacked cargo boxes gapped on either side, save for one crate just bellow it. Darkens sat on this crate.
He stood to great me. I handed him the disk, which he promptly inserted into a mini-pad on his arm.
Mystery-Matt: "<i>Almost done. Would you check the maintenance passage?</i>"
Darkens busied himself with the mini-pad. Its purpose was usually for text communication, whenever speaking out loud wasn't a good idea.
I asked Darkens what was going on.
Darkens: "Mr. Samsa suggested we repair the emergency-filtration system at Atmospheric Processing. Doing that would close off the vents and keep the Kharaa from crossing over. Pseudo's group is on it now."
“Didn’t the commander say it wasn’t accessible on foot? On this level, anyway?”
Darkens: “On foot, yes, but not on our knees. Group two crawled their way there through this vent behind me, after welding it open.”
“Are they ok? I heard a scream over the radio.”
Darkens: “No ****. That was Mystery-Matt getting muted... the hard way. The vents cycled while they were down there, I guess. The commander didn’t warn them. If you want to keep your nerves around here, you have to expect unpleasant surprises."
Pseudo: "<i>Alright, Matt's done welding two of the vents. We're crossing through the maintenance passage now... looks clear.</i>"
Mystery-Matt: “<i>Welding the vent to Cold Storage. This is the last one, then they won’t be able to get through.</i>”
Pseudo: “<i>This is dead, comm. Me and Tony are heading back to Cold Storage.</i>”
Johnson: “<i> ‘Tony’ and ‘I.’ </i>”
Pseudo: “<i>Whatever. Quiver, stay here with Matt.</i>”
A while ago, a smuggled copy of Quiver’s headset records made its way into my mailbox. From what I could piece together, this is what transpired:
<i>The Atmospheric Processor blasts a heavy wind through the vents. Onboard the Processor, one huge fan cuts the dim-blue lights within, shoving the air along.
This is what Quiver is looking at. The sound of Mystery-Matt welding behind him can barely be heard under the heavy droning of the air.
“Almost done!” Matt shouts. Quiver doesn’t respond. He looks around the dim room, lit by the strobing blue. In the middle of the room is a ladder, which climbs up through the maintenance passage. He walks over, the wind blaring in his ear, and looks up into it. All he sees is darkness.
He turns towards Matt, who is crouched by a vent, face illuminated by the sparkling welder. Quiver begins to move toward him, but stops. There is an oddity in what he sees before him. He looks at it for a few seconds before lifting his hand from the machine-gun.
“What are you doing?” Matt asks, as he turns to watch Quiver lower his hand into the air... and touch something.
That something shifts violently, and sends Quiver flying back into the fan. He has no time to scream. Just before Quiver’s transmitter is struck down, we see several forms appear around the room and even more drop down from the ladder. After that, all is lost to static.</i>
questions/comments = Goodness
I know it's been a couple weeks, but I've finally got it finished. I'm not sure if this will be the final version of this next part, but it is complete enough to post.
The next chapter was originally meant to be part of this chapter, but it was becoming too long to include. So, you'll have to wait for the until the next chapter (gasp).
SPOILER:
(There will be a grand battle against a few skulks and a lerk in the Cold Storage hive)
/SPOILER
ANYWAY, here you go. The site will be updated as soon as I send the new material to our buddy Wolvie.
Enjoy:
<span style='font-size:11pt;line-height:100%'><b>Unpleasant Surprises</b></span>
I covered my ears, but the transmission killed. The commander was blaring at someone.
C.C. - Ashura Demon: “<i>Look out, look out!</i>"
Pseudo: "<i>Relax, we got him.</i>"
Tony: "<i>That skulk ripped out Matt's throat! Drop a medpack!</i>”
C.C. - Ashura Demon: “<i>Is he still alive?</i>"
Tony: "<i>Yes, darnit, drop a medpack!</i>"
A couple seconds of radio silence went by. My ear was still ringing.
Mystery-Matt: "<i>That hurt. You could have told us the vents were about to cycle.</i>"
C.C. - Ashura Demon: "<i>I didn't know.</i>"
Mystery-Matt: "<i>I thought you were keeping an eye on it.</i>"
C.C. - Ashura Demon: "<i>Shut up, I’m busy.</i>"
Darkens: "<i>Hey, Jacket's back online. Maps for us, Jack?</i>"
"Yeah. I have it on disk."
Darkens: "<i>Cool. I'm at Cold Storage. Drop it on by.</i>"
"Is there a phase?"
Darkens: "<i>Yup.</i>"
The bacterium selected damp, humid areas to develop, and humidity usually implies warmth. As one might gather, the Cold Storage hive was cold. The climate controls seemed to be malfunctioning; water was dripping slowly off the ice formations dangling across the ceiling.
This hive was a spacious meat-locker. Two levels of large carcasses swung gently on thick steel wires. They cast shadows across the already dark room, bending and distorting the light moment per moment. Between swings, you could make out a turret here, a marine there. Large crates stacked against the walls on either side of the room. Towards the back was a resource node, munching away at nano-sludge. An armory sat in front of it.
I stepped off the phase, looking around. The Frontiersmen were setting up sentry guns all over the place. Mr. Samsa was building a turret near by. Water dripped on the gunhead.
"Hey Samsa, you ditched me."
Mr. Samsa: "Sorry. The comm. wanted to ‘turret-farm’ Cargo."
Smiling Joe: "He hasn't upgraded motion tracking. Waste of res., Smiling Joe says."
I couldn't see where Joe was. His deep voice echoed amongst the sound of dripping water and the dangling brush of chains. The air was moving from somewhere.
Mystery-Matt: "<i>I've finished welding the vent that goes to, uh... docking-command. Moving on to the Youkja vent. Quiver, you got me covered?</i>"
The beef carcasses were heavy and difficult to push aside. I did my best to worm my way through each row, eyeing about for Darkens. I came to a large, open vent alongside the wall. A sign above it read, "Do not block." To comply, the rows of stacked cargo boxes gapped on either side, save for one crate just bellow it. Darkens sat on this crate.
He stood to great me. I handed him the disk, which he promptly inserted into a mini-pad on his arm.
Mystery-Matt: "<i>Almost done. Would you check the maintenance passage?</i>"
Darkens busied himself with the mini-pad. Its purpose was usually for text communication, whenever speaking out loud wasn't a good idea.
I asked Darkens what was going on.
Darkens: "Mr. Samsa suggested we repair the emergency-filtration system at Atmospheric Processing. Doing that would close off the vents and keep the Kharaa from crossing over. Pseudo's group is on it now."
“Didn’t the commander say it wasn’t accessible on foot? On this level, anyway?”
Darkens: “On foot, yes, but not on our knees. Group two crawled their way there through this vent behind me, after welding it open.”
“Are they ok? I heard a scream over the radio.”
Darkens: “No ****. That was Mystery-Matt getting muted... the hard way. The vents cycled while they were down there, I guess. The commander didn’t warn them. If you want to keep your nerves around here, you have to expect unpleasant surprises."
Pseudo: "<i>Alright, Matt's done welding two of the vents. We're crossing through the maintenance passage now... looks clear.</i>"
Mystery-Matt: “<i>Welding the vent to Cold Storage. This is the last one, then they won’t be able to get through.</i>”
Pseudo: “<i>This is dead, comm. Me and Tony are heading back to Cold Storage.</i>”
Johnson: “<i> ‘Tony’ and ‘I.’ </i>”
Pseudo: “<i>Whatever. Quiver, stay here with Matt.</i>”
A while ago, a smuggled copy of Quiver’s headset records made its way into my mailbox. From what I could piece together, this is what transpired:
<i>The Atmospheric Processor blasts a heavy wind through the vents. Onboard the Processor, one huge fan cuts the dim-blue lights within, shoving the air along.
This is what Quiver is looking at. The sound of Mystery-Matt welding behind him can barely be heard under the heavy droning of the air.
“Almost done!” Matt shouts. Quiver doesn’t respond. He looks around the dim room, lit by the strobing blue. In the middle of the room is a ladder, which climbs up through the maintenance passage. He walks over, the wind blaring in his ear, and looks up into it. All he sees is darkness.
He turns towards Matt, who is crouched by a vent, face illuminated by the sparkling welder. Quiver begins to move toward him, but stops. There is an oddity in what he sees before him. He looks at it for a few seconds before lifting his hand from the machine-gun.
“What are you doing?” Matt asks, as he turns to watch Quiver lower his hand into the air... and touch something.
That something shifts violently, and sends Quiver flying back into the fan. He has no time to scream. Just before Quiver’s transmitter is struck down, we see several forms appear around the room and even more drop down from the ladder. After that, all is lost to static.</i>
questions/comments = Goodness
Comments
The only reason I haven't been checking too often is that reading one just isn't enough. More! <!--emo&:D--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/biggrin.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='biggrin.gif'><!--endemo-->
as soon as you get it written <!--emo&;)--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/wink.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='wink.gif'><!--endemo-->
<!--QuoteEnd--> </td></tr></table><span class='postcolor'> <!--QuoteEEnd-->
spooky
and if you need more permanent hosting, I think Rob offered to do that, just check out the fan-fic directory )it's stickied) for more info <!--emo&:)--><img src='http://www.natural-selection.org/forums/html/emoticons/smile.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='smile.gif'><!--endemo-->
Yeah, I've been eagerly awaiting an email with the latest stuff and messing around with a new ftp program to get it all working with my shaw.ca webspace. <!--emo&:)--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/smile.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='smile.gif'><!--endemo-->
<!--emo&:)--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/smile.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='smile.gif'><!--endemo-->
keep up your good work