"Cap, the Turtle's bucking like an ornery bronco in this shitstorm! Sensors are more fucked than a two-credit joytoy, gonna be navigating by dead reckoning any second now," Jock hollered over the ship-wide comms, his drawl thickened by stress.
"Copy that, just keep this old girl from augering in. A mountain's the last thing I want a close encounter with today," Addison shouted back, bracing herself against a bulkhead as the deck pitched beneath her boots. "Swain, gimme a heading on that signal!"
"No joy, boss!" The comtech's voice crackled through the static. "Still just the same looping SOS we've been chasing since the ass-end of nowhere."
The Turtle shuddered, her superstructure groaning in protest as she plunged through the roiling thunderheads. Lightning split the clouds, the flash searing afterimages into Addison's eyes. She squinted, waiting for her vision to clear.
"Jesus wept," she breathed. "Never seen a storm this bad."
"Atmo's thicker than a docker's skull out there, Cap. This kind of interference shouldn't even be possible. Best guess is the signal's using some orbital arrays as a relay, but fuck if I know for certain."
"Someone wanna remind me what the fuck we're doing out here?" Jock groused over the link.
"You know the drill, flyboy. The corporate overlords say 'jump', we ask 'how high?' on the way up." Addison raised her voice, the gale's banshee howl reverberating through the Turtle's pressure hull.
"Any meatbags we pull outta the fire owe the company big. Rescue fees, transit fees, cargo recovery fees, the whole nine yards. Even the cryo-rack rental ain't free. And if we're too late, whatever's left is the company's salvage, free and clear. Just like the regs say, UA 248-3.8. Don't like it? Take it up with Legal, buddy. I'm sure they'd love to hear from you!"
"Fuck the regs, and fuck Weyland-Yutani too!"
Without warning, the Turtle plummeted like a stone, the altimeter spinning wildly as they dropped hundreds of feet in mere seconds. Addison's stomach turned inside-out at the sudden free-fall, ears popping painfully.
"Strap in, Cap!" Swain bellowed. "Shit's about to get real bumpy real fast!"
Fingers fumbling with the harness, Addison struggled to buckle herself in, breath coming in ragged gasps, eyes wide and wild. "Jock, sitrep! Why the hell are we lawn-darting?"
"Fucking methane pocket! Engines flamed out!" The pilot's shout dissolved into a burst of profanity. "C'mon baby, c'mon, don't fail me now... Shit! She's fighting the stick, got her own ideas about where she's going!"
The Turtle yawed wildly, the ground filling the viewports with terrifying speed. Addison caught a glimpse of trees whipping past the cockpit windows, their leaves limned in eldritch blue light. Transfixed by the strange glow, she almost forgot their peril.
"Jock!" His name tore from her throat, raw-edged.
"I got it, I got it!" Jock's shout reverberated through the cockpit as he wrestled with the controls, yanking the stick to the left. The Turtle lurched, the deck plates groaning beneath Addison's boots. Jock wrenched the stick right, then left again, fighting to keep the ship level as they plunged through the roiling thunderheads.
Inside the Turtle, Addison's stomach churned, bile rising in her throat. She swallowed hard, clenching her jaw as the ship bucked and shuddered like a wild bronco. The viewports filled with a dizzying kaleidoscope of gray clouds and strobing lightning, the ground below a blur of emerald jungle.
Addison squeezed her eyes shut, fingers digging into the armrests of her chair. Her teeth rattled in her skull as another thunderous boom shook the Turtle's hull, followed by a grating, metallic shriek. The ship tilted drunkenly, the deck pitching at a nauseating angle.
They careened through the turbulent sky, the Turtle yawing and rolling like a child's toy in a bathtub. Addison's head swam, vertigo clawing at the edges of her consciousness. She couldn't tell if they were flying or falling anymore, the line between the two blurring into a gut-wrenching nightmare.
Without warning, the Turtle jerked violently, a final, bone-jarring impact that sent shockwaves rippling through the ship's frame. Then, silence descended, broken only by the ticking of cooling metal and the ragged breathing of the crew.
"We're down, pussy cats!" Jock crowed, his voice tight with adrenaline-fueled glee. "Bit of a rough ride, but any landing you can walk away from, am I right?"
"Everyone OK back there?" she managed after a moment, voice rough.
"Never been better, boss lady," Swain groaned from his station. "Pretty sure I broke my dick on that landing though. Gonna have to take up a collection for the replacement."
Addison snorted, shaking her head as she unclipped her harness with fumbling fingers. She pushed herself to her feet, legs quivering like a newborn foal's.
"Just check the SOS again and tell me you've got a lock this time," she said, grabbing her rifle from the locker and slinging it over her shoulder.
"Roger that," Swain replied, tapping at his console. "Huh. Actually getting a clear signal now, Cap. Looks like we're close, a klick or two from the source."
"Great," Addison muttered, sarcasm dripping from the word. "Better get Fariah and gear up the team. I want boots on the ground in five."
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She stalked into the Turtle's cramped cargo hold, pulse rifles and ammo scattered across the benches. Fariah looked up from her inventory, a scowl etched into her craggy features. Fariah was their resident hard ass, ex-marines, hard as nails, built like a brick shithouse and twice as useful. She was currently double-checking everyone's gear as Addison stalked into the back of the Turtle, throwing plasma rifles and pulse rounds onto a bench in front of her haphazardly.
“How we looking?” Addison asked.
Fariah grunted, jerking her head toward the porthole. Beyond the reinforced glass, the jungle pulsed with an eerie bioluminescence, casting an otherworldly glow over the Turtle's hull.
“We’re looking like this is one shit show of an idea, boss lady,” Fariah growled, looking out the porthole to the glowing flora. “Nothing this colorful is ever friendly. We got a ETA on how long this clusterfuck is gonna take?”
Addison sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Two klicks through that mess, give or take. Company's not paying by the hour, so we make it quick. In and out."
"Thought clusterfucks like this got us a bonus," Fariah said, hefting a plasma rifle.
"Depends on what we find," Addison replied, a knot of unease tightening in her gut.
"Cap, got a jackass on the horn," Swain's voice crackled over the intercom. "Telling us we're not supposed to be here. Above my paygrade, ma'am."
"God dammit," Addison spat, whirling on her heel and marching back to the cockpit. She jabbed the comm button, leaning over Swain's shoulder.
"You have entered restricted airspace," a clipped, officious voice informed them. "Transmit authorization codes immediately or face orbital bombardment."
Orbital bombardment? Addison's eyebrows shot up. Serious firepower up there, and that kind of ordnance didn't come cheap.
She keyed the mic, taking a breath to steady herself. "This is Captain Addison Gray of the Rust Raptor, independent contractor currently under commission from Weyland-Yutani. We're aboard a Typhoon-class recon vessel, registration Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrot-Six-Niner."
"Three days ago at zero-three-fifteen, we intercepted a distress signal originating from the surface of this moon. Under UNCM Regulation 248, we're obligated to investigate any SOS. So kindly hold your fire, because I'd really rather not get nuked today."
There was static for a moment, and then a different voice came on. The sound of it was smooth and pleasant, but somehow - it still made Addison’s skin crawl. “Captain Gray. Welcome to LV-2032. I am Driver, the administrator of the Weyland Yutani facility, Tartarus Deep. I apologize for the brusque greeting. We were not aware we were still broadcasting a distress signal. Unfortunately, as a test facility, we are experimenting with several different AI configurations. A few days ago, one escaped containment and began broadcasting a variety of signals. We thought we had quashed it. I am sorry you have come all this way. I will make a note, and Weyland Yutani will reinstate your bonuses as promised despite the delay.”
Addison's brow furrowed, a scowl etching itself across her face as she listened to the voice on the other end of the comms. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, a primal warning that something was amiss. Her grip tightened on the edge of the console, knuckles turning white as she leaned in closer to the speaker.
"Are you a synth?" Fariah's gruff voice cut through the tension, echoing Addison's own suspicions. "Bit odd to have a synth as an administrator."
"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say that," Driver replied, the smoothness of his voice never wavering.
Addison's jaw clenched, her teeth grinding together as she fought back the urge to demand answers. "Well, Driver," she said, forcing a false lightness into her tone, "I'm afraid it'll take us about an hour to prep the Turtle to get back off this swamphole."
“And, I’m afraid,” Driver matched her sassy tone, “you don’t have an hour, Captain.”
Well, that sounded ominous. “Care to elaborate?”
“The storm you passed through is getting worse. We tracked you as you came in, and I must say - if you had that much trouble landing, two things come to mind. One, I hope you aren’t paying your pilot too much-”
"Hey!" Jock's indignant shout rang out from the cockpit. "Fuck you, gearhead!"
“- and two, your shuttle will break apart before you make altitude.”
Addison swore under her breath. “How bad is this storm?”
“Well, if I were to use a human analogy, I would compare it to riding a surfboard down the side of a mountain without a leash or safety gear. And the mountain is on fire, and the side is covered in lava, and-”
"Driver, that is the most synth analogy I've ever heard, there were simpler ways to say “yes, I’m a synth,” but point taken," Addison cut in, pinching the bridge of her nose once more. "Alright, we need a solution."
“We have one, Captain Gray. You will need to stay with us. As I said, I will personally ensure that your bonuses and on-time pay remain intact. You are only here because of a mistake made by Weyland Yutani, and because you were following Weyland Yutani regulations. No need to leave a bad taste in your mouth. Weyland Yutani relies heavily on independent operators such as yourself, and we thank you for adhering to our policies.”
There were dozens of things Addison could think of that she’d rather do than stay tethered to this shithole, up to and including getting spaced.
"Can you patch a message through to the Rust Raptor?" she asked, desperation creeping into her voice.
"We will do you one better, captain. I have already sent shuttles up to collect the rest of your crew."
“Why couldn’t you just send us up in a shuttle?” Jock demanded.
“Because bad pilot skills are contagious, Mr. Jaques.”
Addison blinked. How did they know his name?
“At any rate, Captain Gray, yes, I suppose that is an option. However, you will not be permitted to return here. Would your bonuses be enough to purchase another Typhoon Class Shuttle?”
"You know my name," Jock spat, his voice dripping with venom. "Just how deep are you synths tied into our systems?"
Driver's response sliced through the comms like a razor. "We connected the moment I came on the line, Mr. Jaques. Every byte of data, every system, every secret - it's all laid bare before us."
"I've had enough of this shit," Addison growled. "Swain, fire up the engines. We're getting the hell out of here."
“Captain.” Driver’s voice went from warm and pleasant to ice cold. “That is inadvisable.”
“And why might that be?”
“Because I have been exorbitantly lenient given the gravity of your situation. Fact is, you have touched ground at an Obsidian Sector project.”
Addison's pulse hammered in her ears, adrenaline surging through her veins. Fuck!
Driver continued, his voice devoid of mercy or empathy. "Standard protocol mandates your immediate termination upon unauthorized entry into our airspace. The malfunctioning AI has temporarily crippled our long-range defenses, but I assure you, the orbital cannons are fully armed and operational. Any attempt to depart will result in your utter annihilation before you clear the treeline."
Addison's head spun, her vision blurring at the edges as the brutal reality sank in. They were damned if they did, damned if they didn't. A strangled sound escaped her throat, halfway between a sob and a scream.
"Your only option is to disembark and submit to questioning at our facility," Driver stated, his words as unyielding as steel. "You will be thoroughly debriefed, your backgrounds investigated, your memories probed and dissected. Then, perhaps, in some nebulous future, you may be released. The alternative is an instant and fiery death. The choice is yours, Captain."
Addison squeezed her eyes shut, hot tears leaking from the corners. Her shoulders slumped in defeat, all the fight draining out of her. "Stand down, Swain," she croaked, the words like ashes on her tongue. "Power it all down. We're not going anywhere."