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6/10/2025, 7:51:32 PM
>>6256182
[2/5]
The kid joins in, dragging one of the two metal ore skips sitting nearby into a more defensible spot before beginning to shovel dirt and stones within it. When asked by Brayson what you were to be doing during all of this, you withdraw the handheld radio from your belt.
"You.. may be right. I'll try and make contact with the group we heard fighting earlier." you say hesitantly. Brayson nods with a blooming smile, only slightly stifled by your follow-up. "We're not heading out there yet! Just talking."
You drag a chair in front of Allie's box and turn the radio on. The frequency was still set from when you heard the battle earlier, but silence and faint static was all you heard. After a few tentative "Hello?"s, you recognize it as abandoned. Walking absentmindedly out from the rocky cut of the mine's entrance towards the open vista along the cliffside road, you patiently scan the airwaves for signs of humanity. An hour passes by with no ambient chatter to eavesdrop upon. The risk of being found out through radio-triangulation was being drowned out in your mind by the frustration from a lack of results. Passivity was getting you nowhere. You go through the breadth of the frequency range once more, this time speaking, waiting, repeating, and moving up the range to try again. The sun dips to the horizon's edge before you finally get a response.
"Last callsign, please identify yourself." A young woman's voice crackles from the speaker, speaking with a First Colonist accent. You wonder if you'll ever make contact with another fellow expedition member at this rate. You pause before responding, debating internally how to present yourself to this unknown party.
"I'm taking shelter in an abandoned homestead at the end of a road, there are angry tribesmen everywhere." you reply evasively, recalling the Ruined Homestead off to the northeast.
A moment later, the voice responds. "You're the Thirdwavers that Captain Parks yelled at, aren't you?" You sigh. Perhaps the accent gave you away.
"Yeah. I've been out here fighting the Hoteps for over a week, now. I could really use some information." you say, slightly deflated.
"I need you to tune your radio to the following frequency..." the voice states, and you quickly comply, turning your radio's knob.
"What do you know?" she asks. "Absolutely nothing. What happened to the rest of the colonists from my expedition?"
"Your uhh... ship was destroyed. Years ago. Every year around springtime some wreckage and a handful of sleeper pods comes down, a lot of it lands far away in enemy territory, or in the ocean. I'm so sorry." she replies
"What destroyed it? Was it you people?" you return. "No! I mean... uhh... I don't think so? It happened back during the start of the Arrival War... Hold on." she stammers.
She returns to the conversation a moment later, sounding as if she was reciting passages from a book.
[2/5]
The kid joins in, dragging one of the two metal ore skips sitting nearby into a more defensible spot before beginning to shovel dirt and stones within it. When asked by Brayson what you were to be doing during all of this, you withdraw the handheld radio from your belt.
"You.. may be right. I'll try and make contact with the group we heard fighting earlier." you say hesitantly. Brayson nods with a blooming smile, only slightly stifled by your follow-up. "We're not heading out there yet! Just talking."
You drag a chair in front of Allie's box and turn the radio on. The frequency was still set from when you heard the battle earlier, but silence and faint static was all you heard. After a few tentative "Hello?"s, you recognize it as abandoned. Walking absentmindedly out from the rocky cut of the mine's entrance towards the open vista along the cliffside road, you patiently scan the airwaves for signs of humanity. An hour passes by with no ambient chatter to eavesdrop upon. The risk of being found out through radio-triangulation was being drowned out in your mind by the frustration from a lack of results. Passivity was getting you nowhere. You go through the breadth of the frequency range once more, this time speaking, waiting, repeating, and moving up the range to try again. The sun dips to the horizon's edge before you finally get a response.
"Last callsign, please identify yourself." A young woman's voice crackles from the speaker, speaking with a First Colonist accent. You wonder if you'll ever make contact with another fellow expedition member at this rate. You pause before responding, debating internally how to present yourself to this unknown party.
"I'm taking shelter in an abandoned homestead at the end of a road, there are angry tribesmen everywhere." you reply evasively, recalling the Ruined Homestead off to the northeast.
A moment later, the voice responds. "You're the Thirdwavers that Captain Parks yelled at, aren't you?" You sigh. Perhaps the accent gave you away.
"Yeah. I've been out here fighting the Hoteps for over a week, now. I could really use some information." you say, slightly deflated.
"I need you to tune your radio to the following frequency..." the voice states, and you quickly comply, turning your radio's knob.
"What do you know?" she asks. "Absolutely nothing. What happened to the rest of the colonists from my expedition?"
"Your uhh... ship was destroyed. Years ago. Every year around springtime some wreckage and a handful of sleeper pods comes down, a lot of it lands far away in enemy territory, or in the ocean. I'm so sorry." she replies
"What destroyed it? Was it you people?" you return. "No! I mean... uhh... I don't think so? It happened back during the start of the Arrival War... Hold on." she stammers.
She returns to the conversation a moment later, sounding as if she was reciting passages from a book.
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