First Place
30 Mar 2018Namita Pear
He's late.He, not they – I'm sure this Professor is dropping as many passive-aggressive hints as he can. A little bit ago I'd gotten a message from him, the picture attached telling me he didn't quite know where the camera was on whatever he used for work. He did know a number of other things, though: one, how to get a hold of me. I'm sure there's only so many CMDRs based out of Ali Ring with a Cobra named such and such and an Asp named so and so, of course. And maybe slotting myself into the top ten percent of earners during Yuri Grom's latest expansion security detail gave me some actual teeth to all these galblog entries about pretty celestial bodies.
And yes, I'm sure you're reading this. Tell Barrett the whisky's in danger of assault with a thirsty Wade.
I made flank speed, such as flank speed is in this boat, to the relevant system as soon as the name came in. I had been in the area before; it's essentially halfway between the Coal Sack and Barnard's Loop, so I had been at least a jump or two from it on our first journey. Strange. Perhaps it has something to do with that wall of locked systems I had come across, but I've read several theories on the matter so far. Still unconvinced.
About an hour ago I went into orbit of the relevant planet. The anomaly came up on first scan, especially with all the metals on this desolate rock sunk into the core. Wade wondered if the surface was radically different all those eons ago as we cruised down to the site, and our initial findings say, 'probably.'
Guardian ruins are of some small interest in the Bubble; plenty of pictures, video, sensory experiences, you name it have been published. Even more firsthand accounts and recordings from scientific groups exist. Orderly lines of triangular, slightly chipped obelisks and tall angular walls of terra firma were a pretty uniform sight. So, too, is intelligent aesthetic of shapes: angles and mathematically-perfect circles are a staple.
The picture coming in from our main cannon is everything those descriptions are not.
Half-sunken archways, obelisks and spires in disarray with objects half-embedded into the ground. Chaos; even the central building, which looks like a bunker, was at an oblique angle with the tumultuous ground. I fired my weapons once or twice in a careful hover, the projectiles flying safely over the site and falling into the canyons beyond, to try and illicit a security response. No drones awoke.
Surrounding area is rocky, displaced. If we had to guess, the mountain range I'm sitting in was either nonexistent or far more subtle when the site was active. Now, there is little space to land save for a crater some two kilometres from the Guardian area. I sit now in a canyon which is seven out, not wishing to disturb the site until my 'employer' gets here. Of course, the weight of waiting is palpable.
We stretched our legs and tuned our SRV after I was satisfied no hidden, undead assailants would swat at us. The only thing of note in the near vicinity (which is incredibly difficult to traverse) was a silent gravesite for a Scarab and a few skimmers, dead at the bottom of a cliff.
Great start.
~~~ff`
~ffxf~
~fs`fleep and I creep past him to the bay. I cannot resist. Soil cracks underwheel but I hear more.
Wind and vibration. Oxygen cycles in my helmet, loud. Mountaintops are the ev3_8 they stare down.
@@2-Flash. Angular shadowss of corpse metal.
A low, wet groan to my left. I fire at the dirt slope. It is mute, dampened, sound. My left ear is wetin crisp noise.
Inside. Inside. Inside.
~!#31`c/dr.~/dr.~!#3!#3c/dr.
~ffxf~
~fs`fleep and I creep past him to the bay. I cannot resist. Soil cracks underwheel but I hear more.
Wind and vibration. Oxygen cycles in my helmet, loud. Mountaintops are the ev3_8 they stare down.
@@2-Flash. Angular shadowss of corpse metal.
A low, wet groan to my left. I fire at the dirt slope. It is mute, dampened, sound. My left ear is wetin crisp noise.
Inside. Inside. Inside.
~!#31`c/dr.~/dr.~!#3!#3c/dr.