View character profile for: Corporal Greg Sargent (Red)
View character profile for: Cameron Baird (Blue)
Missed Prologue Scene 1
December 28th, 2183 EC | 2.3.6 SW Morning
Greg Sargent received an alert from his superior, the Assistant Operations Manager - Brandon Hettinger, telling him to investigate an anomaly near the southern substation near the farm and hatchery and report back to him for further instructions. Greg stared at that alert for a minute or two when he got it, having just walked between the Reactor and Comms Outpost One on patrol. He sighed, well aware that this was probably someone getting a little too worked up, getting a little too drunk, and getting a little too crazy. Of course, heaven forbid that other parts of security would do their job.
Or it would most likely be some sort of equipment malfunction. In which case, he would call it in and someone would come and fix it. Huffing a sigh with an adjustment of his rifle over the shoulder, he set off to do as he was ordered to. A glob of spit left his mouth with an impressive arc over the railing as he walked along the walkway, already picking the electric cart on the end. Dirt, mud, and a bit of scuffing, these carts had seen better days. Then again, they all had seen better days, even some of the colony. Alien worlds were harsh and Sutter’s World was not much different. The coastal environment was hard on some of the more touchy equipment and just ended up making them all the more touchy. Greg shook his head and slouched into the cart, pulling a Big Smokes cigarette out of the nearly-destroyed pack in his pocket. He lit it and puffed, starting the little motor in the cart before reaching for his hand held.
“Red here; proceeding to Farms with a cart, shouldn’t be long now,” he radioed.
“Blue here; readin’ loud and *tzzt* over there. Thought you were off?”
“Yeah, yeah, just checking something out I saw out there. I will be up there, no problem.”
“*tzzt*oking again? Ya know I can tell.”
Greg puffed and had to blink smoke out of his eyes as he reached up and ashed the cigarette. “What are you, my mother? Check in, about ten minutes, Red out.” He tossed the radio on the seat after clicking it off, muttering to himself, “Damn ninny.” He steered around the crates in the way and came to a stop just outside of the farms. As he clicked it off, he tightened the shoulder strap of his rifle. The cigarette hung in his mouth as he checked the rifle’s magazine before setting off. His eyes kept moving, always searching for whatever it was that had been called an “anomaly”.
He didn’t have to go far. He saw the twinge of movement up among the power cables. Thinking it may be a bird or something caught in one of the fasteners up there, Greg sighed and keyed the door into the farms open. It was three flights of stairs and damn near burning his nose when he tripped. Greg got up there nevertheless, taking the last puff of his Big Smokes before cranking the door open, he stepped out onto one of the maintenance platforms. He himself did not know how to operate such a device, that was the purview of the engineers and other workers in this part of the colony. However, he could stand on it and look. He peered closer and saw the discharge of lights. He swore, “Fuck me… shit!” He recognized what they were and reached for his radio, muscle memory already having it there before he fully realized that he needed it. His fingers closed around empty air. He realized had left it down at the cart. “Shit,” was his response.