Quoted By:
You start by tapping your <span class="mu-g">PRISM</span> against the words spelling out-
“<span class="mu-s">INTERFACILITY TRANSPORT. PROCESSING.</span>”
Huh. You thought that spelled… you know what? Never mind–this works too! Just like the last outpost, a line is drawn from your position to both <span class="mu-g">OUTPOST A</span> and the colossal pyramid shape to the <span class="mu-g">EAST.</span> <span class="mu-i">UN</span>like the last monolith, however, this outpost seems to have a few more bars in <span class="mu-b">SIGNAL STRENGTH!</span>
“<span class="mu-s">SIGNAL STRENGTH UNSTABLE–TROUBLESHOOTING RECOMMENDED. CHANCE OF SUCCESSFUL TELEPORTATION FROM B TO A: 54%. FROM B TO LAB: 40%.</span>”
“It’s not much…” Sybil mutters to herself, “But our other choices aren’t too enticing either…”
Just once… just <span class="mu-i">once</span> would it kill them to, like, roll out the red carpet for you or something? <span class="mu-r">ROCKY</span> kinda did that!
“He also attempted to trick and kill us.”
Yea, but at least it was easy to <span class="mu-i">get</span> to that trap! Jot down those numbers, would ya? You have a few other bones to pick with this thing! As Sybil dutifully pulls out her phone and starts typing, you tap the next option in the list…
“<span class="mu-s">RECENT OBSERVATION LOGS.</span>”
Yea, that one!
“<span class="mu-s">DATA CORRUPTED. RECOVERING DATA FRAGMENTS… TRANSLATING…</span>”
<span class="mu-i">TODAY</span>, please!
After a few awkward moments of whirring and crunches later, an unfamiliar accented voice emerges from the monolith.
“<span class="mu-b">-s recording? Ugh, capricious machines… Observation log</span><span class="mu-r">KRRRZZZSHTSST!</span><span class="mu-b">-y order of High Scholar Tenateah. Lay Observer Hakned reporting. Ahem…</span>”
Stomping over to the monolith, you jab an accusatory finger onto its screen! WHO ARE YOU!?
“<span class="mu-b">Despite the… less than ideal reasons behind our sudden departure, the Lab and the majority of loyal research and maintenance staff arrived relatively unharmed.</span>”
Wrong answer, dick! Winding up for a punch, you feel an invisible force grab your hand!
“It’s a recordin’, cupcake. Cool yer’ jets.”
Wait, really?
“<span class="mu-b">The surrounding ocean is less than ideal resource-wise, but preliminary scans and drone probing suggest things aren’t as bleak as they appear. The atmospheric pressure acts as a natural barrier from the locals… not that they’re much of a threat, of course.</span>”
“Locals…” Sybil muses as she looks your way, “Are they referring to us?”
You respond with a shrug–with all the shit you’ve seen in the last few threads, you wouldn’t be surprised if they were talking about <span class="mu-r">BIGFOOT</span> at this point!
“<span class="mu-b">Surface dwellers. Bipedal. Hairy, lactating primitives barely able to start a fire. Myself and the rest of the survey team agree that they shouldn’t cause much trouble–after all, how much can they advance in a few years? End log.</span>”
Heh, you snicker, sharing a cheeky grin with Syb, they have <span class="mu-i">no</span> idea, do they?
>CONTD.
