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#Story

Edited by Onyx076: 2/2/2016 4:33:37 PM
3

Death to the Wolves: Among the Stars (Chapter 1: Part 2)

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38

Stop writing!

10

Somewhere in the middle.

1

Greer jerked hard into a sitting position in his bed, his muscular bare chest glistening with sweat. The same sweat that beaded and rolled from his brow and down his cheeks. Short of breath and dizzy, he closed his eyes as he tried to calm himself. Slowly, he inhaled deeply with eyes still shut, trying to shake the lingering night-terror out of his mind. It came every night, and every night it was the same. Greer opened his frozen blue eyes and quickly found the electronic information pad that was on his nightstand, and it read: 03:42. In addition to the time that would wait for no man (or other forms of life, for that matter), a flashing red light was in the top right corner. He wiped his face with the bed sheet as he inched his way to sit on the side. It wasn’t a long reach to the nightstand, but as far as Greer was concerned, it may as well have been in another galaxy. Greer pressed it, and suddenly the pad came to life in a whir of buzzing and humming. Then, it projected a three-dimensional image—of a very familiar face, that is—into the air, and it appeared as if the Speaker was standing in the room, right next to his bed. “Greetings Greer, I hope that I am not disturbing you at this hour, but I am quite positive that you are up anyway.” The Speaker’s demeanor was calm, cool, and collective, just as it always was. “Unfortunately, I fear that by the time you receive this message, it may be too late, but I have to try. I am contacting you, Greer, because, once again, we need your help.” “When don’t you need my help? Where are you when I need YOUR help?” Greer got up angrily from his bed and proceeded to a blank wall directly across from where he sat. His presence was detected by an electronic sensor, which triggered more whirring and purring of electrodes and conductors, and transducers and other technical wiring that Greer had no idea how it worked, but it popped up a digital menu on the wall, none-the-less. His fingers deftly danced over the keys and a space in the wall opened up and presented him with his beverage of choice: a heavy grain alcohol that would kill just about any creature in the universe. Greer shot it down and winced as he felt the liquid leave a burning trail from his esophagus, down his throat, and into the complex network of his stomach. “We have received a distress signal from across the galaxy. Normally, we would send out a strike team of Guardians for the task, but this is different. The distress signal came from a quadrant of space that normal Guardian vessels are incapable of jumping to. Therefore, we need you, your ship, and your crew to prepare immediately for departure.” The Speaker continued to drone on as Greer ordered another round. “The coordinates have been automatically downloaded and sent to your navigator.” “That’ll be helpful,” Greer growled. “My navigator is so lost he can’t find his d*ck without coordinates.” Sneering, he pounded another round of the vile fluid. “We do, however, have some information about the distress call, and it’s a bit troublesome, but that’s why we contacted you,” the Speaker continued. “Our galactic communications experts have decoded the message, as well as the origin,” he paused for quite awhile, before saying, “to be from the Queen of the Reef’s own personal space cruiser.” Greer’s head snapped around his body, his eyes locking onto the Speaker. His breathing became heavy and lumbering, the muscles in his arms and chest tensing as if he were preparing for a fight. “We’ve tried establishing a connection for telecoms, but we were unsuccessful in this endeavor. Your mission: prepare your ship and your men, travel to the Queen’s last known location, and be ready for anything. The fact that it comes from an area of space that a normal team of Guardians cannot reach is a bit disconcerting.” The Speaker lowered his head a little bit, almost as if in resignation. “What?! Out with it!” Greer screamed at the hologram, his fists clenched in tight balls of rage. “We fear the worst for the Queen, you must save her...if you can.” [i]Death to the Wolves: Contact...(Chapter 2)[/i]: https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/167836955/0/0 [i]Death to the Wolves: Among the Stars (Chapter 1)[/i]: https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/164588127 [i]Death to the Wolves: Chapter Index[/i]: https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/184038227/0/0

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