|"Ph34r t3h cute 1s" -- Part 2
||[Jul. 5th, 2004|06:01 pm]
|||||Koji Kondo - Legend of Zelda Medley||]|
[Here's part 2 of "Ph34r t3h cute 1s". Enjoy!
-- The Brucolac]
Readernote://Location: Darquin Prime
Readernote://Stardate (Kalahasi-Orion Common): 603//1061//1526
Readernote://Weather: Class-5, Storm
"Sentry unit oh-four-nine-seven, report."
"Something feels wrong, lieutenant..."
"Sentry unit oh-four-nine-seven, do you read?"
"...Something is wrong..."
"Sentry unit oh-four-nine-seven, respond please."
"...Something is very wrong."
Small bursts of wind and driving rain gust against the black, brooding cliffs and the withdrawn bastions carved from the living granite, and pock the surface of the drab, heaving oceans far below. The dark, wet rocks gleam faintly in the small amount of light that beats its way through the sullen, grey skies of Darquin Prime. Day has come, but lights still glimmer golden and soft through frosted glass windows. There is very little difference between night and day to the residents of this planet.
A small 2 person vehicle, looking much like a old-earth Jeep, shoulders its way through the twisted, tortured mountain passes and flooded low roads, its engine purring quietly, all four of its halogen headlights, which perch above its mud-encrusted front fender, cutting through the mists and rain. Its tail-lights cast a crimson glow behind it as its windshield wipers fight to keep up with the rains. Dirty water and mud gush up over the rims of its wheel-wells as it rounds a turn in the lowlands. The two occupants of the vehicle have seen very little traffic, and that they have seen has all been going the other way.
The Jeep half slides around a flooded turn, splashing muddy water up in an arc. Its wheels spin for a second, then regain traction and pull it free from the treacherous ground. Half an hour later, the vehicle can be found several hundred feet above the almost constantly flooded lowlands, climbing the switchbacks into the so-called "Dour" mountain range. Today, the name is more then fitting, considering the bleak rocks, trees bare and dripping, leafless and skeletal from a forest fire. The four cones of light from the headlights of the Jeep are quite visible in the rain and fog.
After at least another hour of driving, the vehicle slowly pulls to the side, having just been passed by another Drislogan military transport truck going the other way. The driver-side door opens a crack cautiously, then swings wider as a young woman steps out, pulling the hood of her raincoat up over her head to protect herself. Her amber eyes are alert below the brim of the hood. She walks to the opposite edge of the road and withdraws a pair of night vision binoclears out of her jacket, lifting them to her eyes and scanning the terrain. A man, who stepped from the passenger side of the Jeep slowly crosses the road over to her, dressed the same way she is. He stares out, then gently touches her shoulder. She lowers the goggles slowly and glaces over at him, then walks back to the car. After a moment more of looking out over the land far below, he follows.