TCS: Survivors of the ARKs

ARK: Commitment

"Audio log one dash thirty, A.

"It's been months since we landed back on this dirtball. Shit, not even sure of how many exactly. My perception of time has been fucked over after everything that happened.

"It's been a busy couple of months, thats all I can really remember. Time flew by as we tried to assess our situation, starting with the sheer culture shock between us and the survivors.
We were able to uphold the peace, sure, but it didn't take us long before we realized we couldn't co-exist as close neighbors.

"I mean it makes sense. Half of the Feds are soldiers and decorated engineers who were cryo-frozen, whilst the other half are offspring from the many generations that lived and died on that colony ship for... many centuries. Most of our civilian workers have known nothing but metal and stars their entire lives. Then there's the survivors. They're clones. From all across human history, just like our colonist cargo was. We're still amazed that they've been able to hold out so long, and so well, despite the extreme differences from one person to another.

"One moment I'm talking to an Aztec warrior, the next, an unfortunate soul from ancient Egypt. Hundreds of years between the two, each with their different ideologies and ways of life. It's surreal.

" Fortunately though, we were able to find a somewhat decent solution to the mismatching between us and them. Nova is coming along nicely. Our people are starting to move into the renovated buildings, and I'm pretty sure I just passed a grocery store or two earlier on my way here. At least something is going well in our lives despite everything we lost on that ship."

A long inhale through the nostrils before an audible exhale out the mouth, one Cole hoped wouldn't be picked up by his audio recording program integrated into his TEK headgear. For a moment he hesitated, as he gently planted his hands on the exterior of the fighter jet.

His gloved hands gently brushed along the sleek metal exterior of the aircraft, until beneath his fingertips he felt the texture change as they graced over an engraved logo that in bold letters spelled "FAF." Federation Armed Forces. For a moment he paused, as he glared at the insignia. One that he was so familiar with, one that had been part of his entire life in some shape or form.

Leaning closer to the jet's hull, the sergeant started getting lost in his own thoughts, blocking out the background noise that consisted of a hundred voices chattering, cheering, and weeping. In this intimate moment, he had completely forgotten that he stood on the right half of a runway, surrounded by onlookers from all angles that stood watch as a departure was prepared. At this moment, there was only the voice in his head, himself, and the logo before him which he leaned ever so close to.

Suddenly, a pair of legs walked past on the other side of the aircraft, their silhouette shining beneath the jet and jolting Cole back to reality in the blink of an eye. Dazed, he looked around himself, as the crowds around him began to clear from the runway, returning to a position behind fences and railings at a safe distance from the large road that stretched hundreds of feet into the city grounds. As the person who had passed the jet finally emerged from the other side, the sergeant realized it was the aircraft marshaller, and that was enough of a cue to get the man moving. Removing his hands from the side of the aircraft, he reached up and grabbed onto the frame of the cockpit, hauling himself into the TEK jet and taking his seat.

As he sat there, familiarizing himself with the set of holographic controls that were displayed before him, loud engines belonging to a larger machine roared fiercer than the beasts that now inhabited our world, and a shadow that blocked out the setting sunlight was cast over him and his aircraft. Past him, in the middle of the runway drove a large plane that on a nameplate said "Athena", following the guiding lights of the marshaller who had waddled his way out into the open Area.