Dead Space:Stranded

Arrival

"Lieutenant Briggs report to the bridge please, Lieutenant Briggs to the bridge," Tech-Sergeant Reynolds spoke into the intercom.

"What do you think Sarge, is it serious?" Asked Private Mitchell.

"Did you even watch the transmission dipshit? That doctor was freaking out," Said PFC Aaron.

"Stow it, LT's coming," Reynolds saw Briggs approaching with another Marine on a monitor.

Briggs entered the bridge with an unfamiliar face following. Aaron barked that the LT was on deck. The bridge crew snapped to attention, standing and saluting.

"At ease, what is it Tech-Sergeant?" Asked Briggs.

"Got a transmission from a Doctor David Crosswell at DS-87 by the Nuez Sector. Looks like trouble," Explained Reynolds.

"Play it."

Reynolds hit the play button. A bloodied face appeared on the blue tinted screen. The Doctor was young for his field, maybe in his early thirties. His eyes were blood-shot, clothing disheveled.

"I'm Doctor David Crosswell at DeepStar-87. We need immediate evacuation. We found something that we weren't supposed to find...They're coming for us. We need help, now. Bring guns, lots of guns. These things won't stop unless we-" Crosswell's transmission was interrupted by something banging on a door.

"Darren get ready to move. Harold get on the door! I have to go now, they've found us. We won't last much longer, send the Marines," Crosswell turned off the transmission.

"What do you think LT?" Asked Mitchell.

"Looks like we've got a baptism for the rookie," Replied Briggs.

The Marines looked at the unfamiliar face. The rookie didn't look nervous in the slightest. He looked ready to get his hands dirty. Private Jackson was a warrior. Briggs liked him.

"Get a squad prepped. We'll take the Falcon to the station," Ordered Briggs.

"Aye sir. Mitchell, Aaron, you've just volunteered. Private Jackson, you're with them. Head to the armory and gear up," Said Reynolds.

The Marines got moving. Briggs remained on the bridge with his flight crew.

"Not bringing in the Aurora?" Asked the pilot.

"Negative Banning. Can't risk the ship..." The Lieutenant replied.

Banning ignored the ominous reply.

In the armory ten Marines were gearing up for the trip. Mitchell and Aaron were prepping the weapons, checking them for functionality and then loading them. The squad moved swiftly, they had done this a thousand times before.

"Hurry up Melon," Said one of the Marines.

"Prescott if you call me Melon one more time I swear to God I'll kick your ass," Said Melon.

"Whoa jeez, calm down...Melon," Prescott baited Melon once more.

Melon jumped up, grabbing Prescott by the throat.

"Kicking your ass would really make my day, you know that Pres? Go on, say it again, make my fucking day," Said Melon.

"Stow that shit right now. PFC Prescott, you and I need to have a word. Corporal Melvin, keep your cool," Ordered Reynolds.

Reynolds and Prescott left the armory.

"What a loving bunch of guys," Said Jackson.

"It's not usually this tense. Melvin lost his sister, just found out yesterday," Someone said to Jackson.