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September 30th, 2012 (1:26 PM).
The Prodigal Chronicler
Join Date: Sep 2009
Location: Returned, Home.
“The only shelter we have is the ship. We’re in the middle of no where. Empty plains everywhere don’t you remember the briefing? The whole point was for us to use the flat lands around us as easily accessed landing zone. Its best we stay put until we know what is around us. I’ll get to scrapping out the inside of this. You guys get the cargo situated, and then check what we got for food. Then we can find a way to fit all of us in here. I want you to get the doc to administer morphine to anyone terminal. We’ve got fifteen dead or dying might as well dull the pain. Then you’ll best find a way to deal with the bodies. Can’t just leave them here.” Izic said trying to remove the foam from his suit as he spoke so some of the words were muffled.
Izic went back into the main part of the shuttle where the passengers had sat, and forced open the door on the opposite side of where the gash was. He began chucking random bits of scrap outside onto a pile. He needed to clear the place out to let people get inside. He’d deal with scrounging through the junk later. For now he just wanted to get everyone situated so he could work. He was not a people person to this degree. He just wanted to get his job done so that he wouldn’t be sitting there waiting for help that would never come. For an eighteen year old he’d accepted that much very quickly. Help wasn’t coming that he was sure of and he didn’t care.
The hearth always feels warmer after long absence.
It's good to be back.
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