Half-Life: Hierarchy Problem
- Thread starter Rolman
- Start date
- Sci-Fi Alt. History
Also, control of how evacuees get out gives us full information control, which is a prime directive of this operation.
[X] "Captain Estrada, when did you last hear from Chile Three?"
Captain estrada, when did you last hear from Chile Three?
Captain estrada, when did you last hear from Chile Three?
- Location
- Australia
Not to mention the risk of some kind of novel biological infectious agent coming into contact with those escaping via private vehicle and uncontrollably spread into the wider world. By processing and evacuating everyone by public means they can (theoretically) try to trace and quarantine mircobiological threats as they emerge.
This made the ending to Area 51 pop into my brain.
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- Earth
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] "Captain Estrada, when did you last hear from Chile Three?"
RIP thread
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Two weeks isn't the end of the world. Calm down
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I've had multiple fanfic writers resurrect after multiple years of hiatus. 30 days is nothing. Get well and best wishes.
3:35 P.M. MT, May 16, 2001. Black Mesa Airport, New Mexico, United States.
- Location
- United States
Fuck. Shit. Fuck. We've got two hot zones now. "Captain Estrada, when did you last hear from Chile Three?"
Another peel of pistol fire from the direction of the BMRF campus turns you and your officers' heads; the last marines from Dropout One are almost out of sight, with Chief Gutierrez, the Sheriff, and the feds trailing far behind them. You're sure your men will be on-scene any second now. And first, thankfully, except for the cops already there.
Estrada clears his throat, grimacing slightly. "Negative, sir. All I know is what they told me when you were talking to those guys and I called you – nothing new."
You pinch your nose. Right. Flanked, no men down but ProFor have sustained losses, and something about green lightning. Sonic dogs and spitters coming at them from the Lambda Complex and the desert. Thank God they're too far away for their gunfire to be audible. They've got to be lighting them up.
"Okay," you say, "probably holding stable, I hope. Contact Three Actual again in five minutes if you don't hear from him first. Let's see what's going on close to us here."
Your sat phone whines with feedback; Estrada's close to you now, and you forgot to hang up. You absentmindedly do so.
This is utter chaos. Never have you been in a combat zone with so many unknowns, nor have you had to cooperate with so many other forces: you don't have the police's frequency, you never got the National Guard's from Ayala – at least he has your sat phone contact – or the ProFor's, or the fire department, even – fuck!
[] You look back at Kleiner, Vance, and Hammond. "You know what? We should detain those fuckers."
You're frustrated. Plus, these guys could try and make a break for it – and what if it was an inside job? The feds ran off toward the materials science building.
[] Hang tight and wait for Dropout One to call in.
No point doing anything hasty. Maintaining C&C is a must – now is not the time to run around trying to get other things done.
[] "Well, Chile Three's got all the victors… Let's try and cobble something together to get a relief force in there."
You are not about to risk a platoon *and* the ProFor being overrun, but you also have no idea just what exactly is happening at the Lambda Complex. It's a ten-mile drive, too.
[] "We should find who's in charge of the airfield here. We should fuel up the birds if we can; this might be an airlift situation for the civvies at this fucking rate."
This town is gonna be in some serious danger. The Guard has, what, their trucks? Maybe that Hammond cowboy will know about logistics.
Another peel of pistol fire from the direction of the BMRF campus turns you and your officers' heads; the last marines from Dropout One are almost out of sight, with Chief Gutierrez, the Sheriff, and the feds trailing far behind them. You're sure your men will be on-scene any second now. And first, thankfully, except for the cops already there.
Estrada clears his throat, grimacing slightly. "Negative, sir. All I know is what they told me when you were talking to those guys and I called you – nothing new."
You pinch your nose. Right. Flanked, no men down but ProFor have sustained losses, and something about green lightning. Sonic dogs and spitters coming at them from the Lambda Complex and the desert. Thank God they're too far away for their gunfire to be audible. They've got to be lighting them up.
"Okay," you say, "probably holding stable, I hope. Contact Three Actual again in five minutes if you don't hear from him first. Let's see what's going on close to us here."
Your sat phone whines with feedback; Estrada's close to you now, and you forgot to hang up. You absentmindedly do so.
This is utter chaos. Never have you been in a combat zone with so many unknowns, nor have you had to cooperate with so many other forces: you don't have the police's frequency, you never got the National Guard's from Ayala – at least he has your sat phone contact – or the ProFor's, or the fire department, even – fuck!
[] You look back at Kleiner, Vance, and Hammond. "You know what? We should detain those fuckers."
You're frustrated. Plus, these guys could try and make a break for it – and what if it was an inside job? The feds ran off toward the materials science building.
[] Hang tight and wait for Dropout One to call in.
No point doing anything hasty. Maintaining C&C is a must – now is not the time to run around trying to get other things done.
[] "Well, Chile Three's got all the victors… Let's try and cobble something together to get a relief force in there."
You are not about to risk a platoon *and* the ProFor being overrun, but you also have no idea just what exactly is happening at the Lambda Complex. It's a ten-mile drive, too.
[] "We should find who's in charge of the airfield here. We should fuel up the birds if we can; this might be an airlift situation for the civvies at this fucking rate."
This town is gonna be in some serious danger. The Guard has, what, their trucks? Maybe that Hammond cowboy will know about logistics.
- Location
- Earth
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] "We should find who's in charge of the airfield here. We should fuel up the birds if we can; this might be an airlift situation for the civvies at this fucking rate."
DamnedAeons 187
An Ally of Convenience is an Enemy of Opportunity
- Location
- Texas
[x] "We should find who's in charge of the airfield here. We should fuel up the birds if we can; this might be an airlift situation for the civvies at this fucking rate."
- Pronouns
- SargentRex
[X] "We should find who's in charge of the airfield here. We should fuel up the birds if we can; this might be an airlift situation for the civvies at this fucking rate."
[X] "We should find who's in charge of the airfield here. We should fuel up the birds if we can; this might be an airlift situation for the civvies at this fucking rate."
- Pronouns
- He
[X] "We should find who's in charge of the airfield here. We should fuel up the birds if we can; this might be an airlift situation for the civvies at this fucking rate."
Im happy to see you back!!!
Im happy to see you back!!!
[x] "Well, Chile Three's got all the victors… Let's try and cobble something together to get a relief force in there."
Sustaining heavy losses not even a few hours into the crisis is not gonna look good on the AAR.
Also, good to see you back.
Sustaining heavy losses not even a few hours into the crisis is not gonna look good on the AAR.
Also, good to see you back.