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THE STORY SO FAR
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You're a marine, one of Earth's toughest, hardened in
combat and trained for action. Three years ago you assaulted
a superior officer for ordering his soldiers to fire upon
civilians. He and his body cast were shipped to Pearl
Harbor, while you were transferred to Mars, home of the
Union Aerospace Corporation.
The UAC is a multi-planetary conglomerate with radioactive
waste facilities on Mars and its two moons, Phobos and
Deimos. With no action for fifty million miles, your day
consisted of suckin' dust and watchin' restricted flicks in
the rec room.
For the last four years the military, UAC's biggest
supplier, has used the remote facilities on Phobos and
Deimos to conduct various secret projects, including
research on inter-dimensional space travel. So far they have
been able to open gateways between Phobos and Deimos,
throwing a few gadgets into one and watching them come out
the other. Recently however, the Gateways have grown
dangerously unstable. Military "volunteers" entering them
have either disappeared or been stricken with a strange form
of insanity--babbling vulgarities, bludgeoning anything that
breathes, and finally suffering an untimely death of full-
body explosion. Matching heads with torsos to send home to
the folks became a full-time job. Latest military reports
state that the research is suffering a small set-back, but
everything is under control.
A few hours ago, Mars received a garbled message from
Phobos. "We require immediate military support. Something
fraggin' evil is coming out of the Gateways! Computer
systems have gone berserk!" The rest was incoherent. Soon
afterwards, Deimos simply vanished from the sky. Since then,
attempts to establish contact with either moon have been
unsuccessful.
You and your buddies, the only combat troop for fifty
million miles were sent up pronto to Phobos. You were
ordered to secure the perimeter of the base while the rest
of the team went inside. For several hours, your radio
picked up the sounds of combat: guns firing, men yelling
orders, screams, bones cracking, then finally, silence.
Seems your buddies are dead.
It's Up To You
Things aren't looking too good. You'll never navigate off
the planet on your own. Plus, all the heavy weapons have
been taken by the assault team leaving you with only a
pistol. If only you could get your hands around a plasma
rifle or even a shotgun you could take a few down on your
way out. Whatever killed your buddies deserves a couple of
pellets in the forehead. Securing your helmet, you exit the
landing pod. Hopefully you can find more substantial
firepower somewhere within the station.
As you walk through the main entrance of the base, you hear
animal-like growls echoing throughout the distant corridors.
They know you're here. There's no turning back now.
