The following audio log describes events on 03/26/2007, involving MTF Gamma-3 ("Three Wolf Moon") during the Foundation's initial attempts to re-establish contact with Site-173 following a catastrophic containment breach.
<Begin Log.>
MOON: Role-call.
WOLF 1: Wolf 1, here.
WOLF 2: Wolf 2, awwrrroooooooo!
WOLF 3: Wolf 3, caaawwrroooooo-kie crisps!
MOON: Alright, enough dicking around. Control, you receiving this?
CONTROL: Loud and clear.
MOON: Good. Alright, we're opening the entrance.
(Pneumatic hissing; sound of metal grinding.)
MOON: Respirators on. Stay sharp.
WOLF 2: (gagging) …Jesus. I can almost smell this through my skin.
MOON: Lighting is low, the floor… covered with some sort of sludge. Brown-black. Garbage everywhere — crumpled cardboard boxes, office supplies… uh, looks like — some rotting meat, too…
CONTROL: Understood. Remember, Commander, your primary mission is just recon. Rescue any personnel you can, but do not put yourself or your team in jeopardy.
MOON: Understood. Holy fuck, this place is disgusting. Wolf 1, stay by the door. Anything not-human tries to get out…
WOLF 1: Light it up. Got it.
MOON: Proceeding forward. Wolf 2, Wolf 3, with me.
MOON: Control panel on the other side's got some bloody hand-prints on it. Looks like somebody tried to escape.
WOLF 3: Fuck.
MOON: Keep moving.
WOLF 2: Up ahead!
MOON: Put your fucking hands up! Are you human? Talk!
UNIDENTIFIED: (muffled, distant) Help…
WOLF 2: Is that a friendly?
WOLF 3: Sounds hurt.
MOON: Don't move. Control, looks like… about 15 yards up, a technician in a lab-coat. On his knees. S'got some blood on him, he might be hurt—
CONTROL: Be careful.
MOON: Approaching. Hey! Hey. Talk to me, man. We're here to get you out, but you need to talk to me.
UNIDENTIFIED: (muffled) Stop…
MOON: Gonna need to give me more than that, buddy. Alright? Relax. Keep your hands up. Tell me your name. What's your name?
UNIDENTIFIED: (muffled) Please, no…
MOON: Oh. Oh, shit.
WOLF 3: What's going on? You alright?
MOON: Stay where you are! Nobody fucking move, just… stay calm. Control?
CONTROL: Come back.
MOON: Control, I think this is one of the roaches.
CONTROL: Wait. You said it was a lab technician—
MOON: At a distance, it looked like — look, its face is just, like… a chitin-mask. And it's…
CONTROL: What is it doing?
UNIDENTIFIED: (distorted, muffled sobbing sounds)
MOON: I think… it looks like… it's begging?
WOLF 2: Down the hall!
(distant radio chirping sounds)
MOON: Shit — two of them, big ones, they—
(distant, angry, garbled roaring sounds)
(gunfire)
WOLF 3: Fuck!
WOLF 2: Contact! Contact!
MOON: Take cover!
(gunfire stops)
WOLF 1: Am I holding position?
MOON: Yes, hold position — everyone alright? Anyone hit?
WOLF 3: Negative, I'm good.
WOLF 2: We both got cover.
MOON: Fuck. Fuck. Since when do these things have—
(gunfire)
MOON: Fuck!
(gunfire continues)
MOON: …what the hell?
(gunfire continues)
MOON: What the hell?
WOLF 3: Are you alright, Moon?!
MOON: Stay where you are. Stay where you are, both of you.
(gunfire continues)
MOON: (laughing) Well, now I've seen everything.
WOLF 2: What is it?
MOON: Goddamn roaches.
(six more shots, distinctly louder and clearer)
(gunfire ceases)
MOON: Hallway's clear.
WOLF 3: What just happened?
MOON: They don't have guns. They've got gun-shaped hands. They were waving them around and making gunshot noises.
WOLF 2: Are you… are you shitting me?
WOLF 3: That's fucking hilarious.
MOON: You catch all that, Control? Please advise.
CONTROL: Affirmative. Proceed with caution.
MOON: Proceeding. Wolf 2, Wolf 3, on point.
WOLF 3: Jesus. How the hell did these things compromise a site?
MOON: Up ahead. You see that?
WOLF 2: Barricade.
WOLF 3: Survivors?
MOON: Could be. C'mon.
WOLF 2: Supplies, looks like — yeah, this looks recent, too. Managed to hold up a fort against the bugs.
WOLF 3: Hey! — look, is that —
MOON: Hey! Hey, hands up, start talking—
WOLF 2: Fuck. She's running away—
WOLF 3: Is that a survivor? Or is it—
MOON: Fucking… it's hard to tell in this light. She went into the bathroom. Wolf 2, with me. Wolf 3, take point on the entrance — don't want to end up pinned inside there.
WOLF 3: Copy.
MOON: Let's take it easy, now…
(door opening)
WOLF 2: Jesus.
(soft, muffled whimpering)
MOON: Hey. Hey, you there? We're humans. We're here to take you home. Just come out, hands up, okay…?
(whimpering grows more pronounced)
MOON: She's in the back stall, I think.
WOLF 2: Moon, there's a body in this stall, over here—
WOLF 3: Hey! Hey, you! Hands up! Come over here — we're the rescue team! We're — shit!
MOON: Wolf 3? What's going on?
WOLF 3: Fuck. Fuck. I just saw — somebody down the hall, on our side of the barricade. They saw me, then started running away—
MOON: Human?
WOLF 3: I… I think so, yeah, I saw the face, it looked human, but they ran—
MOON: Alright, let's finish in here, and—
(ear-piercing scream)
(scuffling, shouts)
WOLF 2: Fuck! Fuck!
(two gunshots)
WOLF 2: Fucking… FUCK!
MOON: Calm down. Calm down. Let me look at it.
WOLF 2: It was… Jesus-fuck.
WOLF 3: You alright in there?
MOON: Roach in the stall. Wolf 2 got stabbed, doesn't look critical.
WOLF 2: You know this shit is going to get infected—
MOON: Relax. We're getting out of here. Control, you copy?
CONTROL: Come back.
MOON: One of our team got stabbed. One of the roaches, it had… a knife-hand, or something. I'm pulling us out for now.
CONTROL: Affirmative.
WOLF 3: What about — I saw someone, back there—
MOON: You saw another roach.
WOLF 3: I'm pretty sure I saw—
MOON: You saw another roach, Wolf 3. Do you understand?
MOON: I said, do you understand?
WOLF 3: Affirmative.
MOON: Alright. We're pulling out. C'mon, I'll help you up—
(scuffling sounds)
WOLF 2: Christ.
UNIDENTIFIED: Goddamn… roaches…
WOLF 3: You catch that?
MOON: Where's that coming from?
UNIDENTIFIED: (multiple, chanting) Goddamn… roaches…
WOLF 3: Oh… oh, shit. Moon, get out here right now.
(door opening)
MOON: What — holy shit.
UNIDENTIFIED: (over a dozen, chanting) Goddamn… roaches…
WOLF 3: They're just… claws and teeth—
(smashing sounds, objects rattling)
WOLF 2: Fuck! Fuck, they're slamming into the barricade—
WOLF 3: What the fuck did they mimic?!
UNIDENTIFIED: (dozens more, chanting) Goddamn… roaches…
(smashing sounds intensify)
MOON: Open fire! Open fire!
(gunfire)
WOLF 3: Shit!
MOON: Throwing a grenade! Get down!
UNIDENTIFIED: Goddamn… roaches…
(muffled explosion)
MOON: Keep—(static)
UNIDENTIFIED: Goddamn… roaches…
WOLF 2: Fucking stabbed me fucking—(static)
MOON: Wolf 3, do you—(static)
WOLF 3: (brief scream, ended on static)
MOON: Contr—(static)
WOLF 1: Fuck! I'm going in! Moon, do you read?
MOON: S—(static)
CONTROL: Wolf 1, maintain position. Nu-13 is coming to get you and secure the entrance.
WOLF 1: Fuck you. I'm going the fuck in.
CONTROL: Negative, Wolf 1, maintain your—
WOLF 1: I said FUCK YOU.
UNIDENTIFIED: (distant) Goddamn… roaches…
WOLF 1: Jesusfuck. There's…
CONTROL: Wolf 1, get out of there.
WOLF 1: There's gotta be almost a hundred of — wait, I think I see — Moon, do you read?
(static)
WOLF 1: Moon! Do you copy? Moon, is that you? Moon!
(distant, garbled screams)
WOLF 1: That was — it was Moon, I swear it was Moon, I saw his uniform, that had to have been… Moon! Moon! Come back! Moon!
CONTROL: Wolf 1, come back.
WOLF 1: Fucking… I can't — there's — Moon!
(gunshots)
CONTROL: Wolf 1, come back. Is that you firing?
UNIDENTIFIED: Moon! Come back! Moon!
(gunshots)
CONTROL: Wolf 1, come back.
(gunshots)
CONTROL: Wolf 1, do you read?
(gunshots)
CONTROL: Wolf 1, are you there?
WOLF 1: I'm here. I've got Moon and Wolf 2 with me. Their comms are toast. Wolf 3 is dead. On our way out.
CONTROL: Copy. Epsilon-9 is on their way.
<End log.>
