Chariot of the Gods 2
System:
Alien RPG.
Campaign:
Chariot of the Gods.
Session:
Episode 2: “Emergence”
Date: 18 April 2025
Cast
- Corporate Liaison John J. Wilson - Jarrad
- Cargo Handler Lyron Cham - Aoife
- Technician Kayla Rye - Sassrass
The dim emergency lighting of the Cronus bridge cast long shadows as the Montero crew surveyed the inert systems. Life support flickered, indicating several cryo-chambers were occupied, yet the minimal power prevented any detailed analysis. The stale air hung heavy, a testament to the offline filtration. Rye, ever pragmatic, suggested a detour to the air scrubbers before restoring full power. Activating them prematurely, he cautioned, could turn the units into lethal electrocution traps if any faults lay within.
Venturing into the cramped confines of the air scrubber unit, a thick layer of mould and grime coated the machinery and carbon filters. A thorough cleaning was necessary, a time-consuming task. Miller, however, had the Montero-issue incinerator, now held ready. With Davis assisting, the purging of the contaminated scrubbers began, the hiss of the flame momentarily cutting through the oppressive silence.
Meanwhile, Wilson, Rye, and Cham focused on the Cronus’s dormant heart – the core reactor. The access door remained locked, necessitating a search for the activation code. The cargo bays offered little assistance, revealing only mundane supplies: foodstuffs, general tools, and various vehicle components. The adjacent cargo office yielded nothing of significance either, just the dry details of past shipments.
A flicker of insight crossed Wilson’s face. He recalled the unusual directional markings etched around the reactor keypad. Perhaps access wasn’t a matter of a complex numerical code, but a sequence of directions. Inputting the sequence – 3-6-9 – the lock mechanism clicked open.
Beyond the threshold lay the reactor relay control room, and a grim discovery. A body lay sprawled near the inner door to the reactor itself. Multiple bullet wounds marred the Cronus overalls, and a disturbing milky-white substance, now dried and cracked, surrounded the injuries and stained the mouth.
Remembering, a quick scan of the bridge logs had identified the ship had a synthetic onboard: Ava. Within the relay room, a diagnostic unit was found. With practiced efficiency, he connected it to the inert form on the floor, and after a tense moment, Ava’s optical sensors flickered to life.
Her account was chilling. The Cronus had journeyed to the distant planetoid LV-1113 on a scientific expedition. There, something had twisted the local lifeforms into aggressive monstrosities and, tragically, had begun to infect the crew. A desperate decision was made: those already afflicted were left behind on the alien world, the science vessel ejecting its contaminated module to prevent further spread.
But the infection had already taken root onboard, carried back with the recovered samples. More crew succumbed, their bodies wracked by violent mutation. The remaining scientists and medical personnel worked feverishly, developing a vaccine derived from the alien motes. Those still untouched received the inoculation and retreated into cryo-sleep, the Cronus setting a course back to the Sol system and Weyland-Yutani.
Ava had been left to maintain the vessel, her synthetic nature offering some immunity to the mutated crew, though proximity still posed a threat. Then, another ship had arrived, docking with the Cronus. A unit, clad in the black, unmarked armour similar to that of the Colonial Marines, had boarded. They had engaged and eliminated some mutated crew, their purpose unclear. They had also taking things from the medical and science labs, before inexplicably altering the ship’s course. Ava, attempting to intervene, had tried to disable the pilot stations, but after a violent encounter, she had retreated to the reactor, disabling it and destroying the access panel.
The Montero crew’s efforts had restored power to the Cronus, bathing the darkened corridors in light. The hum of the reactivated air filtration system was a welcome sound. However, the damage Ava had sustained had crippled her leg motor servos, rendering her immobile. With a combined effort, the crew carefully transported the deactivated android to the relative safety of the bridge.
As they reached the command deck, the Cronus’s central computer, MU/TH/ER, broadcast a ship-wide announcement: “Cryo-status deactivated.” The remaining Cronus crew, suspended in their frozen slumber for several decades, were now awakening.
A tense silence filled the cryo-chamber as the pods hissed open. The emerging figures were disoriented, blinking in the unfamiliar light. A man who identified himself as Johns looked at the Montero crew with surprise, clearly expecting a different reception.
Captain Miller stepped forward, her voice firm. “We responded to your SOS. We’re here on a rescue mission. We need to know what happened here.”
The Cronus crew were in rough shape, plagued by headaches and nausea. A Dr. Cooper clutched his head, complaining of a severe migraine. Johns began to recount their ill-fated mission to LV-1113, the discovery of the mutating agent, the agonizing decision to abandon their infected colleagues, and the desperate race back to Sol.
After a little time of recovery, and back on the bridge, and as Johns spoke, Dr. Cooper’s complaints intensified. His words became slurred, punctuated by moans of pain. He doubled over, vomiting violently before letting out a strangled cry. Then, with a sickening pop, his eye burst from its socket, striking Johns before Cooper collapsed to the floor. A final, agonizing scream tore from his throat, and then silence. From the rent flesh of his chest, a creature emerged – cat-sized, its skin disturbingly white and translucent, its form alien and horrifying.