Hadley's Last Hope

 Hadley’s Hope, jointly funded by Weyland-Yutani and the United Americas, has a “them and us” feel to it, with any visiting corporate folk looking down their noses at the colony’s laborers. Despite this, the colony has been developing well. There’s opportunity aplenty—and risk aplenty, too.

 Four days ago, a wildcatter named Russ Jorden was brought back, infected with something. He died, and some snake-like parasite disappeared into the guts of the base. Security has had no luck catching the thing, and somehow more people were infected. Rumor has it that some of them have died, and that there are more of these snake-things than Supervisor Simpson is admitting to. Simpson spoke over the intercoms, calling for calm.

 Crisis or not, you have a job to do. Twenty-four hours ago, you headed out on a maintenance run to Processor 9, happy to leave base until the crisis blows over. Ten kilometers out, Singleton’s tractor gave up the ghost. A nasty, mechanical crunch told you it wasn’t going any further. Calls back to Hadley’s Hope got a cursory response: you were told to wait, and they’d get to your little problem when they had the time. While you waited, you got to talking about the crisis and the Weyland-Yutani corporate shuttle that arrived right before you left. The shuttle carried an inspection team led by company agent Miranda Reynolds and her chief scientist Theodora Komiskey. Sigg relayed something he’d overheard—a hushed conversation about the shuttle being quickly and quietly readied for departure. Reynolds and Komiskey are likely the only two who can authorize its use, and the only two with the access keycards needed to use it. For all you know, it was Reynolds who ordered Jorden out there in the first place. It’s not right for the Weyland-Yutani reps to just skip out and leave you—the workers—to clean up this bloody mess! If things go bad, why shouldn’t you get those keycards and get away instead?

 A day has passed, and you’ve still heard nothing. All further attempts to contact Hadley’s Hope have been fruitless. No one is coming to help. The only communications you pick up on are garbled, panicked even. There’s no option but to walk back, and see what the hell is going on…