632 years ....

Well, that one year cryo-sleep came and went. And went ... and went ... and went.

Long story short. My ass is now stranded 632 years into the future. Lucky to be alive ... and even luckier my god-damn head didn't explode during 'The Scream'. Whatever the hell THAT was. Oh ... sorry. I forgot some of you haven't been brought up to speed on our little excursion into Artemis controlled territory. Let me sum up.

5 year contract cycle in an Artemis Corporation space station in frontier space. Near a planet called Gamma Delta III. 2 years up, 1 down in cryo, 2 back up ... finito. Collect paycheck, bang a couple of hotties. Bing, bang, boom ... we're done! Right?

No sooooo fast.

Seems there was a little hiccup that caused our mother-fricken space station to mother-fricken crash land onto Gamma Delta III! That's right! Orbital Station meets terrestrial planet.

It ... was ... not ... pretty. Or, at least, had I been awake to see it I can only surmise that the resulting crash and destruction was anything less than total oblivion wrapped in hell and with good measure basted with a little bit of chaos and destruction.

In fact ... let me put that into perspective. Of the 6-8 saucer sections that were part of the station orbiting it's central axis ... only 1 managed to make it out in any relative good shape after the resulting crash. That was the one I was in. Now ... to REALLY put it into perspective ... of the 600 or so personal on board ... I think myself and the three others in my cryo section are the ONLY survivors.

To make matters worse ... the engineer of our group figured out exactly how long we were out of the picture.

632 years.

Damn. So much for getting back in touch with Dr. Chandler.