Got a fireteam together and cleared Crater Lake - it was pretty hairy, but we got through it. No sweat. Right?
But those "hominis machina," man... if that's what the Bane will do to me if they catch me, I'm gonna eat a bullet first. A nice big one, one that'd splatter my brains over half a klick so they can't use 'em. I'd seen the Forean Machina, but it didn't quite sink in. They're just so... wrong. Humans - good soldiers, dedicated scientists, brave men and women - made into bloody, blank-eyed puppets and set against their former friends. Brr. I thought I was pretty tough, but those bastards got to me.
November 24, 2007
November 23, 2007
Better Late Than Never
"From behind with a rocket launcher." Yeah, that would have been handy to know before tangling with the Predators, but I didn't have a rocket launcher anyway, and it turns up a couple of rifle shots from behind work just as well. Creepy bastards - dumb, but creepy, and their firepower's no joke.
Next couple of stops will probably require a squad, or at least a fireteam. I'm not much for playing nice with others, but I suppose I'll survive.
Next couple of stops will probably require a squad, or at least a fireteam. I'm not much for playing nice with others, but I suppose I'll survive.
November 22, 2007
Weapons
That damned Forean kid really set me off. The military "only sees him as a weapon." Welcome to my world, kid. Only reason I exist is my lunatic Original, Jeri, isn't satisfied shooting crusties herself, she wants to clone a whole squad to do it with her.
But you know what? I fight. Shot a couple dozen crusties today, as a matter of fact. I don't hate them - not the way Jeri does, anyway - but they'd shoot me where I stood in a heartbeat, so I shoot first. (They do have hearts, did you know that? Found that out the messy way. Man, Foreans are weird.) Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah, that kid. Hauled him back to face the music. There's a war on, after all.
And that sanctimonious prick Rogers. "Could've handled it better." Fuck him. What am I gonna do, tell our ally to go screw? What's the difference between collecting bloody bits of dead Thrax and picking up some scared kid and hustling him back to base? I do what I'm told. Until they pin a few more bits of shiny metal on me, I ain't gonna think about this shit that hard. End up crazy as Jeri, if I do.
Jesus. What a cluster.
But you know what? I fight. Shot a couple dozen crusties today, as a matter of fact. I don't hate them - not the way Jeri does, anyway - but they'd shoot me where I stood in a heartbeat, so I shoot first. (They do have hearts, did you know that? Found that out the messy way. Man, Foreans are weird.) Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah, that kid. Hauled him back to face the music. There's a war on, after all.
And that sanctimonious prick Rogers. "Could've handled it better." Fuck him. What am I gonna do, tell our ally to go screw? What's the difference between collecting bloody bits of dead Thrax and picking up some scared kid and hustling him back to base? I do what I'm told. Until they pin a few more bits of shiny metal on me, I ain't gonna think about this shit that hard. End up crazy as Jeri, if I do.
Jesus. What a cluster.
Assault
I decided early to accept Ranger training when I'm offered the promotion, but I'm beginning to think that I'd like to be a sniper, down the road. I'm not at "one shot, one kill" level yet, but I'd like to be. Saves a lot of ammo.
Lots of crusties killed today, lots of trips to the hospital. I assaulted a couple of Bane-held control points with minimal backup (hence the trips to the hospital) and minimal strategic success, but I definitely whittled down their numbers. I don't understand why we don't strengthen that area further next time we hold it - the rock formations in front of LZ are a fabulous place to snipe from. Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but if I can do it, so can a Bane Light Bringer. A little C-4 would take care of that.
I've got some missions to complete yet in Wilderness, but I'm looking forward to moving on as soon as I can. That thief in Twin Pillars had a lot of friends, and I'm tired of getting the stinkeye everywhere I go just because I turned him in. Risking your career for some damned stim - I'll never understand it. Getting shot at is plenty stimulating enough.
Anyway, I'm hitting the rack. Over and out.
Lots of crusties killed today, lots of trips to the hospital. I assaulted a couple of Bane-held control points with minimal backup (hence the trips to the hospital) and minimal strategic success, but I definitely whittled down their numbers. I don't understand why we don't strengthen that area further next time we hold it - the rock formations in front of LZ are a fabulous place to snipe from. Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but if I can do it, so can a Bane Light Bringer. A little C-4 would take care of that.
I've got some missions to complete yet in Wilderness, but I'm looking forward to moving on as soon as I can. That thief in Twin Pillars had a lot of friends, and I'm tired of getting the stinkeye everywhere I go just because I turned him in. Risking your career for some damned stim - I'll never understand it. Getting shot at is plenty stimulating enough.
Anyway, I'm hitting the rack. Over and out.
November 21, 2007
Profile: Jaxon Stilwater
Tier: 2
MOS: Specialist
Gene Status: Clone, 1st Gen
Bio: I'm a clone. I've been around for about two weeks now, training up to fight the war that created me. I'm a specialist, because my Original is a soldier.
Not much of a bio, is it? It's not much of a life.
My fellow clones tell me it gets better, that as I make my own memories the ones I have now - fuzzy, half-real ones of being a girl half my size, on a planet I've never seen - will fade, and I'll feel like me. Or at least I'll have an idea what "me" means. I'm almost done training, so I guess I'll soon find out.
I can't fucking wait. Anything's better than this.
MOS: Specialist
Gene Status: Clone, 1st Gen
Bio: I'm a clone. I've been around for about two weeks now, training up to fight the war that created me. I'm a specialist, because my Original is a soldier.
Not much of a bio, is it? It's not much of a life.
My fellow clones tell me it gets better, that as I make my own memories the ones I have now - fuzzy, half-real ones of being a girl half my size, on a planet I've never seen - will fade, and I'll feel like me. Or at least I'll have an idea what "me" means. I'm almost done training, so I guess I'll soon find out.
I can't fucking wait. Anything's better than this.
Profile: Jeri Stilwater
Tier: 2
MOS: Soldier
Gene Status: Original
Bio: I was born on Earth about thirty years ago. People always ask, "But where are you from?" Earth, dammit. Just Earth. I wasn't a soldier back home, would never have imagined I'd be one now, but nobody gave me a choice. They just gave me a gun.
Now, I can't imagine what else I would be. I go where I'm told to go, shoot what I'm told to shoot, and jump on every chance to clone myself that Command gives me. I won't live real long - none of us do, medics and armor and hospitals can only do so much - but the only thing that keeps me going is knowing that even if I die, some other soldier with my genes will be out there fragging the goddamned crusties. Maybe, if we're all really lucky, one of us Stilwaters will see Earth again, someday.
High Command requested that we file reports on our activities from time to time, particularly us receptives. Trying to figure out how this alien Logos stuff is affecting us, I suppose. I don't worry about it much. I'll report my activites - I do anyway, but what's a little more paperwork, anyway? I'll even report my "feelings." Right now I'm feeling like shooting some crusties.
MOS: Soldier
Gene Status: Original
Bio: I was born on Earth about thirty years ago. People always ask, "But where are you from?" Earth, dammit. Just Earth. I wasn't a soldier back home, would never have imagined I'd be one now, but nobody gave me a choice. They just gave me a gun.
Now, I can't imagine what else I would be. I go where I'm told to go, shoot what I'm told to shoot, and jump on every chance to clone myself that Command gives me. I won't live real long - none of us do, medics and armor and hospitals can only do so much - but the only thing that keeps me going is knowing that even if I die, some other soldier with my genes will be out there fragging the goddamned crusties. Maybe, if we're all really lucky, one of us Stilwaters will see Earth again, someday.
High Command requested that we file reports on our activities from time to time, particularly us receptives. Trying to figure out how this alien Logos stuff is affecting us, I suppose. I don't worry about it much. I'll report my activites - I do anyway, but what's a little more paperwork, anyway? I'll even report my "feelings." Right now I'm feeling like shooting some crusties.
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