Christmas Past

I don't like to talk about my past. It's... well, past, over and done with. I'll go nuts if I think too much about what I've lost. But it's hard not to think about Christmas, not with that big-ass Festive Seasonal Holiday Observance Flora twinkling at me every time I turn around. So I'll talk about it - just this once.

Christmas was always weird for me - first off, I'm not Christian. December 25th was always "Jews Go To The Movies Day" as far as my family was concerned. Fun, and I have fond memories of quite a few otherwise worthless family comedies as a result, but it was never the big deal that it was for all the other kids. When I got older, it meant either really good overtime pay or extra time off, depending on my job. Again, fun, but not... you know.

Now I'm here, and it's still weird. My squadmates get all sniffly looking at the tree, and talk a lot about their families, and their kids, and their pets, and some of them get really angry and do stupid shit. Franks will be spending this Christmas regrowing his left arm because he completely lost it - charged a Bane mortar yelling "Ho ho ho, motherfucker!" and blazing away, only he forgot to switch to his pulse chaingun first. Well, at least the sickbay food is pretty good.

Me, though? I have guard duty tomorrow - I volunteered, because I don't want to lose any more mates to the "holiday spirit." I'll spend Christmas cleaning my guns and potshotting the Thrax that haven't figured out Resurgence Day is over, just like I did last year. And the year before that. And every year since I spent my first Christmas off Earth, in a refugee camp. Five thousand filthy, tired, homeless people sang carols and wept and hugged each other, and I dug latrines. Somebody had to do it, and I don't sing very well anyway.

I couldn't tell you who I'd kill to watch some damn Steve Martin flick with my mom and dad and little sister tomorrow, but that's past. Over and done with. If you'll excuse me, I gotta hit the rack - guard duty starts early, even on Christmas.

Proving a Point

Torture doesn't work. Never mind whether it's moral or not - when I think of what happened to Earth, it's hard to hold on to my morals, anyway. But it doesn't work. If you torture someone until they break, they tell you whatever they think you want to hear - you can never tell if it's the truth. That's why it's against policy, not because we have any fondness for crusties.

The point of this is, I fed the crusty, and the crusty talked. It had no reason to talk, except that I fed it. I don't know yet if it lied, but I've seen the region it mentioned, and it definitely looked like a staging ground. Now that I know what to look for, I'll clear it out.

I hate crusties. The fuckers trashed my home, killed my family, and kicked me out into the universe with nothing left but a rifle and a grudge. If that nasty thing hadn't been behind a Class-A forcefield, I would have shot it as soon as it told me what I wanted. But I am not gonna use that rifle to blow my own foot off, or hamper our operations, because of a grudge. I fed it. It talked. Now I'm gonna go shoot as many of its buddies as I can find, until the crack of my rifle drowns out the sound of its voice.

On the Side

I've been a good little soldier lately - well, sorta. Shooting things, carrying messages, picking up missing equipment and shepherding it home - it ain't exciting, but hey, they feed me. Well, sorta.

Guy I met offered me a little job on the side, though, and I took it. I'm not going to go into details, because I'm not a rat - but I will say that it was worth it just to piss off the brass. Wasn't any big thing - nobody got hurt or nothing, and I made some connections. Might do me some good, down the line.

Profile: Jayne Stilwater

Tier: 3
MOS: Commando
Gene Status: Clone, 1st Gen

What a world! I pop out of this slimy box, get hosed down and handed some clothes and a gun by a woman who looks exactly like I think I do, and off we go! I got to shoot a bunch of stuff on the way to Foreas Base, and that was fun. Jeri explained the whole cloning thing, and Jaxon - who I guess is my brother - sent me a message that didn't make much sense, about how awful being a clone is. I think he's nuts - this is great! I get guns, ammo, armor, training and - most important - lots of stuff to blow up!

I don't really know why we're fighting, actually, but I like fighting, so I don't really care. Go AFS!

Profile: Jeri Stilwater (Update)

Tier: 3
MOS: Ranger
Gene Status: Original

I have successfully qualified for Ranger training and am that much further towards my goal of Sniper training. I've killed a whole lot of crusties, and a whole lot of other things - some of them that I shudder to think about. I've cloned myself twice, and am satisfied that, despite his attitude, Jaxon will make a successful soldier, and I have high hopes for Jayne, who was gung-ho out of the creche.

Earth has never seemed farther away, but I have a family again, and that's something. I'm holding up my end.

Mission Accomplished

I successfully cleared the Pravus research facility and associated missions, which was immmensely satisfying. The Bane were producing machina at a terrifying pace within this facility, and shutting down that operation eased my mind somewhat on the subject. One of the Forean contacts also made the decision to formally join the AFS, and we need all the recruits we can get. It was definitely time and ammo well spent.

In the process of clearing Pravus, I completed my Targets of Opportunity assignment, which qualified me for an out-of-cycle clone credit. I also cleared all assigned missions in Wilderness, so I created a clone and took her to Divide, where we both were promoted to the next tier and given an additional cloning opportunity. I'm very pleased that the line has been given these opportunities, although I believe I'll save this clone for a while - I don't want to stretch our resources too thin.

Updated personnel files incoming.

Back on Duty

No updates for a while, because I got hauled away for a "routine screening." I guess my last entry made the shrinks a bit nervous, so I got to spend a few days in medical answering stupid questions about my "goals" and my "relationships." The corporal in the next rack (who was busy regrowing his legs - I didn't know they could do that) says that they keep us receptives shuttling through like clockwork - I guess some brass is still not at all certain that the Eloh are to be trusted. And, by extension, they're not quite ready to trust us, either.

Once they gave me back my guns, I took a jog out to the Caves of Donn, following up on orders to look for Eloh artifacts there. Turns out the whole area was under Bane control, and almost all of the natives were dead - or worse.

I tried to get a couple of survivors out to the extraction point, but they ran right into the line of fire of a Bane mortar, and they were all dead before I could get them out. I should have taken that mortar out before I picked them up, dammit. The Foreans lost enough people there, they didn't need to lose more just because I forgot to look before I leapt.

I successfully accomplished the rest of my objectives, but the whole thing left a bitter taste in my mouth. Not much I can do about it now, though. Those poor bastards didn't even have any family left to apologize to.