Part 3: Old friends

Contacts

The following is culled from datalink archives.

quote:

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I am just a soldier.



A heavy, rusty slugthrower over my arm, and a wafer thin plastic atmosphere suit between me and the elements. We were trained to shoot, and to obey orders. Not to decide.



The next generation might see things differently, but the truth is, most of us security people joined the Gaians because Santiago was a bitch and Dierdre was hot.



The officials are still silent about what happened to Scout Patrol 002, but to everyone's relief, whatever took them out didn't go after the colonists, but simply disappeared into the radar blackness. The third base was constructed as planned. As an emergency measure, garrisons were deployed at each of our bases. I joined one of them.



And Christ, we're screwed.
Other than me, maybe 3 people have actual combat training. A few had played a few rounds of paintball in their lives or something. I don't think that any of the other hastily thrown together squads are in better shape. On our first patrol, the Captain suggested we all touch a weird obelisk on a side road for 'luck'. That seemed to boost our confidence a bit. (I declined, because this was freaking weird.) He told us to keep this a secret from our commanders. Huh.

I wish I picked another faction.

-skyelover40 (Feeling: Depressed)

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There's a general sense of defeatism in the air, despite the program of rapid expansion Lady Deirdre has embarked on.




It's hard to understand. For some reason, there's a general sense of Morgan-envy amongst my researcher friends - even though we haven't had any contact with other humans for years. There's general moaning that the entire thrust of our research is being redirected at the insistence of someone called 'fruitpoops'.



Another bunch of people disappeared yesterday. They radioed in that they were going to investigate a Unity pod, and then, nothing but static. A lone survivor managed to make it out this time, screaming about something to do with 'mind worms'. Command had a pair of men sling him into a holding cell, and the next day he was found dead. Suicide. This morning we got a briefing, giving new orders to attempt to acquire samples of these worms.

Sure, why not. A squad has already been sent to prowl the xenofungus. Poor guys.



Richard's crew disappeared... and then reappeared a few hours later, babbling excitedly on the radio. Somehow, he had moved several hundred kilometers in but a few hours. A few of us were worried that the worms got him. I wasn't. He's a rival for Lady Skye's wuv! He sent back this image. Those obelisks look weird.



He said they taught him things, wonderful things. He recommended that a base be set up there to investigate. Command is wavering on the issue - to walk that way would mean to go through swathes of fungus, and god knows what's waiting in that. Maybe it'll be a relief from the tedium of recycling projects.

Received new orders today - we are to accompany two groups of colonists to set up new bases to the south of the current development zone.

-skyelover40 (Feeling: Raarr)

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We were prowling the jungle^H^H^Hfungus when the proximity meter started going off like crazy. Checked the radar, and nothing. Nothing, of course, since the goddamn fungus is radar resistant. Only the audio sensors picked up something. A clump of something. Fanning out in front of us.

Shit. You could smell the newbies pissing their pants, even through the filters and the gas replacers. Guns, check. Armour... haha.

Flicked the fire selector to full auto. Not accurate, but doubted I'm going to have the time to aim.

Checked the vines and nodules in front. Thought I saw, for a fleeting moment... movement?

Jesus, don't let me die here. Jesus, I wish I believed in this shit. Jesus, if only I stayed in that prefad shack on Earth. Maybe I'd have lived my life expectancy.

God

God

God

God

God God God God God God God God God God God....

Wish we had a fucking flamer.

And worse, beneath the beeping of the sensor, was the silence.

The dead silence.

The click of a gun.

I turned to tell my comrade to get down, to keep still, but instead I saw.. huh.


Black insignias, proclaiming that they belonged to some 'Spartan Federation'. They stood all around us, guns aimed at the ready. I heard one of the newbies curse, another start praying.

There was a crackle as a radio turned on, and I was confused for a moment before I realised it wasn't meant for us. We were just listening in on someone else's conversation.




We waited as our own leaders came up with a response...

-skyelover40 (Feeling: Scared)

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Options:
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Also, a vote on which early Secret Project we want:
-Weather Paradigm: Dramatically improves terraforming, lets us do some terraforming that we don't have the tech for
-Merchant Exchange: Boosts the economy of one base
-Human Genome Project: Improves happiness
-Command Nexus: A free command center in every base, boosting morale of troops. (We don't have the tech for this yet, but we should have it soon)

First to 3 votes wins.