...Just a Shooting Star, Ta9ov

 

 

 

The year is 2102.
Our military careers began,
educated, trained, injected.

 

Good benefits, good retirement.
Just get the job done and go home.
Follow the mandates,
always the mandates.

Among the drawbacks, there are a few we do not mention-
the chance of being fodder for unproven technologies,
casualties of poorly chosen tactics,
or statistics for bootcamp commanders to 'learn' from,
and we always seem to be getting new bootcamp commanders.
We've had to bend a few rules in our time to survive...

In this conflict the drawback is engaging a far superior enemy, making me feel like we're the mass of puny bad guys
in a cheap video game with horrendous AI,

ready to be mowed down by an indestructible protagonist
wielding by an obnoxious 10 year old on a cheat-code high...





My friends Jar7ed, Eedb8 and I
are the brainy part of our squad.
A basic five man squad.
One of a million.
Each of us have an assignment. A role.
We take it seriously, to survive,
and to succeed-
there is unit pride to live up to,
and competition for unit legends to create.
I look at my ID patch,
'Ta9ov, Unit 27k679, MG'
and feel a twinge of pride today... 


Units are trained to be close-knit,
on the battlefield and off,
like the time in the Roheric deep-cavern cantinas
where those super-pumped spZac marines
were cruisin’ for a fight.
All good fun in the end. Not too many fractured bones.
We all drank together afterwards, in mucho pain.
Men, ever barbaric, temporarily grow closer after such rites...


They say those with short index fingers are more aggressive.
We have two of them- Yem3az and Do2gin.
They are not designed for the heavy brainwork,
hence their lower numbers.
Don't tell them that...

 

We used to get our news from civilian starcomm,
since the official channels are behind with the news,

but now we can't even trust the civies,

being overrun with tainted journalists

pushing one political party or another...

 

Last night they reported rumors that the war had begun.
They can't screw with basic news, at least.

I skipped their analysis and pundicy,

always laced with intent to deceive and brainwash these days...

 

Today we received orders to suit up.
Somehow I slept two hours on the flight to the drop zone.
Not bad...

 

We disembark from the transport before dawn.
The planet’s atmosphere is hot and dense,
the ground hard.
Small creatures scurry away from us and disappear.
We have an objective, classified.
Take and hold.
An observation post, I guessed.

 

We see our first enemies off in the distance,
working like ants.
Standard procedure is to call in an air strike.

 

At Command Center 37b25

"Commander, Air Squad Fvt98 on the line.

They have intelligence of enemy VIP’s
at coordinates NW 20-7-9 W2."

 

"What’s the tactical situation, Captain?"

 

"One patrol in the area,
vectoring toward observation point 68f12.
They've called in an airstrike.
They are expendable in a situation like this, Commander."

 

"I know, Captain. Vaporize the vicinity.
Mandate 9.
I hate losing all that expensive training and gear,
but this target is imperative.
A Mandate 9 situation."

 

"Hey, Ta9ov, what do you see?"

 

Oh shit!
I know what the light trail is. Son of a...
Mother of ......
God ......
What rotten ....... .... ..... .......

A Mandate 9 missile...
 
If only that burrowing gear had arrived sooner...

Damn!
I knew the risks when I joined.
Should I have married 5fs32?
Ad1ox has just started school.
He still wants to be like his dad.
What tragedy have I created?
Too many questions...

 

"Just a shooting star, Jar. Just a shooting star."

God forgive me.
Damn again!
Goodbye children, dear wife,
...sweet darlings...
...you did nothing to deserve this...



"Holy shit!
Look at that mushroom blast. Get down!"
Maybe we'll survive this...
The heat is like a furnace...
"Cooling systems on."
Ahhhhhh!
Jesus...