Life Through A Scope
Xenet 71.43.1 System Msg
TTY31201.01.14
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This is my first break since I got to this planet. My CO got so fed up with me never leaving the line, he actually put a gun to my head and pulled me through a portable waypoint. I don't really see the point.
I don't have any friends to visit, no family to spend time with. I don't think about my old life anymore, as far as I'm concerned, life began at the end of the wormhole.
People don't really understand what it takes to be a Sniper. Grenadiers, Spy's and Exobiologists have the heat of battle to distract them. Guardians and Medics are too concerned with the people they need to keep alive. Even the Demo's and Engineers get to stay close enough to the front to avoid the big picture. But I get to sit back and see the whole battle. I get to choose who lives and who dies, on both sides.
A few days ago I was camped outside of a Bane base. Supporting a few assault teams, providing intel reports for the pencil pushers back in Valverde, and sowing general fear in the enemy ranks. To my right, down in a small valley, an AFS squad sat behind a pile of rocks, getting ready for an assault. Not hearing the Bane hunters flanking them. But theres an officer poking his head out of the base for the first time in 6 hours. I have a clear shot to both targets. Do I help out the squad, or throw a wrench into the Bane command structure?
Everyone I see likes to talk about the old days. They like to tell themselves and each other what they're fighting for, and how their memories keep them sane. I hope it helps, I really do. I've already decided I won't survive this war.
My CO is going back to headquarters, so I can sneak back up to the line now. Better me than someone who has something to live for.
Yalezorn Amethal
Through Heaven's Eyes
Xenet 71.43.1 System Msg
TTY31201.01.11
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It feels colder than usual. The Torden Plains are hot and volcanic but somehow, I feel a sudden chill.
The Bane are advancing on Irendas Colony. The PAU's are holding off the small fry pretty well with those new laser turrets for support.. The battle has been going for a few hours now. Every now and then I can see some stray artillery blast the battlefield, tossing Bane and AFS as if they were nothing but toys.
It's strange to watch the battlefield like this, so far from the action, yet knowing so very well what it is the be part of it. Somehow, there is some twisted serenity to be seen from here.
The ground beneath me begins to quake. My balance falters and I nearly fall to my knees as fissures erupt in the field before me.
Striders.
Three gigantic weapons rise from the ground. They advance toward the trenches. With each step my heart pounds harder and harder in my chest. In but a few seconds, they have reached my fellow soldiers and have begun their attack.
I bring my torqueshell rifle to my shoulder as I drop to a crouch. Humming emits from the power cells as I click the safety off. An arc of electricity dances around inside the long barrel.
“Range: 74 meters. Elevation: 2 degrees.” I whisper as my finger wraps around the trigger.
I pull a breath in and begin to slow my heart. Holding my breath, I stare downrange at my target, eyes fixed and true.
The window is open, my target is vulnerable. “Fire!” says my mind. Releasing my lungs, I squeeze the trigger.
~ Jacob Mjolner
Attention to Detail
Xenet 71.43.1 System Msg
TTY31201.01.10
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You know one thing I’ll never forget taught to me while going through the ASF boot camp for the first time. Everyone there always said the same thing “attention to detail soldier! It will get you killed.”
That phrase was nothing new to me. I’ve heard it before when I was in the military back on earth. It is true attention to detail is what you need or it will get you killed. One thing that bugs me about this is I’m frequently scanning comm. Static in my free time just listening to what other soldier have to say about their experiences. Thou, they keep referring to us logos-receptives as sensitives. We’re not sensitives! According to ASF Intelligence the ones of us that can use Logos are called “receptive” not sensitive.
This is one of those times attention to detail comes into play. I don’t want to be anywhere near any of these soldiers that can’t read intelligence reports correctly. What if they read their orders wrong and take us in the wrong direction or worse! Maybe, I’m just being picky because I’m in the intelligence officer of a small outfit known as the Misfit Mercenaries. If I get any part of the intelligence report wrong they could all die. Everyone’s life depends on the fact information given out is correct. I live by the phrase “Attention to detail! It will get you killed”
Sgt. Jerec Suron
Misfit Mercenaries
Short Friendships
Xenet 71.43.1 System Msg
TTY31201.01.09
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What a day,
Being transferred to the Plains region should of been a dream come true for me. I couldn't sleep the night before coming and had all my stuff ready before I was even told about leaving. After the wormhole jump I was immediately put on duty by the Liaison Officer, that was where I met them. My new squadron was composed of six battle ready soldiers from all over Earth. Nationality was not a factor now and all that mattered was if we were for or against earth's survival. Being with them for the past week brought me closer to them as we shared stories of our lives back home. We were as close to a family as possible in such a hostile environment considering the time spent together. We held of many Thrax attacks by the bane and thanks to each one of us we pulled through it all. That was until, our last mission together.
We were sent to defend the base early in the morning with a few other squads and by the time we went out there we were pinned by the gate. There wasn't any problem holding off the Hunters, Thrax, and Technicians, we in fact had them starting to retreat until their reinforcements came. A shot from above took out some of the other squads and as the predators flew closer we were knocked down by a concussion blast from stalkers that snuck up from the side. We were pinned but stayed strong. Throwing countless cryogenic grenades we managed to hold them off for a bit... but the inevitable soon came. I pulled my worn down body inside as a platoon of soldiers came to the aid. I was ashamed of my defeat, but even more ashamed of letting my comrades down. May they find peace now.
-Mongo V'amp
Snake Pit
Xenet 71.43.1 System Msg
TTY31201.01.08
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Well, the crew and I have be re-stationed at Snake Pit over on pools, and I tell you what, it is one nice hell of a break from being stuck on Mires for so long. I swear we couldn’t catch a break over there if we even tried. We just got here at Snake Pit and I already know that we will be missing this place as soon as we get sent back to the front lines. Nothing beats that dull, hot, sulfur soaked air better than the lush trees and grass. Man... have I missed grass.
Anyway, it seems that a lot of the combat-soaked groups have been sent here for a short leave of action, so we have been doing some war games to keep us on our toes.
Us and some of the boys over with Genesis have been working on our assault and defensive skills between Snake Pit and that old temple over by the retreads. Has it been a damn good time. Being an engineer, it has been nice to experiment with some new deployment opportunities for my mechanical arsenal. Always helps to keep that edge in the battle. As fun as it has been, things have been known to get a little rough. A few times I have woken up to the dreaded shock and convulsion of either Apollo or Uzimaki giving me a quick rez. Hell, Kitsune will every once and a while get his kicks rezzing me with that damned caretaker costume of his. Try waking up to that mug. I can’t even count the times I’ve almost popped a round in his face.
Some of the boys have been missing out on the action but I’m sure there will be plenty more to go around. As nice as this place can be at times, there are still bane squads floating around south we can go sneak up on and get our jollies. But, for now, I am pretty content with this place.
Engineer Wal Enderson
Imperial Fists
The Spirit of Humanity
Xenet 71.43.1 System Msg
TTY31201.01.07
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As the sun sets here, in Camp Freedom, where insanity meets reality, I chug down a drink that, as I am told, is closest to a Martini as it can get. Without the olives. Or gin. Sometimes I call this the last place where humans remain humans, but that is just bitter...
Well, I am a bitter person so everything is in place I think.
My thoughts race to the events of today, of what I did and the consequences of it. As a recon operative I’m not usually walking alongside “frontline” troops.
More often I’m dropped somewhere in the back and wait for the appropriate moment to give the sign to strike. Sometimes I even roam alongside the bane patrols, camouflaged as one of them using powers and technology that twenty years ago belonged in a science-fiction movie. Who knows, I might even slammed it for being “too fantasy” on an online-review website.
This time however I was alongside the troops, as there was no way to get in covertly to one of the Bane outposts overlooking Maligo Base. And we needed that outpost ASAP, as I was told, a small strike team was to be deployed from it, it’s objectives the Ulstor Yard and the base beyond, sabotaging a top secret Bane project. I didn’t get into my position by asking to many questions, so I didn’t press the issue. I saw my fellow humans rejoice in the thrill of battle, I saw them fight to the death and ultimately succeed in their mission. But I also saw acts of cruelty and hate that should be left with the Bane. When I tried to stop a torture session on a wounded Thrax prisoner, they looked at me almost like a traitor. This is not the first time something like this happened, sometimes I get the feeling command wants us to become war-criminals.
We cannot become the Bane to defeat the Bane. That is not victory. That is proving that they are right. The idea, that the only way the galaxy can be shaped is through endless conflict and slaughter and ultimately dominance of one race over others. That is sure not the teachings of the Eloh. We had wonderful achievements as a race before they destroyed Earth.
It’s gone now, but the spirit of Humanity cannot die along with it. We are better then the Bane. It’s about time we start proving it. To ourselves first, then to others.
Nathan Ashcroft
12th AFS Infantry
Recon/Espionage Specialist
Guns or Angels
Xenet 71.43.1 System Msg
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It was hell. That's all I could think about, between storms of gunfire and shrapnel and smoke. Bodies everywhere, and I was starting to have trouble telling the difference between which were alien and which were human. The splintered squads that still stood at the gate and fired like they had nothing to lose looked at me with the eyes of the damned. I knew I had to help them. But what could I, a brand new Specialist and practically a kid besides, do against the onslaught of the Bane that ravaged what remained of the Landing Zone? What more could one gun offer against hundreds?
It wasn't a gun I offered in the end, but a prayer. Crouching at the heels of my failing comrades, I wiped the sweat from my brow and pulled out the new repair tool I'd bought less than an hour ago. Things looked bad, but more than the power of another gun, we needed an angel - someone to gift us with the last breath we needed to stop the rush, and God wasn't listening, to say the least.
It lasted an eternity, but when the dust settled, our last stand had become the first miracle we'd seen since we left home. I'm not sure whose tears flowed faster - the soldiers' or mine.
The only thanks I got in the end was a salute, but somehow it was more than enough to make me think real hard about becoming an angel more often. Maybe this war doesn't need more guns after all.
Dr. Morris Erdemann, M.D., Specialist
The Job That's Put Before Us
Xenet 71.43.1 System Msg
TTY31201.12.20
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My Professor used to always tell me 'We do the job that's put before us'. He was ex-military, fought in Vietnam. He was also my voice teacher, so we'd meet up for drinks after practice to just talk about things and now and then he'd tell me war stories. Nearly everyone thought he fell into old memories during those. I used to think the same, I felt sorry for the old man. During one of those nights, he drank a bit more than he usually did and began singing this old marching song.
Never would tell me what it was called, and never spoke of it again. The way he sang it, though.. well, you just knew he was singing it to the friends he'd never see again.
Now? I know what he meant. We do the job that's put before us. It may be difficult, it may be dirty, and it may not be something you especially want to do, but you do it. You do it because it needs to be done and you need to do it. You do it because if you don't, you can't proceed, you can't grow. And out here, when we're fighting aliens who ashed everyone we knew and loved, our very way of life? We do it, because otherwise we may not get a second chance. We're playing for keeps now, it's an all or nothing pot, and we have to win.
Mkoll asked me to teach him swordplay last week and our first lesson was today behind Foreas Base. I never was a good teacher, but I remember one of my old ones saying that all teaching was was being patient, working them through. I suppose that's all it is, really. Patience, understanding. There's a lesson in that, a lesson we can put to use out here. Don't rush, they'll still be there. Take your time, learn what you can. Knowledge is power, and what we learn today migh save our lives tomorrow. That was way off on a tangent. Mkoll's not half bad with a blade, once he figured out the proper footwork. I think he'll do well with it if he keeps the practice up.
I can't help but think about my old professor again, and the stories he'd tell me. The haunted look in his eyes, the pain that was always there. In war, they always list the number of casualties, rarely the number of survivors. When I was a kid reading through my history books, I used to wonder why. Why be so negative? Why not say 'this is how many people lived'? But, when I looked into Dr. Blake's eyes, I suddenly knew the answer. Maybe it's because there aren't any survivors. Maybe just because we walk away from the battlefield doesn't mean that we survived it. When I was in college, people like Dr. Blake were still fighting the war. I wonder if I'll ever stop fighting this one.
We do the job that's put before us.
— Sergeant Codie 'Claymore' Soahl
Decisions, Decisions
Xenet 71.43.1 System Msg
TTY31201.12.19
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Today I had to make the worst decision in my career with the AFS. It started out as a routine mission, AFS command wanted me and my squad to extract a prisoner from Tocastra Prison in the southern part of Divide. This particular pilot had some information that would really help out the war effort, so he was priority. Of course in this Prison there were hundreds of other captured humans, Cormans, and Foreans, but command made it known that all these people were secondary. Just fodder for the Bane's "experiments" that went on in this Prison.
So me and my squad dove in. The defenses defiantly weren't lax, we had to fight through four bunkers and a Juggernaut just to get inside the prison. Luckily we had a great medic behind the scenes keeping all of us up through the fighting. When we finally made it in I got to see the "experiments" the Bane were doing first hand. Some nasty stuff went down in there, things I would rather not repeat in words or even in my head. We fought through the patrols, there weren't as many as there was outside. I guess the Bane figured that no one would get past the Juggernaut guarding the door. Finally after maybe an hour of fighting through the patrols, we found the lab where the pilot was being held. All it took was a shotgun blast through the holding tanks glass to free the pilot, or at least what was left of him.
The Bane defiantly did a number on this poor soldier, we couldn't tell if he was still human or if they had converted him to machine. But then we knew when he talked, though all we heard was "Kill....me....". So we had to make the decision, keep him in his misery, or take him out of it. Our squad leader and the medic thought that we could keep him alive, but I couldn't stand to see him that way, forever trapped in pain. We didn't have a lot of time to discuss though, because another patrol came running into the lab. There was another firefight, and I saw the pilot. What was left of his eye's seemed to beckon me "Shoot...me..".
In the report it was written down as friendly fire, but I knew what I did. The worst decision in my career.
~ Caine Kelley
Life as a Recruit
Xenet 71.43.1 System Msg
TTY31201.12.18
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It wasn’t a choice. It wasn’t easy to get over. Earth.. it’s gone, forever.
“We didn’t even see it coming,” my friend said.
I waited for a year in the AFS Headquarters for deployment to Boot Camp. My friend was already gone, she was deployed on first sight. But today was different, because finally, after a year of waiting, an AFS commander came into my room I was staying in, asking for ID Number 07-411. I stood up. That was my call for duty. I followed him, with my security card and dog tags, and my manuals, and went into the Deployment Room. There, I was shipped, with only a pistol, and 200 bullets, and then went to Boot Camp.
Here I am, I thought. Boot Camp, the most hellish place on the planet, or so I thought. I reported in to the Commander, and after a few “check-up” procedures, he gave me a rifle and some ammo, and told me to kill the attacking Bane. I was lucky to have survived, since I had a squad of highly trained professionals with me. After that, I was told to go to the Landing Pad and go to the Wilderness, to Alia Das. So, I did, and reported in to the first person to meet me at the Landing Pad at Alia Das. Here I am, at Alia Das now, so I reported in to Commander Rogers. After a few missions, and a few good cans of whoop-ass opened, I was promoted. I am no longer a Recruit. That was life as a Recruit. Very hellish.
My name is Jebus, and I am part of the Allied Free Sentients, or the AFS. I serve and protect mankind.
-Jebus Ewine, Specialist
Gods By Necessity
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Before the Bane, I was a network systems analyst, if you can believe it. I’m not even sure how that happened to me, but my job was to find other people’s boneheaded mistakes in a sprawling, ill-conceived web of electronics.
When I decided to write this, I was standing in the shower at the barracks, still wearing my stealth armor. What do I care, all the gadgetry is waterproofed, and I’ve found this is by far the easiest way to get it clean after a day or two in the field. It’s not the dirt or ash, it’s the blood. Once blood dries onto your armor, there’s no way to get it off without soaking it anyways.
I used to try and keep track of my kills every day, but the illusion that was possible was dispelled along with so many others about war within my first week on Foreas. Now, I just read the colors on my armor. Thrax bleed purple. Caretakers bleed green. Lightbenders bleed orange. And so on. The deep crimson of human blood is a chronicle of my failures; everything else is a success story.
I’m standing here watching this macabre rainbow swirl into the drain and I feel like a god.
About three weeks in, someone in command apparently caught wind of my job back on Earth, and my CO told me I could transfer to tech if I wanted, go back to network repair. I politely declined.
Okay, maybe ‘politely’ is putting it a bit too nicely.
Yeah, losing Earth sucked, but look at those of us who survived. Ordinary people do incredible things every day now. It’s why we’re going to win this war. When they’re absolutely forced into it, everyday people can become gods.
Daemion Sevren
AFS Special Forces
Questioning Authority
Xenet 71.43.1 System Msg
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Ever since the day I learned about the fall of Fort Intrepid and the reasons behind it, I can understand the deep distrust for the AFS leadership among the Retreads and my fellow comrades in arms.
Surely, a couple of anti-air turrets would be enough to deter the Bane aerial assault or at least make them think twice before attacking an AFS fort. But of course, Fort Intrepid and its defenders were never given turret installations, and the brass merely told them to work with what they had. As result, the fort is in ruins and the men and women formerly stationed there are either dead, went AWOL, or barely hanging onto the wormhole at the outpost.
Although I am wary of the orders by the higher-ups, it does not necessarily mean I will give up the AFS and join the Retreads. The methods of the Retreads are even more disturbing in my opinion. They fight the Bane on a whim without thinking of the consequences. They do not think of other alternatives that may possibly be more beneficial for the cause. And lastly, they steal supplies from the AFS even though they could simply just ask for it, and I am pretty sure a Retread stole one of my rations the other day. Anyways, after being with the Foreans for quite some time, I believe the word “unwise” would sum up the actions of the Retreads.
This war needs leadership and without it, I honestly believe the AFS will blindly steer to a dead end. However, the recent events with Penumbra’s oppressive behavior upon fellow AFS soldiers have made me more cautious of our current commanding officers. Nevertheless, I will follow my orders; however, I will certainly question every single one that seems fishy. Also, I will keep this personal log to myself since this will attract attention with the guys at Penumbra, and I really do not want to find myself interrogated or blackmailed by one of their agents.
Shadow "the White Dingo" Hapi
AFS Sniper Division
Why?
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Thats the question on everyones mind. Why? Why do we fight, why do we kill these abominations that have taken our home world and our birthright since known time.
Ill tell you why. Because we can thats why.
Thats what I tell everyone who asks me that damn question anyway. It doesn't feel wholesome looking down at a raw recruit and telling them that we fight because we can. I don't feel like I'm making a difference in the mans life. They just don't understand, they haven't seen what a juggernaut can do to a tank formation, they haven't seen what a Hunter does to a soldier if it has the time and leisure to kill the poor bastard. They haven't seen what a Stalker can do to an entire squad of AFS soldiers. I saw the same kid who asked me why we fight. Yeah I saw him alright, what was left of him anyway. Damn Bane, if I had a buck for every kid I've seen killed, I'd be rich.
You asked me why I fight? Because I can. Because I will and I fight because I intend to make a difference.
Grenadier Alistar Robinson
A Well Deserved Break
Xenet 71.43.1 System Msg
TTY31201.12.12
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I sit here in the barracks at the Corman base in the Cumbria Research Base. I hear the canons pound and the gun fire echo in the distance. The shouts of eager new recruits around me who haven't yet see the devastation of the battle field ripple around me.
Despite all of the chaos I can't help but feel relief and calm to be back among the Cormans again and away from the front lines. My last mission had me en-route to Fort Dew with Doc. Victeonus.
Everything's going smoothly, we ran into the normal nest of Warnets, these things happen. While passing through Viands Village, but an earshot from the Fort, there is suddenly the hum of Bane dropships and the blinding flash of light as their solders pour out of transport beams. No time to think. Doc lets loose with his injector gun giving the bane a taste of his latest concoction. I call down the fires of a carpet bombing down on them, adding a little more chaos to the situation. The other AFS soldiers dart around doing as much damage as they can. It's not enough. The Bane punch through into the base and it is too late.
They aren't going to keep it though. Sure, they may have gotten in and turned our own defense turrets against us, that just means this is now an assault mission doesn't it? Nothing out of the ordinary. I dodge enemy fire, while getting support from the other AFS nearby, and drop some EMP bombs at the base of the force field. It goes down. So do the shields of the Bane waiting inside.
While the others wage battle here I decide to test the limits of my stealth armor. I weave through the fire fight and find myself undetected next to the capture point.
It is good do be back with the Cormans. Out of the fight, even if it is only a short break. Being here makes me think of our beloved ragtag group of Browncoats and how it it started. I've gone on too long here. Perhaps I'll tell that story next time.
Signing off.
Crichton
Browncoats' Commander
Nightmares
Xenet 71.43.1 System Msg
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I hear the boarding call for Evac shuttle 451 boarding on pad Bravo. Somewhere a voice whispers "not again". We walk together, the kids holding on a little to tight. I don't blame them, they're scared. I am too. That voice groans "noooo". I help her, our son and daughter board. In the back of my mind I hear "oh god what are their names?" The AFS guard tells me "Sorry this ones full". She hands me a locket, it has our picture in it. "So you have something to show the authorities if we end up at different refugee camps" She says with a sad smile. "Don't worry" I say "I'll be the first one on the next shuttle. I Promise." I tell the boy to take care of his mother. He just nods. My minds voice starts to shout "Don't let them go!"
I watch the shuttle lift off. My head starts to pound like something is trying to get out. I hear the scream....I always hear the scream. I watch horror stricken. The Bane ships appear out of thin air, their missiles streaking unhindered towards the shuttle. That voice in my head is screaming louder then the roar of the shuttle "NOOOO NOT AGAIN". I can't stop it. As many times as I've seen it play over and over I can't stop it. Neither can I look away. I watch helplessly as the missiles impact the shuttle. I ponder at the sight of its hull swelling to twice its size before BOOM it erupts in a ball of fire and debris.
I jolt up in my rack wide awake and in a cold sweat. As I wipe my face I look around the barracks. A few of the guys are moving around. It's about mid-day hear at the LZ in Wilderness. Not many of them even look at me and those who do have a knowing look in their eyes. But they don't say anything....they never do. They have their own nightmares to deal with, we all do.
The Bane wiped away my family...my life. So I wiped away my name. They call me Raum Scheifer. It's German for Blank Slate. My mission in life? To become the stuff of nightmares for the Bane.
Pvt. Raum Scheifer
AFS soldier
LZ Defense detachment
