(no subject)
From the completely off-the-record and unofficial notes of Sergeant Arius Numitor
Bastion Eos, 20th to 22nd of March 240
The Combat Information Center is coming online, and we are starting to plan. I have to get Denna up to speed as my second-in-command. My relatively simple Chief Shuttle Operations job has been assimilated into the CiC as a far bigger job, the equivalent of a Flight Captain or Wing Commander. It is a big responsibility, and I need the backup.
I like her immediately. She is one of the quiet Clannies, which made her pop on our radar. Her crew, the Red Brotherhood, has often stated it 'is under contract', and we suspect it is directly with Chen Che - who is the top of our shitlist - or Zalinsky Enterprises - who are not far below Che on said shitlist.
But she was vouched for by Sasha and Kat personally, and I trust them. Trust them. I grin. Things change. Ways change. Some for the best. Denna is attentive, asks questions, adapts ideas, communicates. We work out a shuttle schedule, inventory our assets and start making plans. I will enjoy working with her.
I see the Sergeant-Major from the corner of my eye. He is damn proud to be here. And he should. Against all odds we are still alive, and he is getting official command of what is basically our very own Legion tomorrow.
-------------------------
Decimus looks at me incredulously. "How many?" he asks again, slower this time as if that will change my answer. "A thousand Primitus Combat Shotguns. I'd prefer the Mark Five, if they are available." I state, in my calm flat Quartermaster voice. He is quiet for a moment, and I see his lateral thinking mind running through the same options I did, weighing the same numbers.
I understand it, mind you. Last week I had the same opinion - we should not be arming the locals, especially not those that were our enemies only a few months ago. I'd almost shot down the request as soon as I heard it. But that was before the new information caused me to re-evaluate our strategic picture. It has shown that the Kadu and Hasiru Tribes have only one of two futures with how this war is going. They are either refugees that we need to protect in order to prevent the alien enemy from harvesting their biomass. Or they are willing allies whose terrain knowledge and aggression can turn the fight.
At the very least something to stem the attrition rate of our own soldiers on Eos. The risks of an armed rebellion or tribal war are both very real, but arming them now is the surest way to deny the enemy a vital resource. It is as simple as that.
Rule 101 subsection 10: no means or method should be excluded if that exclusion leads to defeat.
-------------------------
Victus storms into the CiC, and surprises me. His anger is white hot unlike my usual slow simmer. Normally he is angry at people, but now he is angry at a place. It is the Strategium, the Combat Information Center. It is destroying the 991st. Three of its members are now active in running the offensive on the planet, and the unit is suffering. It has suffered since the beginning.
The problem is thus: Venatores excel at warfare, because Venatores are trained to excel at everything. And that makes us too damned useful. Trace back several vital colonial facilities and services, and you will find that a Venator set up this service or that system before handing it over to experts or civilian authorities. Sergeant-Major Quartus has used us as such during his time as Governor-Militant, as tools of government and coordination. He has continued that practice as Pan-Factional Commander, because it gets results.
But that means we get doled out in bits and pieces. Experts to lead strikes, patch holes, provide assistance. And that is not who we are. My brother's anger is white-hot, but it is just. He is right. There is a moment of crisis. I have to make a decision. We can't have three people in the CiC. We need to lead this unit.
I resign as Commander Shuttle Operations.
-------------------------
I throw my cap through the barracks, and slump briefly against my bunk. I am alone, Comms chirp, our shield generator recharge stations humms softly. I cared about the Chief Shuttle Operations job. I've worked hard to make it all happen. It hurts having to give it up. I care about it a lot, for reasons...
... I am briefly back on Merula, skimming the equatorial dunes in my Aurora LN. I am in the pilot's seat. Constanticus nuzzles my neck while Lena and Irene are making out in the back. We are heading for an anonymous oasis for an afternoon of private fun. I am enjoying the shoreleave with my friends. Rare time away from the 991st. How are my friends doing now, after the attacks? There has been no response to my letter...
No. Stop. Un-fuck yourself. Cap on, gear up, emotions off. Homesickness is a luxury for later.
Primary Imperative: the mission is all.
-------------------------
The parade files out on the Patio, looking pretty decent. People take their place. I glance at my squad, in full wargear. We've taken up close protection duties. I requested it, personally. The 991st is not really what you would call 'a parade unit'. Rapax is probably the best at parading on the planet, but even they look uncomfortable. Holding this transfer-of-command ceremony next to an active alien artefact is shit-stupid. But the ICC will not be denied its moneyshot. So close protection duties are necessary. It takes my mind off things.
As the civilians sit down, the military units start filing out. First are the Clans - I am honestly surprised at the Clannies who consider themselves 'a military unit'. They clown around, as usual. They are not military. They are not even militia. They are a war-band, a hap-hazard arrangement of 'enthusiastic' semi- and demi-combatants. If they ever run into something they can't handle by blowing an several drum-mags of ammo into it at point-blank range we'll lose them all. I hope the CiC staff is taking notes.
The Imperials are scrupulously correct, filing in neatly. But between them and the Clannies taking up a lot of patio the Legionairs that file out last have little room to stand. The Lt. solves it promptly, as she always does, and the ceremony drags on. Pretty flag, tho. Will make a nice campaign badge, once compliance on Eos has been achieved. The alien sphere seems content to pulse menacingly.
-------------------------
R&R! Warrant Officer Diem of the Morale, Welfare and Recreation Department has mandated two hours of downtime for us all. The weather is great. They shipped out Freedom Burgers for the lot of us. We slip into our chill clothes, and hang out. Some of us grab a book or a hammock to chill, but most take a corner of the patio and talk a lot. We have ice-cream, and live seems pretty good. Morale hasn't been this high in months.
Then the alien sphere pulses. Juno collapses. Briefly I feel morale twitch, but we all know what to do. Juno is quickly given the help she needs. In an act of contemptuous defiance, twenty-four members of the proud Civitas, Classis et Legiones Aquila flip the bird to whoever of whatever is watching on the other side of the sphere.
Squad morale restored.
------------------------
Word had some down from the CiC - we're going in with the entire 991st. The second node location has been found, and we are hoofing it at best speed. We find a patrol from one of the firebases who got ambushed by the node guard force. The soldiers are all down, and half of them are already dead. We save the rest and start working on the node while treating the wounded. The Governor and Taga are with us, and so it pretty much feels like the old Eos Castellum crew. I am comfortable with these people having our back.
They come at us a few times, but they are facing the full 991st. We cordon, contain, target and destroy. No holding lines or static defense for us. Venatores fight dynamically. One tries to flank, and I pin it behind a tree. I have no cover myself but that barely matters if I can force it to keep its head down. As it finally musters the courage to take a shot at me, it gets hit from the side.
Estella has flanked, prosecuting the target hard. Her first two hits collapse its shield, the third hits the torso and the fourth blows out something in its neck - arterial spray everywhere. It gurgles and dies. She flashes me her trademark half-grin before folding back into our formation to screen the wounded.
Gnaeus protects the other flank, and one tries to rush him. He kneels and calmly lets his experimental Scorpio-pattern weapon rip it apart even as it tries to impale him. He reloads, and quickly checks all our munitions tallies.
We get the job done, medevac the wounded patrol and return to base. Mission accomplished.
-------------------------
Our comms chirp. Octavia is heading back to the Bastion in the shuttle, and requests assistance. Their mission went tits up - something about snipers - and they had to medevac. They have wounded, and more people still in the field. I acknowledge and head to the shuttle bay. Cass comes over the comm a moment later, acknowledging she's on her way, too. Between the two of us, we can fly that shuttle in and out of hell if need be.
Three Clannies jump in with us. DZ-3 and Red Brotherhood. Their people are out there, I understand their worry. We nod and they strap in. I don't trust them to be able to hit any actual targets, but that is not what this mission requires. Their 'suppressive' fire will be enough to reel our people back in.
Octavia stays with us, despite the sniper-hit to her shoulder. As I inquire about her armor-status, she casually mentions that it is fine - the sniper was kind enough to score a direct hit to her shoulder, leaving the armor undamaged. I see in her eyes that her brain is swimming in adrenalin and endorphins. She is loving it. She lives for this. I am damn glad we got some veteran reinforcements like her.
We bring everyone back home safe, and conduct them to the med bay. Victus actually has to force Octavia to be treated. She wants to keep going. But we need her nominal for tomorrow - the alien sphere might have a command center that needs raidin' - and we do so love to drop in uninvited.
-----------------------------------
One of the new DZ-3 members stands next to me, the Intergalactic Cheerleader. "Uhm, could you come down? The party is getting out of hand..." she hesitatingly remarks. Now that gets my attention. When a Clanny sends for a Legionair, it is bad. I may not be security, but we are the keepers of the peace. I nod to her, and let her know we will be down momentarily. She looks relieved. I routinely check my shieldgen (full charge) and my sidearm (fully loaded). I move down.
Vitus is there, I can see the pain in his eyes. "Did you hear, Anna..." but I stop him there. I need to focus him on something actionable. He explains these five visiting Clannies may have something to do with Anna's overdose. Baron is trying to fix stuff, but if they try to make for the gate we will have to stop them. I pull my sidearm. "Sanction Five it is". Vitus looks better, he knows he's got my support. He removes his patches, and I follow suit. This is personal.
The Sergeant-Major comes out of the CiC and notices our lack of patches. He inquires. Vitus looks pained again. I play my card. "Personal Matters, sir". He nods, and moves off, knowing better then to stick around. Vitus' eyes meet mine, understanding. We turn back to the clusterfuck. Luckily it is fixed soon after, and the party continues. There are days I do not get Clannies. At all. But Vitus is doing better, and no blood was spilt. The Intergalactic Cheerleader is called Hannah. We shake hands, exchange introductions and she thanks me. Optimal outcome.
Primary Imperative - I am my Brother's Keeper.
---------------------------------
I run Mila through the basics. I sense her need to be useful. She is a fighter pilot, and while she can fly the shuttles she is at her best flying something nimble. We both grin widely as we feel the twin engines throttle up to full. We bond over both being pilots. The AM-50 Razor cuts through the sky like a blade, and we get the scouting run down in record time.
Perhaps I should ask Denna to be a flight instructor. I can continue doing some good here
Secondary Imperative - Maintain optimal readiness at all times.
---------------------------------
Quintus needed the shuttles to bleed off excess reactor power from the Bastion after a huge fuckup. The clusterfuck will be addressed later, but for now he needs Lira, myself and the newly arrived Imperial engineer Hayato to do what he says, exactly how he says we should do it.
I sigh, close up the box of EMP grenades and head up. Soon after, we have both shuttles running at max idle thrust while still attached to the umbilical to the Bastion. I flick on my comm, and radio Quintus: "So Legionairs in shuttles make for good capacitors?"
I hear the grin in his answer as the comms crackle. "Of course. Don't hover too far above the Bastion, you are about to drop."
I am glad I trust my brother. It would have gotten awkward otherwise.
---------------------------------
The debriefing is fairly routine, but I am impressed they sent three agents to debrief us in person. This is being taken seriously, and now we are being given a follow-up mission.
"In short", Agent Flavius says "We need you to go back, and salvage the Anubis. We can provide a ship, but the mission needs to be launched soon."
Lt. Sevso's eyes meet mine. We both have the same twinkle. This is what we were hoping for.
"I'd prefer the ARNX Mayhem, if she is available." I know I am aiming high. The ship is a modular prototype, part of a project the 991st consulted on. It was also named after one of their own, a brother fallen during the Skalatrax Landings. Sometimes you can combine the personal with the practical...
"We will see what we can do. We recommend a multifactional team." Agent Flavius concludes, closing her notepad and getting up to leave. The debriefing is over, and we escort the agents back to the gate.
Our own ship, a challenging problem and a tight deadline. Now this is more like it...
Bastion Eos, 20th to 22nd of March 240
The Combat Information Center is coming online, and we are starting to plan. I have to get Denna up to speed as my second-in-command. My relatively simple Chief Shuttle Operations job has been assimilated into the CiC as a far bigger job, the equivalent of a Flight Captain or Wing Commander. It is a big responsibility, and I need the backup.
I like her immediately. She is one of the quiet Clannies, which made her pop on our radar. Her crew, the Red Brotherhood, has often stated it 'is under contract', and we suspect it is directly with Chen Che - who is the top of our shitlist - or Zalinsky Enterprises - who are not far below Che on said shitlist.
But she was vouched for by Sasha and Kat personally, and I trust them. Trust them. I grin. Things change. Ways change. Some for the best. Denna is attentive, asks questions, adapts ideas, communicates. We work out a shuttle schedule, inventory our assets and start making plans. I will enjoy working with her.
I see the Sergeant-Major from the corner of my eye. He is damn proud to be here. And he should. Against all odds we are still alive, and he is getting official command of what is basically our very own Legion tomorrow.
-------------------------
Decimus looks at me incredulously. "How many?" he asks again, slower this time as if that will change my answer. "A thousand Primitus Combat Shotguns. I'd prefer the Mark Five, if they are available." I state, in my calm flat Quartermaster voice. He is quiet for a moment, and I see his lateral thinking mind running through the same options I did, weighing the same numbers.
I understand it, mind you. Last week I had the same opinion - we should not be arming the locals, especially not those that were our enemies only a few months ago. I'd almost shot down the request as soon as I heard it. But that was before the new information caused me to re-evaluate our strategic picture. It has shown that the Kadu and Hasiru Tribes have only one of two futures with how this war is going. They are either refugees that we need to protect in order to prevent the alien enemy from harvesting their biomass. Or they are willing allies whose terrain knowledge and aggression can turn the fight.
At the very least something to stem the attrition rate of our own soldiers on Eos. The risks of an armed rebellion or tribal war are both very real, but arming them now is the surest way to deny the enemy a vital resource. It is as simple as that.
Rule 101 subsection 10: no means or method should be excluded if that exclusion leads to defeat.
-------------------------
Victus storms into the CiC, and surprises me. His anger is white hot unlike my usual slow simmer. Normally he is angry at people, but now he is angry at a place. It is the Strategium, the Combat Information Center. It is destroying the 991st. Three of its members are now active in running the offensive on the planet, and the unit is suffering. It has suffered since the beginning.
The problem is thus: Venatores excel at warfare, because Venatores are trained to excel at everything. And that makes us too damned useful. Trace back several vital colonial facilities and services, and you will find that a Venator set up this service or that system before handing it over to experts or civilian authorities. Sergeant-Major Quartus has used us as such during his time as Governor-Militant, as tools of government and coordination. He has continued that practice as Pan-Factional Commander, because it gets results.
But that means we get doled out in bits and pieces. Experts to lead strikes, patch holes, provide assistance. And that is not who we are. My brother's anger is white-hot, but it is just. He is right. There is a moment of crisis. I have to make a decision. We can't have three people in the CiC. We need to lead this unit.
I resign as Commander Shuttle Operations.
-------------------------
I throw my cap through the barracks, and slump briefly against my bunk. I am alone, Comms chirp, our shield generator recharge stations humms softly. I cared about the Chief Shuttle Operations job. I've worked hard to make it all happen. It hurts having to give it up. I care about it a lot, for reasons...
... I am briefly back on Merula, skimming the equatorial dunes in my Aurora LN. I am in the pilot's seat. Constanticus nuzzles my neck while Lena and Irene are making out in the back. We are heading for an anonymous oasis for an afternoon of private fun. I am enjoying the shoreleave with my friends. Rare time away from the 991st. How are my friends doing now, after the attacks? There has been no response to my letter...
No. Stop. Un-fuck yourself. Cap on, gear up, emotions off. Homesickness is a luxury for later.
Primary Imperative: the mission is all.
-------------------------
The parade files out on the Patio, looking pretty decent. People take their place. I glance at my squad, in full wargear. We've taken up close protection duties. I requested it, personally. The 991st is not really what you would call 'a parade unit'. Rapax is probably the best at parading on the planet, but even they look uncomfortable. Holding this transfer-of-command ceremony next to an active alien artefact is shit-stupid. But the ICC will not be denied its moneyshot. So close protection duties are necessary. It takes my mind off things.
As the civilians sit down, the military units start filing out. First are the Clans - I am honestly surprised at the Clannies who consider themselves 'a military unit'. They clown around, as usual. They are not military. They are not even militia. They are a war-band, a hap-hazard arrangement of 'enthusiastic' semi- and demi-combatants. If they ever run into something they can't handle by blowing an several drum-mags of ammo into it at point-blank range we'll lose them all. I hope the CiC staff is taking notes.
The Imperials are scrupulously correct, filing in neatly. But between them and the Clannies taking up a lot of patio the Legionairs that file out last have little room to stand. The Lt. solves it promptly, as she always does, and the ceremony drags on. Pretty flag, tho. Will make a nice campaign badge, once compliance on Eos has been achieved. The alien sphere seems content to pulse menacingly.
-------------------------
R&R! Warrant Officer Diem of the Morale, Welfare and Recreation Department has mandated two hours of downtime for us all. The weather is great. They shipped out Freedom Burgers for the lot of us. We slip into our chill clothes, and hang out. Some of us grab a book or a hammock to chill, but most take a corner of the patio and talk a lot. We have ice-cream, and live seems pretty good. Morale hasn't been this high in months.
Then the alien sphere pulses. Juno collapses. Briefly I feel morale twitch, but we all know what to do. Juno is quickly given the help she needs. In an act of contemptuous defiance, twenty-four members of the proud Civitas, Classis et Legiones Aquila flip the bird to whoever of whatever is watching on the other side of the sphere.
Squad morale restored.
------------------------
Word had some down from the CiC - we're going in with the entire 991st. The second node location has been found, and we are hoofing it at best speed. We find a patrol from one of the firebases who got ambushed by the node guard force. The soldiers are all down, and half of them are already dead. We save the rest and start working on the node while treating the wounded. The Governor and Taga are with us, and so it pretty much feels like the old Eos Castellum crew. I am comfortable with these people having our back.
They come at us a few times, but they are facing the full 991st. We cordon, contain, target and destroy. No holding lines or static defense for us. Venatores fight dynamically. One tries to flank, and I pin it behind a tree. I have no cover myself but that barely matters if I can force it to keep its head down. As it finally musters the courage to take a shot at me, it gets hit from the side.
Estella has flanked, prosecuting the target hard. Her first two hits collapse its shield, the third hits the torso and the fourth blows out something in its neck - arterial spray everywhere. It gurgles and dies. She flashes me her trademark half-grin before folding back into our formation to screen the wounded.
Gnaeus protects the other flank, and one tries to rush him. He kneels and calmly lets his experimental Scorpio-pattern weapon rip it apart even as it tries to impale him. He reloads, and quickly checks all our munitions tallies.
We get the job done, medevac the wounded patrol and return to base. Mission accomplished.
-------------------------
Our comms chirp. Octavia is heading back to the Bastion in the shuttle, and requests assistance. Their mission went tits up - something about snipers - and they had to medevac. They have wounded, and more people still in the field. I acknowledge and head to the shuttle bay. Cass comes over the comm a moment later, acknowledging she's on her way, too. Between the two of us, we can fly that shuttle in and out of hell if need be.
Three Clannies jump in with us. DZ-3 and Red Brotherhood. Their people are out there, I understand their worry. We nod and they strap in. I don't trust them to be able to hit any actual targets, but that is not what this mission requires. Their 'suppressive' fire will be enough to reel our people back in.
Octavia stays with us, despite the sniper-hit to her shoulder. As I inquire about her armor-status, she casually mentions that it is fine - the sniper was kind enough to score a direct hit to her shoulder, leaving the armor undamaged. I see in her eyes that her brain is swimming in adrenalin and endorphins. She is loving it. She lives for this. I am damn glad we got some veteran reinforcements like her.
We bring everyone back home safe, and conduct them to the med bay. Victus actually has to force Octavia to be treated. She wants to keep going. But we need her nominal for tomorrow - the alien sphere might have a command center that needs raidin' - and we do so love to drop in uninvited.
-----------------------------------
One of the new DZ-3 members stands next to me, the Intergalactic Cheerleader. "Uhm, could you come down? The party is getting out of hand..." she hesitatingly remarks. Now that gets my attention. When a Clanny sends for a Legionair, it is bad. I may not be security, but we are the keepers of the peace. I nod to her, and let her know we will be down momentarily. She looks relieved. I routinely check my shieldgen (full charge) and my sidearm (fully loaded). I move down.
Vitus is there, I can see the pain in his eyes. "Did you hear, Anna..." but I stop him there. I need to focus him on something actionable. He explains these five visiting Clannies may have something to do with Anna's overdose. Baron is trying to fix stuff, but if they try to make for the gate we will have to stop them. I pull my sidearm. "Sanction Five it is". Vitus looks better, he knows he's got my support. He removes his patches, and I follow suit. This is personal.
The Sergeant-Major comes out of the CiC and notices our lack of patches. He inquires. Vitus looks pained again. I play my card. "Personal Matters, sir". He nods, and moves off, knowing better then to stick around. Vitus' eyes meet mine, understanding. We turn back to the clusterfuck. Luckily it is fixed soon after, and the party continues. There are days I do not get Clannies. At all. But Vitus is doing better, and no blood was spilt. The Intergalactic Cheerleader is called Hannah. We shake hands, exchange introductions and she thanks me. Optimal outcome.
Primary Imperative - I am my Brother's Keeper.
---------------------------------
I run Mila through the basics. I sense her need to be useful. She is a fighter pilot, and while she can fly the shuttles she is at her best flying something nimble. We both grin widely as we feel the twin engines throttle up to full. We bond over both being pilots. The AM-50 Razor cuts through the sky like a blade, and we get the scouting run down in record time.
Perhaps I should ask Denna to be a flight instructor. I can continue doing some good here
Secondary Imperative - Maintain optimal readiness at all times.
---------------------------------
Quintus needed the shuttles to bleed off excess reactor power from the Bastion after a huge fuckup. The clusterfuck will be addressed later, but for now he needs Lira, myself and the newly arrived Imperial engineer Hayato to do what he says, exactly how he says we should do it.
I sigh, close up the box of EMP grenades and head up. Soon after, we have both shuttles running at max idle thrust while still attached to the umbilical to the Bastion. I flick on my comm, and radio Quintus: "So Legionairs in shuttles make for good capacitors?"
I hear the grin in his answer as the comms crackle. "Of course. Don't hover too far above the Bastion, you are about to drop."
I am glad I trust my brother. It would have gotten awkward otherwise.
---------------------------------
The debriefing is fairly routine, but I am impressed they sent three agents to debrief us in person. This is being taken seriously, and now we are being given a follow-up mission.
"In short", Agent Flavius says "We need you to go back, and salvage the Anubis. We can provide a ship, but the mission needs to be launched soon."
Lt. Sevso's eyes meet mine. We both have the same twinkle. This is what we were hoping for.
"I'd prefer the ARNX Mayhem, if she is available." I know I am aiming high. The ship is a modular prototype, part of a project the 991st consulted on. It was also named after one of their own, a brother fallen during the Skalatrax Landings. Sometimes you can combine the personal with the practical...
"We will see what we can do. We recommend a multifactional team." Agent Flavius concludes, closing her notepad and getting up to leave. The debriefing is over, and we escort the agents back to the gate.
Our own ship, a challenging problem and a tight deadline. Now this is more like it...