>>635282
[2/2]

He snorts. “You punch me in a dream, Lieutenant, you better wake up and apologize.” You giggle a little. Oh, just like old times. “I will admit, I am shocked, just a little bit. How and why would you do something like an Idol production for the Federation?”

“Because the PM said so?” you say simply. “It's not that complicated. Besides, it's a way of helping the war since I'm out of the Service. You ought to understand that.” He nods at that. “Have you heard from Mister Ruszczyk?”

Dune nods. “They're fasttracking his re-enlistment considering his extensive prior experience. You two might even see each other again on the front.” That'll be something. “Tell me, Lieutenant. How are you feeling?”

“What?” You blink.

“How are you feeling?” he asks again. “What, are you fucking deaf?”

Dune, master of empathy.

> “I'm fine.”
> “I'm nervous.”
> “I need a drink.”
> Other

>>635295
>I'm feeling cute.

> “I'm fine.”

>>635295
>> “I'm fine.”

>>635295
>> “I'm fine.”

>>635295
Voting this >>635299

>>635295
>> “I'm fine.”

>>635299
Backing this.

>>635299
Yup.

>>635295
> "I'm fine."
Let's not make an ass of ourselves in front of Dune.

> “I'm fine.”

You sigh. “I'm fine, Sergeant.” You rub your hand down your chest, smiling at him. “If anything, I'm even feeling a little cuter, wouldn't you say so?”

“No.”

You glare at him. “You have no idea how to talk to women.”

“You're right.” He walks up to your punching bag, then gently punches it himself casually. It sways on the hook. “But I can expect at least you to act like a man when needed.” Fair enough. “You know, Lieutenant. It was 20 years ago, that the Bugs nuked Buenos Aires. 20 years from then, we have New Buenos Aires built in the crater it left behind with only a small monument dedicated to it and a date to rember it by. And kids today, they only know Buenos Aires as something to learn in a textbook. Even you were probably too young to process something like that. It disappoints me when I come across new Recruits, they always tell me that Buenos Aires was the turning point of the Federation and that it hurt us. But they don't know why, they just give me statistics, casualties, deaths.”

You fold your arms. “So why was it the turning point.”

“The Federation has always seemed invincible up to that point,” says Dune. “I guess something about it broke us. Made us like children. And now all we can do is lash out at the Bugs until they're all dead and buried even though probably ten years from now we'll still be fighting and nobody will understand why. It just is.”

An awkward pause develops between the two of you. So to break the tension, “So you think the Federation is wrong then?”

“I believe in the Federation. I don't believe however in its ability to wage this war as much as I did. I'll fight but, it'd make me feel a bit more confident if I had good officer to lead me.” He pushes against the punching bag to you.

…

Oh. You see where this is going. “Nice try, Dune.” You swing the bag back to him. “But I'm out of the Service. I got my citizenship, my vote, everything I need paid for. I'm done.”

“So you say.” He pushes it back to you. “And yet you're on a Starship now, you're even giving up drinking for a little bit just to be here.”

“I said.” You push the bag harder towards him, and he catches it with a loud thud in his hands. “I'm done. I can't spend my life fighting a war like you, Dune. That's not how people are wired.”

Dune grunts. “Fair. But-”

You hear the loud pitter patter of footsteps. “Lieutenant!” It's Petty Officer Naka-... forget it. Petty Officer Naka. “Urgent news!” She salutes you. “The Prime Minister and her War Council are going to be arriving soon. They want a briefing on the status of the Idols from you personally!”

Oh.

“Now?” you ask.

“In...” Naka checks her watch. “Two hours! Prime Minister Thach will be arriving via the Daniel Daly. She'll want to come aboard.”

> Get dressed formally.
> Eh, forget her. You can go as you are, exercise is a little more important.
> “Tell her I'm busy. Send Mills to do it.”
> Other

>>635398
>> Get dressed formally.

>>635398
> Get dressed formally.
This is going to be a nightmare in this heat.

>>635398
>> Eh, forget her. You can go as you are, exercise is a little more important.

>>635398

> Eh, forget her. You can go as you are, exercise is a little more important.

>>635398
>> Eh, forget her. You can go as you are, exercise is a little more important.

>>635398
>> Eh, forget her. You can go as you are, exercise is a little more important.

>>635418
>>635422
>>635433
Do we really want to piss off our only potential funding source more than we already have? She might be a twat but if she cuts us off we're up shit creek without a canoe, let alone a paddle.

>>635398
>> Eh, forget her. You can go as you are, exercise is a little more important.

>>635438
You think they are gonna fucking handle the ship? They would be well aware of the rumors of it and might very well come in there own short shite so they don't die.

>>635438
>we're up shit creek without a canoe, let alone a paddle.
We're a soldier, we're good at swimming through shit.

>>635398
>> Get dressed formally.

> Eh, forget her. You can go as you are, exercise is a little more important.

You sigh, rubbing your hands together. “Alright. I'll be there, Naka. Just let me know when to come up.” Naka salutes you, and you salute her back and dismiss her. She quickly runs off and away. “Dune.” He tilts his head. “I don't want to have this conversation about re-enlistment again. I've made my decision. I'm as immovable as the Federal Council on this.”

“Right.” He nods slowly, glancing away for a second before looking back at you. “Well. If you need me, I will be preparing the suits for the final drop.”

And with that, you're alone. You stop the punching bag from swinging on its hook. Hmph, re-enlisting. You did your time, you have no more responsibility with the Mobile Infantry. Only reason you're doing this Idol stuff is because the Prime Minister told you to. And who'll go against the Prime Minister except some Colonial hicks?

Hmph. You start punching the bag again.

-

-

You arrive at the briefing room, to meet with twenty odd Generals and Fleet Admirals, along with the Prime Minister herself and Sky Marshall Matthis. A large fan is set at the end of the door, blowing out the hot air as a makeshift air conditioner is set up at the other end by some plucky Fleet techs. It doesn't help much to be honest, and you can see that all the bigwigs are sweating bullets. Except for the Prime Minister.

As you step in, everyone notices immediately you are not in dress uniform. In fact, you're viciously underdressed in your workout tanktop and your shorts.

The only thing dressy is the Terran Cross hanging around your neck.

And because of that, they stand to salute you. You salute back at all of them, then drop it. “Ladies and Gentlemen, our fine Lieutenant,” says the Prime Minister. She motions you to have a seat at the end of the table far across from her. You take a seat in the comfy leather seat, leaning back a bit. “Lieutenant, War Council. War Council, Lieutenant.”

One of the Generals leans over, looking at you skeptically. “Tell us, Lieutenant, what made you show up in that outfit, were you not aware of this meeting beforehand?”

You shrug. “It's a hot ship, sir. It would be impractical to arrive in my dress uniform.” The others all glance at each other, muttering a bit.

“Enough,” says the Prime Minister. She tents her hands, looking at you from behind those glasses of hers. “Tell us, Lieutenant. How are our Idols doing?”

“Well. They've already gotten the hang of Suit combat. Today in fact is their last training drop before they graduate,” you explain matter-of-factly. “Danner from the MWI has also set up an opening act for them in the former American states a few days after. So you will soon see significant return on your meager investment.”

[1/2]

>>635489
[2/2]

She grunts. “Very good.” She looks at all of the Generals. “As you all know, the Idols are a way to drum up support for the war. They will have fans who will enlist in the thousands by the end of the year, and the money they will make from merchandising, donations, etcetera will surely fill our coffers.”

One General leans back, rolling his eyes. “Prime Minister. You can't expect that a group of hastily trained young girls can fight in a war like this.”

“I don't care that they can fight,” says the Prime Minister. “I only care if they can get other people to fight.”

Another General says, “But our system of the Federal Service has worked for centuries. Every enemy before us has fallen and accepted our position of power over them. First the Arcturians, then the Frosties, then the Skinnies-”

“Then explain to me why we haven't won against the Bugs.” The Prime Minister glares that particular General down. You open your mouth to say something, but seeing as how this isn't your area of expertise, you decide against it. “General. Do you do mathematics frequently?” The General squints at the Prime Minister, confused. “See. I read the xenobiology reports that the eggheads from Pluto Starside RnD gave to me when our dear Lieutenant first captured the Queen. Can I remind you of something?”

The General nods. “Madam.”

“See, a fertile Bug Queen can produce one thousand eggs every day if properly fed and hydrated,” she says. “And in those eggs, she can produce any number of workers or warriors or whatever she wants to breed. Point is, do you know how long it takes for a freshly hatched Bug to become fully grown and lethal?” Silence. “Four weeks.” She takes a deep breath, then stands up, still glaring down at the General. “How long does it take for your average human to be fully grown and lethal?”

The General blinks, tugging on his collar either from the heat or from the Prime Minister's glare. “Uh-”

“Sixteen. Fucking. Years.” Dead silence. The Prime Minister huffs. “If I had my way, I'd have it at fourteen, but no, apparently children are too innocent to throw into a war which will decide if humanity is dominant in this galaxy or will forever get fucked in the ass by a bunch of slobbering mudcrawling insects!” She sits down again, sighing. “This Idol program is because I have to micromanage the lot of you because you think that this all still works, yet here we are, twenty years from Buenos Aires, and we have nothing to show for it except defeat, after defeat, after defeat! You get handed the Queen on a silver platter, yet four years from then, here we are now with nothing to show for it! So don't talk to me about what does or doesn't work.” She leans back in her seat, glaring at you. “Lieutenant.”

You clear your throat. “Madam.”

“The Idols. After they graduate, will they be ready for combat? Can we send them into the grinder?” she asks. All the bigwigs look to you.

> “No.”
> “Yes.”
> Other

>>635490
>> “No.
> Mentally add "You complete fucking bint."
They've had a scant few weeks of training, not nearly enough.

>>635490
>"Not without heavy support. They don't have nearly enough training."

>>635490
> “No.”
Either you give them more time to train, or you give them better gear to compensate. If we get neither of those, they'll be fucking slaughtered.

>>635490
Voting for this guy >>635498 Seriously. I'm all for trail by fire but stating we LOST half of them on the first fucking drop is bad.

>>635490
>> “No.”
Supporting these
>>635498
>>635501

File: Pinup Girls.jpg (190 KB, 920x1280)

190 KB JPG

>>635490
Supporting; >>635498

Are we popular enough to have pinups on people's stuff?

>>635544
No, but it is popular for MI troopers to paint pinups on their suits.

>>635547
Who did the LT paint on hers?

>>635555
>Implying the LT can paint

>>635557
Every drunk's an artist anon, at least in their own mind.

> “No.”

You sigh. “No, Prime Minister.” She tilts her head, squinting. “They haven't had enough training. Either you let them spend another few weeks in training or you give us better gear and support to compensate. I can't in good conscience send them into the grinder as they are now.”

The Prime Minister nods slowly. “Very well.” She looks over to one of the Generals. “General Pelosi. Divert a set of Marauder suits to the Idols, as well as enough magpulse weaponry to tide them over for the next few months. We can settle the issue of say... air support later.”

General Pelosi says, “Well, madam. Our Marauders are very spare. We'd need them for veteran units that-”

“Was I asking you or was I ordering you?” says the Prime Minister. He wisely bites his tongue, nodding. “Good.” The Prime Minister sighs. “I'm not going to give them the weeks they might need. Those are weeks better spent on being Idols or gaining experience on the frontline, Lieutenant.” Please. You're trying to keep your eyes from rolling at this point. “But, I can compromise. Better equipment I can support. Perhaps in the future, a better ship. I can tell you and everyone else here are baking like cookies.” You do notice the Prime Minister isn't sweating at all. Either she was stationed on Mercury or something during her Service or she's a robot. “When is their drop?”

“This afternoon,” you say.

“Right. We'll be there to see it, personally. For now, Lieutenant, you are dismissed. I must discuss things with my Council,” she explains. You stand up, then salute her. She stands up as well, then returns your salute, allowing your dismissal.

Once you leave the room, you can hear the Prime Minister indistinctly but very loudly laying into her staff.

> Visit the Recruits as they prepare.
> See Dune in the Control Room.
> Go have a quick drink. This is gonna suck.
> Other

>>635568
>> Visit the Recruits as they prepare.
Should we warn them that 'very important people' are personally watching them?

>>635568
>> Visit the Recruits as they prepare.

>>635568
>> Visit the Recruits as they prepare.

>>635568

> Visit the Recruits as they prepare.
>Tfw we just got a Vet squad killed

I FEEL BAD.

>>635568
>> Visit the Recruits as they prepare.

>>635568
> Visit the Recruits as they prepare.
> Quietly panic afterwards.

>>635568
> Visit the Recruits as they prepare.

> Visit the Recruits as they prepare.

-

-

The remaining recruits are busy suiting up in the lockerrooms into their I-Suits. Most wear it nude or in only in their skivvies. Understandable, it's pretty hot in there. “Lieutenant!” Rosalie smiles at you as you approach. She wears only the standard issue skivvies underneath her I-Suit as she zips it open, the pulls the vest over. Breckenridge meanwhile helps Lindstrom into his, while Joey helps Stacy into hers. Olga meanwhile is keeping her leg up on the bench, limbering up a bit. “It's good to see you, are you going to watch our drop?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I just came to remind you kids, this is your last training drop. You fail, you wash out. No retries.”

“Gee, that's a confidence booster,” says Stacy.

“Aw, hey, think of it like this.” Joey pets Stacy on the head, before slapping her helmet onto her. “We wash out, maybe we can go into the PMC business together. PMCs are always hiring washout MI troops from what I hear.” Hmph, PMCs. Disgusting.

Breckenridge sighs. “At least we'll finally have a chance to give Dutch what for. I've been looking forward to the wargame.”

“Hey, don't think of it as revenge, Breckenridge,” says Rosalie. “Think of it as a way to prove yourself. Come on, guys!” Rosalie smiles at all of them, trying to drum them up. “Once we graduate, we'll be troopers! Citizen soldiers! Can you believe that?”

Lindstrom shrugs. “I mean, I guess. But... I don't really care about the whole citizenship stuff, Rosie. I just want my full run through college.” Rosalie frowns at Lindstrom. “Sorry.”

Olga sighs, patting Lindstrom on the head. “We'll get what we want when we're citizens! Come on, be excited like Rosie!” Everyone else sort of grunts and mutters to themselves in “enthusiasm”. Really loud guys, you'd have to send the provosts to calm them down. Jesus. “Now, I elect that myself lead us in the wargame.”

“Whoa, whoa.” Stacy holds up. “Who said you'd lead us?”

“Well, since I'm better at the suit stuff...” Olga looks at you. “Lieutenant?”

> “Olga will lead.”
> “Rosalie will lead.”
> “Stacy will lead.”
> “One of the boys will lead.”
> Other

>>635722
Which one of the squad is the most level-headed?

>>635722
who has the least emotional baggage of the group and isn't trying to bone somebody else? Cause I know Rosalie can't do it, she likes Olga. Olga is scared of bugs.

Fucking hell, What is/can stacy do again?

>>635744
Breckenridge is scared of Bugs, Olga is peppy but inexperienced, Rosalie's more of a cheerleader than a leader, and I can Stacy gets nervous too easy

>>635722
>"I'm not going to tell you. You know each other best - decide among yourselves. But, remember, once you're on the ground, you HAVE to be ready to follow their instructions - even if they don't seem like good ideas to you - because a second's hesitation could mean failure. So you all just need to swallow your prides and think - whose judgement would you trust most among all of you, past even your own? Because if you can't trust your leader, you can't trust anyone."

>>635722
>>635756
This.

>>635755
So Olga is the only fucking real choice we have? God damn it this squad is gonna fall apart real fast.

>>635722
Supporting >>635756

>>635722
Support: >>635756

>>635763
O ye of little faith.

>>635722
Guess i'm voting for this >>635756

>>635801
Wasted Talent sucks badly.

> Other

“I won't tell you. You know each other best so decide amongst yourselves. But remember that once you're on the ground, you must be ready to follow instructions even if they don't seem like good ideas. A second's hesitation could cost someone their life. So swallow your prides and think. With your own judgment, whose do you trust the most?”

All of Domino Squadron look at each other. A few glances are passed here and there by the girls, some by the boys as well. Then Lindstrom stands up, sighing. “Olga.” Olga looks at him, then smiles happily.

Rosalie nods. “Olga.”

“Olga,” say Stacy and Joey.

Breckenridge is the last one. “Olga.”

Olga grins. “Wow! Thanks, guys! I uh...” Olga twiddles at her fingers a bit, blushing intensely. “I was actually going to vote for Rosalie, but thank you, Marco!” Lindstrom nods, smiling at her. “Alright, I guess I'm Squad Lead for the Operation!” She holds out her hand to everybody. “Come on, everyone.” They all place their hands atop one another. “Let's do this! Rise as many! Drop as one!”

They all say it in unison. “One-two-three, Domino!” They raise their hands, with Olga clapping happily as everyone goes back to putting their I-Suits on.

Olga turns around to you. “I won't let you down, Lieutenant!” She salutes you.

> “I know.”
> “You better not.”
> “Just get them through it.”
> Other

>>635831
> “I know.”
Sometimes a show of confidence in someone can go a long way.

>>635831
>> “I know.”

>>635831
> “I know.”
> “You better not.”

>>635831
>> “I know.”

>>635831
>“I know.”

>>635831
>“I know.”

> “I know.”

You nod, then salute her back. “I know.” Olga's chest swells with pride, then you drop your salute. She drops hers, then goes to grab her helmet and snap it on her head.

“Alright, Domino, we ready!?” she shouts.

“Yeah!” they all shout back.

“Let's go! Let's go! On the bounce!” They all cheer, running out of the lockerroom to the utter confusion of the other recruits still busy dressing themselves. “Let's bounce, let's bounce! Go, go, go!”

You smile a little. A bit of nostalgia is pinging in your heart.

-

-

With the Prime Minister, her War Council, Saki, Azuma, Naka, Mills, Dune, and Major Harcourt crowded in the control, you all look to the big screen showing the status of everything going on. Fleet Tactical Liaisons are all on their computers, ready to give tactical information to their assigned squadrons, and ready to brief the squadron leaders on their objective. Major Harcourt motions to the screen. “Ma'am, this wargame is simple. Kill the other teams, be the last team standing. They'll be dropping at four separate corners of the map you see before you and they'll have Outpost 36 in the center to resupply and reenergize their suits if need be. Simple as pie.”

“Very good,” says the Prime Minister. “Begin the drop then.”

Major Harcourt nods to one of the Ensigns. “MI Squadrons, this is your overall Fleet Tactical Liaison, Ensign Ichikawa. Are you ready?”

“Ready!” they all shout.

“Initiating drop sequence.” You hear the loud bangs as all the drop pods are sent flying to the surface of Mars. “ETA: 5 minutes. Wargame will be live when all teams are down.”

Prime Minister Thach folds her arms. “I'm surprised that they managed to make it out of the drop tubes,” says Thach.

“Well, they are naturals, ma'am,” you say.

After five minutes of tension, they land on their corners of the map. It was relatively uneven terrain they were landing on, with Outpost 36 being the only real landmark available. Everywhere else were gullies, ridges, big rocks, and red sand for kilometers all around. Perfect terrain for a wargame. “Bravo Squadron, on me! Tactical column!” Bravo Squadron, starting in the northwest, starts moving southeast.

“Domino Squadron!” Olga's voice makes you flinch a bit. “On me! V formation!” They start at the southeast, hurrying northwest towards Outpost 36. “We're going to camp Outpost 36 for stragglers and snipe them as they approach!”

Joey says, “Uh... is that sporting?”

“I'm not complaining, I'd rather fight a guy with no ammo than one who has!” says Breckenridge.

Major Harcourt folds his arms. “That's actually smart tactical thinking. It's not sporting, but it's smart.”

> “All me.”
> “They learn pretty quick.”
> “They're naturals.”
> Other

>>635973
>"Damn right, it is."

>>635973
>Other
>In war, Sporting dones't matter. Survival and winning does.

>>635973
>> “They learn pretty quick.”

>>635973
In war, if it's a choice between being an honest, fair, dead man, or a cheap prick and alive, go for the latter.

>>635973
>“They learn pretty quick.”

>>635973
> Other
"I've found the bugs are rarely sporting either."

> “They learn pretty quick.”
> Other

“They learn pretty quick. And besides, Major.” He looks over to you with an inquisitive eyebrow. “War isn't a sport. There aren't no bloody rules.”

“Fair.” He places his hands on his hips. “Ensign.” Ensign Ichikawa looks back. “Contact Outpost 36, let them know the situation as it is now.”

Ichikawa nods. “Yes, sir.” She turns around and speaks clearly into the microphone on her headset. “Outpost 36, this is Jimmy Stewart. Check in.”

You lean on the railing a little, putting the metal into a deathgrip. Please for the love of God do not embarrass us, girls. You watch as the Domino Squadron starts to spread out as it surrounds Outpost 36, with Bravo Squadron beginning to close in. It appears Bravo has the same idea. Meanwhile, Alpha and Charlie are already in skirmish with each other, having bounded around Bravo's rear to engage each other.

“You know, I think I'll make a home on Mars!” says Joey. “I mean, sand fucking everywhere. Apparently it's cold as fuck too. Terraforming project is slow but steady, there's some real estate investment in that!”

“Shut up, Joey,” says Stacy. “What's the skinny, Olga?”

“Hexagon around the outpost, even spread,” she says. Good, good. They start to surround the outpost, but just as that happens, Bravo arrives.

“Contact, contact!” yells Lindstrom. “It's Dutch! I'm under fire!” Lindstrom has been engaged by Dutch and one of his comrades. The other four of Dutch's team have split off, and are now moving along Dutch's right to try and flank him.

“Pull back, pull back! Cover him!” says Olga. Olga and Stacy jump in. Olga, being the Tanker of the group and Stacy being the Shocktrooper have enough firepower to drive off Dutch's team, allowing Lindstrom a reprieve to bounce away into cover. Olga even manages a shot off on Dutch's comrade, blowing out his arm. Dutch has to take him and fall back into Outpost 36. “ Yes! Alright, forget the plan, fall back and let them have the Outpost!”

“Already?” says Rosalie.

“I'm not complaining!” says Joey. Domino Squadron regroups again, moving south of the outpost. Bravo Squadron meanwhile moves around the outpost, apparently intending to follow and possibly destroy them.

Alpha and Charlie's engagement meanwhile has broken both squads. The remainder head to Outpost, and once they arrive they head inside for refitting and refueling.

“Well, it was a smart plan,” you say.

Prime Minister Thach grunts. “They're doing well. I'll give them that.”

[1/2]

>>636091
[2/2]

Major Harcourt looks to the Ensign again. “Ensign. Has Outpost 36 responded back yet?”

Ensign Ichikawa looks back. “Negative, sir. They're not responding to any of our hails but their all-clear signal is on. Their relay equipment might be suffering electronic interference from the local atmospheric restoration projects.”

“Something has to go wrong, that figures.” Major Harcourt sighs. “Well, keep trying.”

Azuma smiles at you. “I'll admit, Lieutenant. They're doing good.”

“Thanks, Azuma. I really enjoy your opinion,” you say back. He rolls his eyes.

He nudges you. “Hey, when they get back. I'll treat you to a drink once we hit the town, okay?” You blink. “Alright?”

> “I'm not thirsty, Azuma.”
> “Sure. But it'll be on me.”
> “It's your wallet.”
> Other

>>636100
>> “Sure. But it'll be on me.”
And wink at him.

>>636100
>> “Sure. But it'll be on me.”

>>636100
> “It's your wallet.”
>Outpost 36 has gone dark

Oh boy, Brain bugs.

>>636100
>“I'm not thirsty, Azuma.”

File: latest[1].png (734 KB, 1400x768)

734 KB PNG

>>636100
>“Sure. But it'll be on me.”

>Ensign Ichikawa looks back. “Negative, sir. They're not responding to any of our hails but their all-clear signal is on. Their relay equipment might be suffering electronic interference from the local atmospheric restoration projects.”
Uh-oh.

>>636100
>> “Sure. But it'll be on me.”

>>636100
>> “Sure. But it'll be on me.”

>>636100
>“Sure. But it'll be on me.”
Oh boy here we go.

> “Sure. But it'll be on me.”

“Sure, Azuma.” You nudge him back, smirking at him. “But it'll be on me.” He chuckles a little. “What's so funny?”

“Ah, nothing,” he says. You roll your eyes. It's probably something with this guy. Maybe he thinks you won't spend money on drinks if its your money that you're spending. Please, you'll drink your bank account dry if you have to.

Bravo Squadron chases Domino Squadron down into a gully. But, being outnumbered and outgunned and without their leader, they mostly resort to supressive fire. “Keep down!” says Rosalie.

After several minutes of suppressive barrages, Bravo is mostly out of ammo. And off they go to Outpost 36 to refit and resupply. “They're retreating!” says Joey. “How's everyone on power!?”

“Half power!” says Rosalie. “Dill?”

“Half, same,” he says.

“I think we might have to resupply soon,” says Olga. “At least get new batteries. It's a five minute truce once you're in and out, right?”

“Right,” says Lindstrom.

“Okay, tactical column. Watch out for Alpha and Charlie, we haven't see them yet,” says Olga. Domino Squadron starts moving towards Outpost 36, hurrying to get their suit batteries replenished.

“Ensign.” Major Harcourt leans forward over the railing to Ensign Ichikawa. “Anything from Outpost 36?”

“No, sir,” says the Ensign. Hm? You fold your arms. “The all-clear signal is still active but I can't reach the Outpost at all, sir.” That's strange. Outpost 36 should've responded to at least say they're alive down there.

Prime Minister Thach frowns, then leans forward. “Ensign. Run the Xenograph.” The Ensign looks back, surprised. “Do it.” The Ensign starts up the Xenograph. It pings once, showing nothing across the board. “Hm...”

“Ensign. Call it,” says Major Harcourt. Huh? “I'm not risking it. Send the RB, have the troops come back. We'll do this another day. There's something wrong.” Ensign Ichikawa nods, calling for a retrieval boat. “Something is wrong down there.”

One of the other Ensigns looks back. “Sir. We're losing signals on the Squadrons.” What?! You look to the screen. Alpha Squadron's signals suddenly disappear, then Charlie's. Bravo Squadron's signals disappear one by one, first Dutch, then the rest of his team. Oh shit. What's happening!? You all look up in worry.

[1/2]

>>636290
[2/2]

“Nii-chan?” Saki looks up at Azuma. “What's going on?”

“Go to your room,” says Azuma.”

“But-”

“Go!” Saki nods, hurrying out of the room. Azuma looks at you. “What's going on?”

“Harcourt.” The Major looks at you. “Outpost 36 was investigating an abandoned shuttle, weren't they?”

Harcourt nods, then his eyes widen. He knows, you know as well.

Bugs.

“Tell Domino to go back!” you yell. “Now!”

“We've lost communications,” says Ichikawa calmly. “Their radios are slaved to the nearest planetary relay which is Outpost 36, which is not transmitting nor receiving.” FUCK! You slam the railing. “Should I signal the sauve-qui-peut, sirs?”

“No,” says Major Harcourt. “Dune. Take a team down there and get the Recruits out now. Whatever is down there has equipment that can fool our Xenograph.”

Dune nods, then reaches for his radioset. “Showalter, Sierpinski! You two with me, we're going down!”

> “Not without me, you're not.”
> “Good luck, Dune.”
> “You can't expect a fireteam to solve this, send more in there!”
> Other

>>636295
>> “Not without me, you're not.”
We'll fokken burst 'em.

>>636295
> “Not without me, you're not.”
> “You can't expect a fireteam to solve this, send more in there!”

>>636295
>> “Not without me, you're not.”

>>636303
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Rx8_vjbXX4

>remember kids, just workers. No hive here.

>>636295
>> “Not without me, you're not.”

>>636295
>> “Not without me, you're not.”

>>636295
> “Not without me, you're not.”
Least they can't tell us we're not qualified.

> “Not without me, you're not.”

“Not without me, you're not,” you declare.

Dune looks back to you. “Listen, Lieutenant. I know those are your girls. But leave this to me. You've been out of combat for a year already, it wouldn't be right. Hell, you're a noncombatant citizen, it wouldn't be legal.”

“Fuck that!” you yell. “Those are my girls, you son of a bitch!”

Azuma takes your shoulder. “Lieutenant, calm down. Let Dune-”

You slap Azuma's arm away. “Fuck you, Azuma! I'm going in and saving my girls! And not you, not Dune, not the Prime Minister is going to stop me!”

The Prime Minister says, “Actually. Go ahead.” Wait. What? You turn to her, surprised. “They're your responsibility. I would be more mad at you if you didn't. Career Sergeant Dune, Major Harcourt.” The two of them stand at attention. “The Lieutenant shall drop with the team. Give her anything she needs.”

You look to Dune, who angrily glares back at you. “All I need is a suit and a rifle.”

“... alright.” He holds out his hand to you. You grab it, and grip it in a powerlock with him, a salute between MI troopers. “Lieutenant, we're all yours. Come on.”

-

-

Mills and Azuma follow you and the fireteam into the hangar. The Marauder Suits for the fireteam are being prepped for you to enter in. All of you have gotten into I-Suits already, ready to be locked in. “Lieutenant,” says Azuma. “You have to reconsider.”

“I'm not reconsidering anything,” you say.

“Lieutenant, whatever's down there, let Dune handle it!” he says loudly. “It could be Bugs, it could be worse! I don't want to see you die down there, damn it!”

“I've survived worse than worse,” you declare as you climb into your suit.

Azuma sighs. “Is this about Dizzy?” You hesitate. “Look, Dizzy wouldn't have wanted you to-”

“Fuck do you know what Dizzy would want!?” you yell. The hangar goes silent as you load in. “Do not EVER speak for him, Azuma. Now, I'm going in, like it or not. Take it or leave it.” Azuma grits his teeth, stepping back from your suit angrily.

Career Corporal Sierpinski loads up into his suit. “Lieutenant! Loadout's yours! Pick it out!”

> Elite Shocktrooper – Morita Arms MPAR (Magnetic Pulse Assault Rifle), underbarrel shotgun, Shoulder-mount Mass Driver Cannon, handmounted flamethrower, Y-Rack Grenade launcher, pneumatic fist.
> Elite Scouttrooper – PRISM Light Rifle, extendable barrel and attachable scope, combat drone, Snooper drone, Y-Rack Grenade Launcher, pneumatic fist.
> Elite Tanker – SOLARIS-B Laser Cannon, Micromissile Rack (8 Cluster APHE Missiles), Variable Chemical Thrower (Acid Cell/Napalm Cell), High-Intensity Defensive Blast Shield.

>>636424
>> Elite Shocktrooper – Morita Arms MPAR (Magnetic Pulse Assault Rifle), underbarrel shotgun, Shoulder-mount Mass Driver Cannon, handmounted flamethrower, Y-Rack Grenade launcher, pneumatic fist.
I can't see the LT choosing anything different.

>>636424
>> Elite Shocktrooper – Morita Arms MPAR (Magnetic Pulse Assault Rifle), underbarrel shotgun, Shoulder-mount Mass Driver Cannon, handmounted flamethrower, Y-Rack Grenade launcher, pneumatic fist.

>>636424
>> Elite Shocktrooper

>>636424
>Elite Shocktrooper – Morita Arms MPAR (Magnetic Pulse Assault Rifle), underbarrel shotgun, Shoulder-mount Mass Driver Cannon, handmounted flamethrower, Y-Rack Grenade launcher, pneumatic fist.

>>636424
> Elite Shocktrooper – Morita Arms MPAR (Magnetic Pulse Assault Rifle), underbarrel shotgun, Shoulder-mount Mass Driver Cannon, handmounted flamethrower, Y-Rack Grenade launcher, pneumatic fist.
Feet first into hell!

>>636424
> Elite Tanker – SOLARIS-B Laser Cannon, Micromissile Rack (8 Cluster APHE Missiles), Variable Chemical Thrower (Acid Cell/Napalm Cell), High-Intensity Defensive Blast Shield.

>>636424
> Elite Shocktrooper – Morita Arms MPAR (Magnetic Pulse Assault Rifle), underbarrel shotgun, Shoulder-mount Mass Driver Cannon, handmounted flamethrower, Y-Rack Grenade launcher, pneumatic fist.

> Elite Shocktrooper – Morita Arms MPAR (Magnetic Pulse Assault Rifle), underbarrel shotgun, Shoulder-mount Mass Driver Cannon, handmounted flamethrower, Y-Rack Grenade launcher, pneumatic fist.

You grab the MPAR off the rack, then hit the charger. Lights on the side of the barrel glow red, indicating it ready for use. You fold it up, then attach it to the clamp on the side of your thigh. You also have Mills and a Fleet technician load the shoulder Mass Driver Cannon onto your shoulder, and another technician as well loads up your Y-Rack with fresh grenades. “Alright, everyone who's going ashore, sound off.”

“Dune, here!”

“Sierpinski, ready!”

“Showalter, ready!”

“Harkov, ready!”

> C-SGT. F. DUNE – ELITE SHOCKTROOPER
> C-CPL. H. SIERPINSKI – ELITE TANKER
> C-CPL. E.B. SHOWALTER – ELITE SHOCKTROOPER
> PO2. J. HARKOV – FLEET GROUNDSIDE LIAISON

“Alright, are we ready, troopers!?” you yell.

“Yes, ma'am!” they yell.

“Alright, everyone into your pods! Come on, we're burning daylight, go, go, go!” The four of you hurry into shells ready for the rescue team. You active your shoulder cam, which allows you full 360 degree coverage around your suit. You look to see Azuma standing there, white with fury and worry. He can fuck off the edge of his dick for all you care. NOBODY claims to know what Dizzy would think. You climb into your shell, then it immediately seals around you. All that lights you up now is a thin slit in the shell, and the blue lights of your heads up display.

…

Actually. Sitting in the darkness of your shell now, you break into a cold sweat. You feel your hands shaking a little. There's a cold sweat hanging on your cheeks and on your body now. Something about being in a shell again, being in a suit again, being -dropped- again. It's making you shake, even more than when you were in service. When you were that eager race horse. Suddenly, your shell shakes as you're moved into the drop tube. You're cycled in, first to drop, as is standard for Officers. “Lieutenant, this is Ensign Ichikawa, I will serve as your team's tactical liaison. Petty Officer Harkov will be your portable link between your team and us. Keep us informed.”

“Alright, Ensign.” You curl your fingers inward, clenching them tight over the shell's locks. “Dune. Sierpinski, Showalter, Harkov. Ready?”

“Ready!” they declare.

“Lieutenant,” says Major Harcourt. “Good luck. Bring our recruits back.”

“I will.”

“Commence combat drop.”

You shut your eyes tight.

File: SuitSoldierB.gif (101 KB, 443x630)

101 KB GIF

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qyM1gd_FVZg

That's it for tonight. We'll return tomorrow for more in this same thread, same Idol time, same Idol channel. If you got questions, drop them in here.

Follow at: https://twitter.com/GermanSchteel
Ask at: http://germanschteel.tumblr.com/
Book Tumbles: http://germanschteelbookblog.tumblr.com/

See you next time.

File: excited dog.jpg (16 KB, 480x236)

16 KB JPG

>>636590
Thanks for running Schteel!

>>636590
Hype, thanks for running Schteel.

>>636590
See you next time!

>>636590
Thanks for running, chief.

>>636590
Thanks for running.

I'm pretty excited for us to do some MI things.

A lot of feelings and emotions were rushing through you as you hurtled planetside at faster-than-terminal velocity. Why were you here? What are you doing? Is this even worth it? Should you even try to go back? Maybe you can reconsider and they can send a shuttle to retrieve you?

No, you were a citizen. Citizens don't back down from fights.

Your shell beeped as it approached the optimal height to unseal. Ten more seconds.

You are going to get your girls out of there if it cost you an arm and a leg.

But first came the time to quietly panic about your life decisions. Most newbies do this in the middle of their first drop, usually in the middle of the actual drop itself and not the fight. There was something about being shot out of a cannon at a planet that really made you think about things. Maybe you should reconsider and bring Cyrano aboard. You'd know the girls would love a dog around maybe. They should fix the heat issue though.

Hell, maybe you should really consider going into teaching.

But your ten seconds are up. “Unseal your shell, Lieutenant!” yells Sergeant Dune. You twist the lock. The shell pops around you, and your drag chute deploy in a matter of a second. The shell fragments drop past you as you rapidly decelerate. Chaff they call it, it's saved your life more than once. Might save your girls when it comes to it. You gnash your teeth together, feeling the rumble tumble of your suit as it begins to decelerate rapidly. You cut the drag chute, then fire off your jump jets. “Hard landing!” you call.

“Copy!” The other troopers cut their chutes, then go down under the power of their jump jets. You speed towards Outpost 36, a big dot on the red and green surface of Mars. Take it softly now, aim for the sand, not the building...

You smash a crater into the ground, landing on your knees and a fist. You quickly stand up and unfold your MPAR from your magnetic clamp. The other troopers land with loud bangs around the outpost, crashing into the ground at high speed does that. “Sound off! Who's up!?”

“Dune, here!” Dune bounces up next to you.

“Sierpinski! Got the north entrance!” he declares.

“Showalter, I have the west!”

“Harkov, east entrance!”

You nod to Dune, and he pulls out his trusty Morita Arms M42 Trench Gun (basically just a suit-sized shotgun). He advances on the south entrance. “Harkov, are we clear to go on Fleet?” you ask.

“Copy,” he says. “Harcourt will send down a boat with Corpsmen and reinforcements in five minutes. Mars CDF is also responding, ETA twenty minutes.” Twenty fucking minutes!? What kind of CDF is this!? Ugh. Forget it, they'll just get in the way anyway.

Dune enters in the codes, but the door refuses to respond. “They cut the power,” he says. “They must have trapped the recruits inside. How do you want to approach this, Lieutenant?”

> Rally together, we'll take one entrance.
> Breach from all directions, rally in the center.
> Go in from the top.
> Other

>>638482
>> Go in from the top.

>>638482
>> Breach from all directions, rally in the center.

>>638482
>> Breach from all directions, rally in the center.

>>638482
>> Go in from the top.

>>638482
> Breach from all directions, rally in the center.

>>638482
>Go in from the top
The bugs outnumber us and could have set up traps by now. We could get overwhelmed if we separate, and given Bug reaction speeds they could reinforced whichever door we choose.

> Breach from all directions, rally in the center.

“We'll breach from all directions then converge into the center,” you order. “Dune. Take the door!”

“Breaching.” You step back behind him, and allow him to load up his shotgun. He blasts the door open with a solid slug, shining light into the darkness. He pumps out the spent shell, and allows you to move in ahead. You raise your MPAR and turn on your suit lights. The Outpost's hallways are dark, probably from the lack of power. It appears there are no signs of activity, no corpses from base personnel nor blood, nor plasma scarring. If this was bugs, they were thorough, alright.

And if there was nobody on the first floor, stands to reason the recruits went down a level. You and Dune march together, back to back as you quickly sweep each room for any Bugs. “Sound off, anything?”

“Nothing,” says Sierpinski.

“Nothing,” says Showalter.

“It's clear here,” says Harkov.

After checking through powered down rooms and closets, the four of you converge on the center of the Outpost, which is a large loading elevator down into the second level. Above you is the huge loading doors, which open up for shuttles and ships looking to dock inside the Outpost itself. “Harkov.” You point to him. “Motion tracker.” He nods, flipping a panel up from his gauntlet, then tapping in a command.

Your heart is racing and nothing's even happened yet.

“Ma'am.” Harkov looks up at you. “I got movement downstairs.”

“How many?”

“One big blob.” You step up next to him, while Dune, Sierpinski, and Showalter watch the exits. “Could be our recruits. Could be Bugs skulking around.”

“Alright,” you say. “Showalter, outside, guard the exits. Dune, Sierpinski, Harkov with me.” Showalter nods, heading out of the Outpost interior. “We're going down and we're going to rescue our recruits, got it?”

“Lieutenant.” Sierpinski hefts up his SOLARIS-B Laser Cannon. “It's gonna be close quarters. Might have trouble with friendly fire.” Ah, fuck, he's right.

> “We'll go by twos. Dune, with me. You take Harkov.”
> “Alright, split up once we head down then. Four ways.”
> “We stay together in one group.”
> Other

>>638599
>> “We'll go by twos. Dune, with me. You take Harkov.”

>>638599
> “We'll go by twos. Dune, with me. You take Harkov.”

>>638599
>> “We'll go by twos. Dune, with me. You take Harkov.”
Probably best that we try to not split up more than we have to.

>>638599
>> “We'll go by twos. Dune, with me. You take Harkov.”

>>638599
>> “We'll go by twos. Dune, with me. You take Harkov.”

> “We'll go by twos. Dune, with me. You take Harkov.”

“We'll go by twos. I'll take Dune, Sierpinski with Harkov. We'll split off, north and south once we reach the bottom. Got it?”

“Got it!” Everyone loads up onto the loading elevator. You hit the switch. Thankfully, the elevator still seems to have power. There may be no lights, but that's what suit lights are for anyway. You'll just have to deal with the lack of power to the Outpost as you come to it. The elevator descends down into the second level.

The second level of Outpost 36 was devoted mostly to storage, with the first ground level being Operations. While it may not be as tight quarters as Sierpinski might say, friendly fire is still an issue. Especially around a Tanker. Sierpinski drums his fingers along the forward grip of his Laser Cannon, ready to blast any Bugs back to the stone age. You meanwhile set your MPAR to burst fire, gotta conserve ammo.

On the open elevator, the rock walls give way to the main storage chamber.

And God what a sight. Crumpled Paladin suits with plasma scoring and plasma cutter gashes on their plates. One of them even has his visor busted open, best not to check inside. “We have dead recruits, confirmed,” says Harkov to Fleet. Fuck. Your girls better not be among them. The elevator hits the ground, and you all quickly swivel around to check the area. “Six dead.”

“That's six per squadron,” says Dune. “Goddamn it,” he mutters. The Bugs must have lured them down and caught them all in one ambush. You look around, signs of paintballs on the walls. They must have tried to fight back as well.

“Check their tags,” you say as you all quickly move to check their status. The ones confirmed dead have their dogtags taken from a compartment on their helmets.

“Oh no.” You step back, looking at the one with the busted open visor.

“What?” Dune walks up next to you.

You sigh. “It's Lindstrom.” Dune grunts, taking his tags for you. You can't see inside his helmet, you don't WANT to see inside his helmet. You simply pocket the tags away. Hopefully the other boys are alright. One loss is sure to get to them. You can't imagine the girls losing the rest of them either.

Harkov steps up to you. “Movement ahead,” he says. His motion tracker pings again, allowing you to see to the northend of the chamber, where a huge steel door lies. “We'll take the opposite end.”

“Got it,” you say. You pat Dune on the shoulder, and have him follow you to the big steel door as Sierpinski and Harkov move down the other end as well. “Dune, do you have short range available?”

“No,” he says. “Bugs probably have a jammer somewhere. Sierpinski!” He calls to them from the other end of the chamber. “Watch out for a jamming device of some kind, alright!?” He gives a thumbs up, and proceeds on into the darkness. You pat the steel door, looking for a crevasse to fit your fingers into.

[1/2]

>>638731
[2/2]


Aha! “Dune, help me with this.” He nods. The two of you bend down, then squeeze your fingers into a crack in the door. You lift the door up between the two of you, your Marauder suits making all the difference as they beep and beep from the stress of lifting the door up. You shine your suit lights around the storage chamber here, finding nothing except crates, barrels, and other miscellania. “Girls!” you call. “You here!?” No point in stealth, the Bugs would've known you were here anyway by the sound of Dune breaching the door. “Olga! Rosalie!”

As you march, you see another crumpled up suit. You walk up to it, then confirm the identity. “... It's Dutch.”

“Dead?” asks Dune. You nod. “Alright.” You take his tags.

You keep marching forward into the darkness, then finally you see one last storage door. You knock on it. “Anyone in there?”

“That's several inches of steel, they probably can't hear your voice,” says Dune.

Suddenly, you hear a knock back.

…

Dune silently motions for you to knock again. This time, you give a coordinated tap in morse code. “WHO IS THERE?”

The knocks come back. “RECRUITS. BUGS OUTSIDE. DUTCH LOCKED US IN.”

“Alright, they're fine,” you ask. “I hope.” You hear gun fire suddenly, in the direction of Sierpinski and Harkov. “What the hell is that!?” You attempt to contact them over the short range. “Sierpinski, Harkov, respond!” Static. Damn it! “Dune-”

He looks up, then motions you to look up as you. You shine your helmet lights up at the ceiling, and find very odd bumps and ridges in what should be a flat ceiling. Dune, deciding to test it, fires a shot from his shotgun at the ceiling.

One bump suddenly explodes in green gore, squealing as it drops out of the ceiling. You look up again, and find the odd bumps suddenly recoloring themselves into the black and dark shapes of Pseudo-Arachnids. They pull out their plasma rifles and plasma cutters, skittering and squealing at you. Your suit computer catches up to it, identifying their enemy type quickly and efficiently.

> ARACHNID RAIDERS <
> These particular Warriors are equipped with short range and melee weaponry. Their only purpose is to instigate terror operations against Federal Colonies. They are equipped as well with chameleon armor coating to mask their signatures from standard Xenographs. They know their missions are suicidal, and thus they fight like rabid animals. <

You and Dune don't bother calling out, deciding instead to fire at them. They drop down off the ceiling, firing their plasma guns at you. Thankfully, their pitiful short range and low energy only makes them wash off the armor. But there are at least two dozen of them!

> Dig yourself in and defend this storage closet with your life!
> Rush past them in the confusion and attempt to rally with Harkov and Sierpinski.
> Have Dune hold them off while you breach the door.
> Other

>>638738
>> Dig yourself in and defend this storage closet with your life!

>>638738
>> Dig yourself in and defend this storage closet with your life!

>>638738
> Dig yourself in and defend this storage closet with your life!

>>638738
>> Dig yourself in and defend this storage closet with your life!

>>638738

> Dig yourself in and defend this storage closet with your life!

>>638738
>> Dig yourself in and defend this storage closet with your life!

> Dig yourself in and defend this storage closet with your life!

“Hold what you got, Dune!” You fire very spare three round bursts at each Raider attempting to chop you into a fine stew. One is blown to pieces by the sheer size and weight of the Magpulse rounds, the another has his head blown off, with the body still running around and firing wildly (nerve cases aren't in the head for whatever reason). You give the body a quick double tap before returning to the other targets.

One bug leaps at Dune, trying to cut into his armor with a plasma cutter. “Agh! Ya fucking bastard!” he yells. He tears the Bug off, then switches out a bayonet slung underneath his shotgun. He smashes the blade straight into the Bug's nerve case, making it twitch and scream before blasting the head apart.

You continue firing, tearing up more bugs. Two of them leap in from behind however, and start cutting into your armor with plasma cutters. “Agh!” You run back and smash one of them against the wall, smearing his green guts against the metal. The other wisely climbs over your head, trying to drill into your visor. “Fucker, fucker, FUCKER!” you yell. The hot heat burns away at the visor, threatening to crack it or even worse, drill right into your eye. Just like Lindstrom.

Suddenly, you feel the bug be torn away. Dune pulls the bug onto the ground, then smashes him under his boot. “You're getting sloppy!” he declares. The other bugs start to take cover behind crates and barrels, attempting to draw this out into a fight of who has more ammo and patience. Dune pulls down his Mass Driver Cannon. “Cannon clear!” With an ear-splitting zap, the cannon blasts a gash through the floor, and splits the air in half, burning a hole straight through their lines. One bug is cleaved in two, falling over simply while others are simply disintegrated by the heat.

You hear the door opening behind you. The door slowly rises up. “LIEUTENANT!” Olga cries. “SAVE US!”

> “Stay down!”
> Shut the door on them.
> Pull the door open.
> Other

>>638886
>> Shut the door on them.

>>638886
>“Stay down!”
>Other: check to be sure it's not a bug opening the door
Wait, if the door was locked from the outside, and the door is opening now...does that mean that a Raider override the lock and is now opening the door?
We'd better check.

>>638886
>> Shut the door on them.

>>638886
>shut the door on them.

God damn it recruits

>>638922
>>638886
This.

>>638886
>> Shut the door on them.

>>638886
shut door

>>638886
> Shut the door on them.

>>638994
Actually, change it to this >>638922

> Shut the door on them.

“Sorry, Olga!' You grab the door, then slowly press it down before Olga can react it. They must be trying to override the door controls! “Dune! We need to secure the area!”

“One second! These fucking things!” Dune has several Bugs crawl all over him, cutting into his armor with plasma cutters as he swats his arms and flails around trying to get them off. Shit! Shit! You hurry over and tear one off his back. You snap his exoskeleton on your knee, then toss him off. Then you grab another, who immediately wiggles out of your grasp and starts cutting into you with his own cutter. “Fucking things!”

You press your fist against the bug on your helmet, then spray him with fire. His screams, leaping off and squeaking and squealing wildly in pain as he lights up the area, revealing even more Bugs. How many fucking Bugs snuck in here!? One plasma bolt suddenly penetrates your arm, searing a gash through the armor. “Ah!” You fall back onto your ass.

> WARNING: SUIT BREACH. NON-LETHAL INJURY DETECTED.

You spray another burst into one of the bugs. They relentlessly continue the barrage of light plasma onto your armor, finding more chinks here and there. “Agh! I can't-” You grab the handle beneath your shoulder mount cannon, then lower it. The bugs all prick up their antennae and scatter. “Cannon firing!” you scream.

The Mass Driver projectile zaps a hole right through an unsuspecting bug, disintegrating others around him while leaving a flaming crater where he used to be. Still, once that's over, they come right back for more.

Suddenly, you hear Harkov on the radio. “Ma'am, jammer destroyed! What's your status!?”

“This place crawls!” you yell. “I need reinforcements now! The Recruits are with me and we need help now!” Dune charges against a wall, smashing more bugs between him and the wall.

“Coming to you!” yells Sierpinski.

Suddenly, a raider leaps onto your helmet again. Your right arm however is damaged, and refuses to work in a quick manner. You're forced to lie back and let him crawl all over, trying to cut into your armor with his cutter. You try to bat him off with your left hand, but he skitters around wildly, before getting up into your face. His mandibles drip with blood, slime, and mucus as he screams right into your visor.

“Get the fuck off me, you bitch!” You grab his head with your hand, then crush it. Blood, slime, and guts come spraying between your fingers as his body starts flailing around wildly. “Gah...” Suddenly another bolt finds a weakpoint in your armor. Fucker! Don't let this be it, please!

[1/2]

Well, change
>>638894
to
>>638922

>>639007
[2/2]

Suddenly, Sierpinski and Harkov arrive. “Friendlies coming in!” yells Sierpinski. He's dropped his SOLARIS Laser cannon for the VCW. “Acid out, acid out!” he yells. Dune grabs you and moves you to safety. With a squeeze of the trigger, Sierpinski hoses the unsuspecting Arachnids in caustic and highly corrosive acid. They scream, fumes and smoke filling the air as they run around in pain in agony. “Eat this you shits!” The Bugs scatter and scream, running away from the acid as Sierpinski and Harkov clear a path to you.

Harkov looks over you. “Lieutenant, are you-”

“I'm fine!” You get back up, grabbing your rifle. You look around, the Bugs are in full panic and routing from Sierpinski's timely flank and spray of the acid.

> “Secure the area!”
> “Get this door open, we're getting the Recruits out!”
> “KILL THEM ALL!”
> Other

>>639013
>> “Get this door open, we're getting the Recruits out!”
"WE-ARE-LEAVING"

>>639013
>> “Get this door open, we're getting the Recruits out!”

>>639013
>> “Secure the area!”

>>639013
> “Get this door open, we're getting the Recruits out!”

>>639013
>Secure this area
We have renforcements enroute and no fucking clue how many other bugs are outside this room. Once this room is secured ww gotta check the recruits as well.

>>639013
> “Secure the area!”

> “Get this door open, we're getting the Recruits out!”

“Get the door open, now! While we have a chance!” Sierpinski continues spraying the place with acid as you, Dune, and Harkov grab the door. The three of you easily lift it up with little stress, revealing the last odd dozen of Recruits in the spare Storage room. “Recruits! We are LEAVING!” you yell.

“Lieutenant!” Olga immediately hugs you, almost making you punch her in response. No, that was close. You gently push her away. “Wh- where's Marco!? We got separated!”

“Come on! This way!” you yell. “Recruits, stay behind us! We'll clear a path!” The Recruits all fall in behind you, dropping their paintball guns in order to lighten their load. “Sierpinski, take point! Dune, Harkov, to the sides, I'll bring up the rear!” You herd the Recruits out of the storage room. Some stragglers continue to take potshots here and there, but with effective cover fire from all of you, you manage to make it to the loading elevator.

“Come on, come on, hustle!” yells Dune. He motions the Recruits all onto the elevator. You turn on your suit Xenograph.

> WARNING: MINIMAL ARACHNID ACTIVITY DETECTED

Minimal is the computer's polite way of saying about several dozen bugs. Insult them all you want, but you can't fault their ability to pack as many of them into one place as possible. They could fit into a mailbox if they had enough time and patience. “Come on, come on, get up!” you order.

“Wait, Lieutenant!” Rosalie holds onto you. “Lindstrom got separated from us, where is he!?” She looks around to all of the suit corpses.

“Just get on the elevator!” you shout. Rosalie fearfully nods, stepping on board with the rest.

Suddenly, you see more Arachnid Raiders pour out of the vents. One huge one pops out of the ceiling with a loud thud, landing on one of the suit corpses. It wears a red pauldron on one of its legs along with a pair of goggles over its many eyes. And unlike the rest of the Raiders, it wields a more proper Plasma Caster, one that can actually penetrate your suit from most effective combat distances.

> ARACHNID GUARDS RAIDER <
> An Elite version of the usual Raider. These Guards Raiders generally act as leaders for informal groups of lesser Raiders. They possess high-tech equipment, allowing them to sense MI troopers wherever they hide, along with high power plasma weaponry. <

Shit.

> “Go, I'll cover you!”
> Forget this! Get up now!
> “Dune, Sierpinski, Harkov, with me! We'll cover their escape!”
> Other

>>639226
>> “Go, I'll cover you!”

>>639226

> “Go, I'll cover you!”

Pretty sure I called shite earlier about Mars still not being safe.

>>639226
>> “Go, I'll cover you!”

>>639226
> “Go, I'll cover you!”
Hit it with the Mass Driver.

>>639226
>“Dune, Sierpinski, Harkov, with me! We'll cover their escape!”

> “Go, I'll cover you!”

You hit the switch, sending the lot of MI troopers up. “Lieutenant!” yells Dune.

“No! Lieutenant!” yells Stacy. “What are you doing!?”

“I'm covering your escape! I'll be right behind you!” The Raiders all begin to rush at you. Their plasma cutters and guns are no match for you however. You effectively dodge them. How? By strafing with the jump jets. You blast yourself back to give yourself more room, then lower the Mass Driver again. Cannon firing you yell mentally. The cannon blasts apart several more Raiders, sending their guts spraying all over the walls. The Guards Raider fires a shot at you. The plasma pings off your shoulder. Any lower, that'd have taken your arm off.

He charges at you, tackling you against a wall. You punch him, knocking one of his mandibles off and smashing his eye out. He counters with a tackle to the chest, flooring you. “Gah! Aaah! AAAHH!” He pulls out a huge machete from his plate armor, and bashes at your helmet. Your visor cracks, and your suit pings at the damage its taking.

> WARNING: DAMAGE TAKEN

Another blow, and suddenly your vision gets blurry. You can feel something sting at the top of your eye. Oh Christ, you've got blood in eyes! Damn it! He raises his machete again.

But is suddenly gunned down by a laser blast. Sierpinski. Someone in one of the training suits steps over you, then offers his hand. Whatever he's saying, it sounds like he's underwater. What the hell... He offers his hand again, shaking it in front of you.

> Take it.
> Wave it off, fuck off. You'll wait for a Corpsman.
> Other

>>639326
>> Take it.

>>639326
> Take it.

>>639326
>> Take it.

>>639326
> Take it.

>>639326
>> Take it.

> Take it.

You reach out and grab it. Whoever it is starts pulling you away, but you feel everything tstart to go at the same time. It's not like drinking passing out, this felt more like you were actually dying. Oh God. What were you thinking, doing any of this!? God, why!?

You blink, oh no. You're losing vision. “G-...” You try to make out some words to tell your friend. Something, anything to relate that you might in fact be passing on. But nothing comes out. You've got blood in your eye, you feel like one of your arms has locked up. Jesus Christ. Mom, Dad, so sorry it had to be this way. Robot, please take care of Cyrano. Girls, forgive me. Just please no. How did this happen?

Please, no. Please no.

Dizzy

>>639436
[2/2]

-

-

You slowly open your eyes to a blinding intense white light above you. You blink it away, and find the intensity dulling as your vision comes back to you in full. You hear a beep at the side of you. Heart rate monitor? You take a breath. You're not in the I-Suit anymore. Feels like patient robes.

Suddenly the intense heat blares down on you. You're on the Jimmy Stewart, aren't you.

You turn your head slowly, to see a blurred figure at a counter. You blink some more, and let your vision return. It's Rosalie in her utility greys, cutting up an apple. She quietly sings to herself. “Til I make you, take me... on your mighty wings... make you, take me, on your mighty wings across the sky...” She hums a little as she slices up the apple into even slices. “Take me on your mighty wings, take me on your mighty wings tonight...”

You turn your head to the other side, and find Stacy and Olga sleeping at your bedside. Stacy is leant back in a chair, arms folded as she naps. Olga meanwhile has taken a chair and is resting her head and arms on your bed itself.

Girls...

> “I'm awake, you know.”
> Stay quiet.
> Nudge Olga.
> Other

>>639439
>> Nudge Olga.

>>639439
> “I'm awake, you know.”

>>639439
>> Nudge Olga.

>>639439
> Nudge Olga.

>>639439
>> Nudge Olga.

>>639439
> Nudge Olga.
And make sure we still have both arms.

> Nudge Olga.

You nudge Olga. “Hey.” Olga mutters to herself, squeezing her eyes tight. “Hey,” you whisper again. Olga opens her eyes, then looks to you.

“... AAAHH!” Olga immediately hugs you. OH FUCK, OW. “You're alive! Oh God, we thought we lost you! Oh, Lieutenant!” Rosalie looks over, grinning and biting her lip in surprise. Stacy meanwhile wakes up from her nap, and gasps in surprise at you being awake. “We thought you were dead!” Olga cries a little, sobbing into your shoulder. You'd tell Olga that she's crushing you with her bodyweight, but no, you're not going to ruin it. “Oh, don't ever do that to us again, Lieutenant! First, Marco, then you! Please!”

“It's okay, it's okay...” You gently push Olga off, and she happily kneels on the bed next to you. “I'm glad you guys care. How long was I out?”

Rosalie hands you a plate of apple slices, which you proceed to gobble up just as quickly as they come. “Only for several hours,” Rosalie says. “An MI task force backed up by the Mars CDF cleared out Outpost 36. They were able to wipe out the Bugs in that area.” She points to Stacy. “Stacy pulled you out after she stole Sierpinski's Laser Cannon.”

You blink. “Stacy?”

“It was the right thing to do,” she says quickly, before looking at the floor. “It's what you taught me after all.” You smile a little.

“Guys.” What do you say first? “Guys, I'm so sorry about Lindstrom.” Olga frowns deeply. Rosalie as well loks away while Stacy continues to look at the floor. “Was anyone else injured?”

“Alpha was completely wiped out, Bravo lost Dutch, and we lost Lindstrom too.” Olga sighs. “That means tomorrow we graduate with just sixteen Recruits.”

“Wait.” You squint at her. “You're graduating?”

Rosalie nods. “Major Harcourt declared us ready to graduate. Tomorrow's the ceremony in New Aberdeen.” Oh. You look down. “Lieutenant...”

> “I'm proud of you guys.”
> “I'm so sorry.”
> “Do me proud.”
> Other

>>639591
> “I'm proud of you guys.”

>>639591
> “I'm proud of you guys.”
> “I'm so sorry.”
>Other (I fucking told them you weren't ready for real combat without support. )

>>639591
>> “Do me proud.”

>>639591
> “I'm proud of you guys.”

>>639591
>> “I'm proud of you guys.”
>> “I'm so sorry.”
>> “Do me proud.”

> “I'm proud of you guys.”

“I'm proud of you guys,” you say. “For what happened, you did well. I don't know if you'll be ready for combat, but... I think you guys will be good troopers.” Rosalie and Olga smile happily. Stacy meanwhile sort of kicks at the ground, nodding slowly. “All I want you girls to keep doing me proud, alright?”

Rosalie nods. “Alright.” She adjusts her glasses a little. “The Corpsman said you should be good in the morning after a night with the AutoDoc. I hope you can make it to the ceremony.”

“It would take hundreds of thousands of bugs to make me miss that ceremony,” you boast. Rosalie chuckles a little. “You girls came for only a week of training. And I-” You hear the door open, and you all look over to see who it is.

Azuma. “You're awake.” You nod at him. He looks to the girls, a stern expression on his face. “Girls, would you mind?” They all glance at each other, then they pack up their things and leave slowly out of your room in the medbay, leaving just you and Azuma to talk. Way to really kill the mood, Azuma. He walks over, shutting the door behind him before sitting down next to you. “I don't think I need to remind you how stupid that was.”

You look away. “You would've done the same for me.”

“That doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm trying to help you, Lieutenant.” You keep glaring at the opposite wall. “Look. You should've left it to Dune and his squad. In the end, the Bugs got smeared anyway six ways to Sunday. And all you've got to show for it is a possible concussion and a bruised up right arm. You're lucky that the Bugs only did that much!” After a few seconds, he sighs deeply. “Lieutenant. You need to think about your future. You don't need to do any of this.”

“Azuma.” You look back at him. “Life is about doing things that don't need to be done, but you do it anyway because it's the right thing to do. That's what this Federation is about!” You slam your good hand on the bed. “Where did your spine go!?”

“It's in my back where it should be, unlike yours if you do this again! You've been out of the service for a year and you think you can just jump back in like its natural!?” he yells back. “Lieutenant, for the love of God, you almost died! Goddamn it... just-” He stands up. “I don't want you dropping ever again. Please, if not for the girls sake or your sake, do it for my sake. I can't bear watching you get thrown back into this.”

You stare at him.

“Come on,” he says.

> “You can fuck off the end of my dick, Azuma.”
> “No.”
> “I promise.”
> Other

>>639786
"Let me ask you a question, Azuma. What if it was your little sister was in that closet?"

>>639786
Supporting >>639804

>>639786
> Other
"I won't abandon my girls if they're in trouble Azuma, and I won't risk their safety in exchange for my own. They're my responsibility."

>>639786
Voting this >>639804

>>639786
>> “You can fuck off the end of my dick, Azuma.”

>>639786
>>639804
Voting for this.

> Other

“Azuma, if it were Saki in that closet, what would you have done?” you ask very sternly. Azuma's eyes widen a bit. A very pregnant silence remains between the two of you for quite some time. Azuma is probably trying to think of something clever to say, or hell just any kind of response to try and justify himself. Finally, you break the silence. “Azuma. Those girls are my responsibility. You might not like it, hell, the whole concept for what we're doing is ridiculous. But I'm going to defend them with my life if need be.”

Azuma nods slowly, looking down at the ground. “Right.”

“I can understand what you're saying, Azuma. But I'm going to be incredibly candid with you. What I say goes. You're the Stage tech. I'm the Lieutenant, the Producer, the end-all be-all. If you can't accept that, you're on the next shuttle back to Earth. Got it?” He nods again, folding his arms. “Good.” You lean back against your pillow, sighing.

…

“You really scared me, you know that, right?” he says. You look at him.

“I scare you all the fucking time, admit it,” you mutter. He rolls his eyes. “Just saying. I'm scary. But I'm also cute. I'm scary cute. How about that?”

He sighs deeply. “I'll let you get some rest, Lieutenant. But if it comes to it again. You can count me out of the Drop.” He sweeps his hands aside, frowning. “I'm done with that life.” He turns around, and leaves you alone in the medbay.

Done, huh?

Hm.

You need a drink.

File: MachineGun.gif (440 KB, 936x653)

440 KB GIF

>>640001
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PT1afUWV8N8

That's it for tonight. Tomorrow should be the last day for this week of Starship Idols. Hope to see people there. We'll see if it can be done.

Follow at: https://twitter.com/GermanSchteel
Ask at: http://germanschteel.tumblr.com/
Book Tumbles: http://germanschteelbookblog.tumblr.com/

See you next time.

>>640018
Thanks for running.

>>640018
Thanks for running, Schteel!

>>640018
Thanks for running!

>>640018
Thanks for running Schteel.

An incredibly lavish hotel and its extensive garden grounds was set aside for the graduation ceremony. Mars had been the first planet to undergo the Terraformation projects at least two or three decades ago, and the progress shows in the city of New Aberdeen. Once a colonial project housing no more than twenty people, it now boasts of population of over 800,000. This hotel, being on the outskirts of the city, was home to one of the finest gardens that featured a preview of what Mars will look like within a century of terraformation. Green grass, lush trees, and beautiful flowers, a foreground before the sleek and bright metropolis in your window.

Must have cost a fortune to rent.

You stare out the window, sighing deeply. Thanks to a night with the AutoDoc, you didn't have any visible wounds. Though the Corpsman did advise you not to bang your head against anything for another three or four days. Funny advice, what a wiseass. Still, the view was breathtaking. You had heard stories of how Earth was once a beautiful garden world like say, Tesca Numerosa, Green Valley, or Edenwell. It took a century just to undo the damage, and they're still undoing the damage even today. You can understand why Bugs would want places like these if it were just for sheer beauty.

Your door opens. You look over to see Mills, dabbed in dress uniform, sleeves and pant legs covering up his prosthetics nicely. “Lieutenant? You gonna get ready?”

You look down. Oh, you're still naked. “Would you mind helping?” you ask. He nods, moving to grab your folded up dress uniform off of the bed. “How are the girls?” He moves to dress you into your underwear first.

“Doing alright, ma'am,” he says. “They're still bummed over the loss of Marco Lindstrom and what happened yesterday. But, Olga is trying to keep them in good spirits at least. Petty Officer Naka as well has already introduced herself as their 'Idol coach',” he explains. You roll your eyes. Oh jeez. He places your blouse on your shoulders, then fits your arms through the sleeves. “They're planning on going out around town today before the ceremony. They were hoping you would go with them, ma'am.”

You shrug. “Maybe.” He buttons up your blouse, then hands you your pantyhose. “Hm?”

“I'm your assistant, not your mother, you can help me dress you,” he says sternly. You grumble a little, pulling the pantyhose on over your legs as he begins to sort out your ribbons. “Terran Cross, Distinguished Service Cross, Broken Claw, Purple Heart...” Once your skirt is on and ready, you pull on your tie as well, and fumble with it a bit. “Don't tell me you don't know how to tie a tie.”

“I do, I just always had my civilian servant do it for me,” you say. He rolls his eyes, then grabs the ends of your tie and starts tying it up for you. “Thank you, Mills. You're a real sweetheart.”

“Just doing my part,” he says. He gives a warm smile to you. “So, Lieutenant. Are you gonna go out with the girls?”

> “Sure”
> “Nah.”
> Other

>>642426
>> “Sure”

>>642426
>> “Sure”

>>642426
>> “Sure”

>>642426
>> “Sure”

>>642426
>> “Sure”

>>642426
>Sure

> “Sure.”

“I suppose I can.” Once you're fully dressed, you take a good long look at yourself in the mirror. Damn.

You're cute as fuck.

You gently run your thumbs along your collar, smirking. Hehe, no one's as cute as you are right this second. You pull on your peaked cap, continuing to smile. Yeah, that's the Lieutenant you know and love. You take a look at Mills, who smiles proudly at you. “How do I look, Mills?”

“Like a million quid,” he says back. Awesome. You blush a little. Aw, thanks, boyo. “Come on. I'll walk you down.”

The two of you head out of your room and down the finely built corridors of the hotel. Chandeliers hang at every intersection, bright lighting keeps the creamy white halls lit up, and a nice carpet floor keeps your boots from sounding off like artillery. “Mills, can I ask you a question?” He looks at you, nodding. “What would you have done yesterday? If it were you instead of me?”

“I would have done the same,” he says. “I'm guessing Azuma shook you a bit last night?” You don't answer that. “Lieutenant, we have responsibilities. Real responsibilities, to the people around us and to the people at home. Sometimes that means we uh...” He holds up his artificial arm, grimacing a little. “Sometimes that means we give up a few things.”

“Right. I'm sorry, I should have-”

“It's not your fault. Lieutenant. I can see the stories about you are quite true. And I've been surprised by you a few times as well.” He smirks a little. “You're a bundle of surprises, Lieutenant.” He nudges you as you walk down the stairs. “I like that.”

“Thanks.” You smile back at him, then nudge him back. “You going to come along with us?”

“Ah, think of this as a girl's day out.” He pats your arm. “I'm taking Breckenridge and Joey along. We'll do something too, just so they aren't left out.” Fine then. “You have fun with the girls, alright?”

“Alright.”

With that, you meet the girls out front by the car. Your three MI Idols are dressed in the finest dress greys you've seen this side of Mars. And Petty Officer Naka as well it seems is coming along as well, dressed in her Fleet blues. “Lieutenant!” Olga grins at you. Naka meanwhile is trying to flag down a taxi. “Lieutenant!” Olga hurriedly hugs you, instead of saluting you. “Oh, it's good to see you!” She smiles up at you, bouncing in place. “Where are we going?”

Stacy nods. “Yeah, you know Mars more than we do, Lieutenant. What's a good place to go?”

> The Federal War Museum
> The local Football Match
> The War Cemetery
> Other

>>642535
> The Federal War Museum

>>642535
>> The local Football Match

>>642535
> The local Football Match
Oh god. We're gonna go full-Scot when our team starts to lose.

>>642535
> The local Football Match
They won't need a museum to see the war soon enough, and they can say goodbye to Lindstrom on their own time, that should be a private moment for them or something they decide to do as a squad.

>>642535
>> The local Football Match

> The local Football Match

-

-

New Aberdeen United vs. Edenwell. You've always casually followed football, never really knowing who's who, except for that Jayne Wilcox striker guy who's apparently some folk hero around NAU. As much as you wanted to follow it, it's insanely hard to do so when you're several systems away fighting for your life. Because you were arriving on relatively short notice, you decided to get some cheap tickets sitting up in the high seats. Not too comfortable, but the girls were all excited at least. Stacy especially for whatever reason. “So, Jayne has already scored twelve goals this season,” she explains. “But surprisingly, he's got amazing defense to back up his offense. And he's really good at goading people into offside traps.”

“I see,” you say. “So... is that good?”

“It's great!” says Stacy. The stadium is already packed with people as you move on in. The high seats were way up there, and like a dot down there was the green fields as well.

Rosalie says, “I'm gonna buy some food and drink, Naka you wanna come with?”

“Fufufu, your Idol Coach will gladly assist you, Rosalie!” Naka steps away with Rosalie, grinning as they move onto the foodcourt. “Go ahead to the seats, we'll meet you there!”

Olga and Stacy look around the chaos of it all, people arriving in facepaint, with flags on their backs, jerseys of their favorite players, scarves, the whole nine yards. They chanted songs unrecognizable to you, but were like lullabies to them. And it was all in one huge roar that almost deafened you. Olga tugs at your jacket. “Have you ever been to a Football game?”

“Well...” Dizzy took you once. Fun day, he spilled soda into your lap and accidentally grabbed your boob. “No. But it should be fine.”

Right, where to go...

> Head up to your seats, might as well.
> Hang out near the field, see the players, maybe even net an autograph.
> Find a table to sit and eat at.
> Other

>>642630
>> Hang out near the field, see the players, maybe even net an autograph.
Like the players could resist a cutie like the LT.

>>642630
>> Head up to your seats, might as well.

>>642630
>> Head up to your seats, might as well.

>>642630
>> Head up to your seats, might as well.

>>642630
> Hang out near the field, see the players, maybe even net an autograph.

>>642630
> Head up to your seats, might as well.

>>642630

> Head up to your seats, might as well.

Here's to hoping men put pinups of us on their stuff

>>642630
>> Head up to your seats, might as well.

> Head up to your seats, might as well.

-

-

You make way through the crowds, the flags, the streamers, and everything else to your seats up high over the field. A few bumps here and there, some “alright, mates” around, and you're settled into your cheap plastic seating. You settle down. “Whoa!” Olga looks up. “The field looks so bright from here!”

You nod. “Yep.” You lean back, resting your cover on your lap and crossing your legs. Hmph. Nobody has noticed how hot you are. Yet. Maybe it's the fact that there are so many people at this game that nobody can make out who's who in the crowd. Whatever. Hopefully, Rosalie and Naka come and grab a few beers for you to make this game go by quicker. You're seated far at the end, with Olga next to you and Stacy on the other side. Rosalie and Naka will be at the other end. So for now, you're seated against one Idol and probably a civilian.

God, you could use a beer right now.

Olga stands up, along with Stacy. “So who are we rooting for?” she asks.

“NAU,” says Stacy. Olga nods slowly. “You have no idea what's going on, do you?”

“Well, no,” says Olga.

Stacy warps her arm around Olga, then points to the field. “Let me explain everything...” You lean to the side, smiling at the two getting to know each other. That'll be important later, you're sure of it.

You look to your left, and find that the man sitting next to you is also in MI Utility greys. He looks lazily at the field, arms folded, leant back. He's probably the only person in this stadium who doesn't look like he really wants to be here. You nudge him. “Hi there,” you greet. He looks over.

“Lieutenant.” He looks back at the field.

…

Well.

> “You're not gonna salute a superior Officer?” You're not technically re-enlisted, but it's the thought that counts.
> “What's up? I see you're MI too!”
> Leave him alone, he doesn't seem to be in the mood anyway.
> Other

>>642727
> “What's up? I see you're MI too!”

>>642727
>> “What's up? I see you're MI too!”
CDF guy maybe?

Is Stacy right now channeling you, Schteel?

>>642727
> “What's up? I see you're MI too!”

>>642735
It's funny, I almost nearly made this about baseball before I decided Football made more sense.

I don't know jack shit about soccer.

>>642727
>> Leave him alone, he doesn't seem to be in the mood anyway.

>>642727
> “What's up? I see you're MI too!”

>>642740
Yeah, baseball wouldn't make much sense for a place called New Aberdeen.

>>642753
When we get to a Japanese space colony, he can include all the baseball he wants

>>642756
It can be his reward for controlling himself thus far.

> “What's up? I see you're MI too!”

“What's up? I see you're MI too!” you say.

He nods at that, continuing to pay attention to the field. You look back to see Rosalie and Naka coming with the food and drinks. Rosalie leans over. “Here, Lieutenant!” Four beers.

YES.

You immediately chug one and sit the rest below your legs. “What's your name, trooper!?” you shout over the crowd noise.

He looks over. “I'm Sergeant Burkett,” he says quietly. “It's uh... nice to meet you, Lieutenant.” You nod, taking another drink of beer as well. Huh, it's cheap but it'll do. “Your dress uniform's looking nice. Are you attending a ceremony later?”

You nod. “These girls are graduating from the MI training camp to become full troopers AND-” You slap Olga on the back, making her flinch. “Idols as well! They're gonna be singing and dancing all in the name of the Federation while fighting for it! Ain't it grand?”

He nods. “I suppose.”

“You don't talk much, do you?”

He shrugs, looking away. “Ain't much to talk about, ma'am.”

Stacy points forward. “They're starting!”

The announcer over the loudspeakers calls to you all. “Ladies and gentlemen, please rise and gentlemen remove your caps, as we honor the Federation with our anthem. Presenting the colors today, Mobile Infantry 69th Regiment Color Guard.” You all stand and look down to the field. Moving to the center of the field now is a squadron of troopers in the dress greys, covers shading their eyes as they silently wield the yellow and reds of the Mobile Infantry, and the blue, green, and white of the Federation. The flags flap sharply in the breeze, unveiling their full image. “Singing our Federal Anthem, please welcome... Shannon Shujumi.”

Olga gasps, tugging on your arm. “It's Shannon Shujumi!” Naka as well claps and bounces in place as well, cheering a chance to meet her.

Shannon Shujumi is a cute young thing of indeterminable race. Her hair is colored bright pink, and curled down to her shoulders in thick pigtails. And on her cheek a little star beauty mark below her eye, probably artificial given the rest of the makeup which pretties her up. She wears a coat over her sailor uniform (a school one, not the military one), and over her ear and eye is a headset with a monitor over the eye to display lyrics. The drums begin to play and the bagpipes screech across the wind.

[1/2]

>>642846
[2/2]

“O Citizen Soldier!” You sing with the girls, and possibly 60,000 other people as well in this stadium. Shannon Shujumi's pretty little voice carries across the entirety of it all.

When will we see your like again?
That fought and died for,
Your boy and gal and wife, and stood against them!

“GAINST WHO!?” you all scream.

The 'rachnid armies!
And sent them homeward,
To think again!

Those days are here now!
None shall stay their hand again!
Together we'll rise now!
And be a nation again, that'll stand against them!

“GAINST WHO!?”

The 'rachnid armies!
And sent them homeward,
To think again!

The cheering crowd deafens you like an artillery bombardment. Fireworks shoot up into the sky. And the players themselves, lined up on the grass clap and applaud Shannon Shujumi politely as she strolls off the field. “Ladies and gentlemen, Shannon Shujumi!” She waves goodbye to everyone, posing for a few photos with a few lucky fans as she goes along.

Right, time to...

> Get plastered like a statue.
> Have some fun with the girls.
> Talk to this Burkett guy, he seems like a right wallflower.
> Other

>>642853
>> Have some fun with the girls.
Huh, so the Federation wrote their anthem specifically about fighting the Bugs, or was it a recent addition? Or did the founding of the Federation include union in war against the Bugs?

>>642862
The Federation edits the anthem based on whoever they're fighting at the time.

>>642853
> Have some fun with the girls.

>>642853
>> Have some fun with the girls.

>>642853
>> Have some fun with the girls.

File: LT ready for action.gif (1.66 MB, 500x255)

1.66 MB GIF

>>642853
> Have some fun with the girls.
Burkett doesn't seem too talkative so let's not get pushy, especially when we can drunk-mum to our girls.

> Have some fun with the girls.

You have no idea what's going on but that's okay because you have your girls and your beer! “Go, go, go!” yells Stacy, the loudest you've ever heard her yell in fact as she cheers on the NAU man with the ball, kicking it towards the goal. The boys in red from... whatever place they came from try to stop him. And the man with the ball kicks it towards the goal, and it's blocked. “Aw!”

Olga puffs her cheeks out. “He could've scored that!”

“Relax,” says Stacy. “It's only the first ten minutes.” Wait. THAT WAS TEN MINUTES!? What the fuck else happened!?

And again, the boys in blue from NAU try to score again, this time again, they get blocked. At least it seems like they have a decent grasp of the ball.

Rosalie and Naka raise their arms. “Go NAU!” Rosalie however seems to mostly be forcing it. Naka however, you're not sure where she gets her energy. Even Olga seems a little tame by comparison.

Then again, football match. You take another chug of beer.

Stacy looks over. “You ever play sports in school, Lieutenant!?”

“A little bit of football I guess,” you say. “Not really.”

Olga gasps. “I could totally see the Lieutenant down there!” Wait, what? You're not a football player! Are they implying something!?

Suddenly, you feel a hand pat your shoulder. “Excuse me, ma'am!?” A few boys grin at you. “Are you Mobile Infantry!?” You nod. “Mighty good work!” He offers his hand to shake, and you shake it proudly. “Colonials might not 'preciate it like we do! But you keep us safe!”

“Yeah!” says the other man. “How many bugs have you killed!?”

… why do civilians always ask that first.

> “Lots.”
> “Shitloads.”
> “Not enough.”
> Other

>>642997
> “Lots.”

>>642997
> “Shitloads.”

>>642997
>> “Not enough.”

>>642997
> “Shitloads.”

>>642997
>"Enough. (Quietly to self) Enough..."

>>643013
> “Not enough.”
Other: "I appreciate your curiosity and gratitude, but please remember in the future, those sorts of questions bring back very bad memories back for MI enlisted."
Educate without being a dick.

> “Shitloads.”
> “Not enough.”

You shrug. “Shitloads. Still not enough though.” They all laugh. The rest shake hands and pat you on the shoulder happily. “I appreciate the question, try not to ask it again.”

“Hey, we're glad to have you regardless!” says one of them.

“Wait, hang on!” One of them, wearing blue face point representing the NAU team, looks at you carefully. “You're the Lieutenant, the one that captured the Queen!” Others turn their heads towards you. “Yeah, yeah, you're that Lieutenant! My God! That was so awesome of you!”

“Um, thanks!” You grin happily.

“Hey!” Someone sitting in front of you smiles. “I named my kid after you! She's gonna be joining the MI when she grows up.” Wait, someone named their kid after you, why!?

A woman leans over. “You're an inspiration to girls who want to join the Mobile Infantry and see it be a multi-gender establishment!” … fuck is she talking about, the MI's always been open to girls! Then again, most girls can't actually pass it for the usual reasons. But still!

“Hey, hey, lemme have your autograph!” Someone hands over a notepad with a pen. A few others as well ask for pictures too. You look over to see the girls continuing to enjoy the game, apparently not realizing that right now, you're kind of being swamped.

> “Uh, I gotta go powder my nose, later!”
> “Girls, we're getting out! Later!”
> “Sure, sure. Yeah, autographs. Yeah. Wooo.”
> Other

>>643144
> “Sure, sure. Yeah, autographs. Yeah. Wooo.”
They probably want them because they think we're cute.

>>643144
>> “Sure, sure. Yeah, autographs. Yeah. Wooo.”

>>643144
>Other
"Listen, folks, I'm just here to enjoy a game with my girls. They're graduating today, and this is one of the few bits of time off I get with them."

>>643144
>"One at a time. Keep it orderly, I don't want to be getting swamped today."

>>643144
> “Sure, sure. Yeah, autographs. Yeah. Wooo.”
>Have our girls help out as well, Tell them they are going to be badass as well.

> “Sure, sure. Yeah, autographs. Yeah. Wooo.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, sure.” You stand up, and motion everyone to sort of be orderly about this. You hand out an autograph here, you take a picture and smile with somebody there. You look down to see Burkett continuing to watch the game through a pretty glazed over expression, as if he wasn't really paying attention to anything. “Um, just, can we get this done quickly people, my girls are graduating today and I'd like to spend a little time with them too.”

“Hey, hey!” One man wearing an MI uniform shakes your hand. “I'm shipping out tomorrow! Can't wait!”

“Yeah, yeah.” You smile and wave at everybody, happily giving people some canned advice about the MI, “do or die” it usually is. Hopefully this blows over soon.

-

-

The game has been over for ten minutes. AND IT STILL HASN'T BLOWN OVER. People are still asking for autographs, asking for pictures, thanking you for your service (for whatever reason, people thanking you for doing what you did really gets under your skin and you hate it.) They continue to say thanks, and ask for advice or pictures, or anything else. Rosalie, Olga, Stacy, and Naka wait in the aisle.

“Wow...” Olga smiles. “I can't wait to be as famous as the Lieutenant!”

Naka rubs her hands together, bouncing in place. “Being an Idol is going to be great! We'll be just like the Lieutenant! Everyone asking for our autographs or pictures! Hehehe!”

Rosalie and Stacy though seem a bit perturbed. “Lieutenant. We should get going. The ceremony is soon!” says Rosalie.

“Oh-, uh- right.” Goddamn it. You missed the game (1-0 NAU, someone scored a goal, but you don't know who thanks to these fucking idiots.) “Just-...” You look at everyone. “Sorry, show's over. I really gotta get going.” They all groan in disappointment. “Yeah, sorry. Sorry. Maybe another time. Maybe during a press conference.” You shuffle out of the aisle, feeling both angry and guilty. You just wasted some precious time with your Idols, something that's going to be really precious and rare soon.

As you walk out of the stadium, Olga asks you, “Do you get that a lot?”

“Only when people recognize me,” you say. “If they don't, they just thank me for my service anyway.” You shudder at that.

[1/2]

>>643369
[2/2]

“Well, at least they like you,” says Stacy. You roll your eyes, sighing. “Hey, Lieutenant, for what its worth, I really enjoyed going to the game.” She nudges you, smiling. “My parents never did this for me. Really, thank you so much.”

Aw. You gently pat Stacy on the head. “Thanks, Stacy. You're a darling.”

“Lieutenant!” AW, NOT ANOTHER FUCKING AUTOGRAPH, NOT WHEN YOU'RE SETTLING WITH YOUR GIRLS. You turn around to see Sergeant Burkett, walking towards you. Oh, now he's feeling conversational? “Heading to that ceremony?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He looks around, taking a deep breath. “Do you uh... mind if I come along?” Huh? “I mean, just as a guest. I appreciate that these girls are graduating, I'd like to-” You squint at him, and take a gentle sniff of his breath.

“You only want to go there for free drinks, don't you,” you say bluntly. The girls look at you, shocke,d then look at Burkett.

“...” He shrugs. “I mean, free drinks are free drinks, right?”

> “Buzz off.”
> “Fine, but you better behave yourself, trooper.”
> Other

>>643375
>> “Buzz off.”

>>643375
> “Fine, but you better behave yourself, trooper.”
A man after our own heart.

>>643375
>> “Fine, but you better behave yourself, trooper.”

>>643375
> “Fine, but you better behave yourself, trooper.”

>>643375
> “Fine, but you better behave yourself, trooper.”
Also, you're paying for the next round, you cheeky bugger.

>>643375
> “Fine, but you better behave yourself, trooper.”

> “Fine, but you better behave yourself, trooper.”

“Alright, fine, but you better behave yourself.”

He shrugs, giving you a very polite smile. “I can behave myself, so long as I keep my drinking down, ma'am.” He holds out his hand to the girls. “Sergeant Stratton Burkett. It's nice to meet you, girls.” Olga shakes his hand, then Naka, and Stacy, and finally Rosalie. Rosalie stares up at him in awe.

“Stratton Burkett?” She tilts her head, surprised. Embarrassed, he nods. “Lieutenant!” She points to him, shocked. “Lieutenant, this is THE Stratton Burkett! The Hero of Hill 606! You won a Silver Cross with Oak Leaves, Swords, and Diamonds! I- I can't believe I didn't recognize you!”

“Most people don't,” he says. Yeah, like you. You've heard of a Burkett, but you didn't think someone this sorry looking would be the man. “So are we going?”

“I guess,” you say. “Let's go.”

-

-

The sun is beginning to set on the Martian day, with cool dark colors flowing into the red skies. The parents, friends, and acquaintances of many of the graduating Recruits have already arrived in their finest formal outfits. Stacy, Rosalie, and Olga all gasp, then immediately run to Breckenridge and Joey, who hug them and high five them in celebration of their imminent graduation. The loss of Lindstrom seems to be dead and buried, at least for now. You fold your arms, looking around.

And find that Burkett has already found the bar. Well, he's got his priorities straight.

“Lieutenant!” Olga smiles happily. “This is amazing, we're graduating!” She looks around at the hundreds of chairs set forth before the stage. “Though... what's with all the chairs?”

“Yeah,” says Rosalie. “They expect more people to graduate?”

“You'll see,” you say. “Breckenridge, Joey.” The two boys look to you. “I'm proud of you two. You really helped my girls along. It's a shame that Lindstrom couldn't be here to celebrate this.”

The two boys nod, solemn. Joey especially sighs deeply. “We were hoping he'd get to see this.” The squad goes silent, awkward.

“Rosalie!” You hear something, then turn around to see the -fattest- woman you have ever met in your fucking life. Holy shit. The white dress that she wears does nothing to hide the stains of food and drink on it. Her makeup is shoddily done, and her hair all in one big hairsprayed hive. She holds out her arms, waddling over to Rosalie.

You lean over to Rosalie. “Who's that?” you ask.

Rosalie looks down, embarrassed. “My mom. I didn't think she'd actually spend money to attend my graduation.”

> “Let me handle her.”
> “Well, I'll let you two catch up.” Head to the bar.
> “Well, I'll just be going then.” Find your seat on the stage.
> Other

>>643601

> “Let me handle her.”

>>643601
>> “Let me handle her.”

>>643601
> “Let me handle her.”

>>643601
> “Let me handle her.”

>>643601
>> “Let me handle her.”

> “Let me handle her.”

You step up to Rosalie's mum. “Hey, there!” You hold out your hand, and she stops to acknowledge you. “You must be Miss O'Connor! It's nice to finally see where Rosalie uh...” You look at Miss O'Connor up and down. You can see Breckenridge dry heave while Joey helps shoo the girls away from the abomination that is this potential dependapotamus. “I'm her Lieutenant, it's nice to make your acquaintance.”

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine, dearie!” She shakes your hand gently, and you feel a thin film of what's probably something that used to be food. It makes you shiver in your place. “Tell me, how is Rosalie? I just saw her but now she's pulled a disappearing act on me!”

“Oh, she's fine, she's fine, I suppose,” you say. “Uh, I hear that your husband was in the Federal Service and that he uh... unfortunately passed on. I'm so sorry.”

Miss O'Connor waves you off. “His death was so unfortunate. But his pension allows me and Rosalie to live so comfortably!” Huh. Interesting considering that Rosalie apparently can't afford to fix her eyes even though a full medical pension is given to the legal guardian. “And I am glad to see Rosalie following in his footsteps, Federal Service members make such steady and large wages!”

You fold your arms. “Right, right. Uh... Miss O'Connor, listen, how I about help you find your seat.”

“Oh, sure, sure!” Miss O'Connor walks with you, the ground probably shaking underneath her weight. Oh God you need a drink. “You know, I see so many fine handsome young men in this crowd! What do you think?” She nudges you, giving you a sly smirk and a wink. “I could probably do with a second love.” Your skin crawls a little, ugh. How does something like Miss O'Connor even have sex!?

“So um... are you a citizen yourself, Miss?”

“Oh, no, no.” She motions to herself. “Unfortunately, there's too much of me for that. But I'm glad to have such brave and willing men and women to do it for me! Thank you so much for your service.” And there it is. You help Miss O'Connor into her seat.

“The ceremony will being in a bit,” you say. You step away, and dry heave a little.

> Take a seat and watch the ceremony from the stage (With Dune, Azuma, Mills, and the Prime Minister.)
> Watch the ceremony from the bar (With Burkett)
> Head into your hotel room and watch it on TV.
> Other

>>643848
> Take a seat and watch the ceremony from the stage (With Dune, Azuma, Mills, and the Prime Minister.)