Taking a crack
Heyman
Join Date: 2005-03-29 Member: 46895Members
Join Date: 2005-03-29 Member: 46895Members
<div class="IPBDescription">Hopefully it's not an abomination</div>So I've decided to write some fiction.
Aaaaaand here we go:
<!--quoteo--><div class='quotetop'>QUOTE </div><div class='quotemain'><!--quotec--><i>Day 3 of Basic Training</i>
"That's a hive."
"It looks like a giant pair of alien testicles."
The Instructor. "Yeah. It's a pretty accurate description."
"So if we killed it, we'd be castrating every Xeno on the ship?"
"Yyyyep."
And there I stood, examining the largest ballsack I'd ever seen.
At 0500 hours, most of the trainees (including me) were in a pretty foul mood, so it was rare that we had any significant insights on the
sex life of a monstrous alien collective. But the epiphany came, and we were still for a while considering the thought. At least until the holograms were hastily flipped off by another recruit.
"Ugh." She grunted. "I can't believe this bunch."
"And since when did we let ###### enter the TSA?"
"Since the sexual equality incentives last year."
"And since when did we let ###### enter frontline combat?"
She looked at me with a dry smile, and pulled out a small box from her pockets. "Since these pills kept me from killing all of you once a month."
I returned the smile. "Point taken. Want to skip the dating part and go to my quarters?"
"No, and no."
"So you'll date?"
"No."
"Can I at least know your name?"
"No."
Another day. I sighed, and decided to go to target practice. At least there, you could hit things.<!--QuoteEnd--></div><!--QuoteEEnd-->
<a href="http://www.unknownworlds.com/ns2/forums/index.php?s=&showtopic=111230&view=findpost&p=1801382" target="_blank">Day 6</a>
<a href="http://www.unknownworlds.com/ns2/forums/index.php?s=&showtopic=111230&view=findpost&p=1801696" target="_blank">Day 9</a>
More to come when I feel like writing more.
Aaaaaand here we go:
<!--quoteo--><div class='quotetop'>QUOTE </div><div class='quotemain'><!--quotec--><i>Day 3 of Basic Training</i>
"That's a hive."
"It looks like a giant pair of alien testicles."
The Instructor. "Yeah. It's a pretty accurate description."
"So if we killed it, we'd be castrating every Xeno on the ship?"
"Yyyyep."
And there I stood, examining the largest ballsack I'd ever seen.
At 0500 hours, most of the trainees (including me) were in a pretty foul mood, so it was rare that we had any significant insights on the
sex life of a monstrous alien collective. But the epiphany came, and we were still for a while considering the thought. At least until the holograms were hastily flipped off by another recruit.
"Ugh." She grunted. "I can't believe this bunch."
"And since when did we let ###### enter the TSA?"
"Since the sexual equality incentives last year."
"And since when did we let ###### enter frontline combat?"
She looked at me with a dry smile, and pulled out a small box from her pockets. "Since these pills kept me from killing all of you once a month."
I returned the smile. "Point taken. Want to skip the dating part and go to my quarters?"
"No, and no."
"So you'll date?"
"No."
"Can I at least know your name?"
"No."
Another day. I sighed, and decided to go to target practice. At least there, you could hit things.<!--QuoteEnd--></div><!--QuoteEEnd-->
<a href="http://www.unknownworlds.com/ns2/forums/index.php?s=&showtopic=111230&view=findpost&p=1801382" target="_blank">Day 6</a>
<a href="http://www.unknownworlds.com/ns2/forums/index.php?s=&showtopic=111230&view=findpost&p=1801696" target="_blank">Day 9</a>
More to come when I feel like writing more.
Comments
<!--quoteo--><div class='quotetop'>QUOTE </div><div class='quotemain'><!--quotec--><i>Day 6 of Basic Training</i>
"You there."
I looked up, pausing the daily routine of 100 push-ups.
"Sir."
"Name and Rank."
"Corporal Matthew Calhoun, sir."
Commander Newman was a sleek and toned piece of ridiculously hot ass. It escaped my grasp on reality to think about how those wonderful proportions had managed to survive 23 engagements, which included that supposed hellhole Tanith. The war stories had plenty to say about her leadership prowess... and her hips. She was here before the equality incentives, and even the AB (Anti-######) pills. Hard to imagine.
She stared down at me. "Get up."
"Sir!" Then she stared through me.
Newman pointed off to the side. "What do you think of the Private over there?"
Eli Kross was forever destined to pilot dropships. He only made it to the target number of push-ups if the commander's pleasant figure was there to encourage his feeble masculinity. I'd feel bad for him every once a month.
"Sir, he's improving every day. I think Kross will make a good addition to the Frontiersman."
It was a lie, of course. But given the choice between acting within proper protocol or getting my ass kicked, I chose the former.
Lesson One of basic training: <b>DO NOT ###### WITH THE TEAM</b>.
The commander nodded with a satisfied look, then walked off, continuing to beat down on any trainee dumb enough to tell the truth.
I sighed as I finished my routine. I looked back at the Commander's really-friggin'-easy-on-the-eyes body, and considered becoming a masochist.<!--QuoteEnd--></div><!--QuoteEEnd-->
<!--quoteo--><div class='quotetop'>QUOTE </div><div class='quotemain'><!--quotec--><i>Day 9 of Basic Training</i>
Target Practice was unusually full.
I walked in, taking a look around for any clue as to what the special event was.
Cross stood there behind the mob.
"What's going on here?"
He looked pensive. "Looks like they're going to teach us how to use the old armory."
"Huh."
Most of the recruits were standing around to what amounted to a high tech ammo barrel. Called 'The Prostitue,' many an idiot would "hump" the damn thing, and overload on munitions before engagements. These marines ended up dying, lagging behind the group and getting picked off easily by whatever lurked in the shadows. The then-recent advent of nano logistics didn't take well to the first generation of TSA marines. The smart ones who requested ammunition from the commander were the ones who ended up instructing us.
Commander Newman stood nearby, reciting the specs of the machine.
"These old armories were at every single engagement. They uplinked into the command network and provided the schematics for the old nanomachines to make weapons, ammunition, and med-vials. Dispensed half a load for whatever gun you needed. If this thing went down, we'd essentially lose our supply line. Unfortunately, the aliens got pretty damn smart after the first round of battles. They loved to go after this thing. A lot of operations I headed failed right there and then. More fortunately, once the armory got upgraded..."
She gestured at the row of weapons lined up on a nearby table.
"This here's the old-school ######. It was pretty good."
Commander I'd-Hit-That picked up something everybody could identify.
"Shotgun. Nothing fancy. Didn't need to be. Eight shell capacity. Seventeen pellets a shell. This thing will ###### YOU UP, and it pretty much did the same thing to any alien that got within ten feet of the barrel."
She set it down carefully. That was something one could call <u>respect</u>. Next.
"4 shot nade launcher. Revolving chambers, a ###### to reload, and does it's goddamn job. I know it's pretty obvious, but be careful with these guys. The grenades bounce pretty easily."
Everybody knew the last one was special. Commander Newman picked up a heavy hulk of a gun, and aimed it down the range.
"Heavy Machine Gun. My Swan Song. Fifty caliber with a 125 Bullet Internal Cartridge. Wonderful recoil compensator. Huge reload time, massive spread, and the only thing that will save you from a swarm. If this was a person, he'd be an ugly ###### with a 10 inch ######. I'd ride him like one a those Texan Dropships they make back on Earth."
She pulled the trigger, and the gun performed exactly how she told us it would: Loud, powerful, and perhaps sexy.
Eli Kross was left off in the background lazily acknowledging the distant lesson, and was clearly not looking at the correct part of the Commander's body. I couldn't really blame him; I was looking there too.<!--QuoteEnd--></div><!--QuoteEEnd-->