The Vindicators
legion_gimpeh
Join Date: 2003-02-10 Member: 13384Members
<div class="IPBDescription">An introduction to Captain Ian Lamh</div> <b>The Vindicators</b>.
It’s a common joke amongst TSA Marines.
“There are two kinds of Marine,” the Sergeant would bark, “A good Marine and a dead one!” The assembled recruits would laugh at this comment, confident in their immortality. It takes the Kharaa about thirty seconds to shatter that illusion. Survival against the Kharaa takes feats of superhuman proportions every day, and that’s before breakfast.
I have seen countless men die in research facilities, space stations and hulking space vessels drifting through space. I’ve seen more go crazy from paranoia. When you are regularly at straining point from tension, the slightest creak of metal fatigue can drive you nuts. The TSA project themselves as an umbrella task force, protecting Humanity from the scourge of the Kharaa. In truth, a good proportion of us are paranoid delusionals, with an itchy trigger finger.
Saying that, crazy Marines don’t last long. You’re given a week to shape up, or you join the casualty list and we’re not talking walking wounded here. A pistol round to the back of the head, followed by a swift ejection into space through a nearby airlock sure cuts down on a lot of the paperwork.
Those who shape up are sent here, to the Vindicators.
The Vindicators is the big skeleton in the TSA’s closet. No one outside of the upper echelons of TSA Command knows of our existence for good reason. If the general public were aware of what happened to their husbands, sons and boyfriends in the cold void of space, there would be a public outcry. The TSA as a whole would have their funding snatched from them and I doubt that even the far-reaching Constellation could save us then.
We are deemed unfit to fight alongside “regulars”, so we are reserved for “high risk situations”. The nickname for the Vindicators is the “Suicide Squad”. We’re the guys which are sent in to the space vessels who have been infested too much for the regulars to cut their teeth on.
My name is Captain Ian Lamh and I am a Vindicators veteran. I’ve been here five weeks.
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Hello all, this is my first foray into the Natural Selection fan-fiction world. This is basically the prologue and introduction to a character and "squad" of my own invention which I intend for several stories. I hope you enjoyed this and look out for the other stories soon.
It’s a common joke amongst TSA Marines.
“There are two kinds of Marine,” the Sergeant would bark, “A good Marine and a dead one!” The assembled recruits would laugh at this comment, confident in their immortality. It takes the Kharaa about thirty seconds to shatter that illusion. Survival against the Kharaa takes feats of superhuman proportions every day, and that’s before breakfast.
I have seen countless men die in research facilities, space stations and hulking space vessels drifting through space. I’ve seen more go crazy from paranoia. When you are regularly at straining point from tension, the slightest creak of metal fatigue can drive you nuts. The TSA project themselves as an umbrella task force, protecting Humanity from the scourge of the Kharaa. In truth, a good proportion of us are paranoid delusionals, with an itchy trigger finger.
Saying that, crazy Marines don’t last long. You’re given a week to shape up, or you join the casualty list and we’re not talking walking wounded here. A pistol round to the back of the head, followed by a swift ejection into space through a nearby airlock sure cuts down on a lot of the paperwork.
Those who shape up are sent here, to the Vindicators.
The Vindicators is the big skeleton in the TSA’s closet. No one outside of the upper echelons of TSA Command knows of our existence for good reason. If the general public were aware of what happened to their husbands, sons and boyfriends in the cold void of space, there would be a public outcry. The TSA as a whole would have their funding snatched from them and I doubt that even the far-reaching Constellation could save us then.
We are deemed unfit to fight alongside “regulars”, so we are reserved for “high risk situations”. The nickname for the Vindicators is the “Suicide Squad”. We’re the guys which are sent in to the space vessels who have been infested too much for the regulars to cut their teeth on.
My name is Captain Ian Lamh and I am a Vindicators veteran. I’ve been here five weeks.
-----
Hello all, this is my first foray into the Natural Selection fan-fiction world. This is basically the prologue and introduction to a character and "squad" of my own invention which I intend for several stories. I hope you enjoyed this and look out for the other stories soon.
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