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[Locked To Residents Only]
War.
Nobody likes it. Unless you're the guy selling weapons. As a matter of fact, we have some people like that listening right now. Hell, I was one of them myself. Good business practice, that. People never want to stop killing each other. Well, gentlemen, this world is no exception. Now I'm no fighter myself, but right now I'm one of the few people with the security clearance to contact you folks. So here I am. CJ, head of the MARS division, to call out your names for the draft to come. Now let me just get this list. One second now.
[He clears his throat and starts listing off the names for the people drafted, alphabetically by first name. This will take him awhile. So bear with him. By the time he's done, his voice is raspier than usual. There's a lengthy pause after this before he continues.]
There. That's everyone. If you didn't hear your name, then lucky you. You get to stay and avoid the upcoming battle. But for the those of you who were called out, it's time to serve your organization. Save the world. Protect the innocent. Kill the bastards who tried to kill me last week. But it's not all doom and gloom, kids. Think of this as a special opportunity. Why? Because to save the world, you won't be on this world. That's right, you're going to space. Space. For those of you who don't know what that is, it's the big black thing just above the sky. Filled with planets, the moon, and the sun. It's big. Very big. And you're about to experience it yourself.
The Commandant can't be here to deliver the news, seeing as how she's preparing for the battle herself. There was talk of doing one of those automated messages, but I told them to hell with that. I prefer the personal approach. So let me give you the details. I've attached some information here you'll find useful. Be sure to read it thoroughly before you go out there. The last thing we need is for one of you nutjobs to go out an airlock without the appropriate equipment. Trust me, you don't want to do it. There's no air out there. And without air, no one can hear you screaming and gagging. Which in my opinion, is probably a good thing. Never was a fan of hearing cries for help. Downright unsettling.
Now hold on a second while I attach a few things.
[First there's a map of the moon base. Then a map of the moon. Then there's technical details for The Liberator, the Tyr-Fighters, the space suits, weapons, and anything else that would be relevant.]
There you go. More information than you could ever want, free of charge. Now you're probably asking yourself, "How the hell do a bunch of helmet-wearing savages get their asses in space?" Good question. I have no idea. A couple of days ago they were spotted carving up a bunch of mountains. Then started taking those pieces in the sky. We figured it was an aerial assault, but before we knew it, the bastards were going into space. Without the decency of proper space equipment. The Security Forces have been trying to pick them off, but that was just the first wave. Seems like the second waves gonna be a doozie. So that's where you all come in. You're the reinforcements. All of you. In every single enclosure out there. Except you guys. You know who you are.
That means you'll be fighting with our own Security Forces. You lot will be on The Liberator, captained by Specialist Davis. Some of you may already know him already. Now you might be thinking this is a good opportunity to pick a fight and settle some scores. Well don't. You'll be outnumbered out there. If you want to get back to your cozy beds in one piece, you'll need to cooperate. Teamwork. Think of it as a good bonding experience. And a chance to make yourselves not look like a bunch of raving lunatics too dangerous to let loose. That about wraps up this briefing. Prepare to move out at 9AM, two days from now. Sarah, you can cut the feed now. Sarah? Dammit, I'll do it myself.
[Click.]
Nobody likes it. Unless you're the guy selling weapons. As a matter of fact, we have some people like that listening right now. Hell, I was one of them myself. Good business practice, that. People never want to stop killing each other. Well, gentlemen, this world is no exception. Now I'm no fighter myself, but right now I'm one of the few people with the security clearance to contact you folks. So here I am. CJ, head of the MARS division, to call out your names for the draft to come. Now let me just get this list. One second now.
[He clears his throat and starts listing off the names for the people drafted, alphabetically by first name. This will take him awhile. So bear with him. By the time he's done, his voice is raspier than usual. There's a lengthy pause after this before he continues.]
There. That's everyone. If you didn't hear your name, then lucky you. You get to stay and avoid the upcoming battle. But for the those of you who were called out, it's time to serve your organization. Save the world. Protect the innocent. Kill the bastards who tried to kill me last week. But it's not all doom and gloom, kids. Think of this as a special opportunity. Why? Because to save the world, you won't be on this world. That's right, you're going to space. Space. For those of you who don't know what that is, it's the big black thing just above the sky. Filled with planets, the moon, and the sun. It's big. Very big. And you're about to experience it yourself.
The Commandant can't be here to deliver the news, seeing as how she's preparing for the battle herself. There was talk of doing one of those automated messages, but I told them to hell with that. I prefer the personal approach. So let me give you the details. I've attached some information here you'll find useful. Be sure to read it thoroughly before you go out there. The last thing we need is for one of you nutjobs to go out an airlock without the appropriate equipment. Trust me, you don't want to do it. There's no air out there. And without air, no one can hear you screaming and gagging. Which in my opinion, is probably a good thing. Never was a fan of hearing cries for help. Downright unsettling.
Now hold on a second while I attach a few things.
[First there's a map of the moon base. Then a map of the moon. Then there's technical details for The Liberator, the Tyr-Fighters, the space suits, weapons, and anything else that would be relevant.]
There you go. More information than you could ever want, free of charge. Now you're probably asking yourself, "How the hell do a bunch of helmet-wearing savages get their asses in space?" Good question. I have no idea. A couple of days ago they were spotted carving up a bunch of mountains. Then started taking those pieces in the sky. We figured it was an aerial assault, but before we knew it, the bastards were going into space. Without the decency of proper space equipment. The Security Forces have been trying to pick them off, but that was just the first wave. Seems like the second waves gonna be a doozie. So that's where you all come in. You're the reinforcements. All of you. In every single enclosure out there. Except you guys. You know who you are.
That means you'll be fighting with our own Security Forces. You lot will be on The Liberator, captained by Specialist Davis. Some of you may already know him already. Now you might be thinking this is a good opportunity to pick a fight and settle some scores. Well don't. You'll be outnumbered out there. If you want to get back to your cozy beds in one piece, you'll need to cooperate. Teamwork. Think of it as a good bonding experience. And a chance to make yourselves not look like a bunch of raving lunatics too dangerous to let loose. That about wraps up this briefing. Prepare to move out at 9AM, two days from now. Sarah, you can cut the feed now. Sarah? Dammit, I'll do it myself.
[Click.]
no subject
I appreciate that you waited until my shift was gone before you signed me up to something. Though I'm betting my ass that was just a happy coincidence.
We still get dibs on gear we need and all that?
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Who's Sarah? Is she someone I should know, or a wife who lurks off-screen for your announcements?
... Or both?
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She's my secretary.
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Ever tried to ask her out on a date? Unless she's married. Then you're S.O.L.
[Chatting with the 'enemy' ally. Why the fuck not. Like he knows who he should be angry with around here—not like he can change anything.]
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[SHRUG, OH WELL SUCKS TO BE YOU.]
Maybe she's got a nice sister around your age you can invite to dinner, as long as you don't fuck it up somehow. Or you can get on a malnosso dating show.
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[more importantly-]
I've noticed you get left in the dark about a lot of things. Are you one of the guys who graduated from a cubicle and hate their shit jobs in the office? You got that sort of air about you.
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[Voice / Private]
Rick.
[Voice / Private]
[Tired from a few days of misery and anxiety, still the same ol' Doyle who really should take more goddamn catnaps. But he's been worse. Doing better. He's not worried about any of this.]
Space. Sounds pretty cool, huh?
Minus all the war shit.
[Voice / Private]
[She cuts herself off. Scrubs her face with a hand.]
...be careful.
[Voice / Private]
[He smiles faintly, voice more reassuring than anything..]
I can do this... so don't worry about my sorry ass. We'll be back in no time.
[Voice / Private]
[But. She'll try to worry less.]
...if you get yourself killed I will be so angry with you.
[Voice / Private]
[But he shakes his head, smiling.]
I'll keep myself at a distance. Unless there's a damsel in need of my help. Then it's up in the air.
[Voice / Private]
[Voice / Private]
[Voice / Private]