be me
got merc'd up cuz my grades weren't good enough for the library
recruiter told me the 24th division of the 3rd legion of the mechanical infantry of the 8th army of the 1st fleet of the 6th Huul Sept had the best synthburgers on this side of the cluster every friday
i'm fucking in
they made it easy, only took five interviews, four written tests, a month of physicals and psychologicals, 158 pages of forms and a few catalog effects countermeasures surgeries
after boot camp, meeting the squad in the mvee hangar for the first time
they all just watching me
"a-ave?"
they still just watching
fuck me I got assigned to the weirdo hootie squad
imma just go check out if my mech smells like in the sims
suddenly, one of the creepy fucks grabs my shoulder
wordless, shoves a can of synthsardines in my hands
look into his eyes, that's the squad leader
that thousand yard stare, fucker's seen some shit
"never go moomin without your can o' deenz"
w-what the fuck
don't even get to check if they're boneless, fuckin sortie siren starts blaring
new squadmates rush to the bench with the three pre-mission forms and start fillin em out
squad lead barks at me one more time before throwing his paperwork on the pile and rushing off
"last pilot of your ride modded the K-LANS for full auto, go for burst fire. he called her "fat fuck". gud moomin'"
fuck fuck fuck
fat fuck's a nice machine, psy-link feels like my second dick already, but I'm shitting my pants
we get shot out of the carrier right into the firefight
forgot what war we were fighting, but the holoimperials are showing up as friendlies on the HUUD
welp, better start lining up volleys on whatever's highlighted red
BRRR-KRRRCHT
crap, that was a bit of my left arm
on the comms, lead yells at me "you're outta formation newman, get the fuck back here"
fuck off
he's right though
fire off a few Pilas in the general direction of the baddies and start boosting back to my position. fuckers are small but fast.
one of em dodges the missiles smooth as an owl passing trees in a muffled, wintry forest
that's a fcuking thermal lance thing in his mech's hands, damn moleym mercs bringing industrial gear to a comfy war
can't outrun him, turns out that left arm had one of my thrusters
basically counting down the fractions of a second until I get vaporized, I'm clutching the damn sardines instead of pulling out my particle container for some reason
a static shrieking worse than the loudest sapling I've ever heard interrupts my prayer and BTFO's the mental eardrums of anyone psy-linked in the system
a goddamn fucking catalog storm
brain hurts too much to be happy to live
"bravo, the fuck's going on?" one of my mates' able to cobble a sentence together
command yells back "conceptual shockwave just passed by, some big graduation shit going down in the vitium field. massive energy signature's being forced out of FTL."
"friendly?"
"hell to the fuck no, it's those fucks who hired the moleyms. anyway, it's all gone to shit, but it'll be the same for 'em, reform asap and we'll pull back for repairs, we can break the bonefucks another time, if the globohomos are still paying us."
i just want them to shut the fuck up and let me die, my frontal lobe feels like a cactus is fucking it
i crack my eyes open and check the visuals through zero-G tears
ah, there's the rip in space time, can just about see a chuuni-ass battleship forging through the plasma shroud
welp, looks like sweet liberation is coming, deadbrap boat's leaving the page right on top of us, gonna smash into us at orbital speeds
psy-link's more like a splatter of owl shit on a windshield than a link, fat fuck's not responding to me
better make my peaces with my pieces
grab the can of what is actually synthherring and say a prayer
then, a voice calls to me in the back of my head
"mmm coca-cola lollipop, i love it slurp lick slurp"
the fish... the feesh is talking to me
"shh let mommy finance take care of you..."
the heavenly noises extinguish the torture in my brain
"oops i sucked too hard hehe licky licky licky"
i can feel fat fuck again. the can is pulsating against my chest, or perhaps it's my heart
"this is great practice... for a candy eating contest hehe get your mind out of the gutter"
my mvee's back thrusters slam into afterburner hypercruise
20Gs of acceleration push the sardines into my belly
"okay, I'm gonna try biting it, gently... the candy hehe"
kilometers of deadbeat starship rush under me, barely missed. don't miss the huul carrier though, collision's about as bright as a Sana fart
that's gonna leave a dent in the budget
huh, right arm's holding onto one of my squadmate
that'll make the five "Return from AWOL" forms easier to fill out
tfw a can of feesh saved my ass