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Hidden 11 yrs ago Post by Roman
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Roman Grumpy Toad / King of Dirt

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Welcome to Unit GC-88 of the Galactic Coalition Military, Private! Now hustle!

GM:Roman | Consultant/Co-GM:Lord Wraith

It is the year 2277. Man has conquered space travel, and has begun the necessity that is colonizing the planets of their local star space, known as the Genesis System. Their home planet, Gaia, is no longer their first choice; it is for the destitute and the unwanted. Those deemed 'valuable' or 'necessary' have been shipped to colonized planets, and everyone else scrapes up what cash they have to get the same opportunity.

As more planets became populated, ruling parties on all colonies formed a collective government, operating as a singular ruling organisation for all colonised planets in the system, known as the Galactic Coalition. The GC runs centrally through the Zion Station, a massive space vessel large enough to harbour a population almost equal to some of the planets that Man colonised, and the only one of its class.

But the Galactic Coalition, however idealistic, sadly cannot keep order throughout the light-years of the Genesis System across the several colonies without a considerable military force. And so, it is a considerable military force that the GC has created - the GC Military. Conscripting from all colonies, and even from Gaia, recruitment is consistently successful, mostly due to fresh recruits being offered free passage to Boot Camp, and a home on one of several colonised planets after two to four successful terms of deployment, depending on each assignment.

You are one such recruit, heading for your training camp on Primitus, the first colonised planet, and now used solely for Coaltion VIP's and military operations. You are awaiting touchdown, preparing for training, and hoping that your deployments will not result in a painful death. For whatever reason you joined up, you're here now, under the employment of the Galactic Coalition. You just hope your new life is better than the one you left.

Gear up, soldier. You're arriving.

"Buckle up, ladies and gents. We're landing in three minutes."

Justin sat down and strapped up. He preferred standing when travelling, but the Military wasn't a place for what you 'preferred', it was a place for what the Coalition told you to do. Most of it harmless, or so he'd heard. The general opinion on the shuttle was that deployment was peace-keeping. More a police force than an Army. Still, there were rumours from the outer moons that a few select individuals were growing tired of living under the GC's eye. Rumours that a few select individuals had decided to try and do something about it. That sounded more like army work. Justin wasn't sure which one he'd prefer. Supposedly, peace duty was rather humdrum, and he'd had plenty fill of that back on Danus.

Danus. Small world. Small colony. Small life. There were a few on the shuttle who had to ask for more specifics when he named his home, and he didn't blame them. It was a boring small moon colony with boring small people. He was nearly caught in it, but managed to break the pack. Couple terms of deployment and he could live on Calidum, or even help spearhead a new colony in the outer rim - everyone knew that's where the GC had their gaze turned upon. Expansion was the name of the game. So much so that colonies like Danus got left behind. It didn't surprise Justin, he'd learnt enough of the GC's history. If they could forget Gaia, then Danus was barely a blip on Zion's radar.

Justin's hypocritical self-righteousness was interrupted by the turbulence of planetary atmosphere entry. Primitus, the first off-world colony, and lazily named in Justin's lofty opinion. Repurposed for GCMilitary operations, and a large boot camp set up slightly offset from the South Pole. Primitus was cold and rocky and had high winds and Justin thought it was for these unpleasantries that the planet's ultimate purpose had been chosen. The rumour was that deployment was easy, but they made up for it by making sure you scraped mere survival in training.

The low thrum of the engine morphed into a singing whoosh as the atmospheric boosters kicked in and took over for landing. The shuttle seemed to groan at the change but it behaved, and gravity overtook them, a collective gasp from the passengers as their weight came back. Justin felt his legs become anchors to the floor again and noticed they felt slightly more solid. Primitus' higher gravity added another layer of fun to the military drills. They touched down with a definitive 'bump' and the seargent's voice rang loud and rough over the whining sound of the boosters cutting out, and the sharp hiss of hydraulic seals unlocking and the shuttle ramp lowering.

"Welcome to Primitus, Recruits! Down that ramp lies the finest military the human race has ever seen, and you lucky sons'a'bitches get to join them! But I gotta make one thing clear. I don't give a rats ass what corner of the System your scrappy hides have come from! Whether you from the rough ends of Gaia or high-fuckin'-falutin' Zion, whatever you got don't mean shit when you step off that ramp. You're GCMilitary now, and that means you're better than when you stepped on this sorry shuttle."
The seargent bent down and picked up a pack that rested by his feet. He lofted it with one hand, displaying it to the recruits.
"You'll all find one of these under your seats. It's got your bedroll, some rations, water, extra uniform, your civvies, and a couple bricks in it."
The recruits looked nervously at each other.

"You may have noticed that the gravity on Primitus is a little stronger than the colonies. This is something that you're gonna have to get used to over training. But we decided that we were gonna give you some help! Generous fella's that we find ourselves being." He put the pack down and pointed down the ramp.
"Camp's ten miles that direction, privates. Y'all want food and barracks to sleep in, I suggest you get to walkin'."
The recruits stared at him dumbly, packs slung over shoulders.

"Ten-HUT, RECRUITS! MOVE YOUR ASSES."
Hidden 11 yrs ago Post by NewClib
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NewClib

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The room was spartan, a desk was built into the wall and across from it was a slight elevation in the floor that served as a bed. There were prison cells that were better furnished and the room's sole occupant knew that from personal experience. Robert Holland sat on the "bed" in his civvies with a bottle of amber-colored liquid in one hand and his new rank in the other. Sergeant Holland, again. His lips twisted in a sour grin as he took another long pull from the bottle, it could have been worse. They could have busted back to Private like the last time. Maybe this time, he'd actually try to hold on to it. On the other hand, it wasn't as if it could get any worse. At forty-three his career was almost over and with his . . . colorful record, his chances of rising any higher ever again were slim to none.

His smile faded as he remembered his last Platoon Sergeant's frustration. The man had tried and he'd meant well. God only knew that the man had meant well and if Holland had some time to think things over, things could have been very different. But fate, it seemed, had other plans and those plans didn't include Sergeant Holland.

"Damnit, Holland," and Robert could still remember the anger in the man's voice, "you've got what it takes to be a hell of an NCO. Hell, I would give my left nut to have your know-how and your ability, but you're fucking throwing it away and pissing on it. I don't care if Daddy was mean to you when you little or if Mommy took off her tit too soon. You need to man the fuck up and do your fucking job. Your guys are depending on you, for Christ's sake."

Then the Platoon Sergeant had been killed by, of all things, a negligent discharge on the range. It had been one of the Privates on Holland's lane and while that Private was currently rotting away in military prison Holland had been the one who hadn't bothered to check and see if the guy's weapon was clear. Granted he wasn't the one who released the guy from the range, but if he taken the time to make sure that Private had properly cleared his weapon then the Platoon Sergeant would still be alive and that Private would still have life and future. Holland shook his head and swore softly before he took another swig.

Holland dug his phone out of his pocket and checked his messages and for the time in a while he smiled. His wife had left a message telling him that his son wanted to talk. With a grunt he stood and shambled out of the room, just another broken down NCO who was past his prime. As always the booths were full of soldiers, civilians and contractors who couldn't wait to talk with their families. The crowd, the chatter and the unending barrage of light from kiosks blaring their vendors' wares gave him a headache and set his teeth on edge. He was grateful for the relative quiet of the commo booth and as he waited for the connection to load he checked his reflection in the screen and hoped he didn't look too drunk.

At last the connection went through and the image of a seven year-old boy with a gap-toothed grin snapped into perfect resolution. Robert swallowed, Holy shit my boy's already seven. He smiled tiredly at his son.

"Hey, buddy." He hoped he didn't sound too drunk.

The kid waved. "Hi, Dad!"

"How you been, kid?"

Robert sat back and his smiled grew as his son told him about school, friends, the new puppy and more than Robert had ever wanted to know about dinosaurs. He nodded at all the right moments and kept the conversation going, but mostly he just listened and for the first time in a while Robert felt something like peace. At last the conversation slowed and his son's grin gave way to a serious expression that reminded Robert of a puppy.

"Dad, are you gonna come home?"

Not when, but if I'm going to come home . . . probably not outside of a fucking body-bag, son. Robert did what anyone parent would do in that situation. He smiled and lied, "I don't know, we'll see."

His son looked away from the screen and Robert heard a voice in the background.

The boy smiled again, "Dad, I hope you get to come home. Oh yeah, Mom says she wants to talk to you if that's okay."

That caught him off-guard. "Um, yeah okay, bye son."

"Bye, Dad."

The boy ran off and his Mother's image replaced him on the screen. She looked older and more careworn than he remembered. Well, no shit. It might have something to do with raising a boy on her own and having a fuckhead husband who's never home and drinks too much. He ignored the thought and tried to think of something to say, but what does a man say to a women he hasn't had any contact with for years, except for the occasional message that his son wanted to talk?

Even after everything she was still the most beautiful women he'd ever seen and more than anything he wanted to tell her that. He wished he knew the words that would bring her back, but they'd both said and done things that could never be forgotten.

". . . Hey."

"Hello, Robert."
Hidden 11 yrs ago Post by MST3K 4ever
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MST3K 4ever I still love MST3K after all these years.

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Robin heard the Sergeant's speech and paid attention to every word that was being said to her; on the outside. On the inside she was doing everything she could to keep from rolling her eyes. Robin grew up on Primitus and had made it through a good portion of basic training before her accident which forced her to have to repeat basic training all over again. Normally she would've been dismissed but the military was impressed with her and felt she had what it took to make a fine soldier. Besides this was to see if Robin was truly over her accident if nothing else, Not to mention growing up in the military Robin knew things about it that the normal person would never understand. That a lot of the talk from the Sergeants was just that; talk. They couldn't touch them at all and Robin knew this because the night before she joined her father told her all the secrets that Robin would need to know in order to survive.

That's not to say that Robin didn't respect those in authority over her. While Robin realized that she knew more than the average person and had been through a lot of this before not listening to a superior was the surest way of getting killed. There were those times laying in the hospital bed recovering from her accident Robin replayed the accident to see if there was anything she had missed in terms of instruction or anything like that. The Review Board cleared her and the family of the Sergeant who died with Robin didn't blame her for what happened, but there were those times still to this day that bothered Robin. In the quiet of the night there were moments where she'd wake up in a state of panic and fear, but Robin did everything she could to move past it.

Robin looked at her pack and left it where it was on the shuttle and stepped off of the shuttle while she looked around. She remembered this place from not necessarily from her first time in basic, but when her father brought her up when she was 16. Robin wanted to be in the military but her father was hoping that seeing the harsh life of a recruit would give her second thoughts. That plan didn't work out as well because it only increased her desire to join up. When Robin was 6 she threw a tantrum when her parents wouldn't let her get a crew cut, so it was safe to say that the military was in Robin's blood.

Robin gave a slight head shake with a smile and said, "Welcome home Robin." With that Robin began to head towards the barracks at a slow jogging pace.
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