Summary: A fleshed-out introduction to Division K-9, tension at the start of the first mission, and then finally the TAC names.
Action to come next chapter.
432/04/17 (April 17th, AC 432)
1350 Far Eastern Federal Time
Near New Mariinsk Airport, Southeastern Magadan | Core Territory of the Pacific Federation
-On the way to New Mariinsk sortie-
Subject: K-9A | Deborah Gossller
"Get going, don't waste my time."
Guard lady again. This is gonna be a while... "Like I haven't already-"
"Not one more of it...Alpha!"
Yep, I'm goin', I'm goin'.
We're just chockos – fighter pilots who get the ass-end of the assignments. We ain't destined to be the shining stars of the Pacific Federation's might and iron fist.
We're just a bunch of – pardon me – lucky good citizens who got the badge of public service. We get a lotta cool livin'-off-the-government benefits that are basically handouts with stripes.
A GI bill is what it amounts to, and the Feds sure do love their little recruiters. Still recall the little Blue Stars to Go ads they put up.
"Serve your community! Be at the top of the world! A good life through service! Feds, we Vets!"
Catchy.
Of course, people tend to forget that stripes don't always indicate being in the service fully; people like Vita love to treat us higher than we really are. Are all Oceanians that fire-lined in their nerves? He keeps haranguing us about discipline, about getting formal tactical names so we could be easily recognized beyond just simply numbers and letters.
His rationale? So we could be a lot more than just some notes on a sheet to be filed down daily. I know this sounds odd, but...fuck that.
We're fine with being insignificant numbers and letters on paper, we're doin' well enough in our daily lives and our free time.
Let Andray Casper – whatshisfuckingname – be the Bravo of the canines and what's what, we'll just be notes as well grab our big fat pensions.
You know what? While I rush into the hangars, lemme give you a quick recap of why we're here.
K-9C here – Joan Colt – got the badge because she's got an idiot deadbeat hubby who's hardly available the whole life. The babysitter vs. the couch lounger, that relationship basically was. Kids are on their way to college – outgrew a lot of their supposed patriarch's "qualities." Two boys, one girl, so...fair enough, no sexism there about one pair being better than the other.
She doesn't quite fancy the military life that much, though, being on the backburner and on the weekends. The SWAT quattro is what she took to calling us – Sometimes weekly and Tuesday...ly.
K-9D – Elias von Romansky – is the laidback cool old guy of the bunch. If he were a reg, we'd think he was some Oceania grayhound or some gruff Periphery fighter. But looks don't count for shit in the reality jungle – this is the truth we're interested in, and the truth is he's a civil engineer guy who works more with a hammer than a trigger.
Word from his shop says he's got some combat vets and Northams (North Americans) on the bricking payroll. Really fun client to speak to. You get my gist, either way, and the Feds are good with lending the money to the cement he's with.
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