So I wake up from cryo sleep, and There's this nice letter from our Fleet Commander with orders for me to get my arse clothed and hauling gear for a 'fun time to be had by all'. Nothing good has ever happened from an introduction like that.
I threw most of what I thought might be useful in whatever big surprise operation the bastard has planned this week, and reported to commons.
The 'invitation' read something like this:
MONDAY 13:00: YOU LADIES BETTER HAVE YOUR CRAP PACKED BECAUSE WE'RE.... Going camping!
glee.
amidst some grumbles and side-jokes, someone actually raised a hand and said "But sir, we just moved everything Last Week, don't you think this is unnecessary?"
...see, I didn't know they had installed miniaturized thermonuclear remote detonation devices inside our heads until that point. At least everyone was awake by then.
I'll spare you the details of putting batteries into secure canisters and refueling duties. Eventually we made it to base camp and set up shop.
These exercises are designed to promote teamwork, sharpen our combat skills, and exercise our problem solving... uhg, I don't think I can keep smiling about it much longer. If I have to spend one single more minute in some backwater system that was only ever populated 100 years ago during the tritanium rush in what is basically the jurassic age I may just self-destruct. Or fly my gang into a star.
We kill the unsuspecting shuttle here and there, and occasionally an off-duty Iteron but really, this is the pits.
Commander etheris: "Beatings will continue until morale improves."
If things get better, I'll have something to write about. In the meantime, enjoy the coverage of the recent DED raids, drink some Quafe, and wait for the bang.
20080428
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