Ah, a new trainee right? And from the looks of it you don’t have a clue where you are or what you should be doing next.
Nice Glasses! You need good eyes to see through those
Well right now we’re standing in the Terran Republic Sanctuary, haven of peace and respite from the mayhem of war a mere moment away via teleport.
Here in this oasis of calm, contemplation is possible if only for a brief time. Out of the reach of the enemy, it is an opportunity to take a breath, to reconsider strategy, to formulate a plan which keeps you alive and crushes your foe.
And there are foes all around! The “New Conglomerate” and the “Vanu Sovereignty” stand ever poised to take advantage of the slightest sign of weakness from within the hardened ranks of the “Terran Republic.” Any opportunity to grab a foothold in our territory is exploited mercilessly and we must remain ever vigilant against their aggression in order to keep that which is ours and to take that which is temporarily and unrightfully theirs.
They say that we are a common race divided by incompatible political doctrines, but I don’t know anything about that. I’m just a soldier and deep thinking is not part of the job description. I’m trained to kill and I say leave the thinking to the thinkers and the killing to the killers. Mark my words, we’re all better off that way so just stick to what you’re good at.
Not that death is anything to be feared anymore, nobody has truly died here for hundreds of years. I’ve killed and died for my empire more times than I can remember and so will you, only to be brought back time and again by plundered alien technologies, which store our very essence and reconstitute us to fight and die in an endless circle.
Travel to different planets and kill people!
The agony of death is real of course and in our technological mastery we have developed some terrible ways to die. But even fear of suffering dulls after a while with familiarity, though in truth I’d always rather be the one pulling the trigger.
This terminal we’re standing in front of is the “Equipment Console,” you’ll use it to pull on your choice of armour, weapons and…… wait! You hear that Klaxon? That’s alerting any assembled troops as to the impending arrival of a “High Altitude Rapid Transport” or “HART”. You can actually feel the roar of its engines thundering over the building we’re in, do you feel it? It’s heading over into the departure terminal, but you don’t have to worry about it now, there’ll be another… there’ll always be another.
The HART is one of many ways to get to the battlefield, but I don’t tend to use it. As a sniper I tend to travel alone in the first instance, requesting a “Harrasser” (A two man buggy with a mounted machine gun) from a vehicle terminal and making my own way to the fight via one of the warp gates scattered around the sanctuary island. Once there I might join up with a squad depending on circumstances, but each trip is a little different so I never know for sure.
None shall cross! Without my permission
With the hardened philosophy lent to me by constant battle, it’s hard to believe that it still seems only yesterday that like you I was new to the fight.
Beginning here in this very sanctuary I completed basic training in the VR Arenas, before being presented with the choice of where to best use the certifications I had been awarded.
Every choice is a trade off against something else, with only so many points to spend it can be hard to choose a field to specialise in.
Should you be a ground or air vehicle specialist? Piloting or driving your comrades into the heart of the fight? Or a medic bringing much needed relief to the wounded? Maybe an engineer with the ability to repair fortifications, field armour and vehicles alike, as well as build defensive turrets and motion sensors. Or a specialist hacker able to break into enemy base systems and subvert them.
Hard choices indeed and which one you choose determines which portion of our technology is initially available to you.
I remember trying to choose wisely and looking back I don’t think I did so badly.
Backing up my sniper qualification with a basic buggy licence enabled me to get behind the wheel of about five different vehicles and has paid dividends since in getting me quickly to where I can do the most good.
But the trade off was that I had to settle for basic armour which only has room for one rifle, leaving me pretty vulnerable if somebody sneaks up behind me while I’m concentrating on the scope.
Stop these guys?? HOW?!
More certifications follow as you gain in rank though and now I am almost in a position to upgrade to a “Reinforced Exosuit” which will allow me to pack a second rifle more suited to the action when things get a little more up close and personal.
Oh I know what you’re thinking and perhaps you’re right. There’s more glory to be had as a front line fighter right? Storming the enemy base with your comrades in arms, deep in the thick of the fray with guns blazing and your combat knife clenched between your teeth? Well who knows, that might be true for you.
Yes the path I’ve chosen isn’t for everyone, not many have the stamina or the patience, the ability to wait for that perfect moment, the single instant where suddunly all the conditions are right and gentle pressure on the trigger produces a kill which transcends the mundane and leaps into the realm of true art.
Then the frustration of leaving your hard won position to find another, as success betrays your location to the enemy as surely as a beacon.
For all the technology available to us, I’ll admit between you and me that it wasn’t until my third or forth mission that I actually managed a kill! I remember the first as though it were yesterday.
I suppose I should remember his name, being my first kill and all, but after a while all the names begin to blur together into one. Don’t look at me like that, it’ll happen to you as well, count on it!
I’d checked the interstellar map to see where the enemy was concentrated and decided on a trip to “Cyssor.”
There were a couple of other troops going the same way so I checked out a “Marauder” from the vehicle terminal. It’s a three man jeep with a couple of gun emplacements. Not much good if you come up against armoured opponents, but just the thing if you encounter unsuspecting infantry on the road.
We hurried north to the “Broadcast Gate” and almost instantaneously we were transported to the hilly landscape of Cyssor. Checking my map I found that “Tore Interlink Facility” was under heavy attack and kicking the Marauder into gear we raced toward the besieged outpost.
I dropped off my passengers on the road a little way from “Tore” and left them to make their own way in while I turned off and headed inland into the hills. My loadout is not geared to close encounters and height is the snipers friend.
It took about fifteen minutes to climb to a suitable position where I could see all around but the battle still raged below me. My fellow TR troops were hard pressed to defend the walls of the outpost from the attacking New Conglomerate scum.
Does my bum look big in this?
The NC had placed heavy armour around the perimeter and was using it to pound the heroic defenders within. Also they had deployed several aircraft which soared and wheeled in the sky above the base, graceful as birds with their wings glinting in the sunlight, but far more deadly as they sent their missiles screaming home into the midst of my comrades.
As I watched a pair of Eclipse’s strode into view over the top of an overlooking hill and made for the outpost gates, huge walking killing machines higher than a house!
Crouching down where I could use the rise of the hill to best effect as a partial shield, I zeroed in my scope and took a better look at the battlefield. In truth there seemed to be little I could do here as this battle would be won or lost with mobile armour and things were looking bad for the Republic.
Then as I moved my sights along the battle scarred ramparts of the outpost I noticed a wounded soldier exiting one of the wall mounted gun turret emplacements.
He was obviously hurt and staggered a little as he stepped out, but ironically that stagger probably saved his life as the round of an enemy sniper buried itself in the wall behind him where his head had been a fraction of a second before.
Shielding his eyes from the walls concrete shrapnel, the soldier ducked and covered but found himself pinned down by the sniper whose obvious frustration was now evident as shots ricochet around his targets head.
The gap between each shot was enough for the man to scrabble a few feet further along the rampart, but his assailant was obviously very adept with his weapon of choice and I was sure the man knew that he would not survive should he for even a moment present a decent target.
Following the probable trajectory of the shots I soon found myself staring through my scope at the nearby Watch Tower some 400 meters from the outpost. At first I saw nothing, but then with his next shot the sniper gave away his rooftop position and now he was squarely in my sights.
It seems incredible looking back to remember that I paused at that moment, with my finger applying just a fraction less than the necessary pressure on the trigger I actually hesitated. But then he fired again and leaving all doubt behind me I took the shot.
Ok boys, smile for the camera.
Armour plating is a wonderful thing to have wrapped around you in the heat of battle, but a frustrating thing to have wrapped around your target and though the snipers round from the “Bolt Driver” is one of the most powerful rifle rounds on the battlefield, it still takes two shots to breach most body armour. So it was that after my first shot struck home, there followed an agonising gap while a second round loaded up.
Astonishingly the sniper did not use this time to make good his escape as I had assumed he would when the first round found its mark, but instead remained in the exact same position for a vital moment too long. He began to move just as I fired my second round, but by then it was too late for him to avoid the consequences.
As his lifeless body slumped to the floor and his consciousness doubtless began its journey to the nearest reanimation point, I was gripped by the double edged sword of elation and guilt for my first kill. There have been many since of course, but that first one will stay with me always.
We’re all of us moments from agonising death of course at any given time, it’s a fact of life that you just have to learn to live with. The man on the ramparts had avoided his fate this time thanks to my intervention, but later that same day it would be my turn to face death.
I had noticed on the map that the NC had taken a string of towers and outposts and if they continued the pattern I could see where they would strike next.
Don’t look so surprised, it doesn’t take a brilliant tactician and when you’ve been here long enough you’ll find that patterns will emerge if you stare at the chaos for long enough.
Along the route they would have to take was a bridge they would have to cross, which meant that if I could get to an overlooking hill quickly enough, I would be spoiled for targets to pick off and with any luck would be able to chalk up quite a tally before I was discovered and forced to retreat.
I selected a cross country route and gunned the Marauder through the countryside, but a miscalculation of slope angle saw me momentarily trapped on a hillside too steep for the vehicle to climb.
I was only hanging there for a second, but it was enough time for a “Magrider” an enemy tank which little known to me had been following my path with its main guns, to open fire with deadly accuracy, virtually destroying my Marauder with one volley!
I leapt out in hopes of avoiding the second attack and the blast of that shot hitting home finished my vehicle and threw me clear.
Shaking my head in shock I could dimly see the approaching Magrider, who having destroyed the Marauder was now intent on adding me to his quota for the day and realising I had nowhere to run I steeled myself for a painful death.
Sniper V's Stompy Robot? Run Away!
Suddenly the ground around the Magrider erupted with explosions. Shells from above tore great chunks out of the earth and the hull of the tank and I looked up to find my own personal miracle! Blotting out the sun above me was the solid form of a TR Reaver aircraft.
Sensing that this might be a good time to make himself scarce, the tank driver slewed his vehicle wildly in an attempt to avoid the oncoming fire of this new and unwelcome player on the scene. But his attempts at evasion were fruitless and moments later he and his tank were a burning wreck.
As the Reaver pivoted on the spot and tore back into the sky over my head I shouted “thankyou!” at the top of my lungs, but with little hope that the pilot would actually hear me.
“You’re very welcome.” Came the reply over my personal coms channel and the craft weaved from side to side in waved farewell.
In the field we owe our lives to each other a hundred times over and whether you decide to work as a lone wolf or as part of a tight knit squad, you’ll still be depending on your brothers in arms for your day to day survival.
Anyway, that’s enough talk for one day. You’ve got training to get underway and I’ve got business with the enemy.
Maybe I’ll see you out on the field rookie, just watch your back and don’t be the soldier forced to dance on the outpost rampart, but if you ever are? Then just hope that someone like me is around to change the tune you’re dancing to.
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