"We knew what we were getting ourselves into. Each and every one of us. A semi militaristic city, filled to the brim with the best technology available, inhabited by the most capable and talented people of our time? True, not all of us might have known what exactly we were doing here, but our purpose in being here was obvious."
- Olaf Payam, Sovereign of Marcia, 2472
~
You are startled awake by a loud siren, stemming from the speakers above your bed. A siren that you have come to know well by now, at that.
Still dazed by being asleep until a moment ago, you let out an anguished groan. The Time? 5:12. 5:12
AM.It dawns on you that two shifts will miss their meal at the canteen, you yourself included. Whoever authorized this crap, already has a special place in your thoughts.
Intent on staying under your warm blankets for as long as possible, you improvise. Wrapping them around yourself, your drudge to the wardrobe is illuminated by the stinging red light that accompanies such joyful occasions.
Despite your resistance to start this peculiar day in this peculiar manner, you really do not want to come late to the drill. Would just serve to make things worse.
Taking a longing glance towards the bathroom, you also give up on showering any time soon. A slight sniff at your armpits informs you that it shouldn't be noticeable.
Some deodorant will have to..
The speakers crackle to life with additional sound – someone heaving a heavy sigh, followed by a voice. A voice, at that, which you immediately recognize as belonging to General Tykson;
"Announcing Red Alert. This is NOT a drill. All military personnel is to make their way to the nearest armoury. All brass is to contact HQ ASAP. All civilians on the first level are advised to evacuate using the passages Gamma-1, Stigma-1 and Eta-1. Passage Alpha-1 is reserved for military use. Approaching enemy craft estimated to reach us in.. 117 seconds. I repeat;"… Well, maybe you won't bother with deodorant after all. Suddenly not getting a shower seems to be one of your less pressing problems.
~
Until the general has repeated his words twice, you have hastily clothed yourself in your uniform. Realizing that it won't even hold of small calibre weaponry, any stairway or armoury is a good deal further from your quarters than you are comfortable with.
Almost ready to go, you reach for your laser pistol – a small calibre, how reassuring – and are greeted by its recognition system;
How cute. The system still identifies your gender as:[] 87% Chance of being Male
[] 74% Chance of being Male
[] 83% Chance of being Female
[] 72% Chance of being Female
It also takes note of your general appearance:
Having swiftly determined your gender, it now sets out to find your name:Having done just so, it also displays your authorization:SoldierSpecifically drafted from those soldiers eligible to serve in extended and secret circumstances, everyone in the Marcia Corps can and should be considered a special operative. As one would expect, their aptitudes, skills and training mark them a good few steps above the common rank and file.
EngineerSomewhat removed from their more common counterparts, any engineer of Marcia can boast a multitude of relevant degrees. Said degrees are applied in a practical way, be it to keep the extensive and state of the art installation up and running, or to build gadgets that may or may not end up useful for whatever research is being conducted on level 4.
ResearcherOne of the specialists working on the
[Classified] in the heart of Marcia, their research is of vital importance – and the sole reason behind the complex. While not all may be from the fields of
[Classified] or
[Classified], the others are experts needed one way or the other to let said research bear fruit.
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Topic: [ISG] The Ziggurat at Marcia (Read 2652 times)