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people think being generally anti-war but living military fiction is a curse but it's really not. i don't think there's any better way to depict the pervasively evil nature of war than by telling the stories of individuals drowning in it and ultimately ruined by it
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FLARP: Hivefleet
You survey the command stem. Nobody talks, faces all lit green by glowing phosphor displays and blinking status lights. The sunshields are down and other than the control husks the only sources of light on the stem are the dim amber hanglights over the walkways. You can hear the fans running and feel the low rumble of the engines that push the airborne assault ship Advvantage through the skies of Alternia. Despite this quietude you are on edge. The Advvantage is flying low, barely ten meters over the waves. And it isn't to keep you off radar, not that it does. You're flying a perfectly normal course to a port hivecluster which happens to take you past an off-map island research base. You also happen to have a tiltrotor TC-21 Pandion full of wavecullers in dayhunt gear sitting in your deployment bay. Your executive officer looks back at you to give you a thumbs up. You're at the deployment point. You nod. She speaks into her headset.
"Bridge, baymaster, drop the ramp. Give them the green light."
Thirty seconds pass.
"Turncutter away. Bay ramp closing. Squawkers dark 'till they have the package."
You consider your executive officer. A piā gold blood with a knack for signals intelligence. She nabbed you almost the minute you walked into that soda bar. Got herself into your good graces helping you learn the game and buy your first ship. Snaps you out of it whenever you think about your ex. She's kinda cute. Her first set of horns twist along the side of her nug and meet at the back in a half halo, and the second smaller set curves up and back from her head. It gives you the impression of a crown, like Fefā goddammit. You sigh and slump down in your captain's chair. All there is to do is wait for word from the wavecullers.
