Staging Area I
From Goggleheadarchive
“Campbell, you just don’t know how to switch off. One of these days, you’ll have pushed yourself so far that you’ll burn out if you keep going like this.” I remember a former friend telling me once. I forget why the comment was even brought up; I just remember staring at them in almost disbelief. Of course, that was taken as I disagree and they stormed off. It wasn’t because I felt that I would never burn out, it was because a sniper is burnt out long before they become good at what they do. I am truly close to no one, and I trust few people. A sniper, no any trained killer knows what it’s like to live with the feeling of death on their shoulder, just waiting to take them to hell. I have lived across the street from death for as long as I can remember being a sniper and one day, I will cross that street and never return. Might be today, might be tomorrow. Maybe it happened during the last run and I just think I’m alive. No, if I was dead; I would not be in this hellhole known as Blacot. Then again, maybe I would be trapped in some ethereal form of this damned city for all eternity as punishment for all my sins.
However no, I am alive, lying down on the roof of the Dragon’s Horde, just looking upward at the artificial lighting of this city of steel and watching my breath become vapour in the air. It isn’t the view that I get while laying on the Phantom Moirae, but it’s a welcomed change from the view of a target down Aisa’s scope, because sometimes even a sniper needs a change from death and the mission. I instinctively reach into my duster for Aisa’s case, but remember that I left all my weapons downstairs in the meeting room. A test of good faith to my new comrades, I suppose as I rest my hands behind my head.
This is an experience I have not had in so many years, this working in a large unit concept. Sixteen years or so, should my math and memory serve me well. It was back while I was in the Riscana military; there were seven of us. Navigation and tactical specialist Captain Cole Murphy, computer specialist Captain Connor Murphy, medical and interrogation specialist Lieutenant-Colonel and Doctor Maria Baxter (now Murphy), recon specialists First Lieutenants Devin Miller and Lana Harrison, team leader and close range specialist Lieutenant General Gregory King and myself: long range combat and infiltration specialist Major Paul Campbell.
When we first met, there was a lot of personality clashing that went on; between the Murphys more light hearted nature, the Lieutenant-Colonel’s serious nature, my own silent and stoic nature more specifically. The Lieutenant-General’s solution to such a lack of getting along was to make us all fight, one on one. He said that he believed when two soldiers became locked in combat, they formed an understanding of one another, and a mutual respect. It was the second rule of military psychology, he told us.
I stand up now as my body starts to feel restless. I can’t waste too much energy now, so I just ball my hands into fists a couple times and jog on the spot as I continue to reminisce. As the Lieutenant-General thought it would, after intense hand to hand fights with each other, we began to respect one another more. I learned a valuable lesson about not underestimating anyone, even a computer geek when I was forced to try and keep up with said computer geek. Maybe when this run is over, I’ll ask Connor for a spar for old times’ sake. As a unit, we joined in several larger scale operations with the Riscana Army Rangers where teamwork was definitely a factor. Miller and Harrison always worked together to find out as much data as they could, and Cole always kept track of them and inferred all their data. Then he and King created a battle strategy and we went through with it. I kept a distant watch as King and Connor took the field to complete their objectives. Sometimes I’d have to team with King to infiltrate a base, or team with Connor and cover him while he hacked into computer networks and took out entire networks.
I suppose the logic in the King’s theory is that it doesn’t directly help teamwork, but when two soldiers fight with all their might, the understanding and respect that the two soldiers earn for one another can be used as a starting point toward creating an actual bond of trust and ability to work together. At least, that’s what I think. I’m not a military psychologist like the doc, nor am I King himself; so I don’t know for sure. Nor can I ever actually ask King anymore, even if I wanted to.
During an operation down in northern Banato, the small village which we were helping to fortify; we became under siege by a rebellion force and nearly completely wiped out. The enemy seemed to have a substantial amount of data on our unit and outsmarted us. Connor was counter-hacked and was hit with something while trapped in augmented reality. With Cole’s instruction from the command center; I ripped out a bunch of cords from their connectors and saved Connor from an apparent near death. Although I burned my hands from the electricity, it was worth it. I left him with the Doctor and rushed off to a decent sniping position. I wasn’t in time to save King, Miller or Harrison from being taken out by enemy fire, but I was in time to give Cole the cover fire needed to get out of sight.
I faced off against enemy forces for another ten minutes before I was downed, but as I began to lose consciousness, I saw the familiar insignia of the Riscana Militia on the side of a vehicle. Reinforcements had arrived. Turns out the doctor called for reinforcements before she became too sick from breathing in some of the enemy’s poison. In the end, Cole needed to get a cybernetic arm implant to replace his wounded arm; Connor now needs somewhat frequent breaks from augmented reality as a result of brain damage from the counter hacker.
Ultimately, that was the last mission of our unit and the catalyst that led to the creation of Task Force 845. We lost our leader and our recon team, but I felt neither sorrow for their deaths, or joy for our survival. They knew that they may one day die from a mission and they were prepared, and I held the utmost respect for the fallen, but I could not feel sorrow for a fallen soldier... Ah hah, now I remember. The doc thought that because I had no real reaction to the General’s and Lieutenants’ deaths that I was on the verge of burning out. Like I said earlier, a sniper is long since burnt out before they become good at what they do. Well, maybe it isn’t burned out, but it’s along the same lines. You are shown so much death and regret that you become numb to it.
I stop jogging and raise my right hand high enough to enter my field of vision. It’s calloused and scarred from various missions during my past, but it’s all cosmetic damage now as far as I can tell. It’s also turning a bit red now from the cold and I can assume my face is red too. I’m far more relaxed than I was earlier, so it’s about time to rejoin the others inside. All in all, I’m not opposed to the idea of a larger unit; I just think we have a lot of work to do yet before we’re on the level we need to be at.
