Doubling up my entries today, since I prepared two… this one features some vehicles which sadly were not in the game, but which I have seen in some really fantastic concept art and were evidently models in the earlier, non-canon-Homeworld version of the game. So be on the lookout for those special added ships and see if you recognize them! I hope someone will…
Office of Security Minister Arduu
To the personal attention of his Eminence the K’Had Sajuuk
Your supreme Excellence, my office wishes to confirm that we have received your instructions. Rest assured that your plan will be executed with all possible expedience. And to momentarily editorialize, I must say that it is a very inspired plan indeed! Of course, you understand that deception is not our forte. Still the ruse is ingeniously simple, and I’ve no doubt that our people can carry it out flawlessly.
We continue to intercept and track the movements of the Northerner scouts, even as their ranks are added to day-by-day. I have included more of their transmissions with this correspondence so that you may remain well-appraised of the situation. May your profoundly meditative posture never cause your legs to cramp!!!
Rec. Arissah Manaan, Light Attack Vehicle C 5.87941
Still wandering; still hopelessly alive somehow. I know meandering is in my blood but I can’t seem to help getting cerebral about it. Do I just turn the wheel whichever way strikes me? Or what if I have some instinctual sense of where I’m going? In that case, if I’m really supposed to get lost, should I be making a conscious effort to steer in exactly the opposite way that I feel like steering? Or is my instinctual navigation smart enough to find the place I’m supposed to go, even if that place is lost? I don’t want to overthink this, but then again, is underthinking really any better? UGH!
About my only relief from these worries and from the constant threat of death is that Command sends me daily issues of “The Inspector”. Current events can often be dull, predictable, and disheartening, but at least it reminds me that there is still a whole civilized world out there where life happens and things make sense.
So let’s see, what did I read about today? That blowhard Jonas Baer promoting another book – the Somtaaw-Sa’s recent summit with K’Had Sajuuk himself, and how it is unlikely to mitigate Gaalsien war-posturing – ongoing Siidim demonstrations at the capital demanding better-than-equal rights.
Such snippets aren’t enough to fill the day though. My only other diversion comes when I find big boulders. When I do find them, I shoot at them. After all, I’d like to have some chance of surviving when I finally get ambushed, so I figure some combat practice is in order.
My figuring is two-fold. Firstly, I never drove one of these things before, so even the most rudimentary experience is probably of some benefit to me at this point. I think I’m a natural, so that’s good. By natural though, I do mean that I have not yet flipped the whole darned thing over yet. But actually, these death traps are much harder to roll than you might think. I may be pretty green, but trust me, I’ve seen things. More than a few times, otherwise perfectly terrestrial Coalition vehicles have found themselves performing some very complicated acrobatics while I’ve been watching. It’s been enough to make me question most of my assumptions about gravity. Somehow they always manage to land right-side-up though.
Anyway, the second reason I practice my attack maneuvers on boulders is that, as you may have figured by now, they sent me out without so much as a gunner. Let me tell you, the logistics of trying to perform high-speed evasive driving while also keeping a steady stream of fire on target (even a stationary target), should be enough to present any one person with a respectable challenge. I did hit a boulder once though, and I now consider that one of my great achievements in life. Probably one of my last, too.
I guess I should really be more positive. Failing that, I should at least resolve to spend less time despairing and more time resenting being sent out here like this in the first place. Surely nobody deserves to be exploited this way!
Armored Infantry Capsule PB 54.10143, Jopech Zyr, vassal 12th class
I don’t deserve to be honored this way!
Imagine! The highly elevated offices of our noble masters the Siidim have seen fit to entrust my most lowly self with the operation of this incredibly advanced vessel. It is unthinkable. I would have questioned their judgment, if not for the well-known fact that their judgment is far beyond question.
When they first approached me, and after I had performed a reasonable amount of groveling, they did reassure me that being a competent vehicle operator was not going to be important at all to my mission. That was of some comfort, but I still tend to prefer not to trust myself with any technology more sophisticated than basic cleaning equipment.
The masters also instructed me to keep an audio log, as this sort of mission is usually recorded for review and analysis. Apparently it is likely to be reviewed not only by the lordly Siidim Command, but also by the other, lesser Kiithid of the Coalition - those unfortunate souls who obviously don’t remember and can’t appreciate the great joy of serving Kiith Siidim; rather sad and ungrateful louts, I daresay. In their defense, I submit that being a 12th class Siidim vassal has some drawbacks, although none that are not entirely reasonable. Sure, they treat us like dirt, but that’s what they said we’re made out of, so it only makes perfect sense.
For the benefit of those Naabal tricksters and the whole sad lot of Kharakians who have scratched out the last few centuries pretending to have capacity for self-actualization, I should probably make some effort to explain what my life (a proper life) is like. My duties have traditionally been here at Firebase Sturgiin, where I am tasked with cleaning the immense concrete sand baffles after each sandstorm. I always say, ‘Here’s your Firebase, where’s your fire?’ I like to think that if I had been born legitimately sentient, I might’ve had a knack for little quips like that. Anyway the work is plentiful as sandstorms rarely strike at a rate of less than one per day, and the pay is very good, often allowing me to afford to eat. And I am granted lodging on the Firebase for free; some nights, I even get to sleep inside the baffle walls!
So let’s see how that compares to the life of a non-vassal Kiith. This should be easy to do as I have already worked out in my mind what the minutia of their lifestyle must surely be. They shuffle around every day, forlorn and downcast, constantly grappling with the question: ‘Am I really a self-aware entity?’ They are afraid to admit that the answer is no, so they keep trying in vain to pretend it is yes. It’s quite piteous to contemplate, and I don’t envy them.
Anyway I hope this simple presentation of the facts has convinced many ‘people’ of the obvious merit of rejoining the ranks of Siidim servants. If so, don’t thank me… I’ve rarely been thanked in my life and certainly have never developed a taste for it.
It seems that I haven’t had much to say that pertains to my mission. As I make my way past the grounds of the Firebase, I’m sure there will be more along those lines. Be assured I will not rest until I have found the snow-bound Gaalsien for the glory of the Siidim!!! This will be an expedient resolution since there doesn’t seem to be room to rest in this vehicle anyway.
Col. Kernelle Paktu, Heavy Attack Foil PHAF 74.14553
It’s a good day to fly! Hopefully tomorrow and all the next several days will be good days to fly too, ‘cause this thing’s got fuel for ages and all kinds of miles to search. Them antsy but otherwise-good-natured folks way up north are wound tighter than usual. Seems some Gaalsien have stumbled on a space ship of sorts and everybody’s convinced it’ll assure their technological supremacy and usher in a 1000-year reign-of-terror or somesuch. Well, maybe it’s ‘cause us Paktu don’t have much for space craft yet, but we don’t tend to pay the Gaalsien so much mind down here as they do up north, and the Gaalsi can usually be relied on to return the favor. Still, if those Kiithfolk think the wreck is so darned important, then we’re glad to lend a hand in the looking for it.
So here I be, trollin’ around in my old Attack Foil. Feels real good to take it up and away again. What with all the new guided missiles and smart munitions out there, they say fixed guns on an airship ain’t much use anymore. But hey, this thing’s got a BIG gun, and those never go out of style!
Anyway it’s a good long-range airship with plenty of use yet for scoutin’. Doesn’t stop them trying to fill it up to the brim with a bunch of useless new sensor gizmos. I’m an old fashioned gal I guess. Don’t care much for new sensor equipment; don’t see the use in it, since I already got the ultimate in detection hardware what was ever made… the genuine-issue Paktu sniffer. That’s right, my nose. I told them young’un technicians, “My ancestor found this here southern harbor with benefit of naught but two instruments… his left and right nostril. ‘I can smell the sea,’ he said!”
“We know,” them young’uns said, “he was our ancestor too. We’re all Paktu. Except that Manaan guy over there.”
But that’s just young folk for you. If there’s one thing they hate, it’s having to listen to wise anecdotes. The joke’s on them though… goin’ through all that trouble to install that new-fangled gobbledygook. ‘Cause the first thing I did after I got to altitude was to toss all that garbage right out the window! Tried to get a good whiff while I had the cockpit open, but you’d be surprised at the difficulties of opening the cabin at 12000 metres. Suffice it to say I didn’t get a very good sniff. Guess I don’t know what Gaalsien smell like anyway. The air did smell cold though, and that’s a good sign; they said wherever them Gaalsi wandered off to is fierce cold. So I s’pose I’ll follow this course for a while; let ya know as soon as I find anything!
Lt. Marvaud Soban, Baserunner SB 3.65192
Marvaud here… proudly putting the “S-O-B” in Soban since 1001 KDS.
Still no sign of the snow, if you were wondering. No crashed green alien space ships or Gaalsien patrols. Not much out here but me. I’m totally uncontested. But then, what else is new?
Been doing a bit of reminiscing out here, time being so plentiful, and diversions so few. Lots and lots of extremely manly adventures to recall in my past - wouldn’t you know – and it don’t much hurt my feelings to record a few of them in this log of mine.
I remember one time when I was young; a hunt I went on in the Seluseera Mountains. True, I might not have actually nabbed anything on the trip, but sometimes merely surviving is plenty tough enough business. I had quite a fall on that mountain trail; twisted my ankle real bad. Might’ve even swollen up a bit, if I recall. And the pain! Kiith’s Blood! The Qwaar-Jet himself couldn’t have dreamt up anything worse. I must’a walked a good hundred meters on it before finally – begrudgingly - heroically consenting to be carried the rest of the way out. Dang, but did I have a great girlfriend! Strong too. I had to let her go, of course… we Sobani don’t do marriage. Too mushy.
And I remember this other time I went to the Shallows. The ground was all covered in kind of this eerie green stuff – sort of like here actually – and… wait, what?! Holy pain and enslavement! Where did the real environment go? I mean, dang… this might not be that snow they were talking about, but it sure is something pretty awful weird! And I found it! Just goes to show what a great job I’m doing. Even better than I thought!
Those Gaalsien had better watch out. Because now I know I’m going to find them. And when I do, I’m going to have a nasty surprise for them. Wait and see!!!