Logan's Log 6 - The 'Come-to-Jesus' Meeting
Logan's Speech to the Dirty Dogs crew...
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Logan’s Log 6:
(Time-Stamped 18:06 Local Martian Time)
Listen up, everybody! I got words.
(Eight footsteps on dust. Loud spit)
I know y’all ain’t stupid. I know y’all have noticed some things about me, especially recently. Well, I ain’t stupid either, and I have noticed a thing or two about most of you. I therefore could talk about the virtue of forbearance, of holding one’s tongue and judgment. I could also talk a bit about “perspective” and quote y’all the accompanying Scriptures… you know, the verse about splinters and logs, and their respective eye-fuckery. But I ain’t here to do that.
(Weight and feet shifting on the soil)
‘Cause this shit ain’t about y’all. This ain’t about any of your faults or shortcomings, as individuals, or as a company. This is about me and my flaws, as a person and a commander.
(Clears throat)
Let me back up a sec and start over.
(Pause)
We ain’t the Army, so it follows that we don’t have to follow most of their rules and regs. We’re the Mercs! And one of the perks of being Mercs is, we are afforded more liberties and leeway than your typical enlisted grunts.
In point of fact, we are by far the freest professional soldiers on this planet. And we’re certainly a hell of a lot freer than those poor sons of bitches back on the Ol’ Blue Ball. A hell of a lot freer than those stupid fuckin’ boots still unfortunate enough to be marching around in the mud and muck of Earth.
(Muttered replies: “Yeah,” “Yup”, “Sure ‘nuff.”)
Now that don’t change the fact that we still got rules. They ain’t as formal, maybe, and there’s fewer of ‘em, to be sure. But we Mercs still got our contracts and their stipulations. We still got those clauses and terms and conditions, blahblahblah. We also got our own guiding principles. We all know the Mercs’ Code, written and unwritten. We know that shit by heart.
(Pause. Silence.)
Now I got some bad habits, same as any of you. But some of my bad habits have developed the bad habit of breaking those terms and conditions, not to mention the Code. I probably don’t need to spell this all out, but I will. In the spirit of openness and for the sake of clarity.
(Sounds of a ration being consumed in the background.)
I freely admit it. I’ve been on the bottle, and boozing it more than can be ignored. I’m sure y’all noticed my little barter with the quartermaster back in Muleshoe the last time we re-supped. I took a lot more than my regs of whiskey and cigs for my own private stash. Now, the smokin’ may be one thing, but the drinkin’s another.
‘Cause we’re supposed to “Stay sharp, murder on, smooth as ice.” That’s hard to do when you’re liquored up most nights and mornings. I could argue that it ain’t really a big deal. I could argue about my functionality and combat effectiveness, how none of it has really been affected really... but I won’t.
(Long Inhale. Exhales. A hard stomp on the ground.)
It ain’t right, it ain’t fair, and consequently, it ain’t happening any more. I’m not getting religion or taking a vow or nothing. I’m definitely not forsaking alcohol and becoming some fuckin’ teetotaler. No offense there, Hodge.
(Faraj replies, “None taken, Captain.”)
In any case, you have my word I’m cutting back and I’m getting back to being “sharp and icy smooth.” I’ll be more or less sober to bed and sober to rise. So you won’t have that nagging concern to worry you the next time the fuckin’ Xenos geyser or the Russians appear on the horizon. Your captain is on top of it, and that’s all you need to know.
(Lupe begins to speak: “Captain, we know that—”)
Appreciated, Lupe. But I ain’t finished yet. The booze brings me to my second point. Perhaps the more pertinent to this here need for a discussion.
(Coughs)
Word has it, and the truth of it is, that I’ve also been keepin’ a personal log of sorts. It started just before Dirtmouth. Back when we thought that sitch was gonna be a lot hairier than it ended up being. That first time, I… I was just savin’ a message for my family in case the worst happened.
(Sniff. Clears throat.)
Well, the worst didn’t happen. Things turned out a lot differently than predicted. And us, the more fortunate for it. Yeah, we did lose Travis. Sure. But if the Xenos had shown up in the numbers forecast by HQ, then we would have lost a hell of a lot more, to put it quite mildly.
(Pause. Silence)
But that ain’t the point. The point is, since Dirtmouth, I have found it a personal comfort to record my private thoughts in a simple audio format. You can call it a fuckin’ journal or diary or whatever the fuck if you want to. It’s no skin off my nose.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Those logs are for Merc ears only. That don’t mean you get to listen in while I’m muttering to myself in the moment. But I do give you full permission to pour over all of ‘em as soon as I croak and y’all bury me on a nice red hill somewheres. With a pretty cross in front of a tall Texan flag accompanied by a full twelve gun salute.
(Stomps the ground. A dust cloud.)
‘Til then, you can keep your thoughts and feelins to your fucking selves. Record them too, if you wanna; I don’t care obviously. But get this through your skulls: what I do on my own time when we ain’t killin’ Reds or Freakies is my own goddamn business, as long as it don’t get in the way of our business killin’ fuckin’ Freakies and Reds!
(Shifts weight, kicks boots idly in the dirt.)
I’m glad to have provided y’all with some choice camp-talk for the last few days. But the goss and the rumors end right now, today, this very bullfuckin’ instant. If you doubt my mental competency or my emotional stability based on what I have just told you, and most especially if you question my fitness to command this unit, then by all means… come and see me in private. If you still have concerns after such an encounter, then feel free to write me up to command and report me when we get back to New Austin. That’s what them rules and regs are for.
(Spits)
But ‘til then, for the nonce, I shall accept a crisp salute preceded and followed by a “Yes, sir, sir!”
(Val shouts, “You heard ‘em, Mercs!”)
(All: “Yes, sir, sir!” And again: “Yes, sir, sir!”)
Good. Glad we’re all agreed. That’ll do it for this evenin’. Dismissed!
(End Log)