Mercs on Mars - Logan's Log 13: Too Little, Too Late
Logan Forest recounts the fight at Nick's farm and those lost to the Xenos
LOGAN’S LOG 13: TOO LITTLE, TOO LATE
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Logan’s Logs…
We… we didn’t make it in time.
Three Slithers, two Dog-Limmers, a Lurker, and a Hornet. That’s what we found at Whiskey Nick’s farm. Nick and his people didn’t stand a chance against the Xenos.
By the time we got there, most of his workers had already been made Fected.
It was a tight firefight. Without the backup from Hank Higgins and his Hellhorn outfit, my crew might not have made it. That’s a fact. There were too many Fected and Xenos in too small a space. That’s when it gets ugly.
It… it got ugly. Higgins lost three men. One was crushed and bitten by the Slithers right at the start. Two more were taking on the Dog-Limmers when the Hornet ambushed from above. They killed the Xenos, but they were still splashed with the Guano. While they still had time and their senses, they each bit their own bullets rather than becoming the enemy.
We lost the youngest and newest of my crew, Frank Harris. Little Frankie, we called him. He was right in front of me when the Lurker burst out of the ground and hopped onto his back. I sliced down the Lurker, but Frankie had already been jabbed and stabbed repeatedly. I watched him change right before my eyes.Â
His shoulders popped out of place and jagged new limbs and tentacles sprouted from his wounds. His face… his face wasn’t his face when I blew his head off.Â
I should have seen it coming. I should have been faster. Or at least fast enough to spare myself the sight.
Just another nightmare I’ll have to face at night, I guess.
But all things considered, we were lucky. The Dirty Dogs came out light. Frankie was our only casualty. A few small injuries here and there, but no more death. No one else was Fected.
…Well, after the fight, we found Nick and his family in a sealed off room in the big farmhouse. Father, mother, six kids, and an uncle. Nine living, breathing human beings. There used to be thirty six souls on the farm. Now there are eighteen graves.
The farm is done for. Our orders came in to escort Nick and his people back to New Austin. The Dirty Dogs are due for R & R there afterwards anyway.
I’ll tell you this. I’m not boozing it like I used to. But when I make back to the capital, I’m getting shit-faced hammered. It’s pretty rare that closure can be found in the bottom of the bottle. But I’m gonna make a good effort searching for it there.
End Logan’s Log.
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