Shollent
- Within the Gordian Reach -
Personal Log of Untaaura Verratoa, Major of the 119th Jaani'sarr Battalion.
14th day of the sixth moon, 1141th Year of the Founding.
We're two days into our mission. The Alliance Joint Operations Task Force has struck camp next to the city the natives call Xanna, though city is probably too generous a word to use. Canestalk huts and a few buildings made from mud bricks. It would barely rate as a township on Fey'dann, but this is what rates for civilization on the small continent. These people only started trading with offworlders five years ago. Guess it was only a matter of time before someone brought something here like the Liannan Plague.
I can understand why we're here. It's a goodwill mission. Helping sick people makes everyone look good. The Admiralty wins. Bothawui wins. The joint command gets to continue working out any kinks before any larger stakes event kicks off, whenever they do. Maybe most important of all - it's rare to get called to do something that is unapologetically good for it's own sake. Taking care of sick people who didn't ask for any of this. I'm not a doctor, and unless you count knowing how to apply pressure on a shrapnel wound, I couldn't tell you much about first aid, medicine, anything like that. But I'm looking forward to doing something that leaves a lasting good.
I just hope the Sholla know why we're here_
Untaaura dragged the remnants of her cigarette down to the filter, thumbed the save key on her datapad, and flicked the butt into the dirt before stamping it out with a grinding boot. Before her, Camp Mercy was bustling. Two rows of prefabricated patient dormitories had been set up, as well as a field hospital, surgeon, mess, supply depot, and crew barracks. The camp even had a comms tower and landing bays, coordinating arriving and departing shuttlecraft from the half dozen ships in orbit.
Speaking of...
"Hejy, hejy!!" Untaaura barked, affixing her cap on her head as she stepped out from the shade of her tent, picking up her pace in brisk strides. On the eastern landing pad, one of the new arrivals was dawdling like they were on a sightseeing tour.
"jYou! Clearr the pad! We've got jincomjing arround the clock, jyou'rre not herre to be a tourrjisst!"
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