So, we're coordinating with deviants for this op - Virtual Adepts, fortunately enough.  I don't think I could stomach anyone who called themselves "practicioners of magickal aryts and wytchcrafterie" without accidentally shooting them in the face.  It behooved me to put the Clipboard Convention to use.  Pictures as follow.

(Kerensky in orange jumpsuit, cokebottle glasses and giant yellow plastic clipboard, others in similarly outrageous costumes)

It seemed to very much take them off balance, as well as entertaining me to no end.  I take personal offense at their idea of Technocrats - we're heroes, not robots.  We -build- robots.  It takes geniuses to build robots.  And building robots -that build other robots-?  Well, that's double the genius, at least.  Ah, well.  Maybe it's just an exaggerated version of the generation gap?  Young and stupid technocrats who don't know that they're technocrats yet?  Ah, well.  The elder Chambers is more interesting - he's got a bit of a too-knowing smile.  He thinks he's coming out ahead in this.  He may well be - until I know what he really wants, it's hard to know if he's getting it for free.  If all he wants is to eradicate the Nephandi and purge every trace of their existence from his home city - well, in that case, I don't mind obliging him.  And if, in the process, we reclaim this city from a substantial strike force of horrific monsters, well, so much the better.

I've started having Malfeas dreams.  Maybe they'll end when I'm standing over the mangled corpse of the last monster in this city.

My brain is tapioca.  I can't even -think- straight.  I think all the Science is making me hallucinate.  I need to cut back on the cola. Quantum states exist to make me sad.

Pulled in late last night.  It's a nice compound - heated asphalt means no ice or snow, through there's still snowman fodder on the grass.  Maybe we could justify a snowball fight as a tactical exercise.

I don't mean to move on this intel right away - we've just gotten here.  I want to give my amalgam a chance to move in, to -sleep-, to get to know the city, to brush up on their scientific journals.  I was hoping they were going to dispatch a Coordinator, at least, but that seems to have been decided against, so we need to crack down on our Science if we're going to pull this off.  It's time to go back to being a post-doc for a week or so.

Walton had a deviant girlfriend.  Cultist of Ecstasy, wanted him to steal from the Union and run away to Mexico.  Dammit, man, what were you -thinking-?  Where was your discretion?  Your good judgment?  Your commitment to heroism?

Bah.  It's done.

And away we go.  Operation One Night In Bangkok just came through, so we've got new orders.  We've got stopovers to make, but given the givens I've split the Amalgam into two op groups - one to collect Stephanie Williams and one to deliver the Seventh Degree.  Myself and Manager Stockholme will take the latter -it's an uglier job and there's no reason to expose the younger folks to it.  Besides, Manager Stockholme has more experience with this kind of thing - it's a job that takes a certain level of compartmentalization to execute properly.  Also taking Patterson - this kind of assignment looks good on a loyalty litmus test.

That said, it's never a feel-good job.  Executing one of our own.  We all make our own decisions, of course.  He's responsible to make good decisions or suffer the consequences.  Nevertheless, there's always a vague sense of personal culpability.  If the world were different, what might have happened instead?  Why haven't I fixed this before now?  It's vague, of course, because it's not logical, so it can't be anything -but- vague.  Still, we do what we must - and what I must is execute Bill T. Walton for treason.

I hope he doesn't have anyone that will miss him.

No sooner does my head finally hit the pillow than Commander Chambers calls me into DC Command via Ansible Gate to brief us on our next assignment.  Hah, no good deed goes unpunished, and the Union is spread far too thin these days to respond to all threats with the resources they really call for.  Of course, karma gets you sometimes.

I get to kill Nephandi.

Commander Chambers helped me interview the survivors from the last Amalgam stationed in the sub-directorate, and we were able to compile a profile on what happened to them.  Apparently Talien and two unknown deviants were responsible.  There was some tremendous Consensus breach - they must have been powerful monsters.  The Armature, a nice little lady, ItX through and through, is a cyborg-focused lass - I think I'll ask Graham to forward the info from David Ward to her.  It's always nice to cultivate friendships.

Aiden was a motherfucking Marauder.  Didn't exactly get a thorough analyzation but I'd guess class three at a minimum.  God, my heart is still pounding.  Deviant bastard was nine feet tall if he was an inch, with claws that were shearing through primium plating.  Displays show that the HIT Marks put over sixteen thousand rounds into him.  Plasma just scored him.  Though I will admit watching him shred the rest of the deviants because of our operations was satisfying in the extreme.  It looked like he was about to take wing before we finally brought him down.   And yet, nobody was even hurt.  Only one HIT Mark suffered damage, and it was superficial.  This was a triumph of Science, and I hope it goes down in the training manuals.  Class III and Class IV Primal Energy sources, respectively, sanitized and claimed, eight deviants eliminated, one recruited, and one fled the region.  We have accomplished a heroic victory - without a Coordinator, without an on-site supervisor, and without anyone above the rank of Scientist on staff.

It's nice to feel like a hero.

20080220

Time to wipe out the deviant presence in the sub-directorate after five years of Technocratic inaction.  If we make it back we'll have cleaned out the region in just over a week.  Sometimes I wonder how hard other people try these days.  If these fuckers didn't keep cropping up we could have sacked Malfeas by now.

20080219
Saturday Morning is in motion, but we can't go until the HIT Marks come in tomorrow.  Slightly anxious - it's a delicate op and could go FUBAR easily enough.  My NCNPC is acting up - I think I'll go tune it up a little.  Also I need to get Patterson to start using DS terminology.

20080218

Stormwatch!  Done.  Successful command is now assured.  Time to plan the final op and get the hell out of this hole.  American cities are filthy.

20080217
Scientist's Command Log

Having received my first command in the form of Amalgam SW-8668-001A, I am already faced with the gravest command decision I will have to make during my tenure.

What the hell do I name it?