--Connection To Secure Server Established...
--Verifying User ID..
--ID Verified, Welcome Back Agent
--It Has Been 3 Months Since Your Last Connection.
Finally home, and mostly intact, if you could call being held in place by your armor remains as such. Never thought I'd be happy to see the sterile white walls of AGIS again, mostly because I find it.. Unforgiving. White doesn't hide anything, which for what they do is great, but I've always had a penchant for red and black. However if I'm asked to go back to Mars, I will probably request better armor, turns out my last set wasn't exactly up for the task of stopping bullets and plasma in a war zone. Alas since I'm going to be here in the orderly's care for a few days might as well write down what happened after I lost my recording unit.
It was probably around midnight when it happened, I was roaming the dunes fathering mapping data, and scans of the local biology. The think tank, Yukina I think was it's name, that was assigned to me was around somewhere, I never knew exactly where as it kept its camouflage active outside the VASC compound. That's when I noticed it, a slightly fuzziness on the dune in front of me, and just as I was about to point it out, plasma, hot and deadly hit the side of my helmet like a hammer. Thankfully it stopped the round, at the cost of the recording unit and a scrambling of my helmets onscreen HUD. Then the bullets if you could called them that, as they were definitely not lead, hammered into the rest of my body. At that point I threw myself backwards in a way that looked like a body crumpling under gunshots. I heard the fizzing of electronics on my belt, probably the compad being shot through, cutting my link to the VASC for help. For once I was glad i was a class IV augment, as I wouldn't have to worry about bleeding out, or dying from air loss. I don't know what happened to the think tank, perhaps it saw me go down and vacated the area to avoid the same fate, or I was simply to far from it for it to act, but the result was I was now alone. Pulling a grenade off my belt, I set it to dead man's switch, and waited for what I figured was the end. However something must have spooked them off, or they were satisfied that I was dead enough that they didn't need anything from me.
Two days later of travel through sandstorms, I probably looked like some old world robot wandering around. Those bullets had embedded themselves just shy of reaching my internals, but they did hit hard enough for my more utilitarian functions to be knocked out. And now I had sand starting to get into my body as well, gumming up my servos amongst other annoyances. That and who I found out later who were called D'naa still kept shooting at me. Thankfully it was less lethal than the last time, like they were trying to tire prey out, but I couldn't honestly tell you why they didn't outright kill me. It was around the 5th day when I started hearing things over my helmets short range radio. Garbled but definitely something very unfriendly as it was starting to cause system errors from listening to it. Killing the radio sound, but monitoring the band to skirt around it in case it didn't need my radio for it to work, and four hours later I chanced upon a old radio substation. A cursory glance showed only one door, and no windows or vents, meaning it was arguably safer than the dunes were, and I hurried inside. Sealing the door behind me, I looked around, brushing the sand and dust off off console after console, looking for something that would maybe help.
I must have had the luck of a devil, because there was a mostly intact terminal that controlled short range transmissions. However the wiring was shot, and certain parts were missing, which I sourced from other terminals. I'm not sure where I learned to jury rig things, but I've been able to do it for quite awhile and it decidedly helped when I tried re-soldering the contacts and wiring to get the ancient piece of junk to work enough to send signals out. Risky most definitely, but I wasn't in a position to be choosy at this point, as I was running low on power and supplies at this point. Despite being armed, trying to hit something that moves rather quick and being hard to spot makes for a lot of wasted ammo, and by that point I had a single magazine in my rifle, and twenty rounds for my revolver. Having debated over what to send on repeat, I decided on my ID, and SOS after it, on repeat, while I rested against the terminal and kept my rifle pointed at the door. I'm not sure how long passed, as I had shut down everything but what was necessary at the time, before a miner picked up on my broadcast. Suffice to say, they is no such thing as free help on Mars, although considering the circumstances, it was rather cheap. I'd get a ride back to Shoda, and the miner would get some much wanted alcohol on someone else's dime. After landing on Shoda and making good on our agreement, I took the conduit back to Insilico, a much preferred method of travel, as it also seemed to atomize the sand. The shocked faces of everyone as I walked by, and that of the attendant at the front desk of AGIS Medical when I walked in told me I looked much worse then I felt. Thankfully, my ID was still valid, despite being reported dead, thank you paperwork, and I managed to catch Dr. Westing upstairs and catch up with her, before putting myself in the care of the orderly, now putting me back together.
As for the additional task Eve had assigned me, I will discuss it with her personally, when she has time. Mars was rather forthcoming in that regard at least.
--Log saved and encrypted
--Agent logging off
--Goodbye Agent, have a nice day.