Chapter 1: Story telling 101
Irene Ellet sat at her desk, typing out one of her articles. The fans whirled over head, beating her down with suffocating humid air. She wiped a bead of sweat off her brow as she continued to write. At "Writing on the Wall," Irene struggled to keep to her deadlines. The problem wasn't her writing. She had more than enough skill to write, enough to write ten books. The problem was getting a hold of the necessary material.
"If Commander Welkin just gave me another interview, I could do a great expose on the war," she mumbled. She yanked out the paper from her typewriter. Not enough to even cover the full page. She growled, knowing her publisher would chew her out again if she couldn't provide another best-selling article. She knew her readers would love to see an in-depth piece on the war against the Empire, especially if it was an expose on a dashing commander and his newly formed squad holding the line against the encroaching darkness. Without money or verified sources, however, this young reporter could only gather enough material together for her short articles. Her radio report did raise her profile, but did little to help her with getting new sources. Unfortunately, she would have to resort to more . . . uncomfortable means for getting funds.
Irene pulled out a large box of photos from her drawer. She turned them over, flipping through them with a wide grin. A nice, juicy picture, that's all she needed to write. For her newspaper and for her radio station, Irene never compromised on the truth. Fictional stories "based on real events" were different, however. Irene knew she was simply making the type of literature that soldiers at the front loved to read. Years of snooping through military bases taught her that soldiers would pay good money for hot stories that would take their mind off the war. Flipping through the box she couldn't find much other than landscapes or generic soldiers on march. If only Alicia hadn't confiscated most of her good pics, Irene thought as she rummaged through her leftover pile.
Flipping out a group photo, Irene took a good look at the girls of Squad 7. Several beauties stood out, all chatting with one another as they sat at their cafeteria table. Shouldn't be that hard to find something good with beautiful girls like that, Irene thought as she continued her search. One picture of Dallas with her arms around Marina, who was right in the middle of swabbing out the grime in her sniper rifle with a cleaning rod. Eh, it would have been good if that dark-haired sniper didn't have that awful scowl on her face. Another with Edy and Susie resting beside a tank, mouths open as they leaned up against one another. Cute, but it was a little too tame to interest people. Swimsuit scene with the girls of Squad 7 at the beach? No, she thought as she set the picture aside. Perhaps for a later issue.
Irene pulled out one of the photos from the back, and coughed as a thin layer of sand flew up in her face. The photograph was out of focus, but seemed to be set in the desert judging by the rough, barren ground. The photo depicted Sergeant Alicia in Corporal Isara's face, probably giving her some order. Isara looked down as she leaned against a dust-covered tank, her face lit by the glow of a nearby lantern. Irene couldn't help but let her lip curl up at the sight of the sergeant who denied her a proper interview. Was it really that much to ask for a nice scoop for her newspaper, instead of the run around she got during her visit?
The reporter gave the photo one last look over. It wasn't like it was special or anything, just one woman giving orders to her subordinate. Except . . . Isara had a small bruise on her cheek. Irene flipped over the photo. No notes on it, nothing to indicate what was going on. Taking a closer look, the reporter knew the two girls were located near their squad's tank, at night given the lantern. She set the photo down near her typewriter.
"Nothing personal," Irene whispered as she inserted a sheet of paper into the machine. She chuckled as she began to type. She would make sure all the names were changed, and the eyes blurred before putting the photo on the front page. Irene might not have gotten the interview she wanted, but it wasn't like she wanted to destroy them with a fake scandal. Even she had lines she would never cross. Besides, once she got the money she needed, Irene knew she could finally get back to work on her true passion: reporting the news. She smiled broadly as her typewriter clacked away. For all of Alicia's attempts to block Irene's reporting, she would soon find herself the star of her own story. Was that irony? Irene shrugged to no one in particular. At very least, it was a good way to take a pestering woman down a peg.