The following is a transcription of an unauthorized audio file embedded in a command chronology burst sent via retrans comm drone. The file was recorded by Lance Cpl. Bei Ming Ken of Orbital Drop Company, 3rd Battalion, 1st Marines aboard USS Dakota Meyer IVO Algol Binary System.

The year is 2214.

Yeah, yeah, clap it up. The Marine Corps is still going strong, except for those four years we were cryogenically frozen during a government shutdown. And guess what?

It still fucking sucks.

You all seem to have this juvenile notion that being a Space Marine would be “totally hardcore” and “fucking badass.” I thought the same thing, too. All of those cool action holo[gram]s and recruiting advertisements are bullshit – especially the one where some dude scales a sheer rock face with his bare hands and transforms into his dress blues upon reaching the summit, then battles a fire-breathing dragon with his ceremonial sword.

My recruiter had me creaming my pants with the promise of dropping in on alien planets from the fucking sky in a fiery meteor of semper fidelic death and destruction. The thought of blasting galactic scum in the face with my decked-out Gauss pattern rifle and pissing on their mutilated corpses used to give me a raging hard-on I feared would actually get in the way of all the wicked-cool shit I would be doing.

Newsflash: Recruiters are fucking liars. The only truth my recruiter told me is that we would be America’s 21st Century Spartans. We’re still burning shitters and police calling like assholes.

Misconception #1: Orbital drops are “kickass.”

Reality: No, they fucking aren’t. Yeah, let me just cram my up-armored ass into a tiny pod that may or may not combust in the atmosphere of the hostile planet I’m about to assault and faithfully rely on all of the sensitive electronic components that are supposed to slow me down before I pummel into the ground at terminal velocity. Contrary to popular belief, those pods aren’t designed to gently deliver you dirtside. They’re only designed to keep you alive long enough to survive skipping across the planet’s crust like a flaming pinball.

There’s no doubt in my military mind that any of the sadistic bastards who designed this drop coffin ever took a ride in one. Honestly, I think it’s purposely designed to keep us so pissed off that we’ll kill everything we see after a rough landing. The sight of enraged Marines emerging from shattered drop pods, venting puke and shit from their exo-armor, is bound to send enemy troops fleeing.

But I haven’t done a drop since we pulled out of Sector 5 and turned peacekeeping efforts over to the Sand People two years ago. I’ve been in garrison, which leads me to my next point:

Misconception #2: Space Marines never deal with trivial bullshit because they’re too busy killing aliens and space marauders!

Reality: Have you ever tried to police call cigarette butts in zero gravity? How about field day an asteroid belt? Do you have any fucking clue how many Marines die during space FOD walks, or how impossible it is to stay on line in zero G? And don’t even get me started on the one LT who had the bright idea to use a man-made black hole as an interstellar vacuum cleaner.

We don’t even get the cool space missions. Those all go to those D-bags in Spacial Forces. Instead of fighting space pirates, we scrub warp coils and sit around in ridiculous space dementia prevention classes, which – ironically – are actually giving us dementia. I’m not sure what’s worse though: space dementia classes, or galactic respect and awareness training. Nowadays someone calls an alien a “xeno” and it’s “Call the Equal Opportunity Officer and hold a sensitivity down load!” If I have to log in to another webinar on our need to respect the alien cultures of creepy space mosquitoes who want to suck our brains out through their proboscis, I will literally shit in my hands and rub it in my face.

The chances for promotion? Negligible. The cutting scores are atmospheric because all the senior staff keep cloning themselves and are never getting out. That or they’re cryogenically-frozen lifers. I’ve never even seen the Battalion SgtMaj in the flesh. I don’t even think he’s real, just a hologram. Ever had your ass chewed by a hologram? Terminal Lance Corporal of the cosmos, that’s me.

Misconception #3: Exo-armor is so high speed and sexy!

Reality: Try humping in that trash when the power cells are dry. It’s slathered in so much lubricant it attracts every particle of moon dust in the sector. I’ve spent more time at the armory cleaning my already clean armor than anything else I’ve done this enlistment. The Company Gunny is such an inspection whore. I’ll just get done using a Q-tip on the waste port and Gunny will sniff it and say: “Nope, still smells like balls and shit. Clean it again.” Do me in the black hole.

Don’t get caught writing on your war gear. We’ve razed entire continents on disputed worlds but somehow writing “Wagner Loves Cock” across my breastplate is obscene.

Some of you are probably still shaking your head. “No, no, that’s all just typical Marine Corps bullshit. I can deal with that. I still think being a Space Marine is the coolest thing ever!” You’re probably among the same fuckwads beating their dicks to the coed shower scene in Starship Troopers.

Misconception #4: Man, Space Marines must party so hard in their coed units and have so much heterosexual intercourse!

Reality: It’s 2214. Female Marines all have dicks.

[End transmission.]

Duffel Blog Investigative Reporter Lee Ho Fuk contributed to this report, and we thank him for his interstellar service.