War of Alien Aggression 3 Lancer by A.D. Bloom

you dolt? You still think there's a possibility we'll actually survive this? C'mon, convict. How much of a sucker are you? ' 36 months and you're out' . Bullshit. Training in just three weeks? You stupid hard-on. Nobody runs a flight school like that, Jordo. And that's another thing: you're not Jordo , you idiot, you're J. Dolt , serving five to seven for being a gullible ass . You're the same, stupid convict you were before. All of you are." Cleeg pointed at each of them. " You're not Gusher and you're not Poppy. Your name ain't Hooch and Holdout ain't a freakin' fighter pilot. She's a twitchy, ex-stim whore named Jeana who can't read so great. We were never real pilots and they never meant to make us into none. They didn't even bother to finish our training. What happened today was what was supposed to happen all along – we got creamed." Cleeg said, "We go out and it's gonna happen again. We go out there, and we're gonna get served up on some platter for the Squidies and this time, they'll smoke all of us and none of us are getting out of it alive." 
    Cleeg was probably right. They'd probably die. Jordo knew he had no right to do what he'd done and get them sent in again, but it was the only way. It was the only way that it wouldn't all be in vain. Live or die, it was the only way they'd be anything but a bunch of stupid convicts who got suckered into thinking they were heroes.
    His head whipped left because in the corner of his eye he thought he saw Snooze there, to port, as if he'd only been momentarily lost and now he was back. Jordo said, "I'm not stupid and neither are you. I say we knew what we were getting into." They were Snooze's words and Jordo gave them to Cleeg and to the Lancers. "We all knew what this was." Their eyes stared, open wide like they were all looking into the darkness. "We made this choice," he said, "but not because they bamboozled us – not because they promised us freedom or even because they landed in front of C-block and sold us all the bullshit – all the pilot bullshit, the nicknames and the flash. No. Screw that. We didn't do it because they fooled us. We did this because this is who we wanted to be. I say you knew this shit was coming, Cleeg. Just like I did. So did you, Holdout. And Poppy and Spit. Snooze knew what was up. I say we all saw through the bullshit like he did and signed on anyway. I didn't get suckered into doing this. I'm the numbskull who decided to do it. I'm Jordo and I'm gonna be Jordo for as long as it lasts. Cleeg, you can stay here and let the Staas Guards shoot you if you want, but you volunteered for this shit no matter what you think. Shafter and Burn and Topper and Dig are out there. I'm gonna go and get 'em. I'm gonna go out there now and I'm gonna last a lot longer with a wingman. Snooze is dead, so, Cleeg, you piss-ass, it'd be real helpful if you quit your bitchin' and got up and helped me." 
    It was up to Cleeg to decide who he was. It was up to all of them. John Cleeg shook his head like he was saying no, but he stood up with his helmet. "I'll go. But you owe me something."
    "What the hell do I o-"
    "A name ."
    "A what?"
    Cleeg said, "I never got a nickname like 'Jordo' or 'Poppy' or even a shite one like 'Gusher'."
    Gusher said, "What's wrong with my name?"
    "Everybody else in the whole squadron got one but me. It's not right. Real pilots get names. I want mine," Cleeg said, "and I'm not goin' back out there without one." He put the flight helmet down on a table and crossed his arms. 
    "Alright..." Jordo pulled the wax marker out from the sleeve pocket of his exosuit. "Gimme that." He took the flight helmet from Cleeg's hands. The reason Cleeg never got a name is because nobody wanted to say 'Asshole' all the time over comms. Jordo said, "You're gonna get a name you like, Cleeg. It's gonna be a hero name. But the deal is, you gotta live it. Until you die. That's the deal."
    Cleeg swallowed and nodded. Above the visor Jordo wrote