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File A-6129-Delta selected: PARKER, ALICIA J
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-- --- ---- ------ ------ -------- ------ ------ ---- --- -- • Name: Alicia Jane Parker
• Unique ID: ALMAYER Ypsilon-13D
• Sex: F
• DoB: October 17, 2162
• Nationality: British
• Residency status: UA Resident Alien
• Position: Corpsman (field medic)
• Likes: FOB duty, simple deployments, cats, wonder drugs, gyroscopic stabilisers, the colour blue, peace and quiet
• Dislikes: stressful environments, her own high blood pressure, large animals, contact lenses, sandbag duty, pilots, losing her goggles
• Notable personal effects:
- One (1) HF2-series medical analyser, modified for enlarged font size
- Three (3) pairs of prescription ballistic goggles, high strength
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Neither entirely trained nor entirely prepared for the harsh realities of war in all their glory, Parker's blood pressure and levels of undue stress have never been higher. With the brightly-coloured, neon recruitment ads already passing away into memory, all that's left are the bullets whizzing by, the dull thump of mortar fire, and the sharp twinges of panic that comes with watching her M276 pattern bag run closer and closer to empty.
Any true loyalty to the corps takes time to develop, and the scant year and a half or so Parker has experienced since enlisting has not yet been time enough. The inadequacies of her brief medical training only really came to her notice the first time she was called to put them to use in the field, and as such her hypertension spikes nearly the moment her squad sets foot on some new godforsaken hellhole. While she might hold no love for the organisation itself, there is a genuine layer of compassion for the men and women who rely on her in the field; even if it's more often than not buried behind her short temper and a mounting pile of stress. Her bedside manner is most diplomatically described as 'lacking', although 'atrocious' might come closer to the mark. With adrenaline coursing through her and the roar of constant battle ringing in her ears, she is prone to explosive outbursts and crumbling under pressure.
Outside of combat, however, her biting sense of humour and quieter nature have more time to show themselves. She might still be far from being jovial or even casually upbeat about her overall situation, but she has at least managed to pull herself towards a level of quiet acceptance. The Almayer is far from being called home just yet, but each day makes the metal corridors and many faces of her platoon seem just a bit more familiar.
In the years since moving to the UA, her South London accent has begun to waver and fade - by now, it is barely noticeable in her speech, and it disappears further with every new day spent among the louder, more boisterous Americans surrounding her. Her eyesight remains as bad as ever, and she guards her few pairs of prescribed corrective goggles with ferocious possessiveness.
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Born in Croydon, a borough within the megacity of London, Alicia's early life was uninspiring in almost all respects. Her father worked for Musashi Industries, an midsized orbital construction concern under the vast corporate umbrella of Weyland-Yutani. The pay was enough to get by on, but the nature of his work necessitated far more time spent in low-earth orbit than at home with his family. Nevertheless, to the young Alicia it was the spaceships themselves that were exciting, from the great cargo transporters to the corporate patrol craft that would soar overhead, and watching them streak up to the stars day in and day out was all the inspiration she needed.
Unfortunately, throughout her schooling her marks in class were consistently below average or barely passable - something that threatened to become a problem for a pilot-to-be. To further compound matters, as she grew older Alicia realised that her poor eyesight wasn't just a stumbling block on her choice of career path - it was a total brick wall. The careers advisor at her school didn't mince words; no sane agency would consider her for even preliminary training in any sort of piloting or flight-based role. It was an unceremonious way of putting paid to her future plans, and one that coincided with more unwelcome news. Musashi Industries had been absorbed by a larger corporation further up the chain, and their various facilities in Britain itself were being either repurposed or shut down entirely. To this end, her father explained, either he would have to move alone to America or the whole family would need to tag along. In the end, as a minor, the choice was entirely out of her hands - she came along with both her parents, having only had a matter of days to break the news to her friends and pack for the permanent move.
Arriving in Philadelphia, the disillusioned Alicia found herself all but bereft of both aspirations and opportunities. Her relatively poor record from school left her floundering in the last couple of years of her education, and in the end she graduated with a bastard mixture of weak to middling qualifications from both sides of the pond. It was hardly a surprise, then, that the glitzy recruitment ads and smooth-talking representatives of the United Americas' military managed to dig their claws in. Despite her parents' misgivings - or perhaps even because of them - Alicia went forward with enlisting anyway, feigning a long-held passion for medicine and helping people in the hopes of evading any tenure as cannon fodder. To her initial surprise, it worked, and after managing to survive boot camp she was only too glad to attend the Field Medical School itself.
After her few weeks spent at the School, Alicia found herself carrying some guarded enthusiasm for her new choice of career. The course had been easier than she had expected, at least from an academic standpoint, and the newly-minted corpsman was packed off to the USS Durango in what felt like record time. She went into her first deployment with a mixture of anticipation and mild enthusiasm - two mistakes that were quickly put to rest by the situation her platoon found themselves in. The rigours and realities of a full combat drop stood out in stark contrast to the simulations and wargames so far - the CLF insurgents on Tychon-B were vicious opponents, and seemed to regard the red cross emblazoned on her fellow medics' chests as more of a crosshair than anything else. The conflict was bloody but brief, and while the USCM forces were successful in wiping out the revolt and restoring order, the experience itself left an indelible mark on the fresh corpsman's psyche.
She wasn't to stay with the Durango for long, though - in early 2186, less than a year after her initial deployment, Alicia found herself transferred to the USS Almayer for an unspecified period of time. The Arikara-class transport was an eye-opener - it was a colossus compared to the Curacao-class patrol gunship she had grown accustomed to. There were a lot more marines to keep track of now, and future operations looked likely to be on a scale beyond the one drop she'd seen before. All that was left to do was settle in, stake out a cryopod for the impending series of voyages, and hope to come back from this latest tour with something to write home about.
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