I like this idea. I have some psychology books that we could possibly use. I wonder if other literature has a place there... is Ernest Hemingway still viable after nearly 300 years?
Medina: Day #18
Approximate Time: 1800 (Dusk)
In all of the excitement, I've failed to provide an account of my observations around the colony. Small as it is, there is much to speak of.
The drop I came in on established the general mood of my stay here; surreal boredom with sharp spikes in danger, excitement, and panic. I tried to make myself useful by volunteering for the runner group right off of the drop. The planet had other plans, as I narrowly avoided a deadly blow from a clicker's scythe-like arm, instead cutting through my shin and mangling the bone from the impact. Medical science, at least parts of it, are out of the stone age at least, and Dr. Ivanov kept me calm as she cleaned the wound and stuck a bone-stitcher. My leg is fine, though it still stiffens up when it's especially cold outside, which appears to be often.
I spent some time counseling other members of the colony, including fellow UF folks. I've not had such in depth interactions with combat details before, and their perception and humor is a little unsettling to the uninitiated. Still, I think with time I'll be able to keep their sanity in check, or at least make them as sane as they were before. One of them, SGT Fister (still not sure if that's even his real name), has taken to wearing a loincloth made from animal skin. On this planet, at this stage, I'd give him a pass.
Nightfall is frantic, and sometimes deadly. I took part in the defense, shoring up the south gate. We did fine at the start, but the waves got bigger and bigger. They eventually broke, and I took a clicker arm... several... to the torso. Resources were stretched, and the docs couldn't get to me in time before I passed out. I woke up about an hour later with stitches and staples along my torso. It wasn't pretty, but I'm still living.
Had another drop about a week afterward. Thankfully, several members of the colony trained alongside each other to execute key functions. such as colonist escort and equipment retrieval. The casualties were minimal, and I think we may have retrieved all of the supplies dropped by Father. Speaking of, he's a bit touched in the head, I think. If artificial intelligence could be treated with therapy, maybe things would run a bit smoother.
Things went smoothly for the most part. I spoke with others around the camp, most notably Eliza 9 and Commander Grant, and found out my psych clearance is the highest there is. Eliza transferred the duty of Head Psychologist to the colony. It's a bit uncomfortable to have an official (or rather, as official as can be on this planet) title, but I am more than ready to help where needed.
There was another night time raid (clickers are attracted to all the commotions of a drop, and they're most active around that time, too), and clickers seem to be getting smart enough to herd these lumbering tatankas into our defenses. That's the part that bugs me the most (no pun intended); these things are likely learning about our behaviors. Fingers crossed they're only using tactics they've used their whole lives, and not adapting to us.
I've taken the time to learn how to operate Class B firearms, as well as assisting in guard shifts. I'm nearly finished with my qualifications in Psychiatry, as well. Soon, I'll be able to diagnose and treat others with whatever disorder they have, or may acquire. Permanent treatment options are limited, though. I don't have ready access to the medicine to chemically treat them. Hopefully in the next drop (3 more days!), we'll have some pharmacologists. If not, I'm sure we'll all be glad to see them.