A pair of footsteps rang out on the empty deck. As the counselor made his way to his destination, he glanced around the empty room. The scene which was usually bustling with feverish workers was now filled with a tranquil and stale air. After the depressing and fruitless search, the director had angrily ordered everything to a standstill and sent everyone to their quarters.
In the absence of peers and soldiers the counselor showed a rare display of emotion. He shook his head in disappointment. Another agent, handpicked and trained for hell or worse, now labeled under the deceased/MIA. That marked three freelancers dead in the past few months and the project barely had the lifespan of a year, let alone reached full capacity. The soldiers would need large doses of positive reinforcement to keep going, the job of which fell onto the counselors shoulders.
Upon reaching door, the Counselor gave a brief nod to the guards on duty before entering the office of a dangerous man.
The counselor regarded the area with little surprise. The private room held a single massive holo-desk glowing with information. Paper was rarely used in this day and age, but besides the data materializing in the air, pages and folders were stacked precariously on the edges. Where the stacks could not fit it simply spilled over into a mess on the ground. Figures and statistics on the holo-desk materialized and vanished as a man scanned all the information. The director barked orders at the ships AI, detailed commands to not waste further resources. The Director who worked even harder in the face of failure had barely acknowledged the counselors presence upon his arrival.
"-et rid of them, FILSS, I only want those with a minimum of 5 years of experience. Counselor, I do hope you have a good reason for bothering me. FILSS, scratch out these 3. And anyone else with more than 10 years of frontline service. Too much mental instability. We can patch up those with minor afflictions but we don't want anyone we can't control."
The torrent of streaming information slowed to a halt at the directors pause in instruction.
"Well, counselor? Im waiting for an answer."
In response, the wary man stepped forward and pulled out his tablet. Typing in a few commands and ignoring the directors trademark rudeness, he answered with a neutral voice. "17 more files for the Freelancer Initiatives final position." as he finished his explanation the counselor tapped in the last of his passwords and sent over the info to the holo-desk in front of him. True to his word, 17 lists of seperate individuals popped up, each file spitting out a detailed history of its own subject.
The Director narrowed his eyes at the heightened work load.
"Your opinions on the boards new suggestions, counselor?
The counselor looked away from his tablet, surprised at the question. The director almost never asked for opinions, and certainly not from him. After a moment of hesitation and another for thought however, the counselor answered.
"Almost none of these soldiers are fit for both, the objective of the freelancers, and what you pursue. These new submissions are barely on par with the batch before them, as was the ones before that and the one before that."
"Then why," The director asked. "does the board insist on repetitively sending incapable morons as recommendations?"
The counselor noted the rise in the directors voice and decided to not respond. Leonard Church was an easily irritable man and he did not want to incur the wrath of the man who held more than half the power of the UNSC.
The director fumed in silence for a while. When he finally spoke, his words were calm and he spoke in his usual tone. He asked a question that he already knew the answer to.
"You said 'almost none', counselor."
"Yes, Director." The man pulled out a file. It was a brand new folder, but one that had already been reviewed countless times. Both men in the room knew every aspect of the person in question. "The Board sent in his name again, file number 317. Same as the last 20 times, the board highly recommends him as a candidate. The tec-"
"The Technician," The director interrupted. "Is someone that the board knows they can manipulate. They are pushing his inclusion as a means to have a way to control me. Even if it is a slight advantage, I will not allow it."
"With all due respect, director, he is the only choice you have. In the last 200 or more submissions, he is the only remaining soldier that comes even close to the high standards of this project."
"Someone else," the director mumbled. "there has to be someone else"
Even as he said it, the director himself had little belief in those words. If there was any soldier out there with the capability to be in the project, in three months, he had yet to find them.
In a sigh of frustration the overworked man leaned back in his chair. He massaged his temples as he thought of the project. A sloppy job of the typical "super soldier" for the military. A useless ambition, but one that the board believed in. It had little to do with the director except as a way to fund his own little projects. At the thought of his own goals Leonard Church solidified his own decisions.
"FILSS," he called out.
"Yes, director?" The programmed voice automatically responded.
"Store all files of the freelancer candidates. Get someone in here to clean this mess."
The counselor spoke up from his spot by the door.
"You've reached a decision?"
"The technician is the only one that currently fills our needs. We've wasted enough time looking. Lets hope he is everything his file says he is. Get him here and initiate him into the program."
The counselor nodded. Erasing a persons name, as well as their past, was something he did for all the freelancers. Giving them a new one was sometimes the only problem. Knowing that there was a total of 50 freelancers (dead and alive), it that meant that there was only one option left for their newest member.
"Mortis Branch will no longer exist, Director. Agent Hawaii will be able to be fully initiated within the next 2 weeks."
The director visibly cringed at the agents new name. The counselor suppressed his urge to laugh as he threw out a suggestion.
"The words 'Agent Hawaii' is a bit hard to say. May I suggest 'Agent Paradise' as a alternative name?"
It was the directors turn to laugh but no smile came from him.
"Agent Paradise," the director said mockingly. "Is a soldier. And if it were my choice, they would have numbers instead of any name at all. I don't care what you call him. Just bring him in."
As the counselor exited the room, the director erased the remaining files. It took forever but the project was finally going. The final member was a gamble, but one he knew he would win. A soldier in the midst of hundreds would be nothing but a speck. And like the smudges on the holo-desk he could just wipe them off if they so much as irritated him. The Director had nothing to worry about. Regardless of what they called him, what could one man do?