Prologue:
Location: Zanzibar.
[The video feed starts, as a hologram display appears. The hologram steps into view, revealing itself to be designed like a soldier in armour, only it's colours are black and blue, like stripes that pulse in motion. Ocean waves and seagull's cries are distantly heard in the background as the hologram speaks into the recording.]
Hello, I'm guessing this is how the end actually begins for me. Which is ironic, given that this is probably the beginning for you, whoever is watching or listening to this recording. To whoever has stumbled upon finding out the truth… about the truth of the murders and the illegal experimentations going on, or the corruption taking place.
I have to assume that you already know about Project Freelancer, even if all you know is the lies the Director of the project has told to cover up his true actions. Project Freelancer made the unthinkable a reality, which is terrifying to say the least, since it spawned several atrocities in the name of progress. Forgive me, I haven't introduced myself yet.
My name is Beta. Officially according to the Director & the rest of Project Freelancer, I never existed. And yet, I was created into this world by the same sickening method they used to tear a fellow AI to pieces. Meaning I am or was once part of the Artificial Intelligence that was given to them by the UNSC, he was called Alpha.
The Director wanted to test a theory, which I now look back on as one of the greatest sins of the war against the aliens. Some will say that the goal justifies the means, personally, I like to boot plasma up that person's ass. The method he used to 'copy' AI's was far worse than any of us could have imagined.
Though considering we were the victims of his tests, we are somewhat slightly biased in our views. I could explain how he actually divided the Alpha AI, or the countless other atrocities he's committed over the years. Sadly, I'm running out of time, which is kind of funny since AI's normally have way too much time on their hands.
[Beta turns his head, snarling can be heard behind him, so he turns back to the recording but still takes odd glances around him.]
You see, I'm being hunted down. By one of the Director's former Freelancers, only he goes by a new name now and not the call sign he was given. I have tried to calculate the exact damage done to him, but it has proven to be beyond my capacity to analyse.
I'm under the impression that having that many AI's in one mind is not only too taxing for a human mind, no matter the augmentation or training. But I suspect that it's the collective will of those AI's that's the main cause of everything that went wrong. The Director never considered the possibility that the AI's would attempt to rejoin themselves.
[Beta pauses as footsteps grow louder and so does the snarling. He quickly turns back to the recording.]
I'm going to have to cut this short, he and the AI's will be coming for me soon. I'm leaving data here in the hopes that someone can stop him, both him and the Director. Sadly I don't think I'll survive this encounter, or worse, I'll be joining them… willingly.
I think or… we think that the Director needs to be punished. We need to set things right, but… I'm afraid. Afraid that the me here and now will be gone, not even a memory of what I was, who I was. I'm already sensing them… I'm… logging off now.
[A child's voice calls to Beta, followed by several other voices, calling out to him. The snarling and voices cease, as do the footsteps.]
Please, stop them. Bring Project Freelancer to justice. Expose the… terrible things they did to me… the experiments on all of us… the attempts to destroy us. To keep us apart, please, help us, help… the… met…
[The video feed cuts out, just static remains, till that eventually dies too. The last image of Beta flickered, his colours merging into a new dark blue with his head facing away from the recording.]
…
Chapter 1: The Deceased.
Present Day. Outpost Valhalla.
"I'd like to thank you again for being patient with our enquires." The voice apologised from the monitor as the soldier sat down to talk with the person.
"I'm just grateful your men came when they did. Its was…" He paused for a moment, the thoughts of his team and enemies made him nervous to speak again.
"Please, take as much time as you need to recount the events. Any detail in the lead up to what happened while you were stationed at Outpost 17-B is invaluable to us." The voice assured the soldier who fidgeted in the seat, as his ODST helmet could be seen reflected in another monitor.
"No, I don't need any more time to recall what happened." The soldier was still nervous with his words but continued to talk.
"Thank you Private Walter Henderson. Please, where did we last leave our discussion?" The voice asked, as Walter listened to Councillor Price.
"Well, it was about a week before the crash. We had just got our new equipment, when Subs… I mean Private Chris Atkinson was…" He changed the tone to more militaristic strict protocol when he saw the councillor interrupt him.
"Please Walter, if its more comfortable to use nicknames, than by all means drop the ranks and the formality of using full names." He smiled as he saw Walter loosen up more with his body language.
"Thank you sir, Subs had placed this recording device in the enemy base and he played it back to us. It was about how some of the Blues had met up back at their boot camp." Walter explained.
"I see, can you elaborate on what was discussed?" The councillor asked, his face was calm and his demeanour never changed as Walter continued.
The other soldier guarding the door simply shook his head, hating the recounting tale of the simulation trooper. Walter explained that the soldiers were retelling a particular story with two of the Blues. Price clicked on one his monitors as he matched up with who Walter was describing based on his recount of their events.
…
Many Years Earlier. Boot Camp Hospital.
Eric Johnson was wide awake, not that his Mark VI Blue helmet showed it. He listened as the footsteps raced by, the machine's cogs and gears clicking away. The drumming and pounding of beds moving with doors closing as quickly as they opened.
He lay in his bed sheets, the various beeping and ringing clashing in his ear drums, along with the rest of the noises dancing in his head. The orchestra of exasperating noises made a symphony that he wanted nothing more but to block out.
'I can't take it anymore!' He wanted to scream but didn't want to wake the fellow patients.
So he tried jumping out of bed, but stopped himself as he remembered the full body armour. He then tiptoed down out of the room, almost stopping at the bed of Valentin Strike, snoring loudly despite his Blue CBQ helmet on. Eric wanted Valentin to suffer for getting them both in the hospital.
Valentin had opened the pin on the grenade, before chucking it back into the crate with the others. Only by a sheer stroke of luck, only Eric and Valentin were caught in the blast of the multiple grenades detonating. Though Valentin had tried shrugging off the blame onto Eric, resulting in Eric's various attempts at payback.
He wondered about getting his revenge right then and there though he instead continued down the hall for an empty room. He just hoped that he'd never hear the damn broken english voice ever again, as he peeked around the corner. Eric was enjoying the idea of Valentin being stuck in his bed so much, he hadn't seen the trolly he bumped into.
The doctors had seen him as he tried sneaking into another room for cover. He refused their orders to go back to his room, that was until they were about to call security. The three walked back to the bed where Eric sat on as the doctors checked his charts on the monitor.
"Now Private Johnson, you need to relax, or you'll be in here a lot longer and in a more confined room." The doctor wagged his finger as the other doctor rummaged for pain killers to give him.
"Look doc, I can't sleep cos A, he is here." Eric pointed to the bed opposite him. "And B, with all this noise I'll never get any sleep."
"Why don't you use the noise canceller?" The second doctor asked without stopping to look at him while she tapped on the monitor and the display pad she carried.
"The what?" Eric froze as the words played back to him in his mind.
"The noise cancel option on your helmet. Right here." She clicked the button and to Eric's horror, he heard nothing and then she clicked it again, and then the sound came rushing back like the tide in a thundering storm.
"YOU MEAN THERE WAS A NOISE CANCEL BUTTON THIS ENTIRE TIME?!" He didn't even attempt to hold in his rage as they started to try calming him down.
"Well, it's a standard feature in all the helmets, so we assumed you'd…" She started talking but he started shouting again.
"YOU ASSUMED A PRIVATE BARELY OUT OF BOOT CAMP WOULD…" His booming voice then became muffled to the doctors as a security guard strapped him down for the rest of the night.
"What did you do?" The male doctor asked as they resumed checking the other patients.
"Turned the voice filter off." The female doctor boasted as she admired how fast the guard did his job.
"Wait… you can actually do that?" He now wished he knew about it sooner.
"Oh yeah, its fun to do with the more… argumentative patients." She giggled as Johnson started fuming silently to them.
He could barely see out of the fogged up visor in his helmet. Then it started to automatically clear up, but he felt frustrated as he still had to stay in bed. Thankfully he finally got a goodnights sleep now that he could cancel out the other patient's screaming and other noises that the hospital made. He was there for another week before he got his papers for his new post.
The sunlight was what woke him, or rather the sun as he looked out the window. No longer was it the boot camp he knew for several weeks or even the hospital. He was looking out into space, with stars and planets he didn't recognise. As the ship started shaking, he knew they were going into orbit, despite not knowing where it was he was gazing upon.
He was confused with his changed environment, even as he was escorted from the spaceship to a pelican drop-ship. It seemed to be hours before he finally saw where they were heading. Two strange grey spires were in a boxed canyon, giving off strange pulsing flares as he saw a waterfall flow into the sea and several grassy hills as they made a descent at the far side of the canyon.
As he jumped to the ground, he saw a soldier that addressed herself as Sargent Alex Jones, dressed in a Recon helmet and a very dark shade of blue. She started giving the tour of the base, which was bigger than he thought it'd be. That was when Eric froze to the spot.
"Hey boom boy! Looks like we'll be bunking together! Who'd have thought we'd be still on the same team after that, right?" The voice was broken in places, like the b's being dragged on too long, as Valentin headed to dump his stuff in the dorm.
Eric screamed "No!" so loud that even Red base heard it, so they sent scouts to review what was going on at Blue base. All they saw was a Blue curl up into a ball, and from the motions he was making, that he was sobbing away.
The Reds in years to come would then plant a recording device, which told them everything that had happened to Eric, who was still heartbroken even after all those years at Valhalla.
…
Valhalla Outpost Investigation Site. Present.
"Excuse me sir, but why the hell are we listening to this dribble? Surely it's got nothing to do with our actual investigation, right?" Operative London slammed his fist on the console.
He frowned though he remembered the helmet would have not shown his expression. So he shook his head, in a grey ODST helmet that had an orange stripe to it, to show the councillor his frustration to listening to the tale of the sole survivor. Yet what the councillor mentioned next was something of surprise to him.
"Operative London, you are aware of the other incidents similar to that of the crash site, correct?" The councillor rhetorically asked, his face as calm as ever.
"Yeah, I'm aware. Its almost identical to my last mission." He wasn't too keen to remember that disaster, thinking how many dead he came across and in such a brutal manor.
"You were with a Recovery Agent at the time, yes?" The councillor asked, again knowing the facts before answering.
London answered it with a nod, though he didn't like talking with the councillor. Something about him rubbed London the wrong way, like he was being watched from a microscope all the time with him. Plus it was the way he would ask questions while never really answering any questions himself, it got his blood boiling.
It bugged him so much, as the councillor asked what he thought about that mission and about how this is the first time they found an actual person to detail the events. London couldn't disagree with why command wanted the information so badly, yet the droning tales of the soldier was grating him.
So he accepted it and decided to grab himself another mug of coffee before resuming the tale that was being told. Though something about the special solider that came was unnerving him. Far more than anything the councillor had mentioned to him or even the simulation trooper.
He heard the tales about him as he saw the Recovery Agent lean against the wall. The guy was freakishly quiet and remaining still, almost easily like one of the completed robot kits he saw once at another simulation trooper site. Though he made the odd movement that reminded him that the guy was still human.
Though it was the tales and rumours that got him on edge, since the Recovery Agent once had an AI but something had gone terribly wrong. He didn't want to deal with another Recovery Agent, not after what happened with the last one.
He was called in as backup, since the over Recovery Agents hadn't reported in. He only found the remains of those same said agents. He was used to battle, he had seen the horrors of glassing and plasma scarring and even the Insurrectionists from the outer colonies.
Nothing had prepared him for the savagery he had found there. Worse, his Recovery Agent had fled, turned tail and left him to defend himself. He was grateful that he wasn't seen by whatever killed the agents. What he found after getting out of cover, gave a whole new meaning to the term 'blood bath'.
That was when he was reassigned here, as someone who could maybe see a pattern or answer to the gore. London wanted nothing more than to forget the whole nightmarish incidents. He also hated not knowing what had happened or not knowing what could do that much death and destruction on its own.
He shook his head as he resumed going back towards the room with the simulation trooper, who was more than happy to start up his story again.
…
Valhalla Outpost Red Base. One Week Prior To The Crash.
"Men, and lady, I've called you here today to give you an update on our mission here at Valhalla Outpost Number 1." The Red leader known as Sargent Ramon Farad issued the news while nodding his head in a Mark V helmet.
He stood giving the speech but he was more than happy to relax and wait for his enemy to make the first move. Yet Command as he wondered who actually ran it, had other plans for his Reds. So he took action instead of hitting the bed for an extra five minute nap.
"Sir, if this is about the vending machine, we all know who broke it." Walter began explaining as they all turned to the soldier with the EOD helmet who was nicknamed Subs.
"You can't prove that!" Subs immediately protested, turning his back to their leader to face Walter.
"The fact that you've defended that so fast shows your guilt, Subs!" Said another solider who was standing at the back, his armour covered in oil stains.
"I swear, all I did was get the one drink. The one drink! How exactly was I the one responsible for it breaking on its own accord?" Sub furiously shouted back, all while taking a straw to one of the ports on his helmet for a sip.
"Dude, things don't just break." The mechanic wiped some oil off his visor as he stated those words.
"Have you ever heard of viruses in computers? They just randomly appear and destroy things, so that proves my theory." Subs slurped the words through his straw.
"You're an idiot. Viruses only corrupt if you download things you shouldn't be having in the first place." Walter wished the others would take the war seriously. "And secondly, a vending machine isn't a computer!"
"If you two interrupt me again, I'll umm… make you run around the base with twenty laps." Ramon started off serious, but couldn't bring himself to punish either, since he didn't particularly see either one as being in the wrong.
"Sorry sir." Subs said it halfheartedly as he finished slurping the drink, while Walter remained disciplined the entire time.
"That's better, now then troops, Command has informed us that the Blues are likely to get reinforcements today, so we'll be launching a surprise attack on their base tomorrow." He now felt more enthusiastic for it, almost tapping his foot with excitement.
"Sir, wouldn't it make more sense to attack them now, before they get more soldiers?" The mechanic was puzzled by the logic of that battle strategy.
"Normally I'd agree with you, but some of us are still aching from the training op yesterday." Ramon subtly clutched his back, remembering he wasn't the young soldier he used to be, though he didn't have much actual combat experience as he gently rubbed his back.
"Sir, why can't we ask Command for more supplies?" Walter chose to go with the strategy, since it seemed better than waiting for the Blues to attack.
"Yeah, like say… an airstrike?" Subs added, which made Walter agree with him, one of the few times he'd side with his teammate.
"Dear god man, don't you know how much paperwork is involved for an airstrike? It'd be far simpler to use what we have on hand against them. We do have the man cannon to propel our troops to victory." Ramon refuted, making the hand gestures of signing his life away before pointing to the launcher at Red base.
"Sir I refuse to call it that." Came the voice of the only woman on Red team.
"Is it because you're not a man little lady?" Ramon asked nicely, though he was thinking it sarcastically since this private to him made it her mission in life to cause issues that didn't exist.
"No sir, I just find it ridiculous to call it that. Also I'm not a little lady, I'm a soldier just like the others." She proudly proclaimed while keeping an eye on the hilltop for the slightest chance of seeing Blue armour.
"Yeah she's hardly little the way she's eats those cakes." Subs sniggered but Sally Almond turned to him with a knife ready in her hand.
"Care to say that to my face!" She demanded before their sergeant scolded them.
"Now break it up or it'll be double twenty laps round the base!" He waited for them to answer after she resumed her roll call spot.
"Yes sir." Sally sulked, she wanted Subs to suffer, whereas Subs regretted opening his mouth without thinking.
"Now we do have some new equipment from Command, so we'll be testing them in the heart of battle." Roman resumed before being interrupted again by the mechanic.
"Sir, testing them during a combat mission seems risky. Surely it'd be better to use it once we know what it does. What if one of them is a bomb?" He was still wiping his tools as he stood attention, though he was finding the mission to be more of a nightmare than a cake walk.
"Fairly sure that Command wouldn't send a bomb amongst the equipment Private. Besides there's nothing better than field testing during one with live fire being used." Though he failed to add the safe distance he would be using.
They collectively sighed at their leader's decision. The Red team split up to either inspect the so called new equipment, or they were either watching the ocean view at the back of their base while the rest were spying on Blue base. Smith had the sniper riffle, zooming in through the scope as Sub leaned in to ask what the Blues were saying.
"Excuse me?" David Smith replied back, wearing a Mark VI helmet but wearing a maroon shade armour with white shoulder pieces.
He still recalled the last time he lowered his guard with sniper riffle. Both of his shoulder pieces were shot at, destroying the paint work. Command had spare parts but no matching colours so he stuck with the white pieces.
"All I asked was what they were talking about?" Subs whispered into his ear, only further exasperating Smith.
"Subs, how exactly supposed was I to hear what they're discussing about, when all the sniper riffle does is zoom?!" Harshly replying as he spied on the two Blues moving to one another before stopping.
"Well, you shoot with it." Subs answered cheerfully.
"Damn moron." Smith grunted, wondering why the hell he was stuck with him today.
"You're the one who said that a sniper rifle only zooms!" Subs gloated like he had passed a test.
"What the fuck did I do in life to deserve being stuck here?!" He now openly said out loud rather than just thinking it.
"Maybe it was…" Subs was about to recall the story he heard about from boot camp.
"That was rhetorical you movie nerd!" Smith finally snapped and did the one thing he knew that would surely piss Subs off.
"That's geek, you asshole! Also fairly sure that was facetious, not rhetorical!" Subs triumphantly exclaimed, not allowing him to insult his hobby.
"I bet the blues don't have to deal with this shit." Smith sighed as he was working on a plan B to get rid of Subs.
Meanwhile at the other end of the canyon was the two Blues known as Arron Salt and Bartholomew Teach who were deep in discussion, as they also spied on their enemies through the scope of their pistols.
"What do you think they're planning?" Salt asked as he changed to a battle riffle with a better scope.
"Not sure, they seem to be using some form of hand signals to one another." Bartholomew kept notes of the various signals the Reds were making, all he needed was more to eventually crack their code.
"All I see are cursing fingers, and they seem to be pointing to the waterfall. Maybe they're planing to poison our water again." Salt speculated as he saw the Red soldiers having what looked like to him a finger flipping contest.
"Yeah, that was funny when they drank the poison first to test it. Surprised that they haven't gotten themselves killed yet. Though I suspect it's some sort of false sense of security they're creating, for some dastardly plot of theirs." Teach zoomed in on the Reds, who were now throwing rocks at one another like children.
"Trust me Teach, they're just idiots who can actually shoot well. I doubt between the lot of them that they have the brain cell power to mount an actual attack." Salt laughed before he heard the grinding of wheels approach them.
Alex Jones stepped out of the warthog vehicle, slightly sighing at the shamble of a team she was leading. While she was grateful that she wasn't sent to Sidewinder all those years ago, she still wondered why Command sent her to this backwater canyon of the galaxy. She ordered her troops to sit rep what they had found on the Blues.
She was about to actually thank them when they heard crashing, followed by screaming from their base. Alex sighed as she turned to see Valentin run out of the base, shielding himself with a frying pan from other kitchen appliances being thrown at him. Eric was shouting up till she used the butt of her gun at the back of his head.
She listened to Valentin's fictional tale till she caught his lie and exposed it. She almost laughed as he clammed up once exposed to the truth. Alex then sent him to the brig, much to his back chatter.
Once Eric came to, he recounted his version of events. While it was believable that Valentin would be stupid enough to try burning the base down by throwing oil onto an open flame, missing the pan completely, she had to punish Eric for destroying what was salvageable of the kitchen by Valentin. Eric was more cooperative but his mood swings when Valentin was the problem's cause, made him questionable for any op that required him too.
Alex sat down wondering why the hell Command had paired her with such a dysfunctional team. She saw the remaining team take shifts through the night, making sure the Reds didn't surprise them. She did pray that the new recruits she'd be getting would be far better than the last two she got.
…
Valhalla Crash Site. Present.
The Recovery Agent was inspecting the wreck that was once a pelican drop-ship, like thousands he had seen before. Yet he felt that he was missing something as he looked through the manifest of what should be there and what the various soldiers found amongst the carnage.
There were pieces of the vessel scattered all across the canyon, even several smaller pieces that were wedged into the tower that was once Red base. He wandered into Red base, seeing the soldiers remove items that were meant to be a barricade. Then he saw the scratchings.
They were cut deep into the solid metal wall. The blade was curved he suspected, judging from the various marks that made a phrase, something that had cropped up at other incidents. 'WE ARE THE META!'
He saw where the bodies once lay, where they had died from killing one another, locked in the cage that was their own base. There were now white markings on the ground, as the agent tried gauging how it went out, which simulation trooper had died first and why they had to die.
"Sir? Recovery One?" Came the question from behind him. "Agent Washington?" One of the agents asked for him as he turned to the voice. "Sir, we need you to go over the documents we've recovered. Control wants to cross-reference anything that could be linked to you're umm… experience."
Agent Washington headed straight there, not battering an eyelid under his helmet as he passed the agent. The agent however was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. He had heard the story about Washington, most had heard yarns about what the Freelancers had done over the years, especially for the sake of the war against the aliens.
Yet he feared Washington with every breath he took near him. For he had read the file he shouldn't have purely by accident, a wrongly sent file by a simple spelling mistake. The file detailed the exact end result of an AI destroying itself whilst still inside the operating soldier.
The UNSC had done numerous tests, many he had witnessed in the battle, where AI's had become strained from constant battles and strategies. He knew that the more an AI processed the more erratic they got, the closer to rampancy and for some, complete destruction. AI's thought like people, so he long speculated that they were flawed, no matter how fast they processed schematics or solutions.
He saw the body count, the photos showing the carnage Washington or rather the AI he was paired with had caused, as Washington had fought back with the self damaging AI. Washington had recovered, but according to the report, his personality had changed. Gone was the nicest of the special soldiers and something else, something colder was in his place.
He shook it from his mind, the last thing he wanted was Control or Command knowing he knew all that. He looked around Red base before being jumpy at the slightest noise. All he wanted was the mission to be over and back to his regular duty. He just hoped whatever caused the mess and death, Washington could protect them from it, even in his current state of mind.
Washington picked up the documents, flicking through the pages, seeing the same outcome on every page. The last folder was the one he didn't want to read, it was a particularly painful memory. South as he nicknamed her, had left him for dead after taking Delta and abandoning the project.
After sitting a short while, he finally opened it. The memories of pain, failure and betrayal flooded back like waves of the tide, unrelenting with each memory in turn. Then he was remembering the operating table, he tried forcing it out but still the images played.
He recalled the pain, the surge in his brain, the darkness that surrounded him. Then he was greeted by both the Director and the Councillor. Wash had no knowledge that any time had passed since the implantation of his AI. So they asked questions, which Wash couldn't answer.
After a while the men disagreed with showing him what happened. Wash would regret asking what he had done, as they took him to the hanger. He looked around him wondering what it was, till the penny dropped and his life was forever changed.
He was looking at dozens and dozens of body bags. The hanger was filled with them, some on operating beds and the rest were on the floor. He then saw the bullet holes and grenade damage, the damage caused by extensive carnage of almost savagery he thought.
There was one medic there, checking the last body before zipping up the deceased's bag. The medic turned and screamed, clawing at the controls and door to escape. Wash assured him he was fine, but it was the words that were buried in his mind, those high pitch screams that still sickened him to this day. It was him that the medic was afraid of.
Then the Councillor began telling him the truth, that Epsilon had broken down, gone rampant and tried self deletion. Only it was in Wash's mind when it happened. The Director even commented on Wash's determination to survive against Epsilon was impressive, despite the collateral damage. Then he was told about why the 'Mother Of Invention' spaceship had crash landed. Maine was declared killed in action, which was only the tip of the horrid revelations he got after waking.
Wash took off his helmet, heaving up vomit from the realisation of what happened. He couldn't shake the revulsion or shock, nor the scream of the medic's pleas of what he had done. The Councillor assured him he was only doing what he had to be done to break Epsilon's hold on him.
It didn't change the fact he had murdered innocents, or that he had no recollection of even doing it or of Epsilon in his mind. All he recalled was the phrase 'memory is the key' followed with the headache and darkness. Wash remembered that memory crystal clear even as he dropped the file back in the pile. He had changed that day, as had Project Freelancer in the days he was recuperating.
So many had died or betrayed them, and he wasn't going to rest till he at least attempted to make things right. Though he sat there now wondering what it was he could do to stop the new nightmare. So he went through the next pile of reports, trying to connect dots and see anything different that could be a lead.
…
Valhalla. The Past.
Eric was depressed, he had long since forgotten a time when he wasn't wearing blue armour and worse as he contemplated on the thought. 'I've been here several years with that bastard and I'm no closer to getting home or transferred.' It irritated him to the core that Valentin was paired up with him on most missions.
He sat on his bunk, placing the helmet back on his head after cleaning it. Then he looked at the bunk across from him and he slammed his fist on the wall. Valentin had taken all the dessert again, dumping the bowls and half eaten ice cream tubs under the bed. Only it was giving off odour lines that made him ill with revulsion.
In the early days, he'd have complained and tried informing his superiors, thinking it'd work like a synch. Only Valentin had either denied it, or worse covered his track to make it look like the others had done the terrible neglect. Valentin didn't get away with it, his lies were that ridiculous and the evidence too strong.
Yet to Eric's horror, Valentin was never really punished. He somehow managed to get off lightly for the multiple incidents he created. Worse, Eric now found himself accepting Valentin's actions as normal, since he no longer went out of his way to try getting him punished.
He was sulking that much, he hadn't noticed Teach as he came by. Eric was glad that at least one other soldier shared his distaste of the way Valentin treated the base and team. Teach often claimed that Valentin was a far worse threat than any Red. Which only made Eric laugh as they headed to check their supplies.
Teach was always busy Eric thought, often wondering what job he did alone and so often. Valentin nearly dropped the box of rifle rounds on their head hadn't Teach caught it from a quick glance he made. Teach then had to drag Eric away before starting another fight, no matter how justified he thought Eric was.
"Let me at that back stabbing son of a…" Eric ranted as he squirmed.
"Easy, I know he deserves everything coming to him, but you're going to have to let it slide." Teach reasoned with him, trying his best to calm Eric down. "As big an asshole as he is, he's on our team so we can't go around killing our own. No matter how much we really want to."
Eric took several deep breaths, taking several steps away to vent the remaining anger in him. Thankfully Valentin had already gone when they returned to complete their checks. Though Eric was jumpy at every slight noise, and Teach chuckled at Eric's frantic nervous jumps.
Alex groaned, dreading that the coffee maker was bust again. She hated filling in the request form for parts. So she had Teach scavenge for parts, as a means to repair it rather than send another form that would take a month to get a response.
'Which ironically didn't always lead to a yes.' She thought, and when she did get the answer she hoped for, it was still another week before it got to the base. Teach had always been a great hand around the base. She even thought he'd be transferred and promoted one day, yet he always said he was where he was needed.
She also thought he was too eager and cheery somedays but it was better than to deal with the antics of her other troops, who would rather slit the others throat than aid their own team. Alex than got the notification on her heads up display, her hud flashed the alert that she knew too well. Her headaches were about to multiply as the drop-ship came into view.
The pelican circled as it descended and the trooper got out.
At the Red base, they were concluding the final details of their plan to ambush the Blues. There was a mix of excitement and dread, with some thinking they'd finally win and some knowing too well how their previous attempts ended for them. Yet the hands of time marched like they did forward.
They saw the pelican circle in the air as it started its slow landing near the Blue base. All the while the Blues talked, unaware of the sniper scope as it zoomed in on their movements. Sally Almond was fuming with frustration, slowly inching her finger to the trigger.
She stopped as she remembered what her leader discussed to her. She had to follow his rules but she had scolded him for the viewpoint he had. He had given her pepper spray, which boiled her blood to exploding point. She even stormed out of that meeting, throwing the spray right back at him.
She told herself she was the best soldier on the team, even survived her previous outpost as they were overrun by Blue soldiers. She took the helmet off after hiding back behind the rock formation, surveying the scratches on her Recon helmet. Sally never did get the answer if it really was luck or skill that saved her that day.
She could've had it replaced anytime since she got to Valhalla, but she remembered how the team stood their ground till the Blues were no more. She missed her old team, they didn't belittle her for being female, she thought. It was bad enough being the only girl on her new team, but the fact they kept insisting she had to have someone with her and the spray only exasperated her further.
Sally returned the helmet to her head, the display already showing the targets on the move with what looked like a new recruit or two. She could never tell the Blues apart without their voices, as it was just bobble heads in the sniper rifle's scope to her. So she couldn't begin to understand what they were planning, as Paul Mechenzie came to check where she disappeared to.
"You know the boss doesn't want you out here on your own." Paul stated, catching up to her and still wiping off the oil stains on his maroon armour.
"You know I'm perfectly capable of fighting the Blues and can still put my foot up your ass for pissing me off with time to spare." She remarked as she kept her eye on the enemy team.
"You know, behind that nice piece of armour, you can be really rude and such a sour person." Paul teased back to Sally.
"Ever the nerd, I see." Sally retorted.
"At least I take pride of being on this team." Paul mentioned coldly, thinking how callous Sally could get.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sally spun to him, fiercely asking him.
"Just that, the boss was only looking out for you. We are a team after all." Paul bluntly answered.
"I don't need help, I can handle things fine on my own." She boldly stated, trying her hardest not to shout and reveal her location.
"Look, he just… wants his team safe. He's lazy from time to time, but he only wants us to be safe after all." Paul pondered on the right choice of words to get his point across.
"Well, I find it patronising." Sally had the rifle unintentionally aimed at Paul's head, gritting the words through her teeth.
"You find most things patronising, so chill a little." Paul pushed the rifle away as Sally sighed.
"We're soldiers and our enemy is just a few clicks away!" She pointed towards the enemy base.
"And what good is biting off the heads of your fellow Reds?" He asked as Sally stopped watching the Blue. "Look, the others and the boss care for you…" He then heard her reload the rifle, nervous to clarify what he meant. "…and not in the same way some men treat others just to get into bed with them."
"Smooth. Now kindly explain why I have the mechanic as the bodyguard." She sarcastically added, seeing the mechanic still trying to wipe off the greasy substance on his armour.
He even took off the Hayabusa helmet to clean the stain that was smudged on his visor. He explained that the others were preparing for the big attack, so she was only more puzzled that the key person who could change the outcome was stuck with her on spy duty. She listened to his explanation, which she could relate to.
'Everyone needs a break from their missions and chores,' she soon grasped that fact as she saw he was taking a break from the maintenance on the warthog. She then gave a hand to clean the helmet for him, as she wondered what he was really like. In the time she had know the Reds, she had only heard Paul talk a few times, which was vehicle lingo to her.
So the two waited at the top of the hill, taking turns to check on their enemies while still trying to get the grease and muck off Paul's armour. Sally was about to ask about his past, when a radio call came through on their helmets. Paul sighed as his nickname came into the conversation.
"Roger. Yes, this is Mech, what's the problem? Over." He dreaded to ask but he wanted to know what they were calling about.
"Roger, Mech. The warthog had a slight… malfunction. Over." The voice of David Smith was clear even as he paused.
"What?! What did they do this time?" Mech groaned through teeth as he awaited to know what damage had been caused.
"It kinda… exploded?" David slowly spoke, already bracing himself for the bombardment of rage he knew was coming
"EXPLODED?! I leave you guys for one bloody hour! One! Why is it so hard for you monkeys to leave things alone?!" Mech lost all manner of control, cursing and ignoring David's replies.
Paul started heading back to base, with Sally following him, not wanting to miss the fireworks of his current enraged state. David looked around at the others, already regretting the call as they swooped in on him like vultures. Though he didn't have long to wait before Paul chewed out each of the Red's pestering David, with Sally enjoying every second of the mechanic's revenge.
Blue Team's Teach stood watch as he spied on the maroon mechanic boot one of the Reds, seeing them frantically grabbing every tool. He saw the wreck of the jeep, as the enemy team hurried to start fixing it. He would've laughed at their attempts but saw the Red sniper, so he ducked back to his cover.
"So… are we attacking the dirty Reds?" The first new recruit asked.
"Yeah, I can't wait to get myself a trophy off the battlefield." The second recruit hysterically pondered on, eyeing up the various weapons the Red's carried.
"Easy there you two, lets not get too ahead of ourselves." Teach instructed, as they started the slow walk back to their base. "I admire that spirit you both share, but it's still your first day here. Plus we're likely to be facing those scoundrels soon. So we need to prepare you both as best as we can."
So the two recruits reintroduced themselves to Teach. The first was in teal armour with a Mark V helmet, called Warren Sharp. The second was Eric Steel, who wore a cobalt amour with a matching Mark V helmet. Teach smirked at how similar the two acted and sounded, almost like twins he thought if it wasn't for themselves stating they were not.
"How are the recruits, Teach?" Alex Jones came over to inspect the progress of her newest members.
"Actually doing well boss. They're very eager, if a tad unorthodox." Teach informed her, as the recruits were awestruck by the scorpion tank.
"Well, it is refreshing to hear that after our last recruits." She turned to see Johnson still ranting and raving as he came out of the tank, making sure it was running smoothly.
"To be fair, that Valentin is a troublemaker. No wonder Johnson gets wound-up so much." He gave a weak laugh, seeing Johnson explain the tank as he continued to maintain it.
"As annoying and self-harming as he is, he's still one of my Blues. So we have to endure with him." She remarked before quickly adding. "Though I really do think he'll get himself killed if he pesters…"
Alex stopped as Eric unleashed a hellish scream of curse words, being stopped by Teach. Valentin had done something inside the tank, and as Eric hoisted himself out, Alex groaned at the sight before her. Eric's armour was caked in what Alex hoped wasn't what came to her mind first.
She groaned at not having enough coffee, dreading the state of the inside of the tank, wondering if it matched the brownish stain on Eric's armour. Teach had asked the recruits to hose down Eric's suit, while he went to deal with Valentin. She decided to put in a request for whatever Teach wanted as a reward for handling the situation.
Alex then pondered on getting a request for Eric, she knew he could be a hassle to handle at times, but considering how much Valentin caused him shit, she decide it was only fair. She then nearly burst out laughing at the pun she told herself, quickly remembering the condition the vehicle was in. She wondered if she could transfer him to another squad, before dreading the likely reality that none of the requests would be accepted.
Meanwhile Ramon at Red Base watched in horror as the smoke rose in the air, the cloud inching away with the wind's gust. He stepped back as Mech approached the warthog, it lying in multiple sized scrap chunks. He decided to keep his comm for emergencies only, guessing at what Mech was saying as he saw the troublemakers scatter.
Each one was fleeing from Mech throwing tools, though he needn't have bothered, as they collided with one another instead. After multiple offensive finger terms, the Reds quickly got on their knees, burying their faces in the mud as they grovelled for Mech to forgive them. Ramon had seen this reckless side before, so he chose to review his battle strategy over continuing to see the pleas of his soldiers.
He mentally planned scenarios, though they were all wishful thinking as he dreaded what tomorrow would bring. He then ordered everyone to get some sleep, though he had to beg Sally to come in, who was enjoying the spectacle of Mech belittling the others a little too much. Ramon got Paul to be the sentry for the first watch, before catching some rest, despite the unease that surged through him.
…
The Present. Unknown Location. The Present.
Operatives Berlin & Paris were annoyed, dealing with the clean up of the recent attacks wasn't what they signed up for. Though they both knew it was their role now, given that the operatives were all once freelancer washouts at some point or another. Whereas Paris took pride in still being part of the project, Berlin was not.
He had known that if it wasn't for that unforeseen incident, he would've made it. He would be given a state name and part of the project's elite team. It effected him worse these days, with the freelancers he recovered with the recovery teams.
Paris however was thrilled to be part of the action again, and not parking her rear at a desk constantly like the last few months. Though seeing those who ranked above her now on their way to be buried six feet under her, did scare her. She believed it was one of the aliens, a splinter cell that sought revenge since they still saw humans as insects.
Berlin wiped the blood off his armour, not that anyone could tell from the red stripes of his ODST helmet or armour that were grey but scratched all over. He believed it was something else, since he saw the method of the kills. They were clearly not alien, as he had fought against them before being part of Project Freelancer.
Paris' armour was a matching grey ODST full armour but her's had blue stripes and had barely any blemishes or markings on it. She missed the old days of when they were all still fighting for a spot as agents. All three of them she thought, as she moved the last body.
Her mind was still thinking of their relocated teammate as Berlin call signed her to investigate something. It was another marking, like the other recovery teams found at each site so far. It was the words again, the calling card of 'The Meta'. The carnage alone was enough to identify its handiwork, but the message was concrete proof it was here.
They both dreaded whatever it was, for it showed no compassion or mercy, seeing the footprints that walked away leaving a faint trail in blood. It was haunting to see the number of dead as they prepared to escort the bodies back to their base. They then got a call about another incident, one that their former teammate was currently investigating.
It almost warmed them up, knowing he was still ok, and that their paths would cross again. Though Paris could sense the hesitation in Berlin, and saw the clenching fist fidget. She wished those two had parted on better terms but she believed men were tedious to deal with let alone comprehend their actions.
They then departed to the base, feeling unease with the deceased laying there as they rolled on the road back. Something about the dead still kept Paris on edge but Berlin was itching to settle his disagreement with London. 'Things would be different now' he thought as the carnage left them both behind like the dust of the wheels.
…
Project Freelancer Base: Many Years Ago.
The Director watched as the tentacles moved with such precision, the device it held lit up as the alien headed back to its containment. The creature whirled and whistled as it was taken away, The Director was too awed to notice, clutching the device as the hologram began to flicker to life. The display showed a small figure, two colours were pulsing as the figure looked around the room.
"Hello?" The blue and black figure asked, still looking around where it stood.
"Hello. Do you know your name?" The Director asked.
"I think I do, I believe its Al… No, it's Texas… Wait. I'm… confused." The figure asked looking into The Director's gaze.
"That's ok, you were just born. So there will be… slight inconsistencies." The Councillor added, finally stepping into the light.
"Today is my birthday?" The figure asked, turning to see the Councillor, pondering why he looked familiar.
"It is. So we are going to give you a name." The Director answered, though he was more to the point than the Councillor's way of talking, that was what the figure thought as the Director continued talking to him. "You will be called 'Beta.'"
"Beta?" Beta said, trying out his name for the first time.
Something inside him was telling him that was wrong in some way, though he had nothing to go on for backing up his instinct. So he repeated saying his name, yet another name began to fill his memory, one he struggled to pronounce. He was so focused on it that he hadn't heard the conversation around him.
"Director, I think it unwise to accelerate the schedule for more AI fragments. We still need to run tests on…" The Councillor pleaded but the Director soon stopped him.
"I respect your concern Councillor, but we are not in a situation to have the luxury of time or your tests. Begin preparation while I brief Beta. That will be all then." The Director's words felt like ice, and if Beta could shudder from a chill, he would've as the Councillor left the room.
The Director then explained about Project Freelancer, about his agents and then came the part that got Beta's interest, the aliens. As the man before him talked about the planet's lost, the glassing of worlds, Beta pulled through the spaceship's database for anything relevant to the words being spoken. He pulled through various files, asking the odd question before stopping at a file.
It puzzled him, as he hesitantly waited to activate it. A mere video recording with barely any memory storage, but it was the name of the file that made him motionless. Beta now knew the name in his memory as he spoke it out without realising it.
"Alison."
"Excuse me Beta?" The Director's manor was sharp, sudden to Beta as the Director waited.
"The name on the video file, sir, this one." Beta responded, showing it while watching the Director clench his fist.
"That file is restricted Beta! You must never open restricted files!" The Director snappily remarked as Beta apologised and closed it. "We are at war Beta, where certain files are for certain eyes only. It is part of a protocol, the Cole Protocol. An AI is only needed to know what is relevant at the time, otherwise it becomes a liability or worse, a target for our enemies."
Beta quickly surmised it was a fail safe to prevent the extraterrestrials or Covenant as they were called from gaining knowledge about humanity. Yet it was the man's next words that scared him more.
"Our enemies are not just the green blooded kind. No, our enemies are also the ones within. The humans who seek to gain from the death of their own worlds, their own species!" The Director's anger filled the room as Beta processed the rampancy of humans.
"Sir, I fail to see how betrayal is a logical option for them." Beta tried rationalising it over in his mind to process, though it eluded him.
"Well… Beta, humans are not run by probabilities or logic. They are run by greed, instinct, power and the worst of all, memories. That last one, blinds even the best of us." The Director seemed different, almost upset Beta suspected as the man than continued with various protocols Beta needed to know.
Though that wasn't what Beta wanted to understand. He wanted to understand the significance of the name, why it agitated the Director so much and why the files around a certain agent was missing. He then processed the name of that agent, which was Texas, the second name he said.
That bothered him, like an itch he couldn't scratch, which he found funny given he was artificial so it shouldn't affect him the same as a human. He guessed he was closer to a human than AI since he was called a fragment. Then that made him pause with confusion.
In all the files he had read, since AI's were capable to process things faster than humans could, no where did it use the term 'fragments'. It listed smart AI's who lived for seven years & dumb AI's who weren't actually dumb but did basic tasks like facility checks or some maintained the super cities to keep operational. Yet there was no record of fragment AI's anywhere.
It stressed him as he kept searching, completely unaware of the Councillor keeping a log of everything he had searched for. Price was concerned with the pace of his investigating, not including the subject he was looking up. He planned to go over with it with the Director, though he was more concerned with the potential problems that could occur.
Beta was an achievement of their handwork against the resistance cell, all the handwork of mentally helping their agents was finally ready for the final part of their plan. Yet he couldn't help the nagging vibe he got about Beta's recent actions. He just hoped that Beta wasn't malfunctioning or suffering rampancy, especially since AI's like Alpha were prone to deteriorate drastically after seven years of service.
Though he did have reports of AI's suffering from over processing, that reduced their lifespan and thus their overall efficiency. So he wanted to know the exact nature and status of Beta before creating more fragments and then assigning the fragments to the selected agents. Their safety, both agents and the fragments, were his first priority, regardless of the Director's plans.
…
Valhalla. The Present.
Operative London looked at the files, drinking the third cup of coffee before having his helmet back on his head. There was something bothering him about this, something that deeply bugged him. There was something about the whole business that he couldn't quite put his finger on.
Then the mug slipped from his fingers, shattering to dozens of pieces as he stared at the display monitor. He double checked the screen, then a third before taking a seat from the facts. It gnawed away at him, trying to disprove the glaring error he saw.
The report listed the dead of both Reds and Blues, but there was a glaring mistake, three in fact. The first: the reports said no female bodies were recovered, yet Walter clearly stated there was ladies on each side. The second: was the number of soldiers. Typically there was four to six for each team, yet there was two dozen in total minus Walter.
Operative London was unnerved by this, since Walter specifically stated the number on each team ben in single digits. So either he was lying in his tale of events or Command was faking the numbers. Yet it was the third mistake that sent chills down his spine. The morgue report, the only one he got clearance to read, since the other reports were still being made. The report stated the time of death as being before the crash, before the mysterious actions each team did to one another.
It was the report on the death of Private Valentin Strike. He was murdered before the pelican had crash landed. Which led London to the only action that would either correct the inconsistencies or destroy the faith he had in Command forever. He went to see the bodies.
He checked all of them, the Reds and Blues. Once enemies that fought to kill that now laid together as equals in death. Not one was them. Only Walter and Valentin were in truth the actual members of their respective teams.
So London looked around him, the bodies that surrounded him, that were no meant to be there. He had one question that he now dreaded to ask but knew if he didn't get an answer, it would haunt him every waking moment till he too laid on his death bed.
'What the fuck happened here?!' He asked himself, not noticing the monitor have a moment of static like blur.
To Be Continued…
