Chapter One: Ready Set
The low, distant background hum of far-off machinery came sliding back into the night. York's eyes opened. He blinked twice, slowly, wondering what had yanked him out of his first decent night's sleep in... hell, who knew? At least a couple weeks, it felt like. He squinted, blearily checking the clock across the dark room. The dimly glowing display read 02:25.
Tired as he was, York's brain was already kicking on. He thought about waking up Delta, but while he was thinking about it, he noticed how quiet it was. Too little quiet in my life these days, He thought to himself. He smirked lopsidedly in the darkness, Never thought I'd say something like that. I'll let D sleep for a bit. Shut down. Whatever.
Groaning very slightly (From being tired, not from being old, I swear..) York rolled out of the bed and staggered into the bathroom. Careful to shut the door before he turned on the light, he leaned heavily on the cold porcelain of the sink. With a slight buzzing, the fluorescent light flickered twice, then popped on. York looked groggily up at it, and turned on the sink with one hand. A splash of water and some eye rubbing, and he looked up to see himself fully awake and staring back at him. God, but he barely recognized the face anymore.
It had been, what, two months? Three? Stress lines had faded onto his face so quickly, though you could still easily see the handsome lines of his face beneath them. I'll be a silver fox before another month is out, at this rate. Even through the smarmy joke, York felt tired. Besides, no one was looking at any of that when they looked at his face. Well... almost no one. York glanced at the door.
He'd never expected everything to go to shit. Sure, doing the kind of work a Freelancer did was a risk, but he'd been thrown through the gauntlet and come out fine. He was good. His team... his team was great. Unfortunately his team had also turned out to be a powder keg of jealous ambition, competition and conspiracy. And then there was Maine...
He realized that standing in front of a mirror while reflecting was both a bad pun worthy of Wyoming and more than a little melodramatic. Reaching for the door handle, York clicked the lights off and soft-stepped into the bedroom. He slipped over to the bed, and pulled the covers back over the spot he had left, and up around Carolina's shoulder. He watched them gently rise and fall with her steady, deep-sleep breathing for just a few seconds before tip-toeing out to the balcony.
Benefits of this backwater planet, he thought to himself as he leaned against the smooth metal rail, a room with a balcony in an Earth city would have cost a fortune. Here on Floral, it's practically free...Which was just as well, since they were running out of money pretty fast. He looked down into the misty streets, jammed with people even at this hour. Trucks (and a few cars) stopped and started, stopped and started, as people weaved their way through, around, and everywhere. "Who named a planetoid like this Floral?" He muttered under his breath. Maybe someone's great aunt.
"This moon was named by a colony ship sent by Harvest Enterprises, and was originally used as an ideal place to grow exotic plant matter for various chemical and medical purposes." York's wrist unit lit up, and a tiny green figure popped into existence just over his right hand. "This city was founded as a collections base, and expanded until the collapse of the soil's mineral r-"
"Good morning, Delta." York leaned onto his left arm and gave a half-smile, tired but warm.
"Good morning, Agent York. I expected you to be asleep. Local time states that it is currently 02:-"
"I know what time it is, D. I couldn't sleep."
"Your lack of adequate sleep is slowing your reaction time by 18% already."
"I'm fine, Delta." York looked back into the bedroom. "If she can keep going, I can keep going."
"Historically, that has proven... inaccurate."
York looked at the AI evenly, but the effect was ruined by a yawn escaping into the night. "Alright, maybe you're right." He stared down into the wet streets, eyes distant. "But hey, for a one-eyed locksmith, I'm doing pretty good...right?"
Suddenly he was there again, on the training floor, head spinning. Just for a moment, it flooded back to him, the sudden rush of adrenaline when the grenade rolled into view, the blunt, knocking impact of the paint ammo, the sudden tightening of his right side, and then-
York shuddered, and looked back at Delta. "So where did you learn about all that plant stuff, anyway?"
"There are a large number of unprotected data networks in this area. I have been gathering intelligence about this region since we arrived." Delta paused "I have also been monitoring interplanetary flights to the local spaceport."
"Have you? So, do they know they have an extra flight controller?"
"I have only been monitoring communications, York."
"Right, right. And?"
"Agent Washington is in the city."
York stared at Delta. Wash? Was he tracking us? For Freelancer?
"D... is Wash here for...to...why is Wash here?"
"I am not sure. It seems logical to assume that he is here to recover Project Freelancer equipment."
There was a pause. "You mean you, don't you?"
"Yes."
York stared out into the city, gripping the rail and shifting his weight for a long moment. Between pursuit by Freelancer and pursuit by the Meta, it would only be a matter of time before everything came crashing down around the two fugitive soldiers. Wash... "Well, I suppose we'd better go ask him, then." York stood up and stretched.
"I do not think that is a good idea. Contact with the enemy should be kept to a minimum, especially given your lack-"
"Wash is not the enemy, Delta." York snapped "Wash is just... Wash. He'll listen to reason."
"Agent Washington is still a member of Project Freelancer. I would advise caution."
"Sure, D. You know me." York grabbed the handle to the sliding glass door "My middle name is caution."