(A/N) Hey everyone. As you've probably all realised, there was no Monday update this week. This was due in part to some problems with chapter deadlines, and somewhat due to my rather hectic timetable at the moment, but stick with us. We'll only have two updates this week, but next week we'll be back on track, and my exams will be over! Hurrah!
Enjoy!
Chapter Thirty-Five - The General
The Director
Written by NicKenny
"I know where you live and I've seen where you sleep. I swear to everything holy that your mothers will cry when they see what I've done to you." - Michelle (Tommy Boy).
I sat at my desk, reflecting over the debriefing that myself and the Counselor had just carried out with our five rescued operatives. Their reports where harrowing, and the injuries that they had received would take a long time to heal, time that we did not have. Not after recent developments. The sum of their reports had been largely unsurprising, hours of torture, both mental and physical, but they had not passed any information of worth over to the Insurgency.
However, they had questions of their own for me. In particular, Agent Alaska wanted to know what his interrogator had meant when he had asked each of the agents in turn whether or not they were Spartans, and it was with a heavy heart that I informed the agents that a project similar to ours had been unveiled to the public three months ago, in an attempt to quell the mass hysteria surrounding the Covenant threat.
The information would have reached the agents sooner or later, especially when the new recruits, who hadn't been largely isolated from the outside world for the last seven months, arrived, but I still had my concerns about how this would affect the agents. The added competition might encourage them, but for some of our…less patient agents, I could only worry about the lengths that they would go to in order to catch up.
My hand flicked briefly over the surface of my data-pad, pulling up the files of the eight agents awaiting our return on Eris. Six male, two female, all exceptional. My eyes darted over from the holographic table to the leaderboard at the opposite side of the room, and focused on the first name on the board. I smiled for a second, wondering if any of our new recruits would create the sort of upset that would revolutionise the board.
I pulled up the first file, staring into the deadened eyes of a Caucasian male, his head shaved right up to the skull, his features drawn tight into a scowl. I had followed his career in the UNSC for some time, anxious to find a recruit that could match Agent Pennsylvania in brute force, and in him, I had found one. He had been described by several of his superior officers as a monster, or a freak of nature, but I was fascinated by this agent, and his condition. He would prove a considerable asset to the project, of that I had no doubt.
The next file, that of a young black man, his dark hair short, his hazel eyes sparking with determination. This recruit's skillsets would prove pivotal in the upcoming missions, for we had been relying far too heavily on some of our agents up until now. He would find a use for his talents here, which had been neglected by the bureaucrats in the UNSC's High Command. His temperament might be more withdrawn than I would have preferred, and his actions more unpredictable, but I had faith in him. My only concern was over his past, and how that would affect him in the field, but ultimately, I felt that this was a problem that could only be broached at the right moment. He would do for now.
The next two recruits' files came up together, reflecting the status of their birth. Joining the UNSC together, the two had quickly advanced up through the ranks, catching my eye with their teamwork and undeniable prowess in battle. If I had high expectations over any of the recruits, it was this pair. They would shine in Project Freelancer, of that I had no doubt, and they would rise up our ranks as quickly as they had in the UNSC. The girl was a firebrand, however, with a short fuse and a foul mouth. I was relying on her brother to keep her in line, or her time in Project Freelancer might be short. Whatever the failings of the original group of agents, they had quickly learned the necessity of teamwork.
The next one had somewhat surprised the officials with whom I had lodged my transfer request. He was a good soldier, but not as exceptional in battle as the others had been. However, these were not the attributes that I was interested in in his case. His I.Q. had proven to be untestable by modern methods, surpassing even the most difficult of tests assigned to him. At least, in his area of interest. While his strategy lacked inspiration, and his understanding of the human psyche, could, at times, be flawed, his ability as a technician was unmatched within the UNSC. Indeed, I had, only a short time ago, purchased his plans for a fully-operational mechanised soldier. I had high hopes for that particular project.
The next soldier had been chosen for his experience against the enemies that we found ourselves facing, the burn that scarred his face serving as a constant reminder of his past. His expertise would prove invaluable, provided that he did not allow his past to cloud his judgement when in the field. Of all the recruits, he was the one that I knew I could trust, as long as Project Freelancer could help him on his path to vengeance.
The second woman was a good deal smaller physically than our other agents, her petite frame lending her a sense a frailty, and, if I hadn't seen videos of her in action, I wouldn't be able to believe that she had been the heavy-weapons specialist in a squad of high-ranking ODST's. She was another one that I could put my trust in. She had lost everything to the war. There was nowhere else she could turn if she abandoned the project.
The last recruit that appeared before me bore the same look of disdain, self-confidence, determination and hostility that had caused me to recruit Agent Pennsylvania. While this agent did not have the same physical strength that made Pennsylvania such a valuable asset, he had more to lose, which would drive him to even further ends, if indeed that was possible.
Soon, they would know what it means to be an agent within Project Freelancer, and all the good and the bad that came with it. It would be…interesting to see how they assimilated into the project. I had no doubt that several of the agents would be openly hostile to the idea, but that was irrelevant. We needed the extra manpower, particularly if we were to enter the war with the Covenant, which, indeed, was the sole purpose of this project.
They would have to put their differences aside and see the bigger picture. In order fight a war, you cannot allow yourself any delusion of self-grandeur or self-importance. The needs of humanity must take precedence over your own personal pride.
My thoughts, as always, we eventually interrupted by the monotonous voice of the Counselor, forcing me to cast aside my train of thought and pride, and listen to his tedious assessments. He walked in silently, passing by the guards at the entrance without a word, as they had long ago learned that "Do not disturb" did not apply to him.
"I trust that you have seen and read my report," he murmured from behind me, and I turned off the holographic projector, turning to face him.
I nodded, a wry grin appearing on my face. "I couldn't help but notice that you were about as optimistic about these recruits as you had been about the original batch."
He frowned, his brow furrowing, as he detected the slight jab. I couldn't help my smile widen even further. Apparently he wasn't as oblivious to hidden insults as I had previously thought. "I am sorry if my findings displeased you Director, but the facts are the facts. Amongst the symptoms observed, I detected characteristics of post-traumatic stress, extreme narcissism, obsession and possible bipolarism."
I raised my eyebrow in mock surprise. "Really? Are you sure your findings haven't been a trifle…exaggerated?"
His frown deepened, if indeed that was possible. "That was just Agent California," he replied, emphasising the agent's name in finality. "And he is one of the least worrying of the group. One of the agents in particular…Director, I apologise if this comes across as disrespectful, but did you not learn the lessons of Agent Pennsylvania?"
It was my turn to frown now, annoyed at this example of insubordination. "I assume you are referring to the Agent Pennsylvania that is currently our second-highest ranking agent, and one of our key field leaders? The same Agent Pennsylvania who so successfully carried out the assassination of a leading member of the Insurrection? The same Agent Pennsylvania who, only yesterday, led a team of our agents to successfully carry out the rescue of five captured operatives? Believe me Counselor, I have learned my lesson in regards to that particular agent."
He only sighed, and looked down at the data-pad in his hand. "Still, at least none of this batch of agents have rampant schizophrenia, paranoia or dissociative identity disorder. These I can work with."
His brow furrowed once more as he looked down at his data-pad, and I couldn't help but replying: "I must confess Counselor, I am surprised. It almost seems like you approve of my personnel selections."
"In this case, I am prepared to work with them," he curtly replied, "I never gave any indication to suggest that I approved."
"Director, we are receiving an incoming transmission. Do you want me to patch it through?" F.I.L.S.S.'s voice rang out throughout the room, surprising both of us.
"Another HIGHCOM message, F.I.L.S.S.?" I asked, half-tempted to tell her to sever the connection, but her response surprised me.
"No, Director. I am not able to pinpoint the broadcasting point of this transmission, nor does it adhere to any broadcasts we've received from the UNSC in the past. Indeed, judging by the signal strength, it is coming to us from a far closer location than our normal liaisons within the UNSC."
I glanced at the Counselor, and his features expressed the same surprise that I felt. "Patch it through F.I.L.S.S.," I eventually ordered, "Let's see who's so anxious to talk with us."
With that command the screen displaying the leaderboard went black, and then flickered for a moment, before revealing a rather weary-looking old man, in a general's official regalia, his mouth set in a grim line, his eyes giving a glimpse of the fire and determination that raged within a seemingly decrepit body. I had a vague feeling of recognition, almost as if I had seen this man somewhere before, but a name didn't spring to mind. His eyes focused on mine and his lips tightened, his eyes narrowed, and a general look of distaste settled over his features.
"You must be…Director Leonard Church, of Project Freelancer," he rasped, in a voice like sandpaper.
"I don't know about 'must be'," I replied, "But yes, indeed, I am. And who are you, if I may be so bold as to inquire?"
He smiled for a moment, a sudden, fleeting image that showed no mirth, but a grim, smug mockery. "I am the man…you have been searching for…Director. I am the leader of the United Revolutionary Front…for my sins."
He smiled at my obvious surprise, shaking his head slightly. "No doubt you were…expecting someone a little…younger," he wheezed, his sentence a statement, not a question.
I stared at him, silently motioning to the Counselor to track the transmission behind my back, and laughed quietly. "While I must confess that I am a little surprised, I have long ago learned the value of experience over youth. I am not a young man myself, the best days of my life are long behind me. But I assume you haven't called to reminisce about how things were better in the 'good old days', so I must ask, why are you calling, and how did you find out my name?"
The man smiled again, before bursting into a bout of coughing that did not subside for a good minute. "I have called, Director…to tell you that I know who you are. I know…what you are. And I know how to…hurt you. You may have made my men bleed on Haven, but I…will make you bleed twice…as hard as they did. You have made an enemy…in us, Mr Church. And we will end you!"
The last few words were delivered with some venom that I was forced to take a step back, then, nonplussed, I cocked my head, staring at him in obvious confusion. "I am sorry, but my project was not solely responsible for your defeat on Haven. Captain Vasquez of the Soul of Tranquillity played an equally vital role. Why is it that we have attracted your attention?"
"I would ask your Agent Pennsylvania…Director. We did not launch an attack on…your project, but you, without provocation, attacked us, and we…will not let that lie. For the loss of our men, and of Colonel…James Allen, we will have our vengeance…Eat…drink…and be merry, Director…for today…is the first day…of what is left of your life."
I stared at him, still unable to understand the reasons behind the obvious hate that he was directing towards me. While I could understand that he would be infuriated by our work on Haven, why would we be signalled out, when our very participation was under duress, at the request of the UNSC. Suddenly, I realised where I had recognised him from, and suddenly everything made sense. He bore so many of the same features as the face that I had only seen in the video recordings of Penn and Alaska's mission on Haven.
"How was Colonel Allen related to you?" I asked softly, noticing a tear suddenly well up in the corner of the man's eye.
"He was my brother," he replied then the connection collapsed, and the transmission broke off, leaving me staring for a moment at a blank screen.
"Did you manage to trace the transmission?" I asked, turning to the Counselor, who shook his head in reply.
"No. They were bouncing the signal off several locations over a four planet area, Haven and its neighbours: Harmony, Aurora and Byzantium. He could be anywhere on those four planets, the signal locations were quite spread out."
I nodded slowly to myself, reflecting on the general's words. "Bring me the files on Colonel James Allen, F.I.L.S.S.," I ordered, striding back to my desk. "Let us find out exactly what we are dealing with here."
The Counselor frowned, then asked "Should I alert the agents of this threat, Director?"
I raised an eyebrow, then slowly shook my head. "No, Counselor. Best that they remain impartial in the fight ahead. We are fighting an army made up mostly of dissatisfied civilians, remember. Better that they remain in the dark, so later men will not be able to label us as monsters. We kill only who we need to. We pacify, not destroy."
But privately, in the confines of my own head, I added a final three sentences. But if they mean to seek war, then they shall not find us unprepared. If they want to fight, then they will get one. And we will see who will end who."