Five – What Are Friends For?

"Okay, try it now!" Wash shouted.

Cal activated his teleporter. He vanished in a green blur of light. Then reappeared right behind Wash.

"Dammit," he growled and tapped at his teleporter. "I was aiming for the top of the base."

"Yeah, I wouldn't have let Sarge get his hands on it. His repairs can be a little… questionable."

"I haven't been able to find a good technician like the guys we used to have." Cal shook his head in disgust. "The UNSC guys could keep this safe, but they didn't know to maintain it."

"I'm surprised you don't know how."

Cal favored him with a death glare. "I'm not exactly renowned for my patience, Wash."

"And that's why you never made it onto the Leaderboard."

"Ugh. Don't remind me."

On top of Blue Base, Tucker came up to find Caboose standing alone with his assault rifle. He looking down at the canyon. "Hey, dude, what's going on?"

"Oh, the new blue guy is arguing with Agent Washington," Caboose answered. He nodded to himself. "He's not doing very well. I don't think he'll be a good team player."

"Caboose, he's not joining Blue Team."

"Not with that attitude, he isn't!"

Tucker sighed. "Come on, he's a Freelancer. Those guys don't do well on teams. They just show up, kick ass, and then disappear." He lowered his head and sighed again. "Just like my old man."

"Tucker, your dad was a Freelancer?"

"What? No, dude. He was a drifter. But he was a kick-ass drifter! And quite a player, too. That's why I've got so many brothers and sisters."

Tucker walked over and looked down at the canyon floor. Wash and the new Freelancer—Cal—were still working on that awesome teleporter. He was glad to see he wasn't the only one whose armor got coated in black stuff when coming out one of those things.

"Man, I bet you could pick up all kinds of chicks with your own teleporter." Tucker leaned back like he was at a bar. "It'd be all, 'Sup, girl? Want to spend night in Paris? We'll be there in a sec.' Whoosh! Score!"

Caboose gasped. "And then you could discover life on other planets! And pick them up, too!"

"Eww, no. I've had more than enough interspecies contact for a lifetime."

"Now I wanna play with the telephoning teleporter thing!" Caboose looked over at Cal. "Do you think if I ask nicely, he'll let me try it?"

"Hah, I doubt that."

"What if I offered him a cookie and some orange juice?"

"No, not even then."

"Hmm. I will have to rethink how to become his new best friend."

Tucker rolled his eyes. He remembered how Caboose treated his other "best friend," Church. He hoped Cal was insured for accidental death and crippling injuries.

Simmons followed Donut and Grif to the front of Red Base, where it was well-shaded from the midday sun. Perfect for a team meeting. He'd said so at their last meeting. Even recorded it in the minutes as Team Secretary. It was nice to finally see one of his suggestions taken to his heart.

"Thank you for meeting me on short notice," said Sarge. "As you all know, we now have two ex-Freelancers in the canyon. And you know what that means."

Grif nodded. "Uh, yeah? Shit's about to go down."

"Tell me about it!" Donut added. "Every time we meet a new Freelancer, I almost die! Every time! I can't be the only one noticing this!"

"The point is," Sarge continued, "we need a plan of action. We've got a Freelancer with teleport capabilities. Even with the damage it's sustained, he's still powerful enough to show up out of the blue and kill us in our sleep." He paused to let that sink in. "Which brings me to the first step of our plan. No one sleeps."

"I can already tell I'm gonna hate this plan," Grif remarked. "Next you'll be telling us he's going to find a way to poison all our snacks."

"Which brings me to Step Two—"

"Sir," Simmons interrupted. "Don't you think you're overreacting? I imagine Wash and the Blues will keep him busy for a while."

"But what happens when his thirst for blood proves too strong?" Sarge pointed at Blue Base in the distance. "Sure, who'd miss a few Blues slaughtered without mercy? But then he'll show up on this end of the canyon and it's game over for Red Team!"

Simmons knew better than to keep arguing. There was no point when Sarge had an idea in his head. Which was often. It was like trying to stop a boulder rolling downhill. Better to step aside or get crushed by sheer stupidity.

"Sir," he said slowly, "I think we can take other precautions without resorting to your drastic measures."

"What'd you have in mind?"

"I've learned a few things about how teleporters work ever since that business on Sidewinder. There might be a way for me to create an interdiction field that would cancel out the teleport channel that Freelancer is using to get to our base."

"And what's that in English?" Grif called out. "For those of us who aren't huge honking nerds."

"We'll create a device that stops him from jumping over here and killing us all."

"Oh, great." Grif turned back to Sarge and Donut. "We'll just inconvenience him then. He'll have to come up by foot to kill us. This is the second-best plan I've heard all day."

"Well, I think it's got a shot!" Sarge exclaimed. "Nice thinking there, Simmons. Go and seal the deal on that teleporter field!"

Donut jumped up and down. "Ooh, Simmons, let me help! I'm good with my hands!"

"If I used you, Donut, it'd be as a guinea pig to see if it works."

"Hey, speaking of guinea pigs, did I ever tell you about my nineteenth birthday party—?"

Sarge growled. "Donut, shut up. Simmons, get to work!"