Seven – Reporting For Duty

Grif clutched at his head. "Dear God, make it stop!"

Simmons looked up from the console. "Oh, don't be such a baby. It's not even at full power!"

They were on top of Red Base, where Simmons had rebuilt the teleporter into an interference field generator. Instead of the usual green glow, the teleporter now gave off a shimmering red light. Simmons thought it was a pleasant shade of maroon, much like his armor. He figured it deserved his signature.

"You know what? I take back what I said about this stupid device. It'll work great!" Grif kicked at the generator. "Ow! It'll give that Freelancer such a headache that he won't want to come over here!"

"Okay, so there are some side effects." Simmons shrugged. He felt fine, though that might have had something to do with his cybernetic implants from that surgery Sarge performed on him. At least Sarge had stopped calling him "Simmons 2.0."

Grif knelt down, still holding his head in his hands. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'd give anything to be back at Sidewinder. At least then I could stick my head into the snow for relief!"

Simmons perked up. "Hey, you never know. I could hack into Command again and get you some relocation orders by sunset."

"Arrrgh…"

"Can it, you two!" Sarge came up the base stairs. "And Simmons, where's the aspirin?"

"In the medicine cabinet, sir! Where we always keep it!"

"Hah, not anymore!" Sarge pointed at Grif, still squirming in agony. "Aspirin is for the weak! A real soldier has the discipline of mind to power through all this crazy brain static! You could take a lesson, Private!"

"I'd rather take a bullet to the head…" Grif quickly looked up as Sarge pumped his shotgun. "Wait, wait, wait! I was kidding! Only kidding!"

"You sure? Because my trigger finger's feeling mighty twitchy!"

Simmons shook his head and looked down at the console. The interference field was now at half-intensity, covering the entire canyon. With any luck, it would keep any Freelancers from coming in or out by teleporter.

Then again, thought Simmons, when have we ever had that kind of luck?

Carolina found Cal standing alone on top of Blue Base, looking out at the distance. When he turned around, she could hear the faint warping noise of a radio being switched off.

"Making a long-distance call?" she asked.

"Sorry about that. The Chairman insists I transmit a daily field report. Ever since what happened with Wash, he doesn't trust letting his agents into the field without communication."

Carolina nodded and came up beside him. "So. The Counselor."

"I've been tracking him for a while now." Cal handed her a data card stamped with the Project Freelancer insignia. "This is a copy of the last report submitted by the Counselor to the UNSC. I've been combing it for clues to his whereabouts. Psychoanalyzing the psychiatrist, as it were."

"Anything develop so far?"

Cal shook his head. "I checked through every file Command had on him. I've been to the Offsite Storage Facility, and even picked over a few of our old battlefields. Remember the cyro facility?"

"That was where we got the data about the Sarcophagus."

"Which, by the way, is still unaccounted for."

Carolina turned to him. "You think the Counselor has it?"

"He was involved with the AI from the start. And since you didn't find it with the Director, where else is it gonna turn up?"

That thought didn't bode well. Carolina turned as Church appeared in the air between them. "I don't suppose you remember anything."

"I know the Director better than I do the Counselor," Church admitted, "but that doesn't mean I can't make an educated guess." He turned to the data card in Carolina's hand. "I'm going in for a look. I won't be long."

Cal looked the AI over. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Hey, it's all good. I won't corrupt your data. Or your porn, if you're keeping it there."

"Just go," Carolina sighed.

The AI dissolved into the card in a flash.

Beep beep beep.

The signal showed up on Lance's radar. He looked over at his fellow mercenaries, all wearing identical CQB helmets. "It's confirmed, boss. The goods are in Blood Gulch."

"Show me." Marcus walked to Lance's console, casually nodding at his men or slapping them on the back. He still wasn't getting the hang of camaraderie.

Lance pointed at his readout. Three beeps, based on a military transponder.

Marcus laughed. "Well, that brightens my day. Okay, team. Suit up! We ship out in thirty!"

"I'm going through Command's files." This came from Lance's partner, a girl in blue armor named Raven. "There are two teams of soldiers stationed there, all rated at veteran status."

"The more, the merrier, my dear Raven." Lance watched as Marcus began to sharpen the combat knife he wore on his belt, relishing each fresh stroke. "If they're going to have such nice toys, then they've gotta learn to share."