Chapter 1

Project Freelancer, many years ago

Agent North Dakota had come to the conclusion that his partner AI, Theta, was a very curious being. Sure, all of the AIs were curious in their own ways, but Theta had this strange fascination about the actions of his teammates that none of the others shared. When they had been heading back to North's chambers after a late-night training session, they had passed Wyoming, in his PJs, standing outside his room with a cup of tea and talking with the ghostly form of Gamma. A glance from Reginald had been enough to send North continuing on his way without a word; but a quick, discreet word between Theta and Gamma had the younger AI spewing out questions to his handler later about why some humans couldn't sleep and what they did when they couldn't. Whatever the object of Theta's curiosity, North would patiently answer all of his questions to the best of his ability and find answers for Theta when he didn't have them at first.

The day had started out no different than any other. North was woken up by the ship's AI, FILLS, told to report to the dining hall, and had his schedule uploaded into his helmet so that he could look over it at breakfast. He would suit up (except for his helmet) and make the trek down to the mess hall. He would pass the bathroom and hear Wash's sensitive stomach emptying itself of all its contents, politely ask what to avoid at breakfast (in this case, the eggs), thank the unfortunate agent who would be cursing his sensitive stomach and FILLS for not checking the eggs, then finished his trek to the dining hall.

"Don't go for the eggs," North warned the other Freelancers at their table; Maine, Wyoming, South, Carolina, and York all grimaced and pushed their trays away, the slightly discolored eggs jiggling rather ominously. North went up to the counter, grabbed a plate of sausage and toast, and rejoined the team at their table. "Hey, did any of you notice the change in our schedule for this morning?" he addressed the table in general.

"You mean the training session at 0930 for Wyoming and Carolina? Yeah, you're not the only one to notice," York replied, picking at the food that had not been 'contaminated' by the bad eggs.

"There is a rumor amongst the ship that Wyoming and Carolina will be combating an agent on probation," Sigma appeared and spoke to the table in general.

"An agent on probation? Where do you hear these things, Sigma?" Carolina asked, shaking her head.

"…Word gets around. But the register amongst the ship's records state that you are not the only Freelancers on board the Mother of Invention. Merely those most favored of the Director," the fiery AI continued in his oily voice.

"And there are those people more favored than we are," South muttered bitterly into her coffee, glancing up with everyone else as a small group of people entered the room; Agent Texas, in full armor, slid in to grab some coffee from the out-of-order dispenser. The black armored agent grumbled loudly as FILLS' screen beeped red with error, and Carolina snickered slightly. A woman in maintenance garb, two strands of her black hair dyed red and gold, came up and smacked the metal above the screen with a wrench, and the screen shifted to normal blue. Without a word, both Texas and the thirty-something maintenance woman headed towards the door.

"I wonder if your probation agent could be someone in maintenance," North said to Wyoming, thinking that he was quiet enough so as not to be heard. There came a smack to the back of his head, and he glanced up to see the black-haired woman staring down at him, her grey eyes glinting fiercely. He got a quick glance at her; tall, proportioned, no outstanding curves, and golden-brown skin that might suggest she was from a desert region. They locked eyes for a moment before she turned and stalked to the door again like an angry cat.

"Don't make any enemies with maintenance, North. It'll be hell for you if you do," York advised his friend sagely. "Trust me. I got in a row with a few of the electricians a while back, and I was without lighting in my room for two weeks. You don't want to get on the wrong side of anybody in maintenance."

"Thanks," North replied wryly. "I'll keep that in mind for next time."

The alarm on the ship went off that signaled the start of training, so they all grabbed their helmets and raced to the observation deck with Wyoming heading onto the training floor.

"Good morning, agents," the Counselor greeted the team with the sugary voice that nobody wanted to deal with in the morning. Texas was already there, talking quietly with the Director in a corner. "Agent Wyoming is already on the training floor, good," the dark-skinned man said quietly, making some notes on his pad.

"This morning's training and testing will be to determine whether an agent on probation may be cleared for active duty once again," the Director addressed the agents in his no-nonsense voice, barely tilting his head as Wash raced into the room and stood at attention. "This session will begin with eight rounds of paint training. I suggest you watch and learn," he finished, and they all turned to watch Wyoming, standing on the floor with two pistols loaded with paint rounds at his hip.

"Setting training floor for paint gun simulation," FILLS' voice crackled over the loudspeaker, and the stone columns rose up from the floor. The screen that listed the rankings flashed to life, with one name at the bottom of the list in neon green and with no number to the name: DELAWARE. Then came the words PROBATION and what looked to be a set of crossed blades as their symbol. Next to that were the numbers for the agent in terms of training and number of kills…or lack of, as the space was taken up with ellipsis.

"3…2…1…ROUND BEGIN," FILLS intoned, and the game was on.

"That was slightly embarrassing, Wyoming," York snickered as Wyoming entered the observation deck. Reggie gave a growl that would've done Maine proud.

Indeed, as North thought about it, the paint gun simulation had been an embarrassment on Wyoming's part. The first three rounds, neither Wyoming nor any of the other agents watching could see Delaware on the floor. Their only indicator was when Wyoming would fall to the ground with a splatter of paint on his helmet, chest, or stomach. The fourth time, it looked like that he had seen somebody and actually started to aim before being taken out with a head shot. The last four rounds, he was authorized to use Gamma to aid him as his performance was so poor. They had all asked each other if Delaware was given a cloaking enhancement with their armor and that was why they couldn't see him, but the Counselor and the Director merely smiled when questions were directed at them.

The fifth round, South had pointed out a flash of gold before Wyoming fell with a shot to the back. The sixth, both York and Maine had sworn that they had seen a helmet before Wyoming fired a shot…and was rewarded with three shots to the groin. The seventh round, he had actually engaged his opponent, or rather, he tried. The agent in question had only been a dash of dark red before giving Wyoming a punch to the gut and a round into his neck. The eighth round, Wyoming had just given up, stood at the edge of the training field, and taken the ten or so shots left in Delaware's gun, completely plastered in magenta paint. North looked at the clock: 1002. That had to be a new record.

Up next: Carolina against the mystery agent.