(A/N) Hey guys, it's that time of the week again! Another update, courtesy of The Freelancer Collaboration. This time, we're seeing through the eyes of a medic on-board the Mother Of Invention and a little something from the Director as well. For those of you getting impatient, wondering what's happened to the action, just bear with us. It'll be coming very, very soon. Brought to you by the sensational Casaric, and the moderately decent NicKenny, who's going to shut up now and leave you to enjoy the chapter. Next update, as always, will be Wednesday.
Chapter Five – Status Report
Killian Jay – Private First Class, Medic
Written by Casaric
"I was always shocked when I went to the doctor's office and they did my X-ray and they didn't find that I had eight more ribs that I should have or that my blood was the colour green." – Nicolas Cage
When you see a short man wearing multi-coloured armour staring at a door at muttering to himself, you would probably describe that occurrence as 'odd'. This, in fact, happens much more often than one would think. Once a week in-fact. Every Tuesday, on 3:45 on the dot, Killian Jay, Private First Class, Medic, is tasked with delivering the Director of Project Freelancer the weekly report on the freelancers' well-being. More often than not, he spent the last five minutes practicing his lines before heading in.
"Well, that was the report, sir...thank you, I know I'm the best, sir...No, no, I really don't need a promotion sir...Well, if you insist, sir..." The medic mumbled happily, staring off at nothing, lost in a self-induced trance.
*Ssssthump*
Out of the Director's office walked another medic, who was responsible for delivering the daily causality report, and heaved a sigh of relief as the door closed behind him, walking past Killian as if he wasn't even there. When he was about half-way down the hall, the newcomer turned around and shouted at the top of his lungs:
"Killian, what have you done?! You just killed a patient! How could you?!" And then turned around and continued to walk as if nothing had happened.
The effect was immediate. Killian locked up, stopped breathing...and nearly threw-up in his helmet, ripping it from his body before he drowned in his own bile, deciding that the floor was a much better option.
'That's what janitors get paid for anyway, right?' He thought, steadying himself against a wall.
After allowing himself a moment to regain his composure and to re-attach his helmet, he took a deep breath, and walked into the Director's office.
When Killian entered the room, he wasn't surprised to find the Counselor there by the Director's side.
"We cannot wait any longer Counselor. They're soldiers, grown men and women. Not children in an elementary school."
"...But, sir...this evaluation...you don't think it could-"
"Ah, it appears that we have company," the Director interrupted, noticing Killian enter the room. "Well, what it is it?"
The medic snapped to attention. "I'm here to deliver the weekly medical report on the freelancers you selected, sir."
"...At ease."
Killian adjusted his stance accordingly.
"You may report, soldier." The Director continued.
Killian nodded, pulling out a data-pad from the storage unit strapped to his thigh, and began reading. "We have held the medical examinations, as per your request. The results of which are as follows. The general health of your agents is fine. Older injuries outnumber newer ones, and for the most part should not affect the performance of your agents. I would also like to take the time to mention that some of your more...unbalanced agents have been having reoccurring flashbacks and lucid nightmares as of late. While this has nothing to do with their physical health, I felt it was my responsibility to make it known to you. On another note, we have finally received the equipment we request a few months back, now we don't need to worry about fixing those old Bio-Foam injectors. Well, one less thing to repair, right? Sincerely, Head of Medical Operations, James L." Killian finished, glancing up from the data-pad. The Director seemed to be thinking about something, but he couldn't tell what.
"Do you have the full report?" The Counselor asked, apparently suddenly interested in the goings-on of the medical world.
"Yeah here, let me pull it up..." Killian replied, sliding his fingers across the data pad, then bringing them around in a circle, before handing it to the Counselor.
"Thank you, that will be all private, you are dismissed."
As Killian turned to leave, he could swear he could feel the Director's eyes burning holes into the back of his helmet.
The Director
Written by NicKenny
"History does not long entrust the care of freedom to the weak or the timid." – Dwight D. Eisenhower
I turned back to the Counselor as the medic left the room, my patience completely used up by this point, but that does not prevent him from continuing his tragically flawed argument.
"Sir, I just do not believe that the men are ready for what you have planned. They just haven't had the time necessary to bond as a unit. The way you're planning to push them, the methods of training…It's going to split them apart!"
I wearily raised a hand, preventing him from coming out with another stream of this drivel. "Counselor, do you not think that I've factored in all the doubts that you have mentioned? You studied my papers, yet believe that you can lecture me on my methods? The training is designed to pull them apart! What is important is ensuring that they all pull back together."
The Counselor stared at me, evidently still not entirely convinced by my reasoning. I sighed, running my hands through my hair. "Very well then," I muttered, displeased by his reactions. "Tomorrow I will organise a training exercise, to show you the abilities of our agents. If any of them fail, then we can talk about slowing down the project."
He paused, considering my proposal. "We do have a training exercise planned for tomorrow. Are you suggesting we make it more…engaging?"
I waved a hand dismissively, sighing slightly. "If it will ease your fears. Quite frankly, it is about time we put them through their paces. They've had their chance to get settled; now it is time for them to prove themselves."
The Counselor pulled out his data-pad, quickly shuffling through various windows until he discovered what he's looking for. "We were originally planning some rudimentary target practice, giving the agents time to familiarise themselves with the various weapons we have on board. Obviously that exercise isn't quite…exerting enough for the evaluation we have in mind…"
He trailed off, lost in thought and I glanced over at him, murmuring: "We have a number of security personnel in reserve aboard the ship, do we not? Perhaps we could utilise them in this exercise? Live opponents are always going to be more challenging than painted targets and turrets, Counselor."
He smiled, plans for this challenge running through his mind. "A fine idea, Director. I will get to work on it at once." With that he inclined his head towards me and leaves me, the doors swooshing behind him, just as they had done when the medic had left the room only a minute or two before.
"F.I.L.S.S. could you please bring up the status report on the Sim Trooper bases?" I asked, smiling slightly as a female voice quickly responds.
"Certainly, Director. As of this moment, forty Simulation Trooper bases have been fully constructed and garrisoned, with ten more currently under construction."
My smile widened, and I quickly flicked through my own data-pad, bringing up the various reports that F.I.L.S.S. had just summarised. Everything is going according to schedule. Various images appeared on the screen, headed with the dreadful names that seemed to follow any military project: Sidewinder, Blood Gulch, Rat's Nest, Valhalla, Zanzibar and many others, the name of each being even more ridiculous than the last.
Red and blue armoured soldiers were present in the majority of the pictures, all rejects from the UNSC, low-level operatives assigned to the project due to low test scores and poor field skills. The UNSC had been slightly puzzled when I had requested these soldiers, but eventually granted me the use of about four hundred of the most-incompetent of the soldiers amongst the UNSC.
After all, who really cares about a bunch of inept soldiers when the fate of humanity is at stake?
But they would come along later. At the moment, the Counselor doesn't believe the agents are ready to send into a simulation mission. No doubt he would rather that we organise some sort of Boy Scout outing, allowing them to "bond" as a team.
Well I will leave him to his doubt. I believe in my agents, and I know that they are up to whatever challenges I set for them. But the Counselor isn't entirely wrong. They still have a lot to learn if they intend on earning the title "Freelancer". Some more than others…
I sit down, facing a large blank screen. "F.I.L.S.S., would you be so kind as to run that video once more for me?" I ask, settling into my seat.
"Of course, Director," she replies in a smooth, almost motherly fashion. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"
I shake my head, her words barely registering in my mind. "No, F.I.L.S.S. That will be all for now."
With the AI dismissed, I clasp my hands together as the screen blinks into life, and I stare into Allison's eyes once more…
