A/N: I hope I wasn't late with this entry. I have been writing in the world of the Adventures of Kazdin Willow: Brotherhood of Steel again after a long hiatus from the story. Or at least it was a long wait for me. But I am writing this in the meantime between chapters of my main story. Feel free to tell me what you think everyone.
Apprehensive wasn't the word.
The reception the Reds had given Agent Missouri and Lambda was lukewarm at best. Their approval to charge Lamb so she wouldn't die could have been described as conscience at best. Donut had at least been polite enough to humor him by holding a conversation; however the others seemed bemused by man and machine. Grif had been thoroughly nonplussed by their arrival before storming off to his bunk and refusing to leave it until the freelancer and his ilk had left the base. They had been unwanted by yet another soul in a galaxy that despised them.
It wasn't your fault, Lambda spoke compassionately to his heart, Grif just wants a break. It's who he is.
I never even so much as asked for his help. Missouri thought-spoke irritably to his AI.
We have no way of knowing everything the Reds and Blues have been through. Lambda said firmly, her whispers echoing in his skull and mingling with his own conscious thoughts like a split personality.
They have been hijacked before, Missouri admitted, by her.
Missouri lowered the field glasses from his eyes. He had been scouting Blue base for thirty minutes trying to work up the courage to face them again.
I have no way of knowing whether or not she will shoot me on sight. And I never did know Washington very well.
Agent Carolina and Agent Washington are as vastly different as they can be, yet they have collected their respective talents into a working synergetic union. Lambda supplied.
It's a partnership of convenience. She was so focused on her work and being the best that she pushed York away and he had been a trusted friend.
People change. Lambda countered after a lengthy silence.
Maybe.
Moe lifted himself from the ground and approached Blue base carefully, hands held aloft to signify himself as unarmed.
BBBBB
"We are not arguing about this again, Tucker." Carolina insisted through clenched teeth.
She hated speaking with, working with and generally being around the teal-somewhat-aqua colored soldier the most out of all the Blues. In between his lame attempts to sleep with her; ordering him around was akin to trying to tell a donkey what to do.
An ass is the perfect metaphor for this one. Carolina thought as she rubbed her temples in a vain effort to stave off her insipient tension headache.
"And I'm telling you it's your turn." Tucker debated animatedly. The whine in his voice was unattractive to any being without a hearing impediment.
"I did it last week. Now's you're turn. It's not like anyone's going to judge you."
"Then make Wash do it."
"Wash is out repairing the radio amplifier after someone tried rigging it into a karaoke machine again." Carolina pointed out, crossing her arms.
"Not my fault! Tucker did it!" Caboose protested from his place in the lavatory.
He was currently naked, sitting in a foamy bubble bath, playing with a floating rubber duck he had named Artemis Quacks. His helmet was splashed here and there with suds and water. Despite numerous attempts to relieve him of his helmet, Carolina was denied and finally had given up with a frustrated huff. Caboose had insisted that all she was trying to do was remove his head and that he would not allow that to happen.
"No, Tucker did not do it," Carolina reminded the dumb soldier, "Washington caught you after he heard you barking out lyrics to Hungry Eyes in a vain attempt to once again make Church admit to being your best friend. That is why you aren't allowed dessert for three days."
"Aww, man! And we are having cheesecake tonight!" Caboose lamented from the bathroom.
"No, we are having cheesecake. You are having oatmeal again." Carolina cajoled.
"And so, we are left with you." Carolina said, returning her gaze back to the sea-foam green soldier before her. Her golden viewport was turned down in a serious motion.
"Aw, God damn it!" Tucker exclaimed.
Carolina smirked behind her helmet.
"Hey, that Blue team organizational chart is very specific about who bathes Caboose during any given week."
"That's not true! It's so fucked up and confusing that nobody in their right mind can understand it."
"I admit that sometimes Church has to decipher the convoluted thing for me, but nevertheless, I'm in charge and I say it's your turn to bathe Caboose."
"Oh God! My toes are getting pruny!" Caboose called in wonderment from the lav.
"You better get going Tucker." Carolina laughed.
"I hate you." Tucker sighed, defeated.
"I hate you…" Carolina stated, motioning with her hand above her crossed arms.
"…Ma'am."Tucker sighed as he hefted a towel and washrag in his arms and headed toward the lav, shoulders slumped.
BBBB
Agent Washington wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, wrench clenched tightly in his grip. His long brown hair was scraggly with his sweat, his chin sprouting a few days' worth of growth needing a shave. A large black smear of grease abruptly interrupted the pale white of his forehead.
Normally, he would keep the black-with-yellow-accents helmet atop his head, allowing is HUD to display which components were unusable and in need of replacing. However it had been an unusually hot day. So much so that even the encroaching Valhalla dusk was uncomfortable warm and sticky. Had he had his helmet on, he would have noticed the figure surreptitiously and stealthily approaching him.
A hand grabbed his shoulder, causing fear to spike inside his head. He swung around quickly, the wrench grasped in his hand formed into a makeshift weapon.
"Now is that any way to greet your superior officer, Wash?" Carolina greeted.
She had removed her helmet somewhere along the way and wore her bright red hair in a lazy ponytail. It was how Wash knew she was smiling.
"You wouldn't be my superior if you hadn't…" Washington started.
"…Defeated you fair and square in that sparring match?" Carolina offered cheekily.
"If you hadn't cheated." Wash pointed out.
"Hey, you never stated I couldn't use knucks."
"That was supposed to be implied. Caboose down for his bath?"
"Oh yeah, Tucker is on it. But you know how he is."
Wash chuckled.
"How long did it take this time?"
"Only ten minutes. It's a new record."
"Hmm. Just glad I wasn't saddled with it this time."
"What is it with you boys? You see one dong and start tripping over your own feet trying to leave the lav."
"It's nice to see you taking some compassion over Caboose. You brought him that rubber duck and now you're arranging his baths." Was teased. Carolina shrugged.
"He grew on me. You know how I was when he and I first met?" Carolina inquired.
She looked to the purple sky. The first inklings of stars were showing themselves for the first time that night.
"I take it you weren't exactly feeling friendly?" Wash guessed.
"He was trying to be nice and compliment me one time. He knew I was angry and mean and well, a stone-cold bitch. I took his comment completely the wrong way. I blew up some power couplings and raged at him. I do feel remorse over some of the things I did, you know?"
Carolina turned her attention from the stars and back to Washington.
"Just like you feel remorse for some of the things you and Maine did to the Reds and Blues."
"Okay, so we used to be dicks. We had a lot on our minds."
"Yeah…" Carolina considered the comment, "Still though. That's no excuse. Caboose doesn't know any better when he says I must look great under this armor. I took it completely the wrong way."
"Live and learn, Carolina," Wash said with a shrug, "You made up for it. You've got a cooler head now and are being the leader you were born to be."
Carolina smiled and punched him in the shoulder.
"Make sure those parts are replaced and soldered by 0900, Wash." She ordered.
"Aye aye, ma'am." Wash said with a sigh.
"And… thanks." Carolina said honestly. Wash smiled back at the reluctant comment.
"Any time, Carolina."
Carolina turned away as Wash began once again hinting for burnt out components in the radio amplifier.
BBBBBB
"God damn it! Why in God's name would you come here of all places?! You and another fucking AI with the UNSC hunting the galaxy for the remnants of Project Freelancer decide to come here out of freaking billions of planets and empty space! Fucking great!"
Moe was taken aback. Church was standing before him in a gleaming new blue body, arms crossed indignantly as he screamed into the night air.
"I needed a place to lie low. I figured Valhalla and the Reds and Blues would be a decent place to recharge Lamb and gather supplies and intelligence."
"I thought Carolina and Was were the only former freelancers left and another one walks right up like he owns the place. Nobody fucking tells me anything anymore!" Church griped.
"I thought I was alone too. Carolina and Washington being alive warms me. I thought I was the last of my brothers and sisters. How did you feel believing you were the last AI?" Missouri demanded.
"It totally ruins your point when you only mention the good things." Church said sarcastically.
"So you felt…"
"Relieved, happy, joyful, ecstatic, euphoric, amazing, elated, jubilant, excited, free… Pick a fucking adjective."
"So you don't exactly follow me. Still though, Carolina and Washington being alive is a good thing." Missouri insisted.
"Agent Missouri…"
It was Carolina's voice. He had only heard it a few times but he could never forget the underlying tones of authority in her resonating voice. Missouri turned around quickly, surprised to find the barrel of a pistol trained squarely on his midsection.
"Yeah, and apparently she's beside herself with joy at seeing you again." Church gloated.
Moe was speechless. The only thing he could do was slowly raise his hands in surrender.
BBBBB
A silver blur was what Wash had called it when he attempted to identify it from his perch upon Valhalla's lush soil. A piece of cosmic refuse small enough to rocket by in milliseconds only to be gone from existence within the following moment. Nothing to be concerned about, nothing worth radioing in about.
However it was no simple piece of silvery garbage that had interrupted the sight line from Valhalla to the stars. A one-man twin engine star fighter slowed its speed drastically as it began orbiting Valhalla.
The sleek black steel design was one kept under wraps for years until such a vessel was needed. The steel cockpit and solid black tinted viewport sported two long, powerful blaster cannons for use in short-range dogfights. The cockpit led to the massive rectangular body, sporting the crew quarters, recreational area, cargo bay and engine room.
From the rectangular – and rather blocky – body of the ship jutted four long and durable wings, each equipped with seeker missile pods along the wing's undercarriage. Twin ion engines sprouted from the engine room immediately behind the craft, capable of hyperspace travel. It was the latest technology creating the ultimate stealth fighter in the galaxy.
The T4-H1000 sported the best array of tracking equipment and cloaking devices available on a highly maneuverable craft of its size and obvious function. The letters and numbers were painted upon both flanks for identification purposes.
"Speartip to HQ. Speartip to HQ. How copy?" the female pilot inquired into her stark white armor's microphone. Her built in audio pickups zeroed in the response immediately.
"UNSC Special Tactics Force Alpha HQ, reading you loud and clear, Speartip. How may we assist?" the reply sounded muffled in static but the lifelong pilot didn't let it bother her.
"I am at the target site. Where the fuck are my ODSTs?" Speartip responded irritably.
"Protocol, Speartip!" The UNSC STF Director ordered, snapping off in a barking tone.
The pilot grumbled inwardly.
"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." She answered professionally, although she would rather shove his "protocol" down his throat.
"ODST support has not been authorized for this mission and you know it. You are to land undetected, get readings on the more famous sim-troopers stationed there, see if you can find some proof of Agent Missouri's presence on Valhalla and then radio back upon confirmation. You get your ODST backup after confirmation, not before. Is that understood, Speartip?" the STF Director commanded.
"Yes sir, Director."
"And remember, no engaging the enemy without prior permission. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good, Speartip. Over and out."
"Over and out STF Director."
Speartip narrowed her eyes in distaste before punching her landing coordinates into the navigation computer and plotting her course to the jungles of Valhalla.