(A/N) Hey guys, time for a new chapter update! Sorry about the delay, couldn't upload the chapter last night because my internet's gone at home, but hopefully it'll get fixed soon, otherwise weekend updates may be on hiatus for a while. But hopefully that won't be an issue. Anyway, this update features a return for Casaric, but sadly, not for Private Killian Jay. No…instead we have Sergeant Killian Jay, making his triumphant début! Hope you're all excited!
Again, just a little reminder to everyone, we're still looking for writers to apply for characters for the second half of Phase Two: Betrayal. If you're interested, just head on over to our forum and fill out an Author Application Form and the relevant Character Application Form, or just PM me for more info. Just remember, the deadline is January 1st, 2014, so I'd get started on it if I were you, just to be on the safe side!
Enjoy!
Chapter Sixteen – Everything Old…
Killian Jay – Sergeant, Medic
Written by Casaric
"Being back on the ship, it felt blissful. Like an old friend that you always wanted to see again...and then you did. Sure, I was covered in blood by the end of the week, but still, bliss!" – Sergeant Killian Jay (Extract taken from audio logs).
Killian looked on, almost in a trance, as the latest batch of agents streamed out of their Pelicans and into the hangar, stretching their limbs and conversing amongst one other. It felt... surreal. Looking around, the MoI was the same ship she had been when he had left, and most of the same old people still went about their same old jobs. It was almost as if the last few months hadn't even happened.
The medic looked down at himself, gazing at the white, reflective surface of his new armour. But then again, a lot had happened in those few short months.
Killian had been transferred out of the program once it had gone under review, and was placed in a unit on an active front against the Insurrection in the Eridanus system, serving as a field medic for UNSC troopers. During that time he learned the following:
1. Don't get shot.
2. The best way not to get shot is to shoot the person shooting you.
3. How to use a gun.
4. Bio-Foam is the field medic's best friend.
5. Don't get shot.
6. Tye-Dye is not an appropriate camo choice.
7. Pull the pin, count to five three and throw it.
8. Don't get shot.
He wouldn't say that it was the most enjoyable learning experience, but he's not really one to complain. He had survived his stint of action, which was more than could be said for a lot of the soldiers out there, despite his best attempts. Project Freelancer might have gone on tougher missions and taken higher risks than the UNSC soldiers that he had been attached to, but few enough of them had died. Killian had grown used to the Freelancer situation, and working amongst the regular UNSC troops had changed him. He had grown up. And hell, they did promote him, after all.
"Sergeant...seerrggeant..." Killian rolled the word around in his mouth, still getting accustomed to his new rank.
"This is Pilot 479er to Sarcastic Jackass. Sarcastic Jackass, please respond."
Killian was pulled out of his thoughts by a familiar voice and a light shove that sent him stumbling forward for a couple feet, and the sense that he had returned home re-emerged, stronger than ever.
"Nice to see you too." Killian said as he attempted to regain his balance, turning around to greet his friend with a warm smile on his face.
The pilot shook her head in mock-exasperation and sighed. "What no sarcastic remark? No witty banter?"
"I'm sure I'll think of something," Killian replied with a shrug. "So…when did you get back?"
"Who do you think's flying the Director's newest toys?" The pilot's amused tone was all too clear, even with her features hidden behind her helmet.
The medic shook his head, his visor similarly hiding his smirk. "Honestly, I have no idea."
Killian had been expecting the call. He just hadn't known when to expect it. So when the intercom blared to life in the hangar, requesting Killian's immediate presence in the Director's office, he was mildly surprised at the promptness of the order, but dealt with it in good grace. Saying his goodbyes to 479er, with the promise to continue their conversation at a later date, Killian left the hangar area and made for the office of the Director.
It was something akin to muscle memory, the medic thought, as he made his way down the halls of the ship, the layout of which he long ago memorized. Even after being gone for what was in his mind as an eternity, every turn was as fresh in his mind as it had been the day he left.
Once again lost in his thoughts, the field medic didn't notice the door until his helmet was firmly planted into it, his usual smoothness and style making itself seen, eager to inform the rest of the MoI that Killian was the same klutz that he had always been, even with his recent promotion.
Shaking off the dizzy feeling he got from his self-rendered blow to the head, Killian cracked his neck, adjusted his posture, swallowed nervously, and entered the Director's office.
Killian walked back out of the Director's office, silent, and staring at data-pad, scrolling through the new agents' profiles as he walked the halls towards the med-bay, muttering to himself while he read.
"...Nebraska...odd...New Jersey...the whole arm?...Colorado...mad much?...Nevada...ONI? Really?...Kentucky...," Killian stopped and mentally face-palmed. "Great, just what we need, another Georgia...West Virginia...because that's exactly what we need, more family drama..." Killian ran a hand down his visor in irritation. He knew that the agents were crazy. Who else but the mentally unstable would voluntarily do a Freelancer's job? But the Director may just have a few screws loose if he's pulling in people like this. Killian thought to himself, as he approached the med-bay doors, his head turning upwards in time to stop another collision.
He then released a long sigh. "Time to talk to the crazy people..."And with that said, he opened the doors, and went inside.
Killian sat down with a sigh, trying to get as comfortable as possible in the leather chair while still in his armour. The check-ups had taken considerably longer than he had wanted them to. Crazy people talk too much.
"What did you find out?" the Director asked, standing across the room, gazing out into the depths of space as though he was only barely conscious of Killian's presence.
Killian shrugged, then realised that the Director wouldn't pick up on that motion, given that he wasn't looking at him. "Nothing that you didn't already know, I'm sure, sir. I'd tell you to be careful of what you say around Nebraska, and maybe Colorado, but that would undoubtedly go ignored."
"Anything else, Killian?" The Director asked testily, irritation clear in his voice at his underling's insubordination.
"Yes, actually," Killian said, standing from his seat and stretching. "I'm going to need a mechanic in the event of New Jersey's prosthetic becoming damaged. I know how to fix humans, but robots, even robot arms, are more than a little outside my job description."
"I'll have one sent down to the med-bay to be briefed by you later this week," the Director replied, still looking out into space, having not so much as glanced at Killian throughout the entirety of this conversation.
"Thank you, Director."
There was a lull in what could vaguely be called the conversation, Killian waiting to be dismissed, the Director simply waiting, although for what, the medic had no idea.
"...Killian, about the incident...," the Director began, hesitantly.
"There was no incident, sir." Killian interrupted him before he could really begin, his voice impassive. "There was only the failure of one man to see the signs of madness. Ark was already volatile, as both myself and the Counselor had reported, and being in the project only made his condition worsen. Sir...you are my leader, and I will follow you to hell and back if you order me to...but as far as I'm concerned, you are, and always will be, a murderer, sir."
There was another pause, and Killian fancied that he saw the Director's jaw clench at his words, his own fists curling slightly, before the Director slowly turned around to him and nodded towards the nearest door.
"...You are dismissed, Sergeant."