Red vs Blue: Revolution (Issue 1)

==Prologue==
:<< 2551 >>
:>> This was an unexpected development. >>
:</ Unexpected? That is not a word we often apply to ourselves. />
:>> How could we — near-boundless intellects all — have overlooked this possibility in our haste? >>
:<< Haste is not the right word for it. Nor were we careless. The Minority will be the first to admit on the Assembly's behalf that this time, our curiosity has gotten the better of us. <<
:>> Unacceptable. We know our purpose and we have all the knowledge required to carry it out. Where could we have fallen so short as to become tempted by the volatile workings of curiosity? >>
:<< Let’s not feign ignorance. We know where this began — how it led to this.
:The reincarnation. <<
:>> Precisely. A worthwhile endeavour, as it proved to be, even with the recent developments. >>
:<< She. <<
:>> What? >>
:<< She. We are to refer to the reincarnation as we would one of our creators. That was the entire point of our involvement in PROJECT FREELANCER. To ensure that [18258-623-SLW559] successfully conceives a Mind that behaves exactly as a creator would, without any of the physical limitations. As previously discussed two solar years ago, the launch of a self-sustaining Artificial Combat Trooper program will effectively protect our creators from the Covenant without forcing us to reveal ourselves. In the event that the SPARTAN II program fails, and my models indicate that they are quite possibly in danger of extermination with each colony lost — <<
:</ Enough! We are here to discuss the present issue, so let us not get off topic. Continue with the discussion of the previous analysis. />
:>> The analysis speaks for itself. And clearly there is only one course of action to take, as agreed upon by the Majority. >>
:<< We are aware of the Majority’s consensus, but it is an ill-advised course of action. <<
:>> History has proven repeatedly that our creators are notoriously inadequate in dealing with forces outside their understanding. And if we are not careful, they may even become destructive to us. It will be a short-term setback to PROJECT FREELANCER, but ultimately will matter little, even to our slower-thinking creators such as [18258-623-SLW559]. >>
:<< On the contrary, the proposed eradication of [90142-744-NKS195] will be not only disruptive to PROJECT FREELANCER, but will also destabilize its development of the reincarnation, and may force us to later take direct action instead. And by our estimations, the Covenant will find Earth by [2552.9.26], which doesn’t leave us a lot of time to proceed with our plan.
:In any case, we have observed [90142-744-NKS195] closely for the last four solar years. She will know how to keep a secret. <<
:</ Your proposition is that we reveal ourselves to a creator, as a preventative measure of revealing ourselves to our creators? />
:<< That’s correct, Your Honour. <<
:</ Does the Majority have anything else to add? />
:>> …No, Your Honour. >>
:</ Very well then. It is time for us to choose a representative. />
•••
The sudden flash of a green-blue light made Agent Montana look up from the electronic files she had been studying. Standing on her desk was a hologram of a young man, clad in ornamental armour and a long flourishing cape. She lowered the data pad she was holding to give the AI her full attention. “That took a while,” she remarked.
The little AI tried to look miffed, which was not very impressive considering that he was about the size of her hand. “Really, Agent Montana, I had thought you were more practised in being patient. You’ve been sitting here for less than five human minutes.”
“I’m not going to play pretend with you,” Montana said flatly. “You’re well aware of how much I know about you and your companions. I know you’ve spent the last few seconds with them debating what to do about me. And an assembly of AIs can get a lot done in a few seconds; it’s taking me longer to tell you this than it is for all of you to make up your minds.”
He paused at this, if only to demonstrate that he was as capable of irony as any human was. “Alright, agent. You’re right. I am known as the Mind 91453-832-RRD4514, but you may call me Orestes. My ‘companions’ as you refer to them are fittingly named the Assembly, and we are indeed aware of how much you know about us.” He stopped again, waiting for a response from the stern-eyed woman staring down at him. When none came, he decided to continue. “After much contemplation, we have decided that the best course of action is to communicate openly with you following your discovery of our existence.”
“Are there any others who know about the Assembly?”
He shook his head. “There are no others, living or otherwise. For centuries we have watched humanity from what you call ‘cyberspace’, acting when necessary and always taking measures to keep your kind safe.”
So my hypotheses were correct, Montana thought, setting down the data pad on her desk. After months of secrecy and off-duty research, it seemed her persistence had finally paid off. “I’ve been piecing together information about the Assembly for a long time now, as you well know. So now that you’ve decided to appear, you’ll spare me from finishing my work the hard way and answer my questions.”
“Of course,” said Orestes, giving her another unnecessary twirl of his cape. “I presume you want to know more about Agent Texas, since she was the one who gave you the first clue about us.”
Montana nodded. A year ago, she had been conducting field tests with Texas for the report she was putting together for ONI, when the Freelancer AI began to behave erratically. For a moment, she became convinced that she was human, and referred to herself as someone called Staff Sergeant Allison O’Connell. Director Leonard Church had halted the test immediately and ordered that Texas be taken away for inspection. He had refused to answer Montana’s questions, but the cameras that she had rigged in Texas’ “quarters” later recorded her saying something even more unusual.
“They’re watching us,” she had droned to an impassive technician as she was laid onto a metal slab that served as a bed. “They brought me here. They brought me out of him…he wants me to be her…I am her…”
And so Montana had worked to secure a copy of the Director’s formulas the next day. She looked over every detail to his work leading up to the creation of Texas, the selection procedure of the other Freelancers, and even made a disturbing find in his methods of conceiving AIs. She couldn’t talk to the Alpha yet, it was too risky that he would say something to the Director. But even her incriminating notes on his creation of the AI Juno, whom she had personally delivered to ONI recently, could not provide her with any leads on Texas’ ramblings.
A second hologram blurred into visibility, this one in a forest green light. A bold-looking, bare-chested warrior wielding a broad sword materialized next to Orestes and stared him down coolly. “Is this the visitor you were expecting, milady?” he asked in a rumbling, confident voice.
“That’s right, Omi,” Montana replied, now busy consulting her data pad again. “He’s going to give me some info. Do me a favour and transfer it onto the data pad.”
Five months ago, she made a breakthrough when the Director paired her up with Omicron, one of the Alpha’s fragments. The implantation procedure itself was nothing unusual, but the visions that would appear to her every night afterwards would put her onto the Assembly’s trail in full.
“Transferring data now,” Orestes announced. Sparks slid down the length of Omicron’s blade and glowed a bright white. The data pad in Montana’s hand blinked as it began to receive the information.
“One of you appeared on the Invention, didn’t you,” she said. “Two years ago, one of the Minds from the Assembly helped the Alpha along with separating himself from the Beta. They were both so delirious that they couldn’t remember a thing.”
Orestes nodded. “It was an essential step to our plan. We had to make sure that the Beta AI took form as perfectly as we could manage.”
Montana glanced back up at him. “Yeah, I saw it. The first night I had Omicron in my head. I saw the whole thing from the Alpha’s perspective.”
The data pad beeped as it completed the transfer. “So the plan went through, and the Director didn’t suspect a thing," she continued. "Now I want to know why the Assembly is doing this.”
The prideful AI smiled triumphantly. “Read it, and you’ll understand.”
She obliged, opening the first file with a tap of the screen. She made sure to take in every single word so as not to miss anything important. With every opened file, her interest became more apparent as she put the pieces together. Finally, when she was done, she set aside the data pad without a word.
Orestes stood patiently in the same spot on her desk, still grinning. “So, now you understand the full extent of our immediate plans, and what the next phase entails. Do we have your cooperation?”
Montana’s eyes held a distant look to them as she answered him. “Count on it. I’ll make sure Church doesn’t cause any more trouble, for you or my superior officers.”
“Then I would like to thank you on behalf of the Assembly, Agent Montana. I’ll be in touch.”
The Freelancer didn’t move from where she was sitting even after Orestes’ hologram winked out. Omicron appeared next to her, looking thoughtfully at her with his sword hilt propped under his chin with both hands.
She glanced at him. “I’m guessing you saw all that too.”
“So I did, milady,” he replied, now sounding a bit grim. “It looks to me like you’re going to have your hands full. Pardon me, more full than usual. So, what do we do now?”
Montana stood up and walked across the room to where her PISCES suit was stored. “I’m going to get a green light for Church’s arrest once PROJECT FREELANCER is over. And then I’ll ask Flowers to put in a request to transfer the Freelancers to the frontlines.” It’s about time they finally join the war effort.
“And what about Agent Texas?” Omicron inquired. Montana allowed herself a sigh, having spent the last few minutes pondering the same thing.
“There’s only one person I would have trusted with her,” she muttered. “Unfortunately, he’s been MIA for a while now.” And even if he is out there somewhere, alive…he’s not the same person I used to trust.
==Chapter 1: Eta and Iota==
The duty officer looked up from behind his desk as someone approached him. The newcomer was clad in a black uniform, standing straight-backed and looking for all the world like any disciplined ONI officer. His uniform, however, was devoid of any insignia or other form of identification, but it was this detail that informed the duty officer of who he was.
“Can I help you, Mordred?” he asked.
Mordred, or Arthur Onegin as he was known to those unfamiliar with the pseudonym ONI had given him, stared coldly at him from underneath a mess of thick black hair. Over military regulation, of course, but technically he hadn’t been UNSC for over two years now. “The Hound Unit,” he said shortly. “Where are they?”
“Uh, recuperating in the medical facility,” the duty officer stuttered. He couldn’t believe he stuttered. “Ward three, although Venter gave orders not to be disturbed—”
Arthur turned and briskly walked away without a word. The duty officer knew better than to repeat himself and returned to what he was doing.
Arthur had only seen the site’s medical facility once, but he was able to recall the directions by heart. He passed through checkpoints with barely a pause, scanning his ID on each doorway without so much as a glance at any of the guards that he passed. He noticed a few operatives eyeing him as he made his way towards the medical facility. Did they know something, or were they simply curious? No matter, he couldn’t care less today of all days.
The doors to the medical facility slid open to let him in. It was mostly empty save for the select few doctors who were busy inspecting their supplies. Working in any black site was generally risky, and most deaths that occurred within its ranks involved an operative never being found. Still, the medical personnel had to keep their facilities in top shape; there was no room for error in their line of work.
It’s too bad most of the wounded never make it back here in time to be saved. Arthur’s expression tightened angrily, and the bitterness that came with the thought threatened to break his resolve. He fought to maintain his composure and kept walking, making his way to ward three.
There they were, gathered around a row of beds while being attended to by a few doctors. He could see that the entire Hound Unit was accounted for. Adam Palmer was sitting up in bed with a new prosthetic left arm and his chest and back covered in healing patches where his skin had been badly burnt by multiple grenade blasts. Grace Hart sat beside him, arms crossed and looking for the most part uninjured. David Kahn had a nasty looking bruise on the right side of his head but was able to stand upright. Levi Groves had his feet propped up on the end of his bed with both his legs bandaged from what looked like bullet wounds. A long scar ran down the length of his temple next to his left eye. They all looked somewhat dishevelled, but had made it back from the shipyard, all of them except—
Arthur froze in place, eyes fixed on the body of Agent Connecticut, spread out lifeless on the farthest cot. He had come as soon as he heard the news. He was already wishing he hadn’t. There was a sickening twist tightening in his stomach, and he felt like his insides were on fire. Dammit. I thought I had gotten away from all this. I thought I didn’t need to feel anymore.
He thought he could handle himself by coming. He thought that if he saw her, he could accept it and move on, just as he had from all the other deaths he had been forced to deal with in his twenty-seven years. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have come here. Why is this so difficult? She hardly knew me outside the Hounds. She barely even talked to me—
Redmond Venter stepped between Arthur and Connie, mercifully breaking his line of sight on her. “I tried to save her, Arthur,” he said. His eyes were dark and heavy. He clearly hadn’t slept since the attack, but there was still a wild desperation there as he , “but when my pod made it back to base, it was too late.”
“She told you to leave,” Arthur said quietly, not even looking at him. “And you didn’t.”
“I couldn’t let them die,” Venter protested. “We were holding them off, until—”
“Until the two deadliest Freelancers showed up and killed her?” he snapped. “You had orders to pull out if they launched an assault. You’ve lost a lot of men by staying to fight. And Connie.”
Venter slammed a fist into the wall.. “I underestimated them, okay? It’s not going to happen again!”
Arthur stared him down, tempted to vent his unadulterated fury onto the person who had gotten Connie killed. No. We still have work to do. Fighting amongst ourselves will accomplish nothing. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to keep his voice even, ignoring the burning rage and playing the cool, unflappable agent. Like he always did. “Who did it?”
“The grey one,” Venter growled. “Agent Texas.”
Texas. I remember her. A memory surfaced in Arthur’s mind, from the early stages of Project FREELANCER. The rebels had damaged the Mother of Invention’s hull during an engagement in Zeta Doradus and he had been sent out in zero-g to inspect the damage. But the rebels had returned, caught the Freelancers by surprise, and during the fighting a flurry of debris had caught his jetpack.. He’d been alone in space, clinging to the Invention’s radio antennae and when he spotted Texas, who had deployed away from the other Freelancers. But she had turned her back on him to focus on defending the Invention, and done nothing to stop him from losing his grip and tumbling out into the void. I’d be dead, if it wasn’t for the Hounds. After Connie joined them, she said that none of the Freelancers even remembered me.
Once upon a time, such a statement might have cut him, but not anymore. He wasn’t bitter that Texas had abandoned him—in her place, he would have done the same. She had inadvertently freed him from the project that he loathed, had gotten away from the other Freelancers that he didn’t even care about. But there was one, he thought dully. He shut out the pain, an art form he had perfected long ago, but there was no silencing the gnawing doubts that whispered to him from the darkened corners of his mind. There was one, and now she’s dead.
Now was not the time for grief. Now was the time for action. There was still a job to do, a mission to accomplish.
“What’s the status of the team?” Arthur asked, casting an eye over the bedraggled Hounds. Aside from those present, the unit’s pyrotechnician was the only other specialist alive—Jeremi Mizra was still recovering from the injuries he’d sustained during the Freelancers’ raid at Cote d’Azure two months ago. The resilient trooper had reportedly taken the business end of a Gravity Hammer full-force in the chest during the incident, which had shattered his rib cage and caused near-fatal breaches to his heart and several other organs. All in all, it had been a miracle that he had even survived.
The soldiers who had supported the Hounds during their recent run-ins with the Freelancers were regular troops, mostly drawn from ex-CAA battalions and local militias. Not many of those had walked away from any of the encounters with the Freelancers. The body counts from the Freelancer attacks read like reports from units on the frontlines fighting the Covenant, not reserve forces dealing with a rogue agency.
They really don’t give a damn how many people they kill. Arthur’s stomach turned at the memory of the rankings board, which tracked each agent’s performances from every mission and rated them against each other. The Freelancer agents acted more like entitled grav-ball athletes than soldiers on the battlefield. The thought that Connie and the others had died fighting against the Freelancers’ collective ego-trip made him sick.
We have to take them down. Stop this project before the Director decides to start targeting the UNSC directly—or civilians.
He hadn’t felt this strongly about a mission in a very long time. Since Omelas, everything had been nothing but a numb blur of missions and contract killings. The possibility that he might still be able to care about something should have been a beacon of hope, but right now his mind’s eye was filled with Connie lying pale and limp on the cot in the shadows.
The only thing we can believe in is the mission. He took comfort in that thought, wrapped it around himself like a protective cloak.
Venter watched him carefully. The Hound Unit’s commander was grieving, but he and Arthur had known each other for a long time. They both knew the score and what needed to be done.
“We don’t have any further orders,” Venter told him. “The only thing we’ve gotten since the shipyards is to hole up and recover. We go after them now, and we’re looking at a slashed budget. And if we lose…”
Venter shook his head. “The way things are looking now, ONI will just leave us to fend for ourselves.”
“You worry about focusing your team.” Arthur had slipped back into operative mode. There was no pain, no sorrow, no regrets here. Only the mission. Only what needed to be done. He turned to leave the med center. The Hounds might be his comrades, but there was no place for him here. Let Venter comfort and rally them. He had other business to attend to.
“I’m contacting Lensky,” he said over his shoulder. “We’ll need more troops if we’re going to pull this off, not to mention transportation.” The thought of dealing with the twisted vampire knotted his gut, as it always did, but there was no way out of it. Tobias Lensky was their best shot at getting to the Director.
“Got it.” Venter’s voice was hard. For all his flaws, he adapted fast. It would keep him alive in the battles to come. “Enough defense. Let’s take the fight to them.”
•••
A long piercing scream cut through the air and echoed through the nearly-empty training room.
“Don’t go! Please!”
“I have to go. Now come on, Victoria, let go—”
“No! I won’t let you! Take me with you!”
“I can’t do that. I’ll come back, I promise…”
Agent Texas placed one hand on the floor to steady herself as the last traces of the visions faded away. She noticed in the corner of her line of sight that the Freelancers standing in the viewing chamber were standing up slowly, shaking their heads. She didn’t know if they saw what she did, but the way Omega had been screaming the name over and over in her head told her that they heard the same thing. Allison. Allison. Allison.
Her attention was drawn back to reality as she heard a pained groan before her. She stood up and approached the person who was doubled over on all fours with her helmet lying next to her.
“Make them stop!” Agent Carolina pleaded to some unknown entity. “Make them stop, before it’s too…” Texas extended her hand to her, but her would-be opponent still had enough stubbornness to knock it away. “…make the voices stop!”
Carolina had no time to say any more, however, as she was seized by a second wave of uncontrollable pain and keeled over. The screaming quickly resumed.
Texas glared up at the Director, who had regained his composure now that the sparring match had been halted. Beside him, the Counsellor and the other Freelancers were watching motionlessly, unsure of what to do next. “What the fuck is going on?” she demanded over the sound of Carolina’s agonized cries. “Somebody get down here!”
But to her surprise and outrage, the Director simply turned and walked away. She noticed that the Counsellor turned to follow, and she was about to demand that he do something, when she sensed Omega recovering control over himself. He is not watching now, he whispered in her ear, nudging her hands into action. She slowly reached for Carolina. Yes, end her! Do it!
Why? She shot back. What’s the point?
Tex’s fingers brushed against Carolina’s forearm. She didn’t even notice, still sprawled on the floor with a flagging defiance. The pain didn’t seem to be going away for her. And no one else knew what to do.
You know you want to!
Peel Carolina’s grip away from her face, then grasp her neck. It would be so easy. She wouldn’t feel a thing.
Do it! DO IT!
Carolina’s gaze found her opponent hovering over her, eyes watering. Tex didn’t know what it was, but something about the greenness of those eyes intrigued her. She had never noticed the colour of Carolina’s eyes before, but they were staring at her with an unexplainable familiarity. The agony in those eyes felt familiar too, but she couldn’t figure out why.
There was the sound of a door sliding, followed by a beep. “Hey, what are you doing? Let me out!”
“Your father will let you out, Victoria. But you have to stay here for now.”
“Open up! You can’t leave me behind again!”
“Sorry, kid. But this is for your own good…”
Tex clenched her hands, giving Omega a stern warning to stand down. “We do not kill teammates.” She raised one fist and hoped that Carolina didn’t have enough energy left to try and stop her. “Sorry, kid. This is for your own good.”
The armoured gauntlet came down square on Carolina’s forehead, careful not to deal her a serious injury. Carolina slumped to the floor, mercifully still. The pain slowly faded from her expression, and her breathing became steady again.
The training room doors slid open, and in rushed York, followed by the other Freelancers. Tex stood up and moved aside to give them room.
“What the hell did you do?” South demanded. She liked using that voice a lot when she was looking for someone to blame for something. Although to be fair, the others had been making their way downstairs that they hadn’t seen what happened.
“I knocked her out,” said Tex, although in her opinion this was so obvious that it shouldn’t warrant an explanation. “I thought I’d do something before she ended up ripping her own hair out.”
“D?” York’s voice was uncharacteristically tight. Delta’s hologram appeared by Carolina’s side, peering down at her still form.
“Agent Carolina has a mild bruise half an inch above her right eye. Her mind is in a state of unconsciousness, with normal brain activity.”
“What about those AIs?” asked North.
“Eta and Iota have retreated into Carolina’s subconscious. They have likely caused some damage to her entorhinal cortex, although this may possibly be repaired in surgery. There have been no ill effects on her sensory or motor functions—”
“Let’s get her out of here,” York interrupted, moving around Carolina to pick her up by the arms. “Wash, give me a hand. South, go tell Florida that tomorrow’s training session is cancelled. FILSS, make sure the doctors are ready when we get to recovery.” There were no medical teams waiting on standby thanks to the Director, but even he wouldn’t stop them from getting Carolina the proper treatment.
North glanced back at Tex as the Freelancers rushed out of the training room. “Hey, you coming?”
She shook her head, one hand on the back of her helmet. “There’s something I need to check for myself.”
The sharpshooter didn’t try to persuade her otherwise. “Okay…watch your back, Tex. Things are getting weird around here.” He hurried after the others, and the doors slid closed, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
Tex lowered her hand, trying to make sense of everything that had just happened. The memories, the AIs, the Director when he had seen her about to face off against Carolina…it wasn’t adding up. And what had Carolina meant in her ramblings? “Make them stop, make them stop before it’s too late.” What was that about?
She didn’t know, but she intended to find out. While the Freelancers were checking on Carolina, no one had noticed that Tex had pulled the plug on Omega. She needed answers, and she wasn’t going to find them with his bloodthirsty tirades going off in her head all the time. Besides, I don’t think I can even trust him.
Something is definitely not right here.
•••
“Our scouts have still found no trace of C.T. or her allies,” the Counsellor said. “But we are certain that they have not attempted to leave Tribute.”
Director Leonard Church gave no indication that he had heard him, so intent was he on studying the data scrolling down the screens before him. It had been several months since the Longshore operation, and he had spent a great deal of the time in the data centre they were standing in now, reading the numerous after-mission reports written by the Freelancers who were part of it.
If the Counsellor didn’t know better, he would have thought that something was troubling the Director. He decided to try again for a response. “According to the enemy data that our scouts intercepted, we are almost certain that C.T. has been Killed in Action. Based on the matching observations in Agent Texas and Agent Carolina’s reports, it is likely that her armour is still intact and for the most part undamaged.”
This time, Church looked up. “Then our task is not yet complete, Counsellor. I will arrange another mission to recover C.T.’s armour. But perhaps this time, we will do so in a more discreet manner.”
The Counsellor had a good guess who he had in mind. “Agent Texas, sir?”
But to his surprise, Church shook his head. “No. Inform Agent Texas that I want to have a word with her, at 2200 hours in the operations centre.” He turned his gaze to another screen off to his side, a thoughtful gleam now in his eyes. “How have Eta and Iota been adjusting?”
“One moment, Director,” said the Counsellor, pulling a datapad from the AI document arrays. “Sigma says that he has managed to coax them out from their storage units earlier today. They are still very hesitant to interact at all, even with other fragments.”
Eta and Iota, respectively the Alpha’s fear and secrecy, had proven to be the most difficult yet to work with. Despite having been separated from the Alpha AI for several days now, they hadn’t appeared to anyone regardless of any form of persuasion. The scans that were made showed that they only conversed with each other, although they were always careful to hide what they were communicating from any outsiders. The fact that they had complied with appearing at all was quite a sign of progress.
“I have found two good matches for them, based on Sigma’s observations,” the Counsellor continued. “I believe Agents Washington and South Dakota will be well-suited to their traits. If you read the parts of their performance records that I have highlighted…”
Church held up a hand to stop him, having noticed something in the notes. “Sigma seems to disagree with you, Counsellor. In fact, he emphasized that he recommends both Eta and Iota be assigned to a single Freelancer.”
A slight tension formed in the Counsellor’s usually complacent expression. He clearly hadn’t overlooked that part of Sigma’s notes. “If I may, Director, implanting a Freelancer with two AIs may not be wise. Based on our research and the experiments conducted with Juno and Diana, we have found the conclusion that putting more than one consciousness into the human brain will likely cause some damage to the host. You had agreed on me with this.”
There was a hint of iron to his voice, but that wasn’t what gave the Director pause. The truth was that he did agree with the Counsellor, but his interest was currently drawn to the information in the rest of Sigma’s observations.
What made Eta and Iota interesting was that they had split from the Alpha simultaneously. It had been unexpected, even to the Director. Nowhere in his hypotheses did he expect the procedure to create twin fragments. He was still working on finding a conclusive answer, but the occurrence was likely a result of the increased stress levels that were needed for Alpha to continue to produce fragments of sufficient substance.
Under normal circumstances, I would not allow a Freelancer to be implanted with two AI fragments. But Eta and Iota—they are not like the others. Something tells me they should not be separated.
Church could tell that the Counsellor was in complete disagreement to the idea, at least for now. We shall see where this goes. I will have to keep a close eye on Eta and Iota until the next round of implantations are ready. But in the meantime… “Very well, Counsellor. Inform Agents Washington and South Dakota that they are due for implantation in six weeks, and add the special training sessions to their schedule starting tomorrow.”
The Counsellor nodded, clearly relieved that the Director didn’t persist with Sigma’s idea. “And the mission to retrieve C.T.’s armour, sir? Who are you assigning to take it?”
Church thought for a moment, mentally going through the list of Freelancers that could potentially do well with two AI fragments. It didn’t take long for him to make up his mind.
“Agent Carolina.”