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Many years ago…
“I don’t need you watching out for me. I can handle it myself.”
“You’re one of our best infiltrators; we need you out there. They just want your armor - I’ll get them off your tail.”
“They won’t be able to send their top agents. They don’t have the resources right now.”
“That could change. And if they do, we need to be ready.”
— —
Although she’d never been sent to train at Outpost 17, she recognized the unmistakable scenario: a pair of identical bases facing off across open terrain. The ex-Freelancer scowled at the remains of the broken Project. From the reports relayed through the Insurrection, she knew the Director’s experiments were now tied up in bureaucracy and ethics committees, but the simulation bases were left alone. The evidence was still out there.
After an hour of watching the blue figures meander around their base, CT picked an opening to slide out of cover. For once, she far out skilled her mission. Even without the competition of AI-driven super soldiers, she always seemed to step just deep enough to cover her head, and she’d struggle just to stay afloat. Part of her thrived on the accomplishment, but a part of her yearned for recognition.
Recognition and validation. All the rumors she investigated, the evidence she unearthed, and the lives she witnessed the end of – none of her suspicions had been paranoid dreams, and CT wouldn’t let the Project survive. The Director couldn’t bury every bloodstain, and the drops led here.
There were no guards and no traps. As CT crept into blue base, a pair of footsteps rang out from an adjacent hallway. Crouching, she listened as someone insisted, “I could do that. Children like me.” She edged into the shadows near the wall.
“Caboose, you can’t even look after yourself,” a second man returned. “I would trust Doc to babysit before you, and the last time that happened, Junior came home singing the whole alphabet. Blargh blarg honk.” As CT tensed for her attack, the soldiers blew right past the hallway intersection without glancing her way.
She eased up as the first replied, “I thought there were more letters than that…” Only when they were out of earshot did she stand and survey the hallway. She found herself reconsidering her strategy. If they were this incompetent, she could hole in somewhere to gather more information.
A rumbling “Miaow” triggered every nerve along CT’s spine; she spun around and hissed at the enormous Maine coon padding down the hallway. Seemingly unfazed, it paused a yard away and meowed again. “Shhh,” she whispered. “Meoe,” it replied.
“Hartford? Where are you?” She turned her head, listening as someone took a tentative step towards her hallway. The damn cat meowed again, and CT slid along the wall as she heard the familiar voice call, “Over here, Hart!”
He’d fallen out of practice. CT knew it the moment she yanked him around and countered his sweeping fist. Thinking better of punching his full armor, CT took advantage of her new, lighter suit’s flexibility to slip behind him and kick out his knees. Flailing, he slammed into the ground and rolled as Hartford yowled and skittered a few yards away. By the time he righted himself, CT had her pistol drawn. She imagined the shock under his helmet as he glanced between her Insurrectionist logo and the pistol.
Alerted by the clamor, one of the oblivious soldiers yelled down the hall, “Things getting a little rowdy in there, Wash? Or did you just step on Hartford’s tail?” Despite the levity of his tone, they heard him start back towards them.
“No,” Washington replied with an unfamiliar certainty, “Just an old friend visiting.”
“Recognize me?” She asked, the words tumbling out.
Washington started at her visor. “I never forget.”
When the other man rounded the corner to find Washington at gunpoint, he paused and said, “We’ve had enough of your friends for a lifetime.”
“That makes two of us,” Washington muttered, and the bitterness reminded CT of the reports that had crossed her hard drive: implantation, a rebellion, insanity. Although she lowered her gun, she kept a wary eye on both her former ally and the approaching simulation trooper. “Tucker, this is CT.”
Tucker’s amusement faded as he asked, “Wait, CT? CT who got lasered by Epsilon?”
CT sucked in a sharp breath. “By what?”
“Tucker,” Washington scolded, and CT gritted her teeth as she realized to whom he must be referring.
“What? There was a hole all the way through his chest, there’s no way he survived that!”
With the air of someone just discovering it himself, Washington explained, “That wasn’t CT. It was just her armor. A decoy.”
Taking the information in stride, Tucker began, “Oh, kind of like…” As he caught the stare from Washington, Tucker finally censored himself. She picked up the pieces between the lines.
Guessing the purpose of her visit, Washington told her, “Project Freelancer is over. I wiped the AI out with an EMP, and everyone else is dead.” A tone of resignation weighted his words, but a kind of relief lurked underneath. A contentment that churned her stomach.
“What happened to South?” CT asked, unable to suppress the memories of kind words from her former roommate.
“I killed her.” CT’s lip curled. She couldn’t imagine it: the well-meaning but naïve Wash she knew turning on a teammate.
A lot had changed.
Although she already knew the answer, she had to ask. “… Wyoming?”
Washington shifted. “I wasn’t there, the details are fuzzier. His equipment ended up on a crashed ship.” For the first time since their scuffle, CT looked away.
A tentative voice carried through the halls of blue base. “Hey, I just got back from red base. Everything alright in there? Caboose said he heard crashing.”
When it became obvious that neither Washington nor the intruder were going to answer, Tucker called back, “Yeah, Church is just telling his friend about how everyone they cared about is dead.”
“Church?” CT hissed, and Washington gave Tucker a hard look. She felt the frailty of her information collapse as she speculated, “So you are here because of the Alpha.”
The distant voice called out something unintelligible, and Washington sighed. “Tucker,” he suggested in a tone that bordered on aggressive, “Why don’t you go calm Doc down and I’ll do the talking.” He turned to CT. “Let’s walk for a minute.”
As CT slipped her weapon into its holster and followed Washington towards the exit, Tucker turned towards the sound of Doc’s worrisome, “Is there actually a friend there, or…?” Sometimes, having to keep the whole team up to date could be such a pain. At least Sister rarely cared and Caboose never needed a real explanation.
— —
From the roof of their base, they could see the two former Freelancers wander towards the edge of the canyon, their heads bobbing as they discussed no doubt boring Freelancer shit. Every time he thought their team had broken free of that drama, it cropped up again. “Man, I knew bringing Wash home was going to attract more unwanted attention.” At this point, Tucker wouldn’t be surprised if Epsilon came crashing back to blue base in a helicopter. “Didn’t think it’d be CT, though. I wonder who that ass in the desert was.”
Next to him, Doc shuffled and leaned against the railing. “I was there when he unburied the helmet at Sandtrap. Is she another Freelancer?”
“Fuck if I know,” Tucker replied. As he recalled the jibes and bullets exchanged over the temple in Sandtrap, Tucker yelled out to the real CT, “I bet you’re just as much of a bitch as the other CT! All he ever did was yell at the aliens and bang on my temple door!” The distant figure turned to look at him, but Wash waved a dismissive hand and they returned to their conversation.
Lost in thought, Doc asked, “You don’t think he’s going to leave with her, do you?” His tone spoke of how accustomed they’d become to living in Valhalla together.
Although his gut reaction was to scoff, Tucker considered the blue soldier for a moment. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I don’t want him to leave. It’s nice to have a competent soldier for once. I mean, Church was the level of commitment I was hoping for and all, but damn it feels good to see the reds surrender.”
“… Do you miss Church?”
“That asshole?” Tucker paused, then deflected with, “I was more worried about Caboose, but I guess he still has a ‘Church.’ Maybe he won’t want to break into a military base to free Epsilon after all.”
Doc sighed. “Those AI have a way of getting under your skin, huh?”
“Dude,” Tucker interjected in hopes of lightening the mood, “I think we’d all be better off if they were getting under something.” Ignoring Doc’s mild rebuke, Tucker yelled across the canyon again. “Hey Wash, tell CT that if she wants to invade blue base, we’re fresh out of aliens for her to teamkill!”
He watched the distant figure take a step towards him. “Don’t talk as if you have any idea of what we went through!” She shouted, but her voice lost its threatening edge as it carried across the distance.
“I knew I could get you to yell!” Tucker called back, adding a jubilant, “Bow chicka bow wow!”
“Come on, Tucker,” Doc mumbled. “Is that any way to talk to a lady?”
As much as he hated to admit it, Tucker hadn’t spoken to a chick other than Sister for months. He couldn’t miss his chance for a few pick-up lines. “Hey CT, I’d be happy to investigate if you’re actually a lady now! Miraculous sex changes are my specialty.”
The medic snickered. “Is that how you got pregnant?”
“Doc, shut up.” By now, CT had returned her attention to Wash. The two figures lingered only a moment longer, and then they were treated to the sight of CT walking away. “She’s leaving already?” Tucker said. “Wash really is going to end up alone with cats.” The blue in question stood still for a while, watching his old friend pick her way out of Valhalla.