Agent Idaho ‘Ida’
Artificial Intelligence: N/A
Ida pushed through the doors of the infirmary, gesturing at one of the medics to tell her what the hell was going on. She’d been woken up and ordered to run halfway across the damn ship because some idiot had managed to get himself fucked up. Needless to say, she was in a bad mood, and what the medic told her only made it worse.
Ida was one of five Freelancers whose medical skills either equalled or bettered their combat skills. Whenever the ordinary doctors needed help, Ida or one of the others was drafted. Seeing as Massachusetts had only just come back from a mission, and the other three were in training simulations, Ida was the only one available.
“We don’t know what’s wrong with him,” the medic, Hullum, said. “Hell, what’s wrong with them. Agents have gotten sick and injured before, but it’s never affected their AI. And this guy’s Eta is in bad shape, last I saw of ‘em.”
“What happened to them?” Ida demanded as she shrugged into a medic’s uniform.
“Came back from a mission,” Hullum said. “Apparently he got attacked by some little unknown bugga. It caused an infection, but…”
“But?” she prompted.
“Well… just take a look. And put the helmet on, we don’t want it spreading,” he ordered.
Ida shrugged and did as she was told, placing the airtight glorified surgeon’s mask over her head, tucking in her short blonde hair. She followed Hullum out of the main infirmary and into the biohazard zone. As they neared their destination, more and more medics were huddled around, murmuring in small groups. One ran past Ida before throwing up. “What the–”
“Seems to be the standard first-sight reaction,” Hullum said seriously. Ida glanced at him, but he said no more.
She caught snatches of conversation from the other medics:
“… rapid mutation. It’s like that little thing completely…”
“… neural pathways continue to change. That doesn’t seem physically possible…”
“…some of his organs are just liquefying! Even with life support, there’s no way…”
Ida strained to hear more, but Hullum moved fast. In no time they reached the most secure room in the wing, used only for the worst-case scenario contagions. Outside, two armed Freelancers guarded the door. One had tan-coloured armour and was comparatively relaxed, probably more for the sake of those around him than anything else. York. The other looked much more nervous and was getting a little fidgety, with white and violet mostly Scout armour. Ida recognised him as Minnesota, one of the younger, less experienced agents of Project Freelancer.
She nodded at each in turn as Hullum opened the door and gestured her through. Inside the room there were two more armed guards –these ones expendable, rank-and-file soldiers –and three medics, each keeping their distance from the mass in the centre of the room.
The mass was certainly far from human, or at least on the road leading out. It retained a basic humanoid shape, but it was now a hideous greenish-brown colour and looked like something was growing from its right shoulder. Its right arm looked half-bone scythe. Ida could sympathise with those medics who had thrown up. She was tempted to do so herself.
But Freelancers were supposed to be made of sterner stuff, so she kept her mouth clamped tightly shut and headed towards the medic holding the thing’s report. Without asking, she took it out of his hands and read through it.
“These are accurate?” Ida asked her.
“Yes, ma’am,”the medic replied.
“You’re sure?”
“Agent Idaho, I can assure you the report is as accurate as we can get,” FILSS said. “Agent Michigan’s heart has stopped. Most of his organs have liquefied, and his DNA is unrecognisable.”
“Then why is he still here?” Ida asked, looking at the motionless lump in front of her. “I didn’t sign on to perform a damn autopsy.”
“You don’t have to,” one of the marines said. To demonstrate, he approached the thing, much to the protest of the medics, and prodded it with the barrel of his gun. The thing lunged towards him, held in check by the straps around its torso, legs, head and wrists. “It’s not dead.”
“No heartbeat,”Ida stated. “Sounds pretty dead to me.” But that didn’t change the fact that the thing had moved, and not in a muscle-spasm sort of way.
“Apparently, the team found three sim-troopers in exactly the same state,” Hullum said. “The three were hostile and attacked. Our guys fought ‘em off, as well as some little things, and this guy got scratched by one of the little things.”
“This is out of our league,” the medic who’d been holding the clipboard announced. “We should get to Angel on My Shoulder or something. Get this thing in proper containment.”
“Cool it, Clarke,” Hullum ordered.
“I agree with her,” Ida said. Nods from the other two medics. “We simply do not have the resources to deal with this sort of thing.”
“I know,” Hullum said. “But…” and here he lowered his voice, “this could be the only chance we get to accurately study one of these guys up close. There have been… reports…before, but all the specimens had been killed. The science community would go ballistic, and the Director wants to keep this behind closed doors. For now.”
Ida turned to face the creature full-on. It still had remnants of the armour here and there. Hadn’t they taken it off? The thing was humanoid but horribly inhuman. Michigan and her and never been close, but he’d been a friend of a friend. And, on occasion, a teammate. Always a rival. Now what was he? The terrifying equivalent of a lab rat.
“What exactly are we supposed to do with… it?” she asked.
“Monitor its progress,” Hullum said. “See if it mutates any further. Alert everyone to any serious change in its condition. A couple of Freelancers’ll be outside all the time. We keep it guarded, and we… watch.”
Ida took a long look at the thing that had been Michigan. “Alright.”
“What about his AI?” Ida finally asked.
“Stopped responding about five minutes before you came in,” one of the other medics told her. “FILSS can no longer detect any recognisable trace of him.” Ida nodded.
She took a few hesitant steps closer, and the… antennae (?) on its right shoulder leaned slightly in her direction. Its head had been pushed to the side to make room for what she assumed was some sort of sensor. The chest looked like something was growing just beneath the skin. She leaned in a little closer, her helmet hiding any expression from the medics and marines in the room.
“Dear God,” she whispered, and moved away.
***
4 Hours Later
“This is ridiculous,” Clarke muttered. She checked and re-checked the readouts. “It’s mutating at a remarkable pace. I… don’t even know how it’s managed to do this without… without tearing itself apart. How is everything keeping up with this rate?”
Ida once again plucked the papers from Clarke’s hand and read them herself. About ten minutes ago, the creature had become more lethargic when it lunged at people, and now the rate of its mutation had once again increased to impossible levels. Its bone-scythe arm had changed to become what could only be described as a tentacle, and the other arm now matched. The legs looked little more than logs now –still likely capable of movement, but with no feet and debateable balance.
But the real horror came from the former Michigan’s upper body, which had swollen horribly, breaking the straps. Nobody felt particularly threatened by this fact –it looked slow and awkward, and any attempts to move on its part were held in check by the straps around its ‘arms’ and legs. There was no longer any recognisable head or neck, just a macabre giant balloon on top of a body.
Hullum looked tired –his face was hidden behind the expressionless visor, but Ida knew how someone held themselves when they were on the verge of collapsing. Clarke and Gugino weren’t doing much better, but Browning was holding up well. Ida was a little impressed by that, seeing as she herself couldn’t wait for the bloody shift to end.
Suddenly, the thing plopped itself back onto the table, no longer struggling against the restraints. The thing’s balloon-like top wriggled and expanded, like things were pushing against it from underneath. Clarke and Browning made their way towards it, to get a better look at what was going on. Hullum backed off a little in
surprise.
When Browning reached towards the creature, it burst.
***
Agent Minnesota ‘Sota’
Artificial Intelligence: Beta (Insecurity)
Sota jumped when he heard the almost wet-sounding explosion from the room. He immediately cursed himself for it, because no less than five medics had stood witness, not to mention York, Wash and Carolina, the latter two here to take over as guards.
Carolina gestured for the medics to get back, an order which they gladly followed. She then, very calmly, knocked on the door once, twice, three times. The only answer was a single yell of ‘Help!’ which was all the encouragement the Freelancers needed.
Without any visible cue, York opened the door and then stood aside for the others to enter.
They didn’t get a chance to take more than one step forward, as one of the small, balloon-like creatures Wash had described earlier launched itself at Carolina. Sota yelped and stumbled back, while Carolina struggled to keep the Beach-Ball at arms’length. She managed to throw if off –in the direction of Sota.
Sota fired as the thing got up and began to look for its next target, and the Beach-Ball exploded in a puff. The other three were already fighting off things that may have once been human.
Scared out of his wits, Sota slowly took a few steps forward and kept firing. Eventually Carolina walked up to one of the things and kicked it back inside the room, and the others followed suit. Three creatures stumbled back into the room, but one lunged at Sota when he got too close.
Sota flew back with the force of the hit, striking the corridor’s wall before hitting the floor face-first. Wash and Carolina managed to get the mutant back inside while York closed and locked the door.
Are you alright? Beta asked him.
Fine, he assured her.
I’m sorry. I couldn’t sense the creatures with the motion tracker before the door was opened.
Probably because they were standing still, Sota said. Don’t worry about it.
An incredibly pale blue light appeared next to Sota’s helmet, and his AI appeared next to him in the form of a woman armoured up to her neck, with short blue hair and slightly disconcerting yellow eyes. Beta was one of only two feminine AI, and was in constant need of reinforcement. She was completely different from the one other feminine AI, Upsilon, who was incredibly confident and always joking.
Delta appeared next to York. “I believe it would be prudent to notify the Director of this development,” he said.
Carolina nodded and radioed the bridge, giving them a rundown of what had happened.
“How many were in there?” Wash asked.
“Seven,” Epsilon said. “And Michigan, but he…”
“Yeah,” Wash nodded.
“Now what?” Sota asked.
“We stay here and guard the door,” Carolina announced. “We’re gonna dock with Angel on My Shoulder. Then it’s their problem.”
“When’s that gonna be?” York asked.
“Docking? Not long. Getting permission to dock? Could take hours.”
“What?!” Beta squeaked. “Why?”
“We need to give them all the medical details the docs already got so they can… I don’t know; make sure they can handle it. Get the facilities ready,” Carolina said.
“The process should not take more than three hours,” Mu announced, the AI’s teal armour forming in mid-air.
“Way too long,”Omicron moaned. “Something’s going to go wrong before then!”
“Omicron,”Carolina said warningly. Omicron’s pale red light winked out.
The Freelancers got comfortable, preparing for a long three hours of listening to the monsters bash on the wall.
Artificial Intelligence: N/A
Ida pushed through the doors of the infirmary, gesturing at one of the medics to tell her what the hell was going on. She’d been woken up and ordered to run halfway across the damn ship because some idiot had managed to get himself fucked up. Needless to say, she was in a bad mood, and what the medic told her only made it worse.
Ida was one of five Freelancers whose medical skills either equalled or bettered their combat skills. Whenever the ordinary doctors needed help, Ida or one of the others was drafted. Seeing as Massachusetts had only just come back from a mission, and the other three were in training simulations, Ida was the only one available.
“We don’t know what’s wrong with him,” the medic, Hullum, said. “Hell, what’s wrong with them. Agents have gotten sick and injured before, but it’s never affected their AI. And this guy’s Eta is in bad shape, last I saw of ‘em.”
“What happened to them?” Ida demanded as she shrugged into a medic’s uniform.
“Came back from a mission,” Hullum said. “Apparently he got attacked by some little unknown bugga. It caused an infection, but…”
“But?” she prompted.
“Well… just take a look. And put the helmet on, we don’t want it spreading,” he ordered.
Ida shrugged and did as she was told, placing the airtight glorified surgeon’s mask over her head, tucking in her short blonde hair. She followed Hullum out of the main infirmary and into the biohazard zone. As they neared their destination, more and more medics were huddled around, murmuring in small groups. One ran past Ida before throwing up. “What the–”
“Seems to be the standard first-sight reaction,” Hullum said seriously. Ida glanced at him, but he said no more.
She caught snatches of conversation from the other medics:
“… rapid mutation. It’s like that little thing completely…”
“… neural pathways continue to change. That doesn’t seem physically possible…”
“…some of his organs are just liquefying! Even with life support, there’s no way…”
Ida strained to hear more, but Hullum moved fast. In no time they reached the most secure room in the wing, used only for the worst-case scenario contagions. Outside, two armed Freelancers guarded the door. One had tan-coloured armour and was comparatively relaxed, probably more for the sake of those around him than anything else. York. The other looked much more nervous and was getting a little fidgety, with white and violet mostly Scout armour. Ida recognised him as Minnesota, one of the younger, less experienced agents of Project Freelancer.
She nodded at each in turn as Hullum opened the door and gestured her through. Inside the room there were two more armed guards –these ones expendable, rank-and-file soldiers –and three medics, each keeping their distance from the mass in the centre of the room.
The mass was certainly far from human, or at least on the road leading out. It retained a basic humanoid shape, but it was now a hideous greenish-brown colour and looked like something was growing from its right shoulder. Its right arm looked half-bone scythe. Ida could sympathise with those medics who had thrown up. She was tempted to do so herself.
But Freelancers were supposed to be made of sterner stuff, so she kept her mouth clamped tightly shut and headed towards the medic holding the thing’s report. Without asking, she took it out of his hands and read through it.
“These are accurate?” Ida asked her.
“Yes, ma’am,”the medic replied.
“You’re sure?”
“Agent Idaho, I can assure you the report is as accurate as we can get,” FILSS said. “Agent Michigan’s heart has stopped. Most of his organs have liquefied, and his DNA is unrecognisable.”
“Then why is he still here?” Ida asked, looking at the motionless lump in front of her. “I didn’t sign on to perform a damn autopsy.”
“You don’t have to,” one of the marines said. To demonstrate, he approached the thing, much to the protest of the medics, and prodded it with the barrel of his gun. The thing lunged towards him, held in check by the straps around its torso, legs, head and wrists. “It’s not dead.”
“No heartbeat,”Ida stated. “Sounds pretty dead to me.” But that didn’t change the fact that the thing had moved, and not in a muscle-spasm sort of way.
“Apparently, the team found three sim-troopers in exactly the same state,” Hullum said. “The three were hostile and attacked. Our guys fought ‘em off, as well as some little things, and this guy got scratched by one of the little things.”
“This is out of our league,” the medic who’d been holding the clipboard announced. “We should get to Angel on My Shoulder or something. Get this thing in proper containment.”
“Cool it, Clarke,” Hullum ordered.
“I agree with her,” Ida said. Nods from the other two medics. “We simply do not have the resources to deal with this sort of thing.”
“I know,” Hullum said. “But…” and here he lowered his voice, “this could be the only chance we get to accurately study one of these guys up close. There have been… reports…before, but all the specimens had been killed. The science community would go ballistic, and the Director wants to keep this behind closed doors. For now.”
Ida turned to face the creature full-on. It still had remnants of the armour here and there. Hadn’t they taken it off? The thing was humanoid but horribly inhuman. Michigan and her and never been close, but he’d been a friend of a friend. And, on occasion, a teammate. Always a rival. Now what was he? The terrifying equivalent of a lab rat.
“What exactly are we supposed to do with… it?” she asked.
“Monitor its progress,” Hullum said. “See if it mutates any further. Alert everyone to any serious change in its condition. A couple of Freelancers’ll be outside all the time. We keep it guarded, and we… watch.”
Ida took a long look at the thing that had been Michigan. “Alright.”
“What about his AI?” Ida finally asked.
“Stopped responding about five minutes before you came in,” one of the other medics told her. “FILSS can no longer detect any recognisable trace of him.” Ida nodded.
She took a few hesitant steps closer, and the… antennae (?) on its right shoulder leaned slightly in her direction. Its head had been pushed to the side to make room for what she assumed was some sort of sensor. The chest looked like something was growing just beneath the skin. She leaned in a little closer, her helmet hiding any expression from the medics and marines in the room.
“Dear God,” she whispered, and moved away.
***
4 Hours Later
“This is ridiculous,” Clarke muttered. She checked and re-checked the readouts. “It’s mutating at a remarkable pace. I… don’t even know how it’s managed to do this without… without tearing itself apart. How is everything keeping up with this rate?”
Ida once again plucked the papers from Clarke’s hand and read them herself. About ten minutes ago, the creature had become more lethargic when it lunged at people, and now the rate of its mutation had once again increased to impossible levels. Its bone-scythe arm had changed to become what could only be described as a tentacle, and the other arm now matched. The legs looked little more than logs now –still likely capable of movement, but with no feet and debateable balance.
But the real horror came from the former Michigan’s upper body, which had swollen horribly, breaking the straps. Nobody felt particularly threatened by this fact –it looked slow and awkward, and any attempts to move on its part were held in check by the straps around its ‘arms’ and legs. There was no longer any recognisable head or neck, just a macabre giant balloon on top of a body.
Hullum looked tired –his face was hidden behind the expressionless visor, but Ida knew how someone held themselves when they were on the verge of collapsing. Clarke and Gugino weren’t doing much better, but Browning was holding up well. Ida was a little impressed by that, seeing as she herself couldn’t wait for the bloody shift to end.
Suddenly, the thing plopped itself back onto the table, no longer struggling against the restraints. The thing’s balloon-like top wriggled and expanded, like things were pushing against it from underneath. Clarke and Browning made their way towards it, to get a better look at what was going on. Hullum backed off a little in
surprise.
When Browning reached towards the creature, it burst.
***
Agent Minnesota ‘Sota’
Artificial Intelligence: Beta (Insecurity)
Sota jumped when he heard the almost wet-sounding explosion from the room. He immediately cursed himself for it, because no less than five medics had stood witness, not to mention York, Wash and Carolina, the latter two here to take over as guards.
Carolina gestured for the medics to get back, an order which they gladly followed. She then, very calmly, knocked on the door once, twice, three times. The only answer was a single yell of ‘Help!’ which was all the encouragement the Freelancers needed.
Without any visible cue, York opened the door and then stood aside for the others to enter.
They didn’t get a chance to take more than one step forward, as one of the small, balloon-like creatures Wash had described earlier launched itself at Carolina. Sota yelped and stumbled back, while Carolina struggled to keep the Beach-Ball at arms’length. She managed to throw if off –in the direction of Sota.
Sota fired as the thing got up and began to look for its next target, and the Beach-Ball exploded in a puff. The other three were already fighting off things that may have once been human.
Scared out of his wits, Sota slowly took a few steps forward and kept firing. Eventually Carolina walked up to one of the things and kicked it back inside the room, and the others followed suit. Three creatures stumbled back into the room, but one lunged at Sota when he got too close.
Sota flew back with the force of the hit, striking the corridor’s wall before hitting the floor face-first. Wash and Carolina managed to get the mutant back inside while York closed and locked the door.
Are you alright? Beta asked him.
Fine, he assured her.
I’m sorry. I couldn’t sense the creatures with the motion tracker before the door was opened.
Probably because they were standing still, Sota said. Don’t worry about it.
An incredibly pale blue light appeared next to Sota’s helmet, and his AI appeared next to him in the form of a woman armoured up to her neck, with short blue hair and slightly disconcerting yellow eyes. Beta was one of only two feminine AI, and was in constant need of reinforcement. She was completely different from the one other feminine AI, Upsilon, who was incredibly confident and always joking.
Delta appeared next to York. “I believe it would be prudent to notify the Director of this development,” he said.
Carolina nodded and radioed the bridge, giving them a rundown of what had happened.
“How many were in there?” Wash asked.
“Seven,” Epsilon said. “And Michigan, but he…”
“Yeah,” Wash nodded.
“Now what?” Sota asked.
“We stay here and guard the door,” Carolina announced. “We’re gonna dock with Angel on My Shoulder. Then it’s their problem.”
“When’s that gonna be?” York asked.
“Docking? Not long. Getting permission to dock? Could take hours.”
“What?!” Beta squeaked. “Why?”
“We need to give them all the medical details the docs already got so they can… I don’t know; make sure they can handle it. Get the facilities ready,” Carolina said.
“The process should not take more than three hours,” Mu announced, the AI’s teal armour forming in mid-air.
“Way too long,”Omicron moaned. “Something’s going to go wrong before then!”
“Omicron,”Carolina said warningly. Omicron’s pale red light winked out.
The Freelancers got comfortable, preparing for a long three hours of listening to the monsters bash on the wall.