Ceaseless Read Free Page A

long while, Carpenter simply fixed Allan with his patented stare. Allan allowed himself a small smile when he realized that it wasn't working because his face was hidden entirely behind his visor.
    “Allan,” he said, finally, “I want to slot you into another team.”
    Allan blinked in surprise. He remained silent. This was probably about as far away from what he expected as possible. He'd been readying himself for some mandatory vacation time or leave without pay or even suspension.
    What the hell was this ?
    “I'm sorry?” he managed.
    “I know. My superiors want me to at least put you on medical leave or mandatory vacation, but...well, things have been busy lately. Something's been happening...out there in the wastelands. That's why the base is so depleted. But that's not relevant to this conversation. We received a distress call from an isolated communications relay pretty far out in the middle of nowhere. It's gone down and subsequently comms are down in the region at large. All I've really got at hand is a team that just lost their Sergeant and you've just lost your team so...” He shrugged. “I guess it's going to have to do...let me see your face.”
    The sudden request caught Allan off guard. He considered refusing the request, although it wasn't really a request, but instead abandoned the idea and opted to silently flick his transition switch, rendering his faceplate transparent. Carpenter stared directly at him, frowning, seemingly studying his haggard features.
    Allan remained silent.
    “All right,” Carpenter said finally, almost reluctantly. “I'd like to be clear though,” he added, standing up. Allan stood up as well, but hesitated. “Once you get back from this mission, I'm going to at least put you on mandatory vacation. And I'm going to strongly recommend that you go see the base psychiatrist. Even if you think you don't need it, which, knowing your stubbornness and past, that is what you think, I want you at least have a clean bill of health.”
    Allan considered the man's words, weighed his own options. Finally, he settled for silence, nodding once and then returning the opaque function to his visor. Carpenter led him out of the office and down the corridor to the briefing rooms. These rooms were where Investigation Squads met and went over all the relevant data on whatever the upcoming mission was. Time in these rooms usually ranged from half an hour to up to two hours, depending on the complexity and urgency of the mission at hand.
    Carpenter led Allan into one of the briefing rooms. Four people were seated around a table that dominated the area, ringed with chairs. Carpenter moved up to the head of the table. Allan took a seat in one of the few remaining unoccupied chairs and heard it groan under his weight. He looked around at the others, who were all staring at him, and felt varying waves of unease and hostility coming from them, ranging from subtle to outright.
    Carpenter cleared his throat. “Let's get introductions out of the way. This is Squad Lansing Eight. Everyone, this is Sergeant Allan Gray. He recently lost his team and will be filling in as your boss for this assignment. He's been with SI for over a decade now and came from a very...busy planet that frequently called on SI's services. He knows what he's doing.”
    “I'm sure,” one of them muttered.
    Carpenter cleared his throat. “Corporal Anna Mitchell, if you have something to say, please speak up...no? Fine then. This is your XO, Allan. She excels at firefights.”
    Allan sized her up. Her blonde hair was bright and cropped short, not even making it past her neckline. Her eyes were cold and sharp and angry, set into a narrow face. She was tall and lithe, built more for speed than strength. He tried to ascertain why she was so openly hostile to him and after a moment, it suddenly dawned on him.
    She was fishing for a promotion. Everything from her cold glare to her rigid stance spoke of it. He was positive.
    No matter,