Ceaseless Read Free Page B

she'd probably get it after this mission.
    “This is PFC Ron Carter. He's the team's technician,” Carpenter continued dryly.
    Allan stared at him, feeling familiar sensations of training taking over as he was in the familiar environs of a chilled briefing room. Carter was older, seemingly more mature. From beneath a bald head he stared right back at Allan. Any resentment that came from him struck Allan as involuntary. The pain of his commander's death was likely still fresh, and someone else filling the boots so soon was typically unheard of. Allan didn't blame the man. He seemed built like a tech, if they had a typical build: tall, thin, wiry.
    Carter offered him a thin smile and nodded at his name.
    “Last man on the team is Private Juan Bell, your medic,” Carpenter continued.
    “Sergeant,” the young man said tightly, looking at Allan.
    Allan frowned as his gaze cut to the youngest person in the room. The Private was young and fresh-faced, clearly just out of training. While Allan felt he could reasonably rely on Carter and Mitchell, he wasn't so sure about Bell. No one who passed training was truly incompetent...well, with a few exceptions. Allan was sure he could trust Bell to take orders and shoot a gun if need be, but if things went to shit, would he panic? Bell was the bulkiest of the group, clearly into lifting weights, but that was no guarantee of bravery.
    Allan finally decided that the kid wouldn't be here in this room if he wasn't at least mostly sure about himself.
    “Finally, this is Lucy Banks. She's a communications specialist that's going to be attached to the team for this mission.”
    “Which I resent,” Lucy growled.
    She looked the angriest of all, but her ire didn't seem to be pointed at Allan, rather everyone in the room equally.
    “Your complaints have been duly noted, Lucy. You are being compensated for this and-”
    “Yeah, lemme tell you about all the things I want to spend hazard pay on after I'm dead,” the comms specialist snapped, cutting him off.
    An uncomfortable silence descended and Allan suppressed a heavy sigh. Despite everything, he found himself thinking with a suddenly calm and cold clarity. This mission, if it was anything more than a milk run, would be a disaster. He knew that the brass up top liked to think that they developed the Investigation Squads in such a way that they were all interchangeable, and maybe that was mostly true, but it wasn't always true.
    Technically speaking, they could likely function as a team. But that didn't mean they would. For a moment, Allan considered calling the whole thing off. But part of him wanted to just run with it, see what would happen.
    Plus, he couldn't really leave whoever it was out there hanging.
    “I'm so glad we could all come together like this,” he said finally.
    Carpenter cleared his throat, returning attention to him. “Yes, well, let's get started.” He reached out and tapped a button on the keyboard of the terminal built into the table in front of him. Immediately, a holographic, 3D projection sprang to life in the center of the table. Everyone turned their attention to it.
    “This is Communications Relay 37-D. It's isolated, meant to hold up the comms net for a pretty sparsely populated region. It's wasteland territory. Nothing but a lot of dirt and a few mountains. Some mining colonies and storage facilities. There's only four people at the outpost. You can review personnel files and structural layout on the way over. It's a half-hour flight via jump ship. I want to keep this short. Honestly, there's not much I can tell you. We've attempted communications but there's been nothing because right after the distress call was sent out, all comms in the area went totally dead. So, obviously, there's been some damage to the relay.
    “Your mission is simple. Get out there, secure the area and assess the situation. If necessary evac survivors and get that comms relay up and running again. Are there any questions?”