<I guess make contact with the others. They're infiltrating the camp as we speak.> Shelton sent back to Kerzach.
Slipping into his tent, the first thing Shelton did was collapse on his cot, exhausted. "I really don't want to move..." he muttered to himself.
After a few moments, he forced himself to get up. First thing he did was grab his radio-flashlight off of a boxtop, and clip it to his belt next to the sheathed embedder.
Then he unzipped his paint-covered DS-1 jacket and threw it in the corner.
"Oh yeah, take it off." Crota slithered into the tent, rolling his eyes.
"Ever learn to knock?" Shelton snapped, rifling through his clothing for a clean uniform. "And why aren't you with Subject 16?"
Crota ignored the question. "Everyone's grabbed their stuff. We're waiting on you."
Crota looked around the tent. "Wow, this is cramped," he noted. "Good thing you have like no stuff." He took a thin paperback book off of the cot, the only book in the tent. It was The Art of War, by Sun Tzu.
"They passed those out to everyone in Dragonstorm," Shelton said before he could ask. "It's not a bad read, especially when you have nothing else."
"They pass these out to everyone too?" Crota was holding a reflective red medal. It had two stylized dragons coiled around the circumference, and in the middle read: Dr. Roger Simpson: Commendation for Special Services to the Order.
"Give me that," Shelton grabbed the medal and chucked it in the corner, his face almost as red as the medal. "Let's go; I'm all changed."
Gathering up his and Kerzach's remaining clean uniforms, he and Crota headed out to meet the others.
"All right," said Shelton, to the assembled team. "We have enough uniforms for the others, I think, so Team A has officially completed its job. Now we need to--"
"Simpson!" somebody called out. "Is that you?"
Shelton turned. A short, stocky Beagle was coming his way. "Oh, hi Monty!" Shelton quickly put on a smile. "I didn't see you there!"
Lester Montgomery stopped in front of him, as if he were seeing a ghost. "You're alive!" he exclaimed. "We thought DS-1 was completely killed!"
"Well, I survived, and just managed to get back to camp," said Shelton. He motioned to his team. "These men were on laundry duty, and I was just thanking them for lending me a uniform; the one I was wearing was rather dirty."
"You're supposed to report immediately to your superiors upon returning from a DS mission!" Montgomery chastised angrily. "Come with me!" Grabbing him by the arm, he started leading Shelton away.
Shelton managed one glance back at his team. <Tell the others to split up and head for either Team B or C. They'll need the uniforms we've grabbed before they can enter the base. Sorry I won't be with you!>
