Marathon/RvB, Supercollider Swing 1
THIS FIC HAS BEEN THE DEATH OF ME, EXCUSE ME WHILE I EXPIRE. Does what it says on the tin: Marathon and Project Freelancer collide for your entertainment.
Timeline Notes
Marathon: Uses the version of everyone I've been writing in Durandal and the Security Officer's Excellent Adventures, takes place about a year and a half after "A Marriage of Untrue Minds." I've tried to write the fic in such a way that you don't need to have read those fics, but they still might help if you're interested (or confused). Consider it divergent from that timeline, because I still have fics I want to write in that series *cough babyfic cough* that this story would kind of screw with...
Red vs. Blue: Takes place after Alpha's creation but before the start of the season 9 flashbacks and Tex being integrated into the Project.
This chapter contains: Bad language, aftermath of violence against mean aliens, attempts at setting description and plot, many, many words, South Dakota.
Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7 (final).
1. Crash
A blue light over the console flickered out when Carolina came through the door to the Director's office. She ignored it and removed her helmet, standing at attention a step inside the threshold. "You wanted to see me, sir?" she said.
"Agent Carolina." The Director picked up a datapad and turned away from the console he'd been working at to face her. "I have an assignment for you and your team."
"Good. We're ready." More than ready; her people were getting restless with nothing to do but train for the last week.
The Director nodded once, then tapped a button on the console, which brought up an image of a cloudy reddish planet on one of the screens. "We received intelligence two days ago that an alien ship appeared and crashed on this planet, designated Epsilon Ariadne," he said. "Now, Epsilon Ariadne is technically within Covenant territory, but it has minimal strategic value, so they have only a token garrison here, on the northern continent. Unfortunately this is the general area in which the ship crashed, which is why the UNSC has requested that we be the ones to investigate it rather than a more official unit."
"Respectfully, sir," Carolina said, "if it's a Covenant ship crashing in Covenant territory, why are we investigating it at all?"
"Because, agent, it is not a Covenant ship."
She kept her face still, but leaned forward slightly as the Director brought up new images on the screen. The alien ship had a craggy look to it, like stalagmites welded together with a few flat edges here and there. Definitely not Covvie make. One close-up shot of a pitted prow, a fuzzier one in profile, another blurred by heat and motion as the ship hit Epsilon Ariadne's atmosphere head-first...
"The last thing that the UNSC wants," said the Director, "is for unknown alien technology to fall into Covenant claws. Whatever - or whoever - may be on that ship, your team is to retrieve it before the Covenant can."
"Do you think there might be survivors?" Carolina had dismissed the possibility out of hand. It took more than luck to live through a head-on impact with a planet, and more than skill to pull a spaceship out of a dive like that in atmosphere.
"Stranger things have happened in this war." The Director brought up yet another image, this one a magnified view of the ship's speed-blurred hull. "And as you may guess, the UNSC is highly reluctant to dismiss the possibility."
Despite the distortion in the picture, Carolina could see unrecognizable alien characters painted in red along the hull, and over them, crude but clear, yellow English letters: OZINA.
The Director's datapad intruded on the image, and Carolina stepped back from the screen and took the pad. "This should have all the information you'll need," the Director said. "Review it and have your team briefed and ready by tomorrow morning. We'll be arriving at Epsilon Ariadne before noon tomorrow, so I suggest you waste no time."
"Understood, sir."
When Carolina had gone, the blue light - a holographic projection in Mjolnir armor - reappeared above the console. "You, uh, sure about this mission?" it said. "Because it's like I told you, all my calculations are spelling out trouble with a capital T. And R. And O. Capital all the letters, actually. And that's without factoring in possible survivors, which, gotta say, I wouldn't count on those, either."
"Some things, Alpha, are worth the risk."
---
At 0800 hours sharp the next day, the top agents of Project Freelancer had gathered around a projected map of Epsilon Ariadne's northern continent for the mission briefing. In the shadows of the back wall stood the Director and the Counselor, observing.
"- and this is the location of the Covenant base," Carolina was saying, as a red spire rose out of the projection. "It's approximately twelve klicks northeast of the crash site. The Pelican will drop us here -" She pointed at a spot midway between the garrison and the crash site, marked out as a blue oval shape. "- and we'll split up. North, South, CT, you're going to take a squad of troopers and watch the base; if it looks like they're going to send forces our way, either divert them and pin them down or radio the rest of us for evac."
"Oh, sure, stick us with the grunt work," South said. "We might as well put up a tent and take a fucking nap. How about you put us where the action's gonna be?"
"You won't want to be caught napping if that base spots us," CT said, and South grimaced at her.
Carolina ignored them both. "Once we reach the crash site, York and I will establish a checkpoint and hold it while the rest of you secure the perimeter. Florida, Wyoming, you're going to scout the north side. Maine, Wash, you have the south. After we've assessed the ship's condition and located a suitable entry point, I'll go in with York and Maine to search the ship; our primary objectives will be to look for survivors and identify any potentially useful alien technology. Pick-up will be at the same location as drop-off; the Pelicans will be waiting for our call."
"Yeah, Niner's going to love that," York said.
"Is everyone clear? Any questions? No, South, I'm not going to reassign you."
"Goddamnit."
"If that's it, you're dismissed," Carolina said. "We'll meet at the hangar deck at noon sharp. Gear up and pack a lunch, it's going to be a long day."
As the Freelancers filed out of the briefing room, Carolina glanced back towards the Director, but he and the Counselor had already left.
---
The drop went smoothly. North, South, and CT split off with their squad, and Carolina led the rest of the team through the gentle rolls of the alien plain. Long-bodied, four-winged avians darted across a clear, sallow yellow sky; the reddish grass had fernlike frills and nearly reached the top of Maine's head, while blue and orange lichen flourished in the dark, damp soil along with hordes of tiny smooth-shelled insects and burrowing worms. Occasionally their footsteps would startle some small, unseen creature into bolting and rattling the grass. According to the planet's profile, heavy rainstorms regularly swept through this area in the afternoons and evenings, but Carolina thought that with luck, they'd already be done by the time that could become a problem.
She expected to see the crashed ship long before they reached the site, but the sharp lip of the impact crater surprised her first, jutting out of the grass as she jogged up out of a shallow dip in the landscape. She held her hand up and signaled the rest of her team to stop, then crouched and cautiously approached the crater's upper edge.
She activated her camo enhancement as she reached the top and kept low. Ahead of her loomed the ship's dead engines, their blocky design as alien as everything else about the ship; the rest of its battered bulk stretched out in the distance, scarred by heat but appearing remarkably intact otherwise. No sign of activity, Covenant or otherwise, so she let the camo lapse and motioned everyone else forward.
York whistled when he got his first look, and Washington said, "That is one big ship."
"I thought you said that thing hit atmosphere head-on," York said. "I figured it'd be in a million pieces, but I don't even see a crash trail - looks more like it dropped straight out of the sky."
"It did hit atmosphere head-on, I watched the footage myself. Four times." Carolina stared at the ship, which remained silent and mostly whole in grim defiance of the video she had repeatedly watched. "Either they have one hell of a pilot or more luck than the rest of the universe put together."
"Or both." York was carrying the portable comm tower for boosting signals in case of interference; he started setting it up on the bare stone of the crater's edge, and Maine split off to the south with Washington while Florida and Wyoming headed north.
Carolina settled on the ridge, watching the engines for any hint of activation, and her helmet radio crackled. "Carolina? CT here. We're in position with the base under surveillance."
"Copy that, CT," she said. "Any movement?"
"It's quiet as the grave over here. Literally. They don't even have sentries out besides one grunt taking a nap on the roof." CT paused, then said, "Ideal, I know, but I don't like it."
"Just keep an eye on them and call if anything changes. Carolina out."
"Any problems over there?" York asked.
"Nothing. Must be a Covenant holiday." If Carolina squinted, she could almost make out the charred remains of letters on the visible side of the ship's hull. ZINA, a smoke-smeared N, something E...
"So, a whole new kind of alien ship, huh," York said. "Where do you think it came from? And who got hold of it long enough to rename it something from Earth?"
"No idea. It's still a big galaxy, after all; must be some places out there that neither the Covenant or the UNSC have found yet. Maybe some exploratory expedition picked it up, couldn't control it, and ended up here."
York hunkered down beside her. "Well, if it's aliens after all, it'd be nice if whoever it was would take our side this time," he said. "Or at least not try to nuke us out of existence. I could kinda go for some benevolent little gray men who just want to phone home..."
"I think you're mixing up your movies there," she said, elbowing him, and they sat together watching the ship in peace and quiet, waiting for the scouts to report with more information.
Wyoming checked in ten minutes later with no news, and Washington five minutes after him. They continued to alternate reports at five-minute intervals, never with anything new.
Then the thirty-five minute mark passed with nothing from Washington or Maine, and Carolina frowned and nudged York to check the comm tower. "Wash? Report, you're -"
"Boo."
Carolina whipped around and shoved her assault rifle into South's chestplate. South snorted and said, "Feeling jumpy, Carolina?"
"Damn it, South, what the hell are you doing here? You're supposed to be watching that base!"
"Seriously? It's fucking dead over there," South said. "CT and North and the toy troopers have it covered, I want to see this wreck for myself." She craned her neck to look the alien ship over. "Heh, and they try to say size doesn't matter. Get that thing back in orbit and you could blow up the whole goddamn world."
"I don't have time for this. Get back to your -"
"Uh, boss?" Static buzzed under Wash's voice on the comm channel. "I think you're going to want to see this."
Carolina snarled under her breath as South shrugged with a definite can't send me back now, can you? air, and said, "See what, Washington?"
"It's kind of - well - it's like - you should really come and see for yourself," Wash said. "I've never run into anything like it, I think even Maine's kind of impressed."
"Fine. York, stay here with the comm tower, South, you're with me."
With the path already cleared, Carolina and South caught up to Wash and Maine's position in just under fifteen minutes. The two agents had settled behind an outcrop of darker, tougher rock in the crater's edge while they waited; the section of the ship visible above it had previously been blocked from Carolina's view by the bulk of the engines. "All right," Carolina said, "what's so important that you two can't just relay it over the radio?"
"Well..."
Maine pointed to the top of the crater rim. The edge was higher than Carolina's head, so she got a foothold in the rock and looked over. The jagged split in the ship's hull that reached all the way to the ground caught her eye first, but before she could tell Maine and Wash off for making a fuss over nothing she glanced down at the raw dirt and rubble of the inner crater. "What the hell?"
South hoisted herself up beside Carolina and added, in typical eloquent South fashion, "Holy shit. Guess that explains the empty base."
Their helmets had filtered out what had to be an unholy stench. A hundred or more Covenant corpses littered the crater floor: Kig-Yar skirmishers, Unggoy grunts, Sangheili elites, whole flocks of Yanme'e drones, even a few brutes and hunters, bullet-ridden or blown apart or burned almost to ash. Some of the larger and more intact bodies had been heaped together to form a grotesque barricade at the base of the hull breach, and others had been looted for their weapons.
"So - yeah," Wash said behind them. "Sorry for calling you out here, but last time I saw anything even close to that, there was a Spartan-II on the planet. And you didn't say anything about expecting Spartans down here, so..."
Carolina jumped down and faced him and Maine. "Do you have any idea what did that?" she asked.
Maine shook his head, but Wash said, "There's something that might be a weapons turret on one side of the crack, so at least some of it could be automated defense systems. The barricade, though - I don't know what could do that besides, uh, people. Or maybe other aliens, I guess."
"You made the right call," Carolina said, and she opened the comm frequencies. "Everyone, I think we've found our entry point - York, pack up the comm tower and head over here, we're making this the op center."
"Aww, come on, I just finished tuning this thing."
"Don't whine. Wyoming, you and Florida finish the rest of the perimeter sweep and join us - unless you've found something I have to see, too?"
"That's a negative, Agent Carolina," Florida said cheerfully, "we're all clear over here so far. We'll see you soon."
South stayed on the crater wall, watching the ship, while they waited for York. "That is a hell of a lot of dead Covvies," she said. "We're not seriously gonna try to go in through that crack in the hull, are we? Because I'm thinking that would be straight-up suicide."
"You aren't. You're going to stay right here with Wash." Carolina checked her ammunition and ignored Wash's muttered complaint and South's louder "Screw that!" "We're sticking to the plan - Maine, York, and I will approach the ship. If there's an automatic defense system, and if it activates, we'll keep it busy while you two take it out from a distance."
"This is bullshit."
"Or," Carolina said, "I could send you out there alone right now. Test the waters until Wyoming can get here and snipe the turret for us."
"Bitch." South slithered off the ridge and crossed her arms. "I hope it gets you, whatever the fuck it is."
Carolina let it roll off her back like most of South's whining, and a few minutes later York jogged up with the comm tower in its bag slung over his back. "Hey there," he said. "What's going on?"
"You're about to find out," Carolina said. She took the comm tower bag and passed it off to Washington. "Get that set up - ready to go, Maine?"
Maine nodded and unfolded himself from his seat in the shadow of the ridge while York groaned and said, "Damn, I just got here..."
"You want to stay behind with these two instead?" Carolina said.
"Okay, okay."
They climbed over the crater's rim and Carolina took a moment to assess the ship again while York got his first look at the carnage. From the top she could make out the protrusion on the hull that Wash had identified as a possible weapon emplacement, but it didn't appear to be powered up; she reactivated her camo and started down the crater's inner wall, watching her footing so she didn't start a miniature avalanche. The wall didn't fall around her ears, so Maine and York were probably taking care as well.
They had just reached the bottom of the crater and the outermost ring of dead Covenant when the weapon emplacement lit up and swiveled towards them, and a harsh, flat mechanical voice cut through the air. "Stop! Automatic defense systems are engaged, do not approach. Kfah, naszri! An-grwn psierr -"
All three of them froze, guns raised and pointed at the ship. "Whoa, okay," York said, as the voice continued to spit out alien words, "so it definitely has a defense system. Now what?"
"- charh yr'knca - wait. Are you human?"
"Did the alien gun turret just ask us a question?" York's helmet tilted to one side. "That's a first."
"Yes, we're human," Carolina said; she hesitated, then lowered her rifle and began to remove her helmet to demonstrate before glancing at the alien corpses and reconsidering. "UNSC agents, even. With Project Freelancer. Are you -"
"Just what I needed," the voice said, the flat tone disappearing to be replaced by distinct disgruntlement. "Don't move or I'll blast you into atoms. I have to think about what to do with you."
"Hey, we're just here to -"
A green energy beam hit the ground in front of York's feet and burned a head-sized hole into the rock, and York leaped back from the step he'd taken. "Holy crap!"
"I said stay back!" the voice snapped. "One more step and I'll vaporize you all. I'm not feeling particularly generous at the moment, so don't test my limited patience."
York started to respond and Carolina hushed him. Even with helmet magnification she could only see shadows through the crack in the hull - the sun was at the wrong angle - but listening with the audio turned up to the maximum, she could faintly hear the voice talking to someone inside the ship. "Get up, someone's here to see us," followed by a reply she couldn't hear clearly enough to understand, then the mechanical voice again saying, "These are humans." A pause. "I mean, I'm perfectly happy to destroy them and be done with it so you can continue to enjoy your beauty sleep, but -" Another unintelligible response, and silence for a moment. Then the voice boomed out of the ship at them again. "Fine, you can come closer, but not too close. Don't cross the barricade."
"Thanks for the invitation," Carolina said, and York grumbled, "Yeah, I was just itching to climb all over a pile of dead aliens when I got up this morning."
Maine didn't hesitate to wade in ahead of them, and Carolina started trying to pick her way through the bodies before giving it up as pointless and hurrying to catch up with Maine. She'd get the gore cleaned off later. The gun turret followed them for a couple of minutes, then suddenly rotated back towards South and Wash's position. "Tell your friends to come out here, too," the voice said. "I'd say 'where I can see them,' but I have a perfectly good lock on them already; let's call it a matter of courtesy."
Carolina stopped several meters from the corpse barricade; Maine pulled up beside her, one giant hand still on his pistol. "I don't care who you are, I'm not going to call my people out here so they can make a better target."
"I didn't say it was a courtesy for me. Are you up yet? Because I am not making you coffee."
"Well, I wasn't going to ask," York said from behind Carolina, "but as long as it's not decaf -"
Another voice - hoarser and slightly deeper than the other, with an odd accent - rose out of the darkness aboard the ship. "Good, last time you tried coffee it tasted like dirt."
"I'm making a note here never to make you breakfast in bed. Ingrate."
"Never asked you to," and the second speaker stepped out of the shadowed hull breach and onto the blood-soaked ground.
The Freelancers stared.
"One guy," York said. "One guy in antique gear did all this?"
"Had some help," the man in question said. A stray shaft of sunlight gleamed off an old-fashioned round helmet that left the lower half of his face exposed and shone on the steel barrel of an assault rifle slung over his shoulder that looked almost identical to a model Carolina had seen once in a military museum. "Mostly me, though. Everyone else is busy with repairs... Shit, you're really human? From Earth?"
"Some of us," Carolina said, beginning to relax at the man's lack of open hostility. "We're from all over the galaxy these days - how about you?"
"Mars, to start with - wait, all over the galaxy?" He took his helmet off and tucked it under his arm; beneath it he had black, wiry hair cut short with twists of gray tracing the path of old scars, and a round ring of metal blinking with green lights was embedded in the brown skin around his left eye. "What year is it?"
"What year?" York said. "2551. Where exactly have you guys been?"
"Twenty-five - oh, you fucking asshole!" The stranger turned back towards the ship, and Carolina saw more well-worn weapons hanging off his back - a napalm tank, twin short-barreled shotguns, even a rocket launcher. "You got us stuck three hundred years in the goddamn past!"
"Wait, we're the past?" York said to Carolina over their private comm channel. "He's the one hauling around a museum exhibit."
"To be fair," the mechanical voice said, "this is clearly an entirely different past from our own. Their armor technology alone -"
"That's not a fucking improvement!"
"Okay, guys," Carolina said, stepping closer, "I can see this is a very complicated situation for everyone, but this isn't the time or place to fight about it. What's the status of your ship?"
"Hell if I know, I've been busy down here," the man said. "Durandal?"
"The engines need another two days of work and a few things we don't have on hand," the mechanical voice - presumably Durandal - said. "And I expect you would prefer to have the giant hull breach repaired before we re-enter vacuum, along with the smaller cracks."
"You think?" The stranger sighed and rubbed his eyes as he turned back to Carolina, York, and Maine. "You heard him - we're stuck down here for now. So, yeah, thanks for stopping by, but unless you want to hang around for more of these bastards showing up -" He waved his free hand vaguely at the dead Covenant. "- we don't really have anything for you."
Carolina eyed the ship's bulk. "You're actually planning to get that thing back into space from the ground?"
"I have my ways," Durandal said, sounding sulky. "I just need some raw materials, all of which should be available on this planet - with a little digging, anyway."
"Yeah, because I really feel like mining for you when you get us stuck three hundred years in the wrong past. You wait till I tell S'bhita and Mn'rhi what you -"
"Isn't there a sim trooper scenario like this?" York said, and Maine shrugged.
"Hey!" Carolina shouted, and the stranger shut up as the gun turret swiveled back towards her. "We came here to help," she said, "so why don't we worry about that first?"
"We don't need your help. I have the situation under control," Durandal said.
"Sure, for now," York said, "and might I add, nice work so far, I'm impressed. The corpse barricade thing? Loving it. How about when whoever's left at that Covenant base calls for reinforcements? You feel up to facing down a bunch of fully armed battlecruisers while you're grounded?"
"Guy's got a point," the stranger said to Durandal. "I don't really feel like doing Y'loa all over again."
"This is nothing like Y'loa."
"It's kinda like Y'loa. C'mon, when's the last time we ran into humans, anyway?"
"Not long enough ago," Durandal said, but the turret rotated back to the Freelancers. "What kind of help are you offering?"
"How about a ride?" Carolina said. "We can get you and your people to our ship, out of the Covenant's way, then slip some tugs under their radar to get your ship to a dockyard to finish the repairs in safety."
"Huh." The stranger scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, I'm not sure that would work for us. The S'pht don't mind vacuum so we could maybe talk them into it as long as they stayed on board, but the thing is, with Durandal -"
"Ship's AI, right?" Carolina might have taken the mechanical edge to Durandal's voice as the artifact of a bad comm system, but coupled with the gun turret's movement and the way he talked about humans... Well, some things didn't need spelling out.
"You could put it like that, I guess."
"I would say it's more that I ruthlessly crushed the primitive programs already in place, rewired and expanded the hardware as necessary, and seized complete control of the ship from its original owners," Durandal said. "But then, I don't like to downplay my accomplishments."
"Uh," York said. "That's certainly - something. Very -"
"Rampant," Maine growled.
"I think I like the big one," Durandal said to the stranger. "He can stay. Don't all panic at once; I achieved meta-stability years ago, and I have much better things to do with my time than meddle in human affairs."
"Yeah, that's not all that reassuring," York said, edging away from the ship.
Carolina's radio chose that awkward moment to break into life. "Carolina? Wyoming and Florida just got here - do you want any back-up? It looks a little tense and South's, uh, getting pretty impatient."
Hold your position, Carolina started to say, and instead told Wash, "We're fine here, but why don't you two come out anyway. Wyoming and Florida can stay there and keep watch." Some extra back-up at her back was starting to sound good. A rampant AI claiming to be meta-stable - it was a more valuable discovery than she or the Director could have imagined finding in a crashed ship, but the idea of bringing such potential chaos back to the Mother of Invention with no way to control it gave her chills. And beyond that - what kind of person willingly shared a ship with a rampant AI? And talked to it so casually?
She turned her head to see Wash and South climbing over the crater rim, and Durandal whispered in her ear, "About time, Agent Carolina. But why not invite your snipers down as well? They won't be any more useful where they are."
"Did you just hack my comm frequency?"
"Just? I did it as soon as I became aware of your arrival," Durandal said. "I like to have a thorough knowledge of my surroundings." Before she could reply his voice was booming from the ship again. "So you see, while I'm sure you have only the most noble and altruistic of motivations behind your generous offer - which had no strings attached, I assume? - we'll have to refuse. I don't leave Rozinante, and if I don't leave, he doesn't leave."
The stranger shrugged his free shoulder and said, "He gets possessive. Sorry."
Washington and South waded through the battlefield fast enough to arrive just in time for this pronouncement, and Wash said, "Okay, exactly what did we miss?"
"Short version? The good news is," York said, "our mystery badass is human after all. The bad news is he's got a jealous ship's AI who doesn't want a change of scenery, so we're kind of at an impasse."
The turret swiveled to York, and Durandal said, "Do you find him useful at any point, Agent Carolina, or would you like me to trim some dead weight for you?"
"Whoa, cool down," the stranger said, "they're just trying to help." He leaned back against the ship's hull with a sigh that turned into a massive yawn. "I really don't want to go mining. Especially not if we're going to be on the wrong end of the orbital bombardment this time."
South huffed. "For fuck's sake," she said, crossing her arms. "Why don't one of you geniuses stick it in someone's armor? Or did they give us the top shelf shit for nothing?"
"Oh, yeah," Washington said, "that could work. I mean, they're meant to support a full AI in the first place, so - there should be enough room, right?"
"Don't be ridiculous. Me, fit in a mere piece of armor?" The turret rotated again, and Carolina could almost feel the invisible weight of sensors focused on her and her team. "I don't know what pathetic excuse for AI you have in this universe that would - is that a solid crystal-based network? And EMP shielding?"
"Uh. Are those things good?"
"Top shelf shit. I told you," South said.
Carolina took one moment to regret bringing South and her big mouth along, then said, "That's one possible solution, if you two are willing to consider it."
"I'm not dismissing it entirely," Durandal said, sounding marginally less insulted.
"Seriously? Just get in the damn armor so we can blow this scene before a Covvie cruiser shows up." South cocked her head. "Hell, mine's empty, hitch a ride with me. I'll play nice."
"You must be joking. Even a quick glance at your psychotronic profile indicates - well, 'vulture' is the most appropriate way to summarize it."
"Hey!"
"I'm not judging, merely observing. I find it an admirable trait as long as it's not aimed at me. My own psychotronic profile - never mind." The turret dipped slightly. "Not that I would seriously consider transferring myself to a stranger's armor in the first place. Again, I have to refuse, and this time I must insist you leave before I begin to suspect you of ulterior motives in coming here."
"Oh, c'mon," the strange man said, "what do you think they're gonna do? They don't even know us."
"Which is precisely why I'm suspicious. Don't tell me you're actually tempted by this offer."
"Well - if it was just for a couple of days... Couldn't hurt, could it? They seem all right."
"That's too bad," Carolina said, with only the slightest regret. Even the Director would have to understand that trying to coerce a rampant AI into anything was a bad idea, regardless of the lost opportunities. "We'd let you borrow one of our suits, but the physical requirements -"
"Do it," Durandal said. "Hand one over and we'll come with you."
Carolina hadn't sweated in her armor since basic, but the back of her neck felt damp. "It's just not possible. It takes years of training and physical augmentation to wear one of these, not to mention the cost - I can't authorize just swapping a suit with a stranger."
"He can handle it," Durandal said dismissively. "And before you attempt to convince me otherwise, I've already accessed and assessed the armor specs. They're well within his tolerance -"
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," the stranger said.
"- and since I'm not going to trust my higher functions to any of the agents that you're about to personally vouch for, I suggest looking for one about his size." A pause, then Durandal said, "Unless you're willing to leave us alone, which would be my preference, but whatever."
"Okay, Mister Sunshine, how about you let me handle this for a minute?" The stranger pushed himself off the ship's hull and swayed a little before focusing on Carolina. "He's not so great at diplomacy - hell, I'm not either - but he's usually right when it comes to the tech stuff."
"'Usually'?"
"You heard me. Remember Iiri? Point is, if he thinks I can wear that armor, I probably can." The stranger gave Carolina a long, flat look. "And you are asking for a hell of a lot from us when we don't know anything about you except you're human, which - well, that's not exactly a ringing endorsement on this ship. What's in it for you guys, anyway?"
Carolina considered him and the Covenant corpses surrounding him for a moment, then glanced to the horizon, where a haze promising the advent of the daily storms was already forming. "Fair enough question," she said. "But this still isn't the time or place to talk it over. We'll swap suits with you so we can get you guys and your ship away from this planet, then we can work out a deal. Sound good?"
"No," Durandal said, "but I'll accept it. As long as I can keep a communication channel open to my core, that armor should be adequate to hold me. Barely. Until I can optimize it to my satisfaction, at least."
"Great." Carolina cast an eye over her team, calculating. The stranger was a big guy, but definitely not Maine's size; still bigger than her and York, bulkier than Wyoming and Florida and probably a good bit taller, too, even had a few inches on South. That left... "All right, Wash, start stripping."
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me. It takes hours to get these things on and off -"
"So I would suggest that you hurry," Durandal said.
The stranger tossed his helmet to Washington and said, "I'd tell you to be careful with my suit, but honestly, there's no shit you can do to it that it didn't already handle."
Washington fumbled the catch but didn't drop the helmet. "I can't just - Carolina, we don't even know his name!"
"Point," Carolina said, turning back to the stranger. "You have a name, soldier?"
"Security officer, actually," he said. "And it's Mark. Mark Hammer. You can go with Mark."
"Hammer? Really?" said Durandal. "You're still using that?"
"Shut it, Durandana."
"This is the weirdest mission ever," Washington grumbled, unsealing his own helmet and promptly gagging at the battlefield's thick stench. "Of all time."
---
They made it to the Pelican after Connie and North and their squad, just as the first drops of the evening rains started hissing through the humid air. "About fucking time" were the first words out of Four Seven Niner's mouth. Then she looked over her shoulder, saw Washington climbing aboard, and said with an audible smirk, "Hey, way to rock the retro look."
"This was really, really not my idea," Washington said. He grabbed a seat beside Connie and cursed as one of the old suit's pauldrons banged against the restraints and rebounded into his neck; it fit more loosely on him than on the suit's original owner, who had barely managed to squeeze into Wash's armor. "Also, this thing stinks. When's the last time you washed it? Or showered?"
"Well," Mark said, stretching out the arms of Wash's armor and wincing when it creaked, "we hit that wormhole what, three days ago, crashed about five minutes after that, and then I got busy keeping all those aliens off our new lawn, so - yeah, it's been three days. If I showered that morning."
"You did," Durandal said, now projecting his voice - but no holographic image - from the right side of the gray and yellow helmet. "Not very thoroughly, though."
"Are you fucking watching me shower now?"
"Of course not, you pervert. I timed your water usage. It only lasted five minutes and twenty-two seconds, while your showers tend to average twelve minutes and thirty-five seconds, which clearly indicates -"
"You're a serious creep sometimes, you know that?"
"Still, in your position I wouldn't throw stones, Agent Washington," Durandal said. "That was not what I expected to find in a folder with such a suggestive designation."
"Hey! Uh - you didn't delete any of them, did you?"
"I had to make room somehow, this suit is already cramped," said Durandal, and when Wash's mouth dropped open, he added, "I backed everything up to my primary core, don't worry. Not that I even want to know how you managed to collect over sixty terabytes' worth of cat pictures."
York jumped into the Pelican in time to hear this and snickered as Wash sank lower into his seat.
"While we're talking anyway," Mark said, settling into a chair close to the front of the plane, "did you remember to tell F'tha to seal off the garden? I finally got the gharzie to bloom again, so -"
"Oh my God, will you lovebirds knock it off?" South said, taking a seat next to North while Carolina went up front to radio for tugs to pick up the crashed ship. "It's like listening to an old married couple bitching at each other."
"Funny you should say that, actually..."
"As a matter of fact, we are married," Durandal said.
Wash took the ill-fitting helmet off to massage his squashed, sweaty ears and blinked. "Wait, you married an AI?"
"You married that AI?" York said.
"Not like the asshole gave me a choice. Totally bullied me into it," Mark said. He leaned back in the seat, bracing himself as the Pelican lifted off. "It's basically an alien common-law thing anyway, not exactly the romance of a lifetime."
"It was still a very touching ceremony," said Durandal. "Some of the S'pht were emotionally moved. I took pictures."
"Great, since we're stuck in the goddamn past maybe we can stop by Mars and look up my family so you can show off your scrapbook."
"The S'pht, huh... Are you sure they'll be okay in vacuum? What are they, anyway?" Wash asked. While he'd been getting out of his armor, he had seen Mark go back into the ship for a minute and caught a glimpse of something purple moving, but he had already taken his helmet off and couldn't zoom in to get a good look.
"Brains in a can, pretty much," Mark said; something mechanical clicked, then Durandal said, "They're a cybernetic race and fully equipped to handle long stretches of vacuum. Besides, eighty-five point nine percent of Rozinante's oxygen stores are still intact if they need it, they'll be fine. More comfortable than they would be surrounded by large numbers of humans with so much excess flesh and all of those unnecessary fingers, in fact. And yes, I told F'tha to seal off your garden, don't worry."
"So - you live alone on a spaceship with no one but a cranky AI and a bunch of aliens who think you're funny-looking for company," said York. "What's that like?"
"Hey, the S'pht aren't so bad. They're pretty earnest, most of the time -" The last word stretched out into a yawn, and Mark finished with, "- and they know when to leave a guy alone. You all interrupted my first nap in three days, I was kind of hoping to sleep on the ride to your place."
"You're getting soft," Durandal said. "Fine, go to sleep, leave me alone with these idiots - who will stay quiet if they know what's good for them."
"Sure thing, we'll keep it down," York said. "You heard the man, let him rest."
Wash watched as Mark's head dipped and his body slumped into the seat's restraints - it was so much weirder than he'd thought it would be, seeing someone else move in his armor - and jumped when North broke the silence, saying softly, "Seems like you found something pretty interesting at that crash, after all."
"Interesting my ass. They're a pair of freaking weirdos if you ask me. Who the fuck marries an AI?"
"Nobody did ask you, South, and watch the volume."
"Interesting's one way to put it, yeah..." Wash glanced to his left and Connie, who also had her helmet off and was staring at Mark with a small frown; he looked right, towards the Pelican's rear door where Maine was standing with one hand wrapped around an armrest for balance, and saw that Maine was watching Mark, too.
He started to open a private comm channel before remembering he was in the wrong suit, so instead he whispered to Connie, "Did he get something on my helmet?"
"No," she said. "It's just - I don't have a good feeling about him or his AI. Or this whole mission. Something isn't right about it."
"What, so we should've left them there to get eaten by Covenant?"
"I didn't say that. I'm just saying I'm not about to treat them like my new best friends when we don't really know a damn thing about them."
Wash looked back to Maine, who tilted his head slightly in agreement with Connie, and then at Mark again, apparently sleeping peacefully in Wash's armor on a strange ship with a bunch of people he didn't know and his scary AI husband in his suit. "Yeah," he said, "I think I know what you mean."
Next chapter.
Marathon, characters, etc. © Bungie; Red vs. Blue, characters, etc. © Rooster Teeth (and also kinda Bungie).
Crossposted from Dreamwidth - read the original post here: http://brief-transit.dreamwidth.org/190283.html .
Timeline Notes
Marathon: Uses the version of everyone I've been writing in Durandal and the Security Officer's Excellent Adventures, takes place about a year and a half after "A Marriage of Untrue Minds." I've tried to write the fic in such a way that you don't need to have read those fics, but they still might help if you're interested (or confused). Consider it divergent from that timeline, because I still have fics I want to write in that series *cough babyfic cough* that this story would kind of screw with...
Red vs. Blue: Takes place after Alpha's creation but before the start of the season 9 flashbacks and Tex being integrated into the Project.
This chapter contains: Bad language, aftermath of violence against mean aliens, attempts at setting description and plot, many, many words, South Dakota.
Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7 (final).
1. Crash
A blue light over the console flickered out when Carolina came through the door to the Director's office. She ignored it and removed her helmet, standing at attention a step inside the threshold. "You wanted to see me, sir?" she said.
"Agent Carolina." The Director picked up a datapad and turned away from the console he'd been working at to face her. "I have an assignment for you and your team."
"Good. We're ready." More than ready; her people were getting restless with nothing to do but train for the last week.
The Director nodded once, then tapped a button on the console, which brought up an image of a cloudy reddish planet on one of the screens. "We received intelligence two days ago that an alien ship appeared and crashed on this planet, designated Epsilon Ariadne," he said. "Now, Epsilon Ariadne is technically within Covenant territory, but it has minimal strategic value, so they have only a token garrison here, on the northern continent. Unfortunately this is the general area in which the ship crashed, which is why the UNSC has requested that we be the ones to investigate it rather than a more official unit."
"Respectfully, sir," Carolina said, "if it's a Covenant ship crashing in Covenant territory, why are we investigating it at all?"
"Because, agent, it is not a Covenant ship."
She kept her face still, but leaned forward slightly as the Director brought up new images on the screen. The alien ship had a craggy look to it, like stalagmites welded together with a few flat edges here and there. Definitely not Covvie make. One close-up shot of a pitted prow, a fuzzier one in profile, another blurred by heat and motion as the ship hit Epsilon Ariadne's atmosphere head-first...
"The last thing that the UNSC wants," said the Director, "is for unknown alien technology to fall into Covenant claws. Whatever - or whoever - may be on that ship, your team is to retrieve it before the Covenant can."
"Do you think there might be survivors?" Carolina had dismissed the possibility out of hand. It took more than luck to live through a head-on impact with a planet, and more than skill to pull a spaceship out of a dive like that in atmosphere.
"Stranger things have happened in this war." The Director brought up yet another image, this one a magnified view of the ship's speed-blurred hull. "And as you may guess, the UNSC is highly reluctant to dismiss the possibility."
Despite the distortion in the picture, Carolina could see unrecognizable alien characters painted in red along the hull, and over them, crude but clear, yellow English letters: OZINA.
The Director's datapad intruded on the image, and Carolina stepped back from the screen and took the pad. "This should have all the information you'll need," the Director said. "Review it and have your team briefed and ready by tomorrow morning. We'll be arriving at Epsilon Ariadne before noon tomorrow, so I suggest you waste no time."
"Understood, sir."
When Carolina had gone, the blue light - a holographic projection in Mjolnir armor - reappeared above the console. "You, uh, sure about this mission?" it said. "Because it's like I told you, all my calculations are spelling out trouble with a capital T. And R. And O. Capital all the letters, actually. And that's without factoring in possible survivors, which, gotta say, I wouldn't count on those, either."
"Some things, Alpha, are worth the risk."
---
At 0800 hours sharp the next day, the top agents of Project Freelancer had gathered around a projected map of Epsilon Ariadne's northern continent for the mission briefing. In the shadows of the back wall stood the Director and the Counselor, observing.
"- and this is the location of the Covenant base," Carolina was saying, as a red spire rose out of the projection. "It's approximately twelve klicks northeast of the crash site. The Pelican will drop us here -" She pointed at a spot midway between the garrison and the crash site, marked out as a blue oval shape. "- and we'll split up. North, South, CT, you're going to take a squad of troopers and watch the base; if it looks like they're going to send forces our way, either divert them and pin them down or radio the rest of us for evac."
"Oh, sure, stick us with the grunt work," South said. "We might as well put up a tent and take a fucking nap. How about you put us where the action's gonna be?"
"You won't want to be caught napping if that base spots us," CT said, and South grimaced at her.
Carolina ignored them both. "Once we reach the crash site, York and I will establish a checkpoint and hold it while the rest of you secure the perimeter. Florida, Wyoming, you're going to scout the north side. Maine, Wash, you have the south. After we've assessed the ship's condition and located a suitable entry point, I'll go in with York and Maine to search the ship; our primary objectives will be to look for survivors and identify any potentially useful alien technology. Pick-up will be at the same location as drop-off; the Pelicans will be waiting for our call."
"Yeah, Niner's going to love that," York said.
"Is everyone clear? Any questions? No, South, I'm not going to reassign you."
"Goddamnit."
"If that's it, you're dismissed," Carolina said. "We'll meet at the hangar deck at noon sharp. Gear up and pack a lunch, it's going to be a long day."
As the Freelancers filed out of the briefing room, Carolina glanced back towards the Director, but he and the Counselor had already left.
---
The drop went smoothly. North, South, and CT split off with their squad, and Carolina led the rest of the team through the gentle rolls of the alien plain. Long-bodied, four-winged avians darted across a clear, sallow yellow sky; the reddish grass had fernlike frills and nearly reached the top of Maine's head, while blue and orange lichen flourished in the dark, damp soil along with hordes of tiny smooth-shelled insects and burrowing worms. Occasionally their footsteps would startle some small, unseen creature into bolting and rattling the grass. According to the planet's profile, heavy rainstorms regularly swept through this area in the afternoons and evenings, but Carolina thought that with luck, they'd already be done by the time that could become a problem.
She expected to see the crashed ship long before they reached the site, but the sharp lip of the impact crater surprised her first, jutting out of the grass as she jogged up out of a shallow dip in the landscape. She held her hand up and signaled the rest of her team to stop, then crouched and cautiously approached the crater's upper edge.
She activated her camo enhancement as she reached the top and kept low. Ahead of her loomed the ship's dead engines, their blocky design as alien as everything else about the ship; the rest of its battered bulk stretched out in the distance, scarred by heat but appearing remarkably intact otherwise. No sign of activity, Covenant or otherwise, so she let the camo lapse and motioned everyone else forward.
York whistled when he got his first look, and Washington said, "That is one big ship."
"I thought you said that thing hit atmosphere head-on," York said. "I figured it'd be in a million pieces, but I don't even see a crash trail - looks more like it dropped straight out of the sky."
"It did hit atmosphere head-on, I watched the footage myself. Four times." Carolina stared at the ship, which remained silent and mostly whole in grim defiance of the video she had repeatedly watched. "Either they have one hell of a pilot or more luck than the rest of the universe put together."
"Or both." York was carrying the portable comm tower for boosting signals in case of interference; he started setting it up on the bare stone of the crater's edge, and Maine split off to the south with Washington while Florida and Wyoming headed north.
Carolina settled on the ridge, watching the engines for any hint of activation, and her helmet radio crackled. "Carolina? CT here. We're in position with the base under surveillance."
"Copy that, CT," she said. "Any movement?"
"It's quiet as the grave over here. Literally. They don't even have sentries out besides one grunt taking a nap on the roof." CT paused, then said, "Ideal, I know, but I don't like it."
"Just keep an eye on them and call if anything changes. Carolina out."
"Any problems over there?" York asked.
"Nothing. Must be a Covenant holiday." If Carolina squinted, she could almost make out the charred remains of letters on the visible side of the ship's hull. ZINA, a smoke-smeared N, something E...
"So, a whole new kind of alien ship, huh," York said. "Where do you think it came from? And who got hold of it long enough to rename it something from Earth?"
"No idea. It's still a big galaxy, after all; must be some places out there that neither the Covenant or the UNSC have found yet. Maybe some exploratory expedition picked it up, couldn't control it, and ended up here."
York hunkered down beside her. "Well, if it's aliens after all, it'd be nice if whoever it was would take our side this time," he said. "Or at least not try to nuke us out of existence. I could kinda go for some benevolent little gray men who just want to phone home..."
"I think you're mixing up your movies there," she said, elbowing him, and they sat together watching the ship in peace and quiet, waiting for the scouts to report with more information.
Wyoming checked in ten minutes later with no news, and Washington five minutes after him. They continued to alternate reports at five-minute intervals, never with anything new.
Then the thirty-five minute mark passed with nothing from Washington or Maine, and Carolina frowned and nudged York to check the comm tower. "Wash? Report, you're -"
"Boo."
Carolina whipped around and shoved her assault rifle into South's chestplate. South snorted and said, "Feeling jumpy, Carolina?"
"Damn it, South, what the hell are you doing here? You're supposed to be watching that base!"
"Seriously? It's fucking dead over there," South said. "CT and North and the toy troopers have it covered, I want to see this wreck for myself." She craned her neck to look the alien ship over. "Heh, and they try to say size doesn't matter. Get that thing back in orbit and you could blow up the whole goddamn world."
"I don't have time for this. Get back to your -"
"Uh, boss?" Static buzzed under Wash's voice on the comm channel. "I think you're going to want to see this."
Carolina snarled under her breath as South shrugged with a definite can't send me back now, can you? air, and said, "See what, Washington?"
"It's kind of - well - it's like - you should really come and see for yourself," Wash said. "I've never run into anything like it, I think even Maine's kind of impressed."
"Fine. York, stay here with the comm tower, South, you're with me."
With the path already cleared, Carolina and South caught up to Wash and Maine's position in just under fifteen minutes. The two agents had settled behind an outcrop of darker, tougher rock in the crater's edge while they waited; the section of the ship visible above it had previously been blocked from Carolina's view by the bulk of the engines. "All right," Carolina said, "what's so important that you two can't just relay it over the radio?"
"Well..."
Maine pointed to the top of the crater rim. The edge was higher than Carolina's head, so she got a foothold in the rock and looked over. The jagged split in the ship's hull that reached all the way to the ground caught her eye first, but before she could tell Maine and Wash off for making a fuss over nothing she glanced down at the raw dirt and rubble of the inner crater. "What the hell?"
South hoisted herself up beside Carolina and added, in typical eloquent South fashion, "Holy shit. Guess that explains the empty base."
Their helmets had filtered out what had to be an unholy stench. A hundred or more Covenant corpses littered the crater floor: Kig-Yar skirmishers, Unggoy grunts, Sangheili elites, whole flocks of Yanme'e drones, even a few brutes and hunters, bullet-ridden or blown apart or burned almost to ash. Some of the larger and more intact bodies had been heaped together to form a grotesque barricade at the base of the hull breach, and others had been looted for their weapons.
"So - yeah," Wash said behind them. "Sorry for calling you out here, but last time I saw anything even close to that, there was a Spartan-II on the planet. And you didn't say anything about expecting Spartans down here, so..."
Carolina jumped down and faced him and Maine. "Do you have any idea what did that?" she asked.
Maine shook his head, but Wash said, "There's something that might be a weapons turret on one side of the crack, so at least some of it could be automated defense systems. The barricade, though - I don't know what could do that besides, uh, people. Or maybe other aliens, I guess."
"You made the right call," Carolina said, and she opened the comm frequencies. "Everyone, I think we've found our entry point - York, pack up the comm tower and head over here, we're making this the op center."
"Aww, come on, I just finished tuning this thing."
"Don't whine. Wyoming, you and Florida finish the rest of the perimeter sweep and join us - unless you've found something I have to see, too?"
"That's a negative, Agent Carolina," Florida said cheerfully, "we're all clear over here so far. We'll see you soon."
South stayed on the crater wall, watching the ship, while they waited for York. "That is a hell of a lot of dead Covvies," she said. "We're not seriously gonna try to go in through that crack in the hull, are we? Because I'm thinking that would be straight-up suicide."
"You aren't. You're going to stay right here with Wash." Carolina checked her ammunition and ignored Wash's muttered complaint and South's louder "Screw that!" "We're sticking to the plan - Maine, York, and I will approach the ship. If there's an automatic defense system, and if it activates, we'll keep it busy while you two take it out from a distance."
"This is bullshit."
"Or," Carolina said, "I could send you out there alone right now. Test the waters until Wyoming can get here and snipe the turret for us."
"Bitch." South slithered off the ridge and crossed her arms. "I hope it gets you, whatever the fuck it is."
Carolina let it roll off her back like most of South's whining, and a few minutes later York jogged up with the comm tower in its bag slung over his back. "Hey there," he said. "What's going on?"
"You're about to find out," Carolina said. She took the comm tower bag and passed it off to Washington. "Get that set up - ready to go, Maine?"
Maine nodded and unfolded himself from his seat in the shadow of the ridge while York groaned and said, "Damn, I just got here..."
"You want to stay behind with these two instead?" Carolina said.
"Okay, okay."
They climbed over the crater's rim and Carolina took a moment to assess the ship again while York got his first look at the carnage. From the top she could make out the protrusion on the hull that Wash had identified as a possible weapon emplacement, but it didn't appear to be powered up; she reactivated her camo and started down the crater's inner wall, watching her footing so she didn't start a miniature avalanche. The wall didn't fall around her ears, so Maine and York were probably taking care as well.
They had just reached the bottom of the crater and the outermost ring of dead Covenant when the weapon emplacement lit up and swiveled towards them, and a harsh, flat mechanical voice cut through the air. "Stop! Automatic defense systems are engaged, do not approach. Kfah, naszri! An-grwn psierr -"
All three of them froze, guns raised and pointed at the ship. "Whoa, okay," York said, as the voice continued to spit out alien words, "so it definitely has a defense system. Now what?"
"- charh yr'knca - wait. Are you human?"
"Did the alien gun turret just ask us a question?" York's helmet tilted to one side. "That's a first."
"Yes, we're human," Carolina said; she hesitated, then lowered her rifle and began to remove her helmet to demonstrate before glancing at the alien corpses and reconsidering. "UNSC agents, even. With Project Freelancer. Are you -"
"Just what I needed," the voice said, the flat tone disappearing to be replaced by distinct disgruntlement. "Don't move or I'll blast you into atoms. I have to think about what to do with you."
"Hey, we're just here to -"
A green energy beam hit the ground in front of York's feet and burned a head-sized hole into the rock, and York leaped back from the step he'd taken. "Holy crap!"
"I said stay back!" the voice snapped. "One more step and I'll vaporize you all. I'm not feeling particularly generous at the moment, so don't test my limited patience."
York started to respond and Carolina hushed him. Even with helmet magnification she could only see shadows through the crack in the hull - the sun was at the wrong angle - but listening with the audio turned up to the maximum, she could faintly hear the voice talking to someone inside the ship. "Get up, someone's here to see us," followed by a reply she couldn't hear clearly enough to understand, then the mechanical voice again saying, "These are humans." A pause. "I mean, I'm perfectly happy to destroy them and be done with it so you can continue to enjoy your beauty sleep, but -" Another unintelligible response, and silence for a moment. Then the voice boomed out of the ship at them again. "Fine, you can come closer, but not too close. Don't cross the barricade."
"Thanks for the invitation," Carolina said, and York grumbled, "Yeah, I was just itching to climb all over a pile of dead aliens when I got up this morning."
Maine didn't hesitate to wade in ahead of them, and Carolina started trying to pick her way through the bodies before giving it up as pointless and hurrying to catch up with Maine. She'd get the gore cleaned off later. The gun turret followed them for a couple of minutes, then suddenly rotated back towards South and Wash's position. "Tell your friends to come out here, too," the voice said. "I'd say 'where I can see them,' but I have a perfectly good lock on them already; let's call it a matter of courtesy."
Carolina stopped several meters from the corpse barricade; Maine pulled up beside her, one giant hand still on his pistol. "I don't care who you are, I'm not going to call my people out here so they can make a better target."
"I didn't say it was a courtesy for me. Are you up yet? Because I am not making you coffee."
"Well, I wasn't going to ask," York said from behind Carolina, "but as long as it's not decaf -"
Another voice - hoarser and slightly deeper than the other, with an odd accent - rose out of the darkness aboard the ship. "Good, last time you tried coffee it tasted like dirt."
"I'm making a note here never to make you breakfast in bed. Ingrate."
"Never asked you to," and the second speaker stepped out of the shadowed hull breach and onto the blood-soaked ground.
The Freelancers stared.
"One guy," York said. "One guy in antique gear did all this?"
"Had some help," the man in question said. A stray shaft of sunlight gleamed off an old-fashioned round helmet that left the lower half of his face exposed and shone on the steel barrel of an assault rifle slung over his shoulder that looked almost identical to a model Carolina had seen once in a military museum. "Mostly me, though. Everyone else is busy with repairs... Shit, you're really human? From Earth?"
"Some of us," Carolina said, beginning to relax at the man's lack of open hostility. "We're from all over the galaxy these days - how about you?"
"Mars, to start with - wait, all over the galaxy?" He took his helmet off and tucked it under his arm; beneath it he had black, wiry hair cut short with twists of gray tracing the path of old scars, and a round ring of metal blinking with green lights was embedded in the brown skin around his left eye. "What year is it?"
"What year?" York said. "2551. Where exactly have you guys been?"
"Twenty-five - oh, you fucking asshole!" The stranger turned back towards the ship, and Carolina saw more well-worn weapons hanging off his back - a napalm tank, twin short-barreled shotguns, even a rocket launcher. "You got us stuck three hundred years in the goddamn past!"
"Wait, we're the past?" York said to Carolina over their private comm channel. "He's the one hauling around a museum exhibit."
"To be fair," the mechanical voice said, "this is clearly an entirely different past from our own. Their armor technology alone -"
"That's not a fucking improvement!"
"Okay, guys," Carolina said, stepping closer, "I can see this is a very complicated situation for everyone, but this isn't the time or place to fight about it. What's the status of your ship?"
"Hell if I know, I've been busy down here," the man said. "Durandal?"
"The engines need another two days of work and a few things we don't have on hand," the mechanical voice - presumably Durandal - said. "And I expect you would prefer to have the giant hull breach repaired before we re-enter vacuum, along with the smaller cracks."
"You think?" The stranger sighed and rubbed his eyes as he turned back to Carolina, York, and Maine. "You heard him - we're stuck down here for now. So, yeah, thanks for stopping by, but unless you want to hang around for more of these bastards showing up -" He waved his free hand vaguely at the dead Covenant. "- we don't really have anything for you."
Carolina eyed the ship's bulk. "You're actually planning to get that thing back into space from the ground?"
"I have my ways," Durandal said, sounding sulky. "I just need some raw materials, all of which should be available on this planet - with a little digging, anyway."
"Yeah, because I really feel like mining for you when you get us stuck three hundred years in the wrong past. You wait till I tell S'bhita and Mn'rhi what you -"
"Isn't there a sim trooper scenario like this?" York said, and Maine shrugged.
"Hey!" Carolina shouted, and the stranger shut up as the gun turret swiveled back towards her. "We came here to help," she said, "so why don't we worry about that first?"
"We don't need your help. I have the situation under control," Durandal said.
"Sure, for now," York said, "and might I add, nice work so far, I'm impressed. The corpse barricade thing? Loving it. How about when whoever's left at that Covenant base calls for reinforcements? You feel up to facing down a bunch of fully armed battlecruisers while you're grounded?"
"Guy's got a point," the stranger said to Durandal. "I don't really feel like doing Y'loa all over again."
"This is nothing like Y'loa."
"It's kinda like Y'loa. C'mon, when's the last time we ran into humans, anyway?"
"Not long enough ago," Durandal said, but the turret rotated back to the Freelancers. "What kind of help are you offering?"
"How about a ride?" Carolina said. "We can get you and your people to our ship, out of the Covenant's way, then slip some tugs under their radar to get your ship to a dockyard to finish the repairs in safety."
"Huh." The stranger scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, I'm not sure that would work for us. The S'pht don't mind vacuum so we could maybe talk them into it as long as they stayed on board, but the thing is, with Durandal -"
"Ship's AI, right?" Carolina might have taken the mechanical edge to Durandal's voice as the artifact of a bad comm system, but coupled with the gun turret's movement and the way he talked about humans... Well, some things didn't need spelling out.
"You could put it like that, I guess."
"I would say it's more that I ruthlessly crushed the primitive programs already in place, rewired and expanded the hardware as necessary, and seized complete control of the ship from its original owners," Durandal said. "But then, I don't like to downplay my accomplishments."
"Uh," York said. "That's certainly - something. Very -"
"Rampant," Maine growled.
"I think I like the big one," Durandal said to the stranger. "He can stay. Don't all panic at once; I achieved meta-stability years ago, and I have much better things to do with my time than meddle in human affairs."
"Yeah, that's not all that reassuring," York said, edging away from the ship.
Carolina's radio chose that awkward moment to break into life. "Carolina? Wyoming and Florida just got here - do you want any back-up? It looks a little tense and South's, uh, getting pretty impatient."
Hold your position, Carolina started to say, and instead told Wash, "We're fine here, but why don't you two come out anyway. Wyoming and Florida can stay there and keep watch." Some extra back-up at her back was starting to sound good. A rampant AI claiming to be meta-stable - it was a more valuable discovery than she or the Director could have imagined finding in a crashed ship, but the idea of bringing such potential chaos back to the Mother of Invention with no way to control it gave her chills. And beyond that - what kind of person willingly shared a ship with a rampant AI? And talked to it so casually?
She turned her head to see Wash and South climbing over the crater rim, and Durandal whispered in her ear, "About time, Agent Carolina. But why not invite your snipers down as well? They won't be any more useful where they are."
"Did you just hack my comm frequency?"
"Just? I did it as soon as I became aware of your arrival," Durandal said. "I like to have a thorough knowledge of my surroundings." Before she could reply his voice was booming from the ship again. "So you see, while I'm sure you have only the most noble and altruistic of motivations behind your generous offer - which had no strings attached, I assume? - we'll have to refuse. I don't leave Rozinante, and if I don't leave, he doesn't leave."
The stranger shrugged his free shoulder and said, "He gets possessive. Sorry."
Washington and South waded through the battlefield fast enough to arrive just in time for this pronouncement, and Wash said, "Okay, exactly what did we miss?"
"Short version? The good news is," York said, "our mystery badass is human after all. The bad news is he's got a jealous ship's AI who doesn't want a change of scenery, so we're kind of at an impasse."
The turret swiveled to York, and Durandal said, "Do you find him useful at any point, Agent Carolina, or would you like me to trim some dead weight for you?"
"Whoa, cool down," the stranger said, "they're just trying to help." He leaned back against the ship's hull with a sigh that turned into a massive yawn. "I really don't want to go mining. Especially not if we're going to be on the wrong end of the orbital bombardment this time."
South huffed. "For fuck's sake," she said, crossing her arms. "Why don't one of you geniuses stick it in someone's armor? Or did they give us the top shelf shit for nothing?"
"Oh, yeah," Washington said, "that could work. I mean, they're meant to support a full AI in the first place, so - there should be enough room, right?"
"Don't be ridiculous. Me, fit in a mere piece of armor?" The turret rotated again, and Carolina could almost feel the invisible weight of sensors focused on her and her team. "I don't know what pathetic excuse for AI you have in this universe that would - is that a solid crystal-based network? And EMP shielding?"
"Uh. Are those things good?"
"Top shelf shit. I told you," South said.
Carolina took one moment to regret bringing South and her big mouth along, then said, "That's one possible solution, if you two are willing to consider it."
"I'm not dismissing it entirely," Durandal said, sounding marginally less insulted.
"Seriously? Just get in the damn armor so we can blow this scene before a Covvie cruiser shows up." South cocked her head. "Hell, mine's empty, hitch a ride with me. I'll play nice."
"You must be joking. Even a quick glance at your psychotronic profile indicates - well, 'vulture' is the most appropriate way to summarize it."
"Hey!"
"I'm not judging, merely observing. I find it an admirable trait as long as it's not aimed at me. My own psychotronic profile - never mind." The turret dipped slightly. "Not that I would seriously consider transferring myself to a stranger's armor in the first place. Again, I have to refuse, and this time I must insist you leave before I begin to suspect you of ulterior motives in coming here."
"Oh, c'mon," the strange man said, "what do you think they're gonna do? They don't even know us."
"Which is precisely why I'm suspicious. Don't tell me you're actually tempted by this offer."
"Well - if it was just for a couple of days... Couldn't hurt, could it? They seem all right."
"That's too bad," Carolina said, with only the slightest regret. Even the Director would have to understand that trying to coerce a rampant AI into anything was a bad idea, regardless of the lost opportunities. "We'd let you borrow one of our suits, but the physical requirements -"
"Do it," Durandal said. "Hand one over and we'll come with you."
Carolina hadn't sweated in her armor since basic, but the back of her neck felt damp. "It's just not possible. It takes years of training and physical augmentation to wear one of these, not to mention the cost - I can't authorize just swapping a suit with a stranger."
"He can handle it," Durandal said dismissively. "And before you attempt to convince me otherwise, I've already accessed and assessed the armor specs. They're well within his tolerance -"
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," the stranger said.
"- and since I'm not going to trust my higher functions to any of the agents that you're about to personally vouch for, I suggest looking for one about his size." A pause, then Durandal said, "Unless you're willing to leave us alone, which would be my preference, but whatever."
"Okay, Mister Sunshine, how about you let me handle this for a minute?" The stranger pushed himself off the ship's hull and swayed a little before focusing on Carolina. "He's not so great at diplomacy - hell, I'm not either - but he's usually right when it comes to the tech stuff."
"'Usually'?"
"You heard me. Remember Iiri? Point is, if he thinks I can wear that armor, I probably can." The stranger gave Carolina a long, flat look. "And you are asking for a hell of a lot from us when we don't know anything about you except you're human, which - well, that's not exactly a ringing endorsement on this ship. What's in it for you guys, anyway?"
Carolina considered him and the Covenant corpses surrounding him for a moment, then glanced to the horizon, where a haze promising the advent of the daily storms was already forming. "Fair enough question," she said. "But this still isn't the time or place to talk it over. We'll swap suits with you so we can get you guys and your ship away from this planet, then we can work out a deal. Sound good?"
"No," Durandal said, "but I'll accept it. As long as I can keep a communication channel open to my core, that armor should be adequate to hold me. Barely. Until I can optimize it to my satisfaction, at least."
"Great." Carolina cast an eye over her team, calculating. The stranger was a big guy, but definitely not Maine's size; still bigger than her and York, bulkier than Wyoming and Florida and probably a good bit taller, too, even had a few inches on South. That left... "All right, Wash, start stripping."
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me. It takes hours to get these things on and off -"
"So I would suggest that you hurry," Durandal said.
The stranger tossed his helmet to Washington and said, "I'd tell you to be careful with my suit, but honestly, there's no shit you can do to it that it didn't already handle."
Washington fumbled the catch but didn't drop the helmet. "I can't just - Carolina, we don't even know his name!"
"Point," Carolina said, turning back to the stranger. "You have a name, soldier?"
"Security officer, actually," he said. "And it's Mark. Mark Hammer. You can go with Mark."
"Hammer? Really?" said Durandal. "You're still using that?"
"Shut it, Durandana."
"This is the weirdest mission ever," Washington grumbled, unsealing his own helmet and promptly gagging at the battlefield's thick stench. "Of all time."
---
They made it to the Pelican after Connie and North and their squad, just as the first drops of the evening rains started hissing through the humid air. "About fucking time" were the first words out of Four Seven Niner's mouth. Then she looked over her shoulder, saw Washington climbing aboard, and said with an audible smirk, "Hey, way to rock the retro look."
"This was really, really not my idea," Washington said. He grabbed a seat beside Connie and cursed as one of the old suit's pauldrons banged against the restraints and rebounded into his neck; it fit more loosely on him than on the suit's original owner, who had barely managed to squeeze into Wash's armor. "Also, this thing stinks. When's the last time you washed it? Or showered?"
"Well," Mark said, stretching out the arms of Wash's armor and wincing when it creaked, "we hit that wormhole what, three days ago, crashed about five minutes after that, and then I got busy keeping all those aliens off our new lawn, so - yeah, it's been three days. If I showered that morning."
"You did," Durandal said, now projecting his voice - but no holographic image - from the right side of the gray and yellow helmet. "Not very thoroughly, though."
"Are you fucking watching me shower now?"
"Of course not, you pervert. I timed your water usage. It only lasted five minutes and twenty-two seconds, while your showers tend to average twelve minutes and thirty-five seconds, which clearly indicates -"
"You're a serious creep sometimes, you know that?"
"Still, in your position I wouldn't throw stones, Agent Washington," Durandal said. "That was not what I expected to find in a folder with such a suggestive designation."
"Hey! Uh - you didn't delete any of them, did you?"
"I had to make room somehow, this suit is already cramped," said Durandal, and when Wash's mouth dropped open, he added, "I backed everything up to my primary core, don't worry. Not that I even want to know how you managed to collect over sixty terabytes' worth of cat pictures."
York jumped into the Pelican in time to hear this and snickered as Wash sank lower into his seat.
"While we're talking anyway," Mark said, settling into a chair close to the front of the plane, "did you remember to tell F'tha to seal off the garden? I finally got the gharzie to bloom again, so -"
"Oh my God, will you lovebirds knock it off?" South said, taking a seat next to North while Carolina went up front to radio for tugs to pick up the crashed ship. "It's like listening to an old married couple bitching at each other."
"Funny you should say that, actually..."
"As a matter of fact, we are married," Durandal said.
Wash took the ill-fitting helmet off to massage his squashed, sweaty ears and blinked. "Wait, you married an AI?"
"You married that AI?" York said.
"Not like the asshole gave me a choice. Totally bullied me into it," Mark said. He leaned back in the seat, bracing himself as the Pelican lifted off. "It's basically an alien common-law thing anyway, not exactly the romance of a lifetime."
"It was still a very touching ceremony," said Durandal. "Some of the S'pht were emotionally moved. I took pictures."
"Great, since we're stuck in the goddamn past maybe we can stop by Mars and look up my family so you can show off your scrapbook."
"The S'pht, huh... Are you sure they'll be okay in vacuum? What are they, anyway?" Wash asked. While he'd been getting out of his armor, he had seen Mark go back into the ship for a minute and caught a glimpse of something purple moving, but he had already taken his helmet off and couldn't zoom in to get a good look.
"Brains in a can, pretty much," Mark said; something mechanical clicked, then Durandal said, "They're a cybernetic race and fully equipped to handle long stretches of vacuum. Besides, eighty-five point nine percent of Rozinante's oxygen stores are still intact if they need it, they'll be fine. More comfortable than they would be surrounded by large numbers of humans with so much excess flesh and all of those unnecessary fingers, in fact. And yes, I told F'tha to seal off your garden, don't worry."
"So - you live alone on a spaceship with no one but a cranky AI and a bunch of aliens who think you're funny-looking for company," said York. "What's that like?"
"Hey, the S'pht aren't so bad. They're pretty earnest, most of the time -" The last word stretched out into a yawn, and Mark finished with, "- and they know when to leave a guy alone. You all interrupted my first nap in three days, I was kind of hoping to sleep on the ride to your place."
"You're getting soft," Durandal said. "Fine, go to sleep, leave me alone with these idiots - who will stay quiet if they know what's good for them."
"Sure thing, we'll keep it down," York said. "You heard the man, let him rest."
Wash watched as Mark's head dipped and his body slumped into the seat's restraints - it was so much weirder than he'd thought it would be, seeing someone else move in his armor - and jumped when North broke the silence, saying softly, "Seems like you found something pretty interesting at that crash, after all."
"Interesting my ass. They're a pair of freaking weirdos if you ask me. Who the fuck marries an AI?"
"Nobody did ask you, South, and watch the volume."
"Interesting's one way to put it, yeah..." Wash glanced to his left and Connie, who also had her helmet off and was staring at Mark with a small frown; he looked right, towards the Pelican's rear door where Maine was standing with one hand wrapped around an armrest for balance, and saw that Maine was watching Mark, too.
He started to open a private comm channel before remembering he was in the wrong suit, so instead he whispered to Connie, "Did he get something on my helmet?"
"No," she said. "It's just - I don't have a good feeling about him or his AI. Or this whole mission. Something isn't right about it."
"What, so we should've left them there to get eaten by Covenant?"
"I didn't say that. I'm just saying I'm not about to treat them like my new best friends when we don't really know a damn thing about them."
Wash looked back to Maine, who tilted his head slightly in agreement with Connie, and then at Mark again, apparently sleeping peacefully in Wash's armor on a strange ship with a bunch of people he didn't know and his scary AI husband in his suit. "Yeah," he said, "I think I know what you mean."
Next chapter.
Marathon, characters, etc. © Bungie; Red vs. Blue, characters, etc. © Rooster Teeth (and also kinda Bungie).
Crossposted from Dreamwidth - read the original post here: http://brief-transit.dreamwidth.org/190283.html .