Rehearsal
"First off, thank you for coming without making a stand. In the long time it took you to get your generous proportions in the elevator, I was getting ready for a war council, you know?"
The glass doors open on a round shape – a white circle of metal, in the middle of which a red beam runs to scan GLaDOS' head teasingly.
"Do you think it is funny? Well, it's not. I asked for your help, yes, but I can't afford taking risks anyway. What isn't under my complete control may always be my enemy. And that isan astounding community, the one you have put up – as a creation of mine, I never expected you to create something else."
Turret Wife coos a limpid laugh and sings her pride to the huge chassis. She doesn't seem to be intimidated by GLaDOS' massive proportions; she warms her soothing voice instead, challenging her to do the same.
"Impressive. The primadonna of Aperture learnt music from me, taught all the other turrets how to sing, and rehearsed for years to boot – that, with nothing more than a tiny voice and a much steadier body? You certainly took good advantage of my... absence. But tell me, how is your orchestra doing? I have to make sure all of your resources are truly ready for this. You wouldn't want to make a fiasco on such an occasion."
Turret Wife has a pride that almost rivals hers. She waves her short arms uneasily, and her answer promises serious skulking.
"Why it is so important, you ask? It is none of your – wait. Isn't it your public début? Come on. Give your best. You belong to Aperture... we only want the best here."
The turret's laser circles the AI's chassis and nods frantically. GLaDOS is always the same; the turret should have expected her baseless scoldings and her highest expectations. But it is a favour she asked for – it must truly be important to her; and she is going to give her best, for the sake of her orchestra's honour.
Turret Wife holds back the explosion of annoyance; and it is her turn to impose a condition, one that makes GLaDOS, for the first time in a good while, put to use her slow-clap processor.
"Ah ah ah. That one was very good. Animal King interested in art. I am sorry, milady, but I see no reason why he should be there – a fearsome creature with beastly instincts? You know, I don't trust his self-control. Not all of us are as unbreakable as you – keep in count what is... fragilehere."
The turret scans the unconscious body lying inches from her, following her breath with a rhythm of affection and care. Then she sings her highest note; and some panels on the ceiling crack to pieces, revealing a huge screen right in front of GLaDOS.
The camera focuses on a red eye, then a green spotted frame, then huge black legs and a brazen crown. The shape roars an electric hello.
"Homages, Animal King. I see your... pack must have the ultimate technology and quite a good amount of nerve. Controlling screens in myprivate chamber – ah, there is so much work to be done in this place..."
From his remote room, the beast fires an angered bullet that brings GLaDOS back to reality. She never used to fear him; but judging from the recent events, and from the massive hole steaming in the floor, she feels glad his presence is trapped in a screen.
"There's no need to lose it that way, Your Majesty. Which reminds me of why we are in contact. Can you give me any good reason to stand in the middle of the orchestra? As far as I am concerned, the purpose of your animal life is scaring test-subjects. Scaring. And no – I have no further insight in the moronic ideas of the humans who built you, but what I am aware of, for sure, is that there will be no violence here. No fear, no killing inside our walls. Someone won their freedom here – a deal is a deal."
GLaDOS never expected he could do this – answer with a long, harmonic note, similar to a love song. He does anyway, and she has to cope with it; the animal turret language is still the same as her remote programming. The look on his face is made of sheer affection, his message is unmistakable.
"You all think she is cute? This monster, beautiful? Oh, I see where your animal brain comes from. Nice tastes you have – trying to pamper her, singing songs to her, and she didn't know you even existed. What fabulous serenades, puppy. But there will be no further discussing between me and the turret population; I'll let it be your way. Come and propose to her, do whatever you want – just hurt her, and prepare for my wrath."
On the King's side, the camera explodes. GLaDOS makes the screen disappear in haste.
"You heard your friend, Primadonna. It is up to you – work fast and nice. Here, you can have the lyrics now. It is Italian... nothing you can't handle."
A high-pitched wail rises from Turret Wife. GLaDOS coils violently.
"Refrain from commenting about how lovable they are. Just broadcast them to your musical army, and away with you!"
The elevator traps Turret Wife before she can blind the AI with a well-placed bullet. The buzzing engine sends her back in no time, leaving the giant robot alone with a sleeping human.
A long sigh breaks the renewed silence.
Moments later, the same message gets to all the turrets at the same time. GLaDOS' whisper reaches every corner of the facility – from the abandoned testing tracks to the stocks of packaged turrets, from Android Hell to the round theatre where hundreds of them have gathered.
Turret Wife takes a deep breath and repeats it to her choir.
"Come on, all of you. Get ready, and hush... before she wakes up."
Second of the treats I wrote for Yuletide 2012, on Archive of Our Own. The recipient is the enthusiastic silverqueen/Lady Anne Boleyn, whom I thank dearly for the comments and the wonderful prompt that was filled three times! 3
AO3 link for prompt and notes: archiveofourown dot org /works/ 605564