(A/N) Hey guys, here comes the second update of Phase Two: Betrayal, featuring a brand new character, written by the sensational Baldore, Jarvis Voisine! I hope you get some enjoyment out of this chapter, because you'll be seeing more of him in the coming months! I'm gonna keep it short and sweet, because I'm fully aware that this is going up a few hours late, and that we've got another update coming in about thirteen hours before we resume our normal schedule, so I'm going to leave you be!
*Disclaimer* Any and all swearing present within this chapter will have been due to the editing process, and not the original words of Baldore.
Enjoy!
Chapter One – Artificial Ineptitude
Jarvis Voisine – Private First Class, Engineer
Written by Baldore
"Engineers like to solve problems. If there are no problems handily available, they will create their own problems." ― Scott Adams
Jarvis whistled as the Pelican began its descent towards the UNSC shipyard. Or rather, at one particular ship in the shipyard, which he had to concede was one hell of an impressive ship, to say the least.
The frigate sat in a state of disuse, with workers looking like ants as they crawled around the ship's hull, swarming around it as they engaged in the laborious work of maintaining a five hundred and thirty-five metre long spaceship. A large MAC cannon sat cozily on the top of the front of the ship, and Jarvis swallowed slightly as he imagined the sight of it firing, tearing through anything in its path with lethal efficiency. The ship's name, the Mother of Invention, was stencilled neatly on its side.
A fitting name, Jarvis thought, grinning, already looking forward to working on the beautiful ship. One of the best names I've heard, in fact. Well…after Two for Flinching, Pony Express and Do You Feel Lucky?, but nothing was ever going to top those.
The Pelican slowed down its descent and the pilot's voice rang out over the radio, "Welcome to the UNSC's ship graveyard! Or, as we pilot's like to call it, Bone Valley! If you look to the left, you'll see the Mother of Invention! And if you look to the right, you'll see empty space and scrap metal. Isn't it just thrilling?"
The pilot continued to crack jokes, and Jarvis laughed at one or two, genuinely amused by his antics, but his fellow mechanics just grumbled as the pilot conducted a rather embarrassing and uninformative tour before finally setting down on a landing pad with a loud clang. "Aaaand thank you for flying with Project Freelancer airlines, because God knows I've had little enough work recently. If you guys have got any friends, recommend Pilot 343-R to them! Seriously, I need the work. Now watch your step, don't do drugs and stop by my non-existent giftshop before you leave!"
Jarvis chuckled and gave a jaunty salute to the pilot as he exited the Pelican via the boarding ramp. He was immediately greeted by a far less pleasant and amiable marine, and sighed.
"You there! In the gold armour!" the marine shouted accusingly, and Jarvis looked around for a moment in mock surprise, as though the man could have been referring to someone else.
Realising that the jig was up, Jarvis sighed and stepped forward, away from the other two new arrivals. He knew that the marine, probably a drill sergeant by the look of arrogant stupidity on his face, was calling him aside because of his non-regulation armour colour. Instead of the normal white of Project Freelancer personnel, he had painted his armour gold, deciding that conformity was boring and unoriginal. To him, it was awesome. To superiors, it was insubordinate.
"Me, sir?" Jarvis asked in mock-confusion.
"Of course you!" The engineer's sarcasm was obviously lost on the drill-sergeant. "Do you see anyone else in gold? What's your name and rank?!"
Jarvis bit back another sarcastic remark, with some difficulty, instead pulling off a semi-respectable salute. "Private First Class, Jarvis Voisine, reporting for duty, sir!"
Sergeant Drill-Sergeant, as Jarvis had dubbed him by this point, consulted his list. "Okay, Private Voyseen," Jarvis flinched as the marine butchered his surname. "You and those other two are to report to Deck 16 A, sub deck 3, for repairs on multiple computers, vehicles and structural damage. And when you come in tomorrow, have your armour sorted out, or I'll be forced to report it."
The marine then walked off without any further instruction, muttering under his breath about the idiots he has to deal with, and cursing standard UNSC incompetence.
Jarvis rolled his eyes and pulled off his helmet, revealing a bush of messy black hair and his mismatched eyes, one blue and one green. Holding his helmet next to his waist, he turned to his two companions. "So, who are you two?"
The first one, who was slightly taller, extended his hand, not removing his helmet. When he spoke, his voice was extremely deep, and Jarvis decided that he already liked him. "I'm Private Jones. Good to be working with you."
Jarvis shook his hand as the shorter one piped up, with a female voice. "I'm Private Rook. Nice to meet you."
Jarvis shook her hand too and smiled, always happy to get to know his co-workers. "Now that introductions are done, does anyone know how to get to Deck whatever that dude said?"
Several hours later, and who knows how many wrong turns, the trio arrived at Deck 16 A, sub deck 3, all limbs intact. Just very, very late. This, of course, got them chewed out by their supervisor in charge of repairs in that section, who also subsequently took an immediate dislike to Jarvis. The gold paint might have been responsible for this. He was almost regretting the modification.
Almost.
After a fifteen minute lecture, Jarvis finally was able to do what he loved. Being a mechanic. Once he started, he instantly calmed down, with most of his stress and frustration immediately starting to dissipate. Placing his helmet back on his head, he knuckled down and started to get to work on the broken down Warthog he was assigned. Why were they called Warthogs anyway? To him, they always looked more like…never mind. The UNSC could call them whatever they liked. That had no impact on his work.
After a quick two hour repair, earning a surprised look from the deck officer, Jarvis was assigned to work with Private Rook, who was having trouble getting a Scorpion back online. Jarvis shook his head as he surveyed the damage on the tank. Just what the hell had these guys been up to?
"So, what's the problem here?" Jarvis said leaning over the other private, eager to help.
Rook swore in surprise before recovering...only to swear again. When she finally calmed down, the other mechanic explained. "I don't know what the damn problem is! If I did, The. Cursed. Thing. Would. Be. Fixed!" She slammed her wrench down on the tank on every word for emphasize.
Jarvis raised one eyebrow at her frustration. "Let me take a look," he said, already combing the tank for the source of the problem. He studied the circuitry for a few moments, before nodding in satisfaction and turning back to his colleague, a smile on his face. "Ah hah! The motor's circuitry in the third piston on the left has plasma damage and needs replaced, while the cannon's simply jammed."
Rook gaped at him. "How?" she asked weakly, as she bent over to look at the circuitry herself.
Jarvis grinned and shrugged. "This isn't just a job for me, it's pretty much the one thing I'm good at. I know my mechanics...and jokes. After that all I have left is my charming personality. You wanna start with that engine and I'll start on the cannon?"
She nodded, grabbing a spare piston and began the tedious chore of replacing the old one. Jarvis soon discovered that the Scorpion's bolt had detonated inside of the canon and was being a pain in the butt to remove. As a result, he decided to make some small talk to pass the time. "So, Rook, do you know what happened to this beauty of a ship, or where it's from for that matter?"
A shake of her head. "Nah, I just get the standard 'need-to-know' bull. Maybe it was something to do with those SPARTANS? Details are pretty classified. Could be ONI?"
Jarvis shook his head in response, jimmying his wrench in the cannon, trying to loosen the shell. "Uh uh. I've seen ONI ships before. There's classified, and then there's classified, you know? This is close, but not quite as restricted. Maybe weapons testing? I saw some pretty advanced stuff here, as we were walking through...ah hah! Gotcha!"
Suddenly the shell finally loosened and rocketed out, nearly taking the two mechanic's heads off their comfy perches on their necks.
Unfortunately, it didn't miss the deck officer, who nearly popped a gasket. "Voyseen! Get your sorry butt over here, double time!"
Jarvis made sure Rook could handle the rest of the repairs herself and jogged over, saluting. "Reporting for duty, sir!"
The soldier was still glowering as he spoke. "I have another shipment of some fresh supplies just dropped off via Pelican. I need you to get over there and bring 'em back."
"But sir," Jarvis began, perplexed. He was, even being humble, the best mechanic currently on the Mother of Invention, in his opinion, and the worst possible choice to be an errand boy. Even if he had managed to accidentally hit the foreman with a Scorpion shell.
"Did I ask your opinion, Private?!" Jarvis' superior spat, frowning at this example of insubordination. "Now get to it!"
"Obviously I shouldn't have doubted your glorious wisdom, oh mighty one!" Jarvis muttered scathingly as he walked out, making sure he was out of earshot, throwing his tool box on the ground angrily, making it slide across the floor before coming to a screeching halt by a wall. "Next time, how 'bout you do something besides ordering people around, you insolent oaf! Accidents happen!"
As the peeved private stormed out, he absentmindedly noted that he didn't have the slightest idea where he was going.
Sure enough, an hour later and he was hopelessly lost, wandering the empty corridors of the grounded frigate. It reminded him of one of the ghost ships in a movie, as he was away from the hustle and bustle of his fellow engineers and left with desolate, empty halls instead. To tell the truth, it was beginning to creep him out.
As he walked by another doorway, he peeked in curiously, accepting that he was probably going to die in here, with a search party discovering his corpse attempting to chew on the metal walls for sustenance. The room, like the endless corridors, was devoid of human life but was still populated with desks. One appeared to be scrawled with graffiti and upon closer inspection revealed a conversation conducted by the former inhabitants of the ship.
"York wuz here" scrawled in thick black marker (next to a caricature of a stick figure with a comically oversized moustache), swiftly followed by "Real mature, old chap. – W".
'Who the heck names their kid York?' Jarvis mused, before shrugging and moving on, pushing the odd choices of random people aside.
Seeing nothing else of interest, Jarvis left the room to collect dust once again. But now he was even more confused. What had happened on the Mother of Invention?
Before the mechanic had even turned for his next hallway to hopefully find some recognizable landmark, he heard two voices and stopped in his tracks, attempting to locate the source. One was almost robotic and feminine while the other sounded like any other random person you'd meet on the street. Or at least, like any person he'd meet on the street – irritated and exasperated.
"-not coming back, F.I.L.L.S.," the masculine voice stated tiredly, as though they had gone through this argument a dozen times before. "We both know it."
"Negative, Alpha." The feminine voice, maybe F.I.L.L.S.(?), responded. "The Director has not completed his primary objective yet. He would not give up the primary objective."
Jarvis felt rude barging in on their conversation, but he had no idea where he was, and could only hope that these people knew the way out. If not, no harm, no foul, right? Having made up his mind, the gold armoured mechanic opened the door, and froze.
The scene that greeted him was a decidedly odd one. A glowing white hologram stood conversing with a tech panel labelled 'F.I.L.L.S.' and they were arguing.
"Um, excuse me," Jarvis started, not entirely sure what to say, but so hopelessly lost that he really had no other option. "I hate to interrupt but-"
"And what are you doing here?" The hologram, Alpha, asked with a snort, obviously not pleased with an interruption. "Are you one of those damn mechanics?"
"No, I'm just carrying around tools for fixing stuff for the heck of it," came the sarcastic response. "Yeah, of course I'm a mechanic!"
"Then why are you snooping and not repairing the ship then?" Alpha asked, and Jarvis felt that he had to concede that point to him.
"I'm not snooping, I'm lost." Jarvis replied, finding the little white hologram incredibly irritating. Sure, his own sarcasm had been uncalled for, but no need to start throwing accusations around. "I got lost because this place is like a huge maze, and there are no signs anywhere! If you tell me where the nearest exit is, I'll be gone faster than you can blink. Well…if you can blink…"
This time the console, F.I.L.S.S., piped up. Quite a bit more politely then her companion too. "Take the outside hallway, B, and then take the first stairwell down to Deck 1 A and you'll be right next to the supplies that I assume you've been sent to pick up, Private Voisine."
"Thank you, I'll get out of your guy's way now," Jarvis said, relieved to finally know where he was going, and pleased that someone had managed to pronounce his name correctly, even if it was only a computer. Smiling, once again in a good mood, he exited the room.
As he left, he faintly heard the two entities resume their argument. But that wasn't really Jarvis' business, his was just to get those supplies and get back to repairing stuff again. There was also a very real chance that he would forget those directions if he didn't move quickly anyway, and it wasn't like he could ask again.
Luckily, F.I.L.S.S.'s directions were correct and the blue and green eyed technician found the supplies and made his way back to his group without a hitch. Unluckily, the foreman was still sore with Jarvis from the whole Scorpion incident and chewed him out for several minutes before releasing him. All in all, not the best first day.
"Oi, Jarvis! Over here!" Rook yelled over the general noise and pandemonium of the workplace. She was working with Jones on some basic structure repairs, so Jarvis went to help, smiling warmly at his two workmates.
"Dude, where'd you go? You gone for almost three hours!" Jones inquired in a low voice, trying to avoid ticking off the foreman again.
The black haired mechanic opened his mouth to explain but wasn't quite sure how to go about this task, fully aware that it would sound ridiculous. So, instead, he just provided a simple "I got hopelessly lost", accompanied by a bashful shrug. Technically, this was true. The other two privates shrugged in response, accepting his excuse and the trio went back to work on repairing the Mother of Invention, with the odd events of the day slowly slipping to the back of Jarvis' mind as he became completely absorbed in his work.
After all, what business was it of his if the computers on board this ship decided to hold long debates with one another? They lived here, he didn't. Presumably computers got bored too, although this wasn't something that his education had dwelt on.
It wasn't like they were planning to build a massive robot army and kill all the personnel on-board the ship, right?