Red vs Blue and related characters © Rooster Teeth
story © RenaRoo
Divided
Chapter Twelve: Cadence
Considering how many of them there were, the speed at which they took to the march was somewhat impressive to Simmons. Though he supposed that had a lot to do with the fact that he wasn't exactly used to a real army and real soldiers taking orders.
He wasn't sure if the revelation that he and everything the Reds and Blues had been fighting for for so long was all simulation had ever fully dawned on him. It was the sort of revelation that was almost beyond full comprehension. Quite literally everything he knew had been a lie.
Which, oddly enough, made him feel fairly connected to the armies of Chorus. Just like the Reds and Blues, everything they had been fighting for - or, in some cases, against - had been a lie as well.
At least, it would if he got more of a sense from these guys that they accepted that reality for what it was.
Unlike Simmons and the other Freelancer sim troopers, war on Chorus had always been remarkably real.
Maybe it was because Church had freaked the fuck out of him just a few hours before, maybe it was because of the eerie silence outside of the crunch of dirt beneath the soldiers' feet, maybe it was because Kimball had just brutally beat a man and left his broken body behind in front of them all, but Simmons felt completely antsy and uncomfortable about everything to do with the march.
He looked ahead, just two lines before him he could see the towering figures of Carolina and Kimball. They seemed awfully tense, though.
Biting the inside of his cheek, Simmons decided to suck it up some and jog slightly ahead, breaking rank with a few murmured apologies to the soldiers around him as he made his way toward the front. He stayed just a little behind the women.
"Hey, uh, Carolina," he spoke up, ignoring the whir from his lung implants made at the extensive use. "Carolina! Hey. It's me. I need to talk to you. And uh. I guess maybe Church? If he's up for talking..."
"Not now," Carolina responded darkly without so much as looking over her shoulder at him.
Simmons nearly skipped steps to keep in pace. "Um. Okay. But which of those is hat 'not now' to? Talking to you? Or talking to Church? Because if it's talking to Church, that's okay. I kind of need to talk to you more anyway. And it might be relevant to the radio. I just don't know about the equipment the back of the line's carrying. Maybe they don't know the best way to carry it? And the conditions of the environment are probably not the best for technology regardless-"
"Captain Simmons!" Kimball barked, looking from the other side of the former Freelancer. "You are breaking line! Get back in position or I will personally push you back into it!"
His mouth hanging slightly ajar, Simmons took a breath in surprise. Even through Kimball's visor, though, her stare was terrifying.
"Oh... Okay. I can see that now might not actually be the time for... any kind of talking. Right?" he asked with a nervous laugh.
"NOW, Captain!" Kimball snapped.
"Yes, ma'am, General, I mean... ehhhhh Going."
The maroon space marine turned quickly on his heels, smacking into a couple of soldiers behind him. He muttered as many apologies as he could manage before tearing off to the side, falling out of the lines completely. Everyone did their best to stare forward but all Simmons could feel were eyes regardless.
Suddenly the same nausea he had felt in every social situation from middle school gym to Basic. He stumbled to the side and did all he could to keep upright without also throwing up in his helmet.
He waited for the wave to finish and took a deep breath.
"Hey... uh... you alright, Captain?"
Simmons looked up, hands still shakily on his knees, and saw Bitters standing, also outside of line. He rubbed at his helmet. "Uh... Bitters?"
"Uh, yeah?" Bitters countered.
"Shouldn't you be in line?"
"Shouldn't you?"
Simmons stared a Grif's Lieutenant for a moment longer before sighing and standing straight. The boy was so much like Grif it was somewhat horrifying to Simmons. "Let's not be smart asses for a bit and make our own line in the back," Simmons offered.
"Yeah, sure," Bitters responded, his tone matching his name.
They marched together, moving slowly and finding themselves in the back of the marching rows. The silence became nothing but the white noise of boots crunching soils once more.
"Everyone's so quiet," Simmons finally commented. "I mean, it makes sense. Don't want us to be tracked or anything. But... still. It's like it's fear. Not really discipline."
"Of course it's fear, are you kidding?" Bitters asked harshly, eyes concentrated forward. "It's Kimball. These Fed assholes already think we're animals that lived in a cave for ten years. And she basically just tarred and feathered someone in front of them to get our respect."
Simmons stared at the young soldier, appraising him carefully.
"Of course it's fear," Bitters continued.
There was a part of Carolina - perhaps deep in her brain more Epsilon than herself, if she was honest - that regretted Simmons' treatment. But she wasn't there to hold anyone's hands. He'd get over it.
No, she was in the front line, marching with Kimball and trying to make sure no one lost their head to the New Republic general.
The silence following their march had droned on for hours. It was slightly unnerving, but there wasn't more to think on the subject than that. Mostly because Carolina's mind was an angry beehive, far more thoughts firing off each minute than she could even begin to process. And it was taking everything in her to not snap off on Epsilon for doing that to her.
She couldn't process multiple linear thoughts in a single second like he could, but she could still receive the residual distress and emotion from it. She could feel the splitting migraine that he was "fire walling" off from her own brainwaves.
Carolina had felt something similar when she had the dual implantation of Eta and Iota, of course. She relied on that experience then to shove the thoughts back and press onward without disturbing the AI.
Instead she concentrated on the woman beside her.
"I'm still not convinced leaving the prisoner behind was the best option," Carolina admitted out loud. It was a thought she (they) had carried since it had happened, but it had finally managed to boil itself to the forefront. "It's just one more gun to have turned on us later."
"He was a message, Agent Carolina," Kimball said darkly, not looking to the Freelancer at all. "I had to make sure it was loud, and that it was clear."
"Yes. I saw that," the Freelancer returned dryly. She turned an eye temporarily toward the troops. "And judging by the reaction, you can consider that message well delivered."
Kimball turned her head, that fearsome energy from when she stood atop the base was still there. "I'm well aware that these soldiers know about my authority now, Agent Carolina. But that was not my only message. My other message was to the pirates, mercenaries, and Charon Industries when they come across their little friend again after a failed secondary assault on the soldiers of Chorus."
It made slightly more sense. Carolina still found herself scowling, though. "And you're not concerned about what information he could tell them after they're reunited?"
"It won't be anything they don't already know," Kimball responded easily. "Our numbers are low, we fell for their trap, there are some high ranking leaders among the troops to give them some sense of direction. Then they'll know that we took out their men, that we got untold information from their pal, and that he will ultimately be useless to them outside of that intel. And then they'll finish the job you're oh, so concerned about."
Carolina narrowed her eyes. "I'm on your side, Kimball."
The general looked to her directly. She took a breath. "I hoped you would be."
Not sure what to say, Carolina felt her focus drop just enough for a rush of thoughts, not her own, to come clawing into her mind. She gritted her teeth, reaching up to her helmet after flinching backward.
"Carolina? What is it?" Kimball asked.
"Nothing, it's nothing," Carolina said, a little too quickly, and returned to pace. "I have to talk with Epsilon. I'm sorry to drop out of the conversation."
"It's fine," Kimball responded in a tone that said anything but fine.
It didn't matter, Carolina would have to concern herself with it after she found out what the hell was happening with her AI.
She took a breath, tried to keep her vision clear as they continued the cadence, and drilled into the depths of those flashing, malfunctioning blasts of thought, stared straight into her AI's own reflection.
What the fuck are you doing in here? Carolina demanded. I'm not some beat down UNSC server, Epsilon. You're messing with my head.
The AI seemed erratic, formless. He kicked around between the spaces of her skull carelessly. Oops, sorry, C. I'll kick over to your HUD and run through your armor instead if you'll give me just a moment-
No, Epsilon! she gnashed her teeth, did her best to not stumble when she almost stomped her foot in protest. I just want you to take a break. Do you remember how to do that? Because if you don't I can assure you I will pull you and force you to have one for the rest of this march - no access to anything but a port device.
There was a tutting in her mind. Rest when you're dead, right, C?
Epsilon, her mind growled in warning.
How about you relax, he responded, growing bouncy and hyper - booming. C, don't you realize what I just did? All that software I absorbed and ran? It worked! It worked! I just picked up on a signal - a transmission of all things from an assault rifle. Now just who does that sound like?
"Send it to me," Carolina demanded out loud.
Done and done.
Kimball was staring at her curiously. Carolina turned on her heels.
"We're changing direction," she announced. "We just picked up on Caboose's AI gun. Hopefully that will mean some of our other soldiers are also with him."
"And hopefully they are still alive," Kimball said.
Carolina's stomach flipped - it took everything in her to not drop to her knees and join Epsilon in a heralding scream at the very idea the general was proposing.
Instead she just responded, "Hopefully."
