I forgot to mention last time (because I have the memory of a sickly goldfish, it seems) that the idea for all the guys giving Simmons bad relationship advice came from (who else) FalloutGuy1986. I loved the idea when he told it to me not only because it sounded hilarious and just like what Red team would do, but also because it allows for more time for Simmons' and Yttri's little romance to grow. So, a major thank you to Fallout Guy, and I hope you enjoy the chapter!
"Church!" Caboose says excitedly. The AI groans and Carolina's head droops. They've had almost five whole minutes of peace before the child-like soldier could think of something else to say. "You should meet Mango and Peppermint," Caboose continues. "They are soft and fluffy even though you shouldn't pet them and they can be your friends."
Carolina opens her mouth, looking like she might snap at him, before Epsilon cuts in. "I already have friends, Caboose," he says, sounding like he's annoyed but trying to hide it so Caboose will shut up sooner.
"But you can always use more friends!" Caboose exclaims. "Not super best friends," he adds thoughtfully. "You only need one of those, and you already have me for that. But you could still use more normal friends." He leans closer to Church's avatar, apparently forgetting that this also puts him closer to Carolina, and loudly whispers, "friends who aren't scary robot ladies."
The former Freelancer's lip twitches upward slightly at the comment while Epsilon grows more annoyed.
"Caboose," he starts sharply.
"I think that's a great idea, Carbon," I say, drowning out the AI's angry words. He shoots me a glare as I continue speaking. "I'm sure Mango and Peppermint would love to meet Epsilon, but you should tell them first. You know how the cats get nervous around new people."
"Oh, right," Caboose says, nodding vigorously. "I will do that." He smiles happily, making no move to leave.
I glance down at his empty plate. "Maybe you should go do that now," I suggest.
"Right," Caboose says again, rising to his feet. "I will go now so they don't forget." He takes off at a run in his excitement.
"Remember: do not pet them!" I call after him, smiling.
Once Caboose is gone Church speaks up again. "Thank you," he says. "I was going to lose it if I had to listen to him any longer."
"I love him," I say, nodding, "but he can get on your nerves after a while."
"So, he's really your brother?" Church asks.
"Mmm-hmm," I hum around a forkful of breakfast.
"I mean, he mentioned once that he had a big family," Church continues, "but this is crazy. There's, like, a hundred of you."
"Eighty-four," I correct. "We used to be more, but…" I trail off, knowing I don't need to explain.
There's a long silence, filled in by the hum of nearly a hundred people existing in the same room. It sounds almost normal and for a moment I'm tempted to think this sound is the same as it's always been. I know it's not, though. There's no laughter in the background; no one is cracking jokes and there are no indignant shouts of someone who's had food pilfered by a sneaky sibling. Instead, the air is filled with tension. It's a mixture of wariness and quiet anticipation.
"They're on edge," Carolina comments, casually, body language and voice countering the seriousness of her observation.
"They're scared," I respond, striving for the same tone. "The illusion of security we entertained for so long just crashed around us. They don't feel safe anymore." I pause, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. "They're doing better now, though," I comment.
"I guess we did pick a bad time to show up," Carolina says. "Wash was right."
"But for the love of God, don't tell him that," Church says. "Seriously, we'll never hear the end of it."
"It doesn't matter anyway," I say, "because he's not right. At least, not about this." I look around the room, noting the expressions of everyone who passes us. A few are scared, but most stare in awe. "You give them hope," I finally continue. "More than the reds and blues, even more than Washington. They know you can help us find mom," I say, gesturing to Epsilon. "That makes them think that we might be nearing the end of all this. We could finally be done. And you," I point to Carolina, "are a legendary Freelancer. You came back from the dead and killed the Director of your own project. How can they do anything but look up to you?"
"We're not gods," Carolina says after a moment of thoughtful silence. "I don't want you to be disappointed if we don't live up to the legend."
"Speak for yourself," Church mutters.
"I understand that," I say. "But these kids… they need a legend. They need something to believe in, someone they believe can help them, especially now."
Carolina looks over at another table. Iodine, Beryl, and a few others are hunched over and speaking quietly to each other. They look far too serious for teenagers of their age. Every now and then, one of them looks or points at Carolina.
"They really are children," she observes. "I've seen young soldiers before, but nothing like this."
"Most of them don't really fight," I say quickly. "We train them, but they're too young to go on missions. I won't put them in danger."
"Good," Carolina says. "We'd have a problem if I found out you were sending children into battle." She seems genial enough, but there's an accusing undercurrent in her words that I don't like.
"You don't trust us." I state the fact without inflection, waiting for her response.
"Wash believes your story," Carolina says after a moment. "And I trust his judgment. I just can't help but be skeptical of all of this. I can't help but feel that there's something else going on here, something you're not saying. No one's as good as Wash claims you are. No one's that innocent."
"We're not innocent," I admit. "We have blood on our hands, every one of us. Even the kids haven't managed to go through all this without killing." I turn to look her in the eye. "No, we're not innocent, but we're also not guilty. We're not terrorists or murderers. We don't hate aliens and we don't want to start a war. All we want is a chance to live normal lives." I glance away again, scanning the room with unfocused eyes. "All I want is for them to have that chance.
"If anyone here is guilty, it's me," I continue. "And if I'm guilty of anything, it's trusting someone who didn't earn it. I blindly followed orders. I'm sure you understand the danger in that."
"Yes," Carolina whispers. "I do."
"I've made mistakes," I continue. "I've made some bad decisions. But I'm trying. I just want what's right for them."
"You really care about them," Carolina says, sounding surprised by the observation.
"They're my family," I answer. "What else could I do?"
"My team turned on each other when everything went to shit," Carolina says. "I guess I expected the same here."
I smile wryly. "That was mom's biggest mistake. She told us we were family, told me that they were my brothers and sisters. She thought we'd drift apart when she abandoned us, but instead we pulled together."
I glance around the room one last time before once again facing Carolina. "I know you won't trust us right away. I can understand that, with what you've been through. But if you've agreed to help us, then you need to give us a chance. Let us show you what we really are, instead of what the UNSC says."
"And if I do?" the older woman asks, not meeting my eyes. "What will I see then?"
"A bunch of lost, scared people," I say truthfully, "just looking for a second chance."
Carolina actually smiles a bit when she looks at me this time. "You may think that's what you are," she says, "but that's not what I see right now." She stands and picks up her now empty breakfast tray. "I think Washington might be right about you." She walks away without any further explanation, leaving me to wonder what Wash told her.
Simmons stands in the doorway of Yttri's workroom, fidgeting nervously. Yttri had told him she needed to pick up some supplies from a storage room near the hangar, and he should meet her here. He'd offered to help her with the supplies, but she'd refused.
Simmons sighs. How am I supposed to show her I'm manly like Sarge said if she won't let me carry things for her? he thinks hopelessly.
He scans the room again, searching for anything he can do that might impress the mechanic. His eyes land on a large square of metal with a screen on the side, sitting in the middle of the room. He's not sure what it does, but he remembers from when he first moved it into the room that it's heavy. He'd only managed to lift it in the first place by putting most of the weight on his robot arm. He also remembers that he'd planned on moving it into one of the corners, to make the layout of the room more efficient, but never got around to it.
Simmons perks up as a thought comes to mind. He waits until he can hear Yttri down the hall before stepping toward the machine. He picks it up and starts walking across the room just as Yttri arrives.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" she shouts, voice rising in a way Simmons has never heard before.
Simmons is so surprised by her reaction that he almost drops the thing. He stops moving and tries to look at her over the top of the box. "Um…" he says uncertainly, sensing that he's made a mistake. "J-just moving this," he squeaks in a terrified tone.
"Put it down," Yttri orders, rushing to his side. Yttri crouches on the floor next to the device once he does, not even looking at Simmons. She presses some buttons and the screen on the side lights up. Yttri waits expectantly for something to change, but the screen remains blank.
"Oh, Cyborge," she says despairingly. She opens a panel on the side of the machine, face growing increasingly more frustrated as she works.
"Yttri?" Simmons asks hesitantly.
Yttri's head whips around to look up at him. "Do you have any idea what this is?" she asks, glaring.
Simmons gulps and shakes his head.
"It's a 3-D digital imager," she explains. "Equipped with the most advanced, and most accurate, physics replicator in the universe. I know because I invented it." Her anger shifts into annoyed frustration partway through the speech, which does nothing to diminish Simmons' fear. "It took me four hours to calibrate it yesterday," Yttri continues. "Four hours, Cyborge. I need it today so I can start testing strength of joint designs for Nick's arm, and now…" she trails off, glancing back at the machine. "Now I need to start all over," she says with a sigh.
"Yttri, I-"
"Just," Yttri snaps, then stops herself, massaging her forehead. She sighs again. "I know you were trying to help," she says, more to herself than Simmons. She turns to the machine, starting the long process of getting it ready to use again.
"Is- is there something I can do?" Simmons offers, hoping to somehow be able to remedy his mistake.
Yttri seems to consider the offer for a moment. "You know… I think I need to be alone for a while," she finally decides. "I need to concentrate. Sorry, Cyborge." She adds the last part as an afterthought, already buried up to her elbows in wires.
"Okay," Simmons says dejectedly. His shoulders droop as he shuffles toward the door. "I'm sorry," he says, too quietly for her to hear, before leaving.
So, if we could all just agree that this chapter was awful and just move on, I think that would work out best.