Salvation
Chapter One
By Nan00k/beckykw

Pardon my dismantlement of Halo and RvB story lines. XD RvB never did make it clear when in the Halo universe they're living in…

Also, sorry for the boringness of this first chapter. Pretty much it's just my excuses for why the AIs are still online and building up for the plot. More about the situation is revealed! D: At least one of the AI show up?

.

Warnings: original characters, violence, foul language, mentions of torture, potentially alternate-universe story line
Disclaimer: I do not own Halo (© Bungie) nor do I own Red vs. Blue (© Rooster Teeth Productions). The original characters in this I made up for the purpose of this story.

.

It had started six months ago. The war was over, but for the crew and soldiers of the UNSC there was no time to rest. As the UNSC pushed forward with several counter assaults of remaining Covenant sympathizers—by majority the Brutes and Jackals—several problems at home demanded attention. "Home" being within the UNSC itself.

Project Freelancer had been the UNSC's pet project to fix the gaping hole in the Spartan II program. Master Chief, the last Spartan, had gone and saved their forces from the Convenant, but there were still battles to fight. The Freelancers were poor substitutes for the Spartans lost during the worst of the war, but it was the UNSC's only option. For a time, it seemed successful.

But that was only in the public's eye that the Project shone. The truth was far darker than the commanding UNSC generals wished to believe.

Director Leonard Church had taken the gift of an AI unit to train and prepare the Freelancers. What happened in the following years, unknown to the board of the Oversight Committee, ripped any ethical treatment codes concerning artificial intelligence units to shreds. Scientists and military commanders were united by their horror as the intelligence streamed in about the Project's treatment of the gifted Smart AI, Alpha, and the subsequent fragment AIs that resulted from his treatment.

At first, it was unclear of what to do. The Chairman of the Oversight Sub-Committee immediately pulled the plug on Project Freelancer and had the Director arrested for the undeniable breach of protocol and abuse of power. From there, it seemed only obvious where the outcome would lie.

Things were not that simple.

While the exact nature of the original Alpha AI was constructed around the Director himself, many in the Committee could not be swayed to believe that this was an act of self-harm.

But the real problems arose when the committee turned away from the issue of sentencing those responsible for the crimes—and looked at the actual victims, if one could call them that.

The majority of the AI units were recovered from the rogue agent, Maine, was finally apprehended. Disinformation was successful, hiding the existence of the problem from the public and keep Freelancer dissenters like Main and Washington from knowing the location of the rest of the AIs, just in case. From there, the Director was formally charged with abuse of power and the mistreatment of both UNSC property and artificial intelligence.

However, in the last weeks of the trials, things changed radically for the Freelancer AI Disaster. The UNSC granted the Director the permission to send Maine and Washington out to find the remaining missing AI, Epsilon, and return it to headquarters, where there was hope of somehow reuniting the fragments with the Alpha.

No one really knew what happened during the course of their objective—both agents were found dead, Maine from a lethal fall and Washington from injuries sustained in battle after the other agent turned on him. Witnesses were sent away and the issue seemed resolved, even in such a grim way.

Everything seemed to be fixed—except for one thing: no one knew where Epsilon was. It was never found and with no way to rebuild the shattered Alpha without its remaining missing part, the UNSC Science Division Ethics Committee scrambled to find a way to fix things. The Director, on severe military suspension and legal conviction now pending, sat down with the leading members of the Division as well as several UNSC generals. The technology was going to waste and once the whole situation got out to the general public, it would be a public relations nightmare. There had to be a solution.

And then, finally, one computer specialist suggested something absurd. Something so bizarre—people had hope that it would work.

0000

Livingston wasn't quite sure how she managed to get dragged into any of this.

She was a doctor of psychology—human psychology. She had made her name as a counselor and doctor for torture victims and post-traumatic stress victims during the final legs of the war. She had practically no knowledge and contact with the Science Division, or any real idea about the problems progressing with Project Freelancer. One morning, after attending yet another celebration for the end of the war, Livingston found herself sitting in front of a man she had never knew existed before.

"A-apologies, sir," she said, staring out in stunned surprise. "You want me to do what?"

Getting hauled up at an ungodly hour for even a military vessel, Livingston was told to meet with the Chairman of the Oversight Sub-Committee, whatever that was. She was told it had something to do with the correctional service, with whom she had little contact. Upon getting there, she was given the general overview of what had transpired with Project Freelancer—and her role in helping cleaning up their mess.

"The Board of Ethical Reviews has decided the best option with handling the AIs that had been mistreated by those in charge of Project Freelancer," the Chairman replied calmly from beyond a large screen on the wall, seated at the head of an important looking desk. "We will be requiring the aid of several top rated scientists and psychologists to see if rehabilitation would be the most… appropriate solution."

"With all respect, sir, I'm not understanding the purpose," Livingston replied, frowning, standing stiffly in the center of the room. "I treat humans. Why do you need psychologists for fixing an artificial intelligence?"

The man smiled wryly. "My dear Dr. Livingston, you have yet to meet these AIs, nor are you well affiliated with what transpired with Project Freelancer. I assure you that once you are better informed, you will see the need to progress with a degree of elevated empathy," he said, tilting his head slightly. His tone was neutral, but seemed to be hiding a subtle layer of warning. "What Freelancer has done will ultimately go down in the records as the poorest and most inhumane treatment of any subject of science humanity has ever committed. My superiors are very concerned that not only have they breached the very codes of morality that defined the initial artificial intelligence handling protocols started at the beginning of this war, they have also managed to destroy a piece of UNSC property that had high scientific and monetary worth for this army. As you might imagine, we are all a little pressed for action."

What he said made sense; it even made her feel a little ill. She had only been given a report to read before going before the Chairman and was horrified that such unethical behavior could happen in their own army, war or no. Even still, she didn't understand the need for her to get involved. It certainly wasn't like she didn't have any human patients who needed psychological help waiting.

"I don't see why you can't just reprogram the AI. I doubt human psychology, other than verbal counseling, could influence a computer program to behave differently. Psychological treatment is just as much about medicine as it is about counseling," she warned, folding her hands in front of her. She didn't want to seem impolite, but it was the truth.

The man before her—old enough to be her father, but weary and tired enough to be her grandfather—sat back in his own seat. He stared down at her with grave eyes.

"To be frank, Dr. Livingston," he began, with the rattling breath of a man who had seen too much of this mess already, "this is our only option, other than reformatting the AIs. In fact, our scientists inform me that that option is out of the question, considering the fragmented nature of the AIs. We are missing one of the fragments, unfortunately, and could not hope to restore the AI without it." He sat forward, his eyes boring into hers. "Even still, the Ethics Committee was very insistent on this experimental solution, in the hope that we can make amends for the blatant ethics violations of the Project and to salvage the AIs that could still be of use for the UNSC's forces."

Livingston swallowed with some difficulty, a cold sweat appearing on her back. This was not something she wanted to be involved with. It was too messy and too disturbing. She prided herself on being a good counselor—but a counselor for a machine? That was absurd.

"Even still… why me?" she asked at length, looking back up at the Chairman. "I've been working solely with soldiers and civilians, not with the science division, nor with Freelancer. I was informed the Freelancers had their own counselors." She had never met anyone who worked with Freelancer, actually, but she knew such subdivisions of the UNSC had their own grief and stress counselors on standby. It was standard.

The Chairman snorted, as if disgusted by something. "Freelancer operatives have been decommissioned. Project Freelancer does not exist, or at least, no one from that group that has any real authoritative power," he replied shortly, his eyes harder. "The UNSC chose psychologists from their own ranks who have the proper amount of notoriety attached to their records. You are quite skilled in the area of counseling victims of stress and torture. We thought you would be an adequate one to contact."

While not feeling particularly better about her standing there, Livingston felt a little taller under the implicated praise. She had considered herself the top of her field, but if this situation was as sensitive as they were saying it was, they really couldn't afford anything but the best being involved.

"I see. Thank you for the trust, then, Chairman," she said, nodding her head forward. "I still don't know what more I could possibly bring to the table, but I will do my best to help."

"We're willing to try anything, my dear. Anything." The Chairman sat back, a smile just a ghost on his lips. "You have been reassigned to the team of doctors analyzing and monitoring the AIs and their behavior progress. We trust you will do your best, but rest assured, nothing can be expected from this." He looked downwards. "We can only hope."

0000

Livingston found her new schedule to be acceptable. Instead of reporting to the medical wing, she went to the science labs, where the subjects were being held in a special magnetic environment, due to some of their abilities to jump from electronic to electronic. She honestly didn't know what to expect. This was, by far, her weirdest assignment yet since joining the UNSC.

At the entrance of the series of labs, she met a dark-skinned man she learned was a computer technician assigned to the rehabilitation project.

"Dr. Livingston? Hi, name's Robert Okafor," he said, smiling politely, shaking her hand. "We'll be working together as a computer tech and psychology team. I make sure your subjects are working physically and you work on the mental parts."

Livingston nodded, smiling. "I see. It's nice to meet you. Is this where we'll be working with the AIs?" She looked past him, down the stark white halls. It wasn't a long hallway, but the doors looked incredibly fortified for just being in the science department.

Okafor shrugged, handing her a writing tablet. "Ah, they're kinda picky about who goes in there. Not all of the AIs have been briefed yet and some of them are a bit, um, nervous about seeing strangers, I guess. They want the psychs to go in first, to make first greetings and such." He laughed and they started down the hall, passing several other doors. "We're working with AI 6 today. Basically, you go in, I turn them on, you sweet talk them, and we can get started on the whole project."

Strange first steps, but nothing was going to be normal about any of this. "I take it the other doctors are handling the other AIs as we speak?" she asked, glancing up at him from her tablet as she reviewed their AI's files. This one looked mild compared to some of the others.

"Yup."

"Alright. Now, should I—?" she started to say, but something distracted her—or rather, someone.

At the end of the hallway, she noticed someone standing by their door, someone she had not seen earlier. A tall soldier in light gray armor, complete with helmet; if she hadn't escaped the fall of Reach herself, she would have thought he was a Spartan. No, he was the cheap knock-off version of those super soldiers.

Freelancer.

"I thought the Freelancers were decommissioned," she said through grit teeth, glaring openly at the newcomer. She had more time to review the files about Freelancer and the AIs (or at least the files she had had access to) and she had very, very little reason to like any of them.

The Freelancer tilted his masked face. His weapon was on his back, but even his crossed arms looked dangerous. "Only the bad ones, ma'am," he replied, his voice louder than she had expected, and had a surprisingly dull accent. Americans. "Name's Iowa. I take it you're one of the doctors running this operation?"

He sounded far too cheeky for Livingston's liking. She turned to Okafor, who looked sheepish. "Get me the Chairman," she snapped. "I will not be working with a Freelancer."

Oakfor blanked at her demand, and the Freelancer immediately raised his hands in mock surrender. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, lady, relax. I'm working for the UNSC now!" he said, laughing. "Like I said, the crazy ones got the boot, but the rest of us? We're just answering to a different authority now, the UNSC directly."

Livingston glared at him, not believing him in the least. The Chairman himself warned her and the others involved that Freelancer had too many secrets still for them to just stand by. Inter-departmental politics as usual, it seemed, had led to this. "Why are you here?" she asked heatedly. "We're a scientific exploratory vessel. We have plenty of other security personnel."

"The politics involved with this are a mess, Doc, lemme tell you," the Freelancer said, chuckling still. He leaned back against the wall, completely at ease. "Besides that, these things are dangerous."

"They're voices in a box, Agent Iowa," Livingston said flatly, unimpressed. She knew the AIs, or at least a small number of them, could be considered a threat if given access to a Spartan model or Freelancer suit, but she had neither. The security measures were too highly placed around here, as well.

Iowa snorted. "You say that now," he said, suddenly sobering. "I've seen the shit they're capable of once they get control of a body. No one in charge wants that to happen again, especially the ones that can jump between radios or whatever. I'm here to make sure if contamination does happen, this ship isn't screwed. And of course, to make sure you doctors don't get obliterated either."

"I'm terrified," Livingston deadpanned. She pushed past him, go through the screen platform. She turned and gave the Freelancer a firm look. "We don't need a babysitter."

Iowa raised his hand. "I never said—"

"I am not stupid, Agent Iowa," Livingston interrupted sharply, trying desperately to control her anger. "Freelancer has more power than they want the public to know. That's why your Director is only on suspension and not in prison. You're here to eavesdrop just as much as you're here to look intimidating to a much of bodiless voices who have suffered far more under your care than they have ever done to any one of us. I do not trust you."

Iowa stared at her through all of her speech, but when she finished Livingston could tell by just his body posture that he had found her amusing rather than intimidating. "I can tell," he said, clearly restraining himself from laughing.

That only aggravated Livingston more. "You will not be interfering with me or my studies, nor any of the other scientists," she said bluntly, narrowing her eyes. "Am I being clear enough for you?"

She was only a psychologist, but she meant what she said and would do her best to defend herself and her project. If she had to fight Freelancer or fight the Director himself, she would do it.

Even still, she was not very intimidating, especially not to a Freelancer. "Crystal," Iowa replied, the mirth never leaving his tone. He leaned back against the wall, at ease once more. "What's your name, by the way?"

Frowning, the psychologist considered her options. "…Livingston," she said, knowing he would find out eventually, if he didn't already know as it was.

"Gotcha." She could just hear the smirk in his voice. Iowa nodded his head. "Nice to meet you, doc."

The lab doors shut and Livingston turned, ready to meet her first patient.

0000

Once she passed the contamination check (no electronics of any kind were permitted), Livingston found herself seated in front of a desk where a strange flower shaped object with a round center sat. Okafor let her know over the loudspeaker that he was turning the AI on and Livingston found herself holding her breath.

A tiny green man appeared hovering over the hologram disc. Livingston stared, astonished. The AI was immediately aware of her and seemed to be staring up back at her with the same intensity.

Clearing her throat, Livingston sat back, the tablet held tighter in her grip than was necessary. "Hello. My name is Doctor Livingston," she said, smiling. "I am a psychologist working for the UNSC. You have been appropriated from Project Freelancer."

The green AI seemed to consider her words carefully—a bit too carefully for Livingston's liking. "…I see," he said at great length. The tiny image seemed to straighten as he gave her his full attention. "Why am I here?"

There was no room for beating around the bush concerning the truth. Livingston believed they would get the best results if they told as much of the truth as possible, to earn the trust of the AIs.

"We need to evaluate your stability, both you and your fellow AI fragments," she replied calmly, gauging his reaction carefully, if he would have one. He did appear to be the mild one of the group. "I ask for compliance, as your future existence may rest on your willingness to be rehabilitated."

"Rehabilitation?" repeated the AI, sounding…surprised. Nothing was revealed in his physical representation, however. He was just standing there.

Livingston nodded carefully. "Yes. We are attempting to use human psychology to repair the damage the separation from the original Alpha AI may have caused you." She smiled tentatively, forcing herself to remain neutral. "I've worked with many torture victims in the past. We're hoping this will be no different."

Whether or not the AI believed or trusted her, he seemed to understand he had no choice. "I see… I will attempt to comply to your inquires then, Doctor," he said politely, lifting his head, the gesture almost too small to discern in all the glow.

"What do you call yourself?" Livingston asked, pausing over her tablet, ready to write.

Pulling away, the AI seemed surprised again at her question. "What do I call myself?" he asked. "I call myself what the Project named me as," the AI replied pointedly, revealing no emotion, no opinion. "I am Logic. I am Delta."