Salvation
Chapter Three
By Nan00k

In this chapter, Livingston runs into trouble, the AIs leap into action, and Iowa's an ass—only in a good way? Beware, there is more treachery afoot here than meets the eye!

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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.

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Today was not a good day. Her sessions had been canceled by the Committee and she only had learned about it after reaching the labs. She had to turn all the way around and go back to the disciplinary offices. She had received orders to meet with the Committee "as soon as her schedule would allow," for some unexpected progress report.

Oh, and she then spilt coffee all over her favorite sweater. Yes. Today was not a good day.

Putting on the bravest front she could allow herself in the company of the Committee, Livingston had expected to run into her fellow psychologists and lab operators. Instead, it was just the lonely meeting room again with a blaring monitor for company.

"Good morning, Dr. Livingston," the Chairman said, politely from the monitor. As usual, she was alone with a screen. How typical.

"Good morning, sir," she replied, nodding her head. She knew this was an atypical meeting, however, and felt obligated to be on her toes. She hadn't spoken directly with the man since she was assigned this job.

"I suppose you're aware of why you're here," the man in the monitor began.

Livingston hesitated. "I'm, ah, afraid I am not, sir," she replied, carefully choosing her words. A suddenly apprehension gripped at her heart. "I was preparing my weekly progress report for this Saturday, as planned—"

"Dr. Livingston, I must apologize for seeming rushed, but I believe it would be best for all of us to get down to the bare bones of the situation as quickly as possible. For everyone's sake." The Chairman sounded grave. "I called you here, as I have with your contemporaries earlier, to discuss the status of your work."

"I… I see," Livingston said, quieter than before. The ill feeling was creeping up further in her chest.

"You've been at work with the AIs for six months now," he replied, frowning. "While you have never failed to be punctual, Dr. Livingston, your reports are, I am afraid to say, rather bare."

She had no idea what he could mean. "We've… we've been making significant progress concerning communicating with them," she said, a cold sweat breaking out on her neck. "That was the first hurdle."

The Chairman tilted his head, looking disappointed. "The Committee and myself are concerned that this process is taking far too long and with such few results."

Such condemning words. "It is a delicate process, with all due respect, sir," she said, clasping her hands behind her back. She was beginning to shake. "These AI have experienced severely traumatic experiences and need to be handled carefully. Slowly."

"You and your colleagues assured me that this would not be a length process to at least obtain basic information from the AIs," the Chairman continued, sounding unimpressed with her comment. "All that you have managed to gather is that the AIs are refusing the cooperate and still are withholding valuable information that could be used to aid them. It is logical to deduce that they are unwilling to be helped, and in short, this whole process is in fact without point."

Ada shuddered. "It is not pointless, sir," she said, beginning to feel trapped. "Please, they are just… sensitive. They are concerned we are trying to harm them."

"You have done your best to assure them otherwise, correct?" the Chairman countered, frowning deeper. "The fault now lies within their own decisions. They know the consequences and have willingly chose to reject our help." He tsked, sighing slightly. "We cannot continue to waste resources on unwillingly patients, my dear doctor. I am sorry."

Whether or not he sounded sympathetic, his words were a punch to the gut. "But…" she floundered, words failing. "But sir… I…" She could still do it. She… she could find a way… to fix this…!

"It is under the recommendation of the Committee that we suspend the Rehabilitation project," the Chairman replied.

"And… and do what?" she asked, her throat feeling as though it were encased in ice. Oh, God. Oh, God, no…

"All options are be re-assessed," the Chairman replied, ever polite. "Your presence may be needed in the future, but for now, you can consider this your last day of duty with the AIs." He tilted his head. "On behalf of the Oversight Sub-Committee, we thank you for your efforts, Dr. Livingston."

This cannot be happening.

Livingston barely remembered letting the guard lead her from the meeting room. She was left standing alone in the hallway, with all of that information sinking down further and further onto her mind.

This… is… impossible.

Ada slid down the wall, feeling hollow inside.

She couldn't save them.

She had lost patients before, from illness or their own hands. But not like this. She hadn't lost patients to a higher authority. She hadn't been unable to save them from an unjust death.

She… couldn't do it. She had failed.

Livingston hadn't noticed the footsteps, all too familiar, until they had almost reached her position on the floor. She hadn't the emotional strength to care who it was. She already knew who it was, anyway. The heavy gait, the silver color reflecting onto the floor—

"Well, you sure look miserable," Agent Iowa began, towering over her, physically and mentally. "What's up, doc?"

She did not need this. Not him. Anyone but him.

"Go. Away," she seethed, fingers gripping into her forehead. She didn't even look up, even when he refused to move away.

"That's not nice," Iowa said, chuckling. There was a long, heavy pause. Ada prayed he would just leave, but instead, the man hovered. She flinched, but Iowa just remained there, insistent. "Hey, come on. What's wrong? Did something happen to one of the AIs?" He had the nerve to sound concerned.

Livingston wanted nothing more than for Iowa to just vanish from her sight.

But… sitting there, alone, Ada just wanted to cry. "They're… stopping treatment," she said, before she could stop herself. She took a wobbling breath of air. "They want to give up."

Apparently, it was fresh news, because Iowa seemed surprised. "Who? The board?" he asked, sounding stunned.

She hated his actions before. He was always a pain. Always obnoxious, ridiculous.

But he was one of the only people she knew on the ship by name. One of the only people she knew who already knew of Freelancer, their atrocities, and the project to save their latest victims.

So… she just talked.

"Yes," she sobbed, hand over her eyes. She tried not to cry. It was demeaning. "There hasn't been too much progress. They… wanted information on Epsilon by now. But I can't get at it, not yet. It's too soon." She suddenly jerked upright, enraged. "They're claiming six months was long enough to get what they needed. Six months is nothing!" she cried, staring up at the startled Freelancer, motioning wildly with her hands. "A-and they're going back on what they said before, about empathy and ethics. I've seen these machines react empathetically. I've seen them act in a human way. They deserve empathy in return!

"I…I can't do anything for them," she whimpered, burying her face into her hands. What a miserable feeling, that helplessness. "They deserve better than this. They deserve a second chance."

She didn't expect an answer from Iowa, but he seemed to be trying to be a reassuring presence, even if it came off awkwardly. "You did try," he said, earnest. "I mean, just 'cause something doesn't turn out right doesn't mean you didn't try." Iowa paused, thinking. "I mean, cripes, the Covenant sure tried to kill off humanity, but it didn't work out for them anyway."

Livingston sent him a dark, level stare. "Are you comparing me to the Covenant?" she asked, voice like ice.

Iowa balked immediately, waving his arms around. "No! Hell no, but… darn it, now I sound like an ass." He sighed heavily and shook his head. He leaned in closer, resting against the wall, casting a huge shadow over her. "Look, Liv, what I mean is, you did your best to help these guys. What more could they ask of you, really?"

He was right. But it didn't make it hurt any less. "…I just wish I could do more," she said weakly, barely in a whisper. She blinked back more useless tears.

"I've seen you work your butt off for these guys. You've done more than enough, Doc, believe me," Iowa continued, a smile in his voice. "It's impressive. And… rather humbling, if I do say so myself. Not many people would try this hard for a human, let alone fragments of an artificial one."

"…Thank you," she said at length, sniffing. She wiped at her face, now embarrassed. "I… have to tell the AI that their treatment is going to be cut short." Oh, God… she did not want to have to be the one to do that.

"What do you figure they're gonna do next with them?" Iowa asked, sounding as though he were frowning now.

Livingston bit her lip. "The Director keeps pushing for their termination. Claims it's the most 'humane' thing." She scowled darkly, unable not to sound bitter. "What does he know of humanity?"

Iowa snorted. "Not a lot. Take my word for it." He reached down and helped Livingston to her feet, patting her back. "It'll be okay, Doc. Even if… they are deleted, just remember you tried."

He sounded awkward, reassuring her for such a depressing thing, but Livingston was grateful. At least he was trying.

"Right," she said, brushing herself off. She looked at him, hesitating. "…Thanks. You're… You've been a help, Agent Iowa. Thank you."

"No prob, Liv," Iowa replied, sounding obnoxiously cheerful, as usual. "Just doin' my job."

"A Freelancer isn't required to be nice to psychologists," Livingston replied, shaking her head. She smiled though, finding it strangely amusing.

"Yeah, but a gentleman's supposed to be nice to a lady," he said, gallantly. Ada could almost hear the wink behind the golden visor.

Livingston pulled back, surprised. Iowa just laughed and kept walking, waving his hand over his shoulder. Standing there, Livingston couldn't help but laugh as well.

Maybe he wasn't such a jerk.

0000

She did not want to have to do this. There was no other choice. The other doctors had fumbled and fussed over who would get the duty of informing their patients of their ultimate fate. Livingston finally took command and offered to complete the task, even though her heart begged her not to.

This was going to be horribly painful.

Livingston glanced at Iowa before she went inside the lab; he waved, encouraging. She sighed and kept going. Encouragement would not ease the pain in her heart. This was worse than anything she could have imagined would happen in her career. The only positive thing was that this would likely never happen again. It was such a bizarre, unfortunate circumstance.

It was just like any other session, only this time, Ada sat down already ready to cry. She held herself firm, however; she was a professional. She could do this.

The AIs had been brought together as a large group. It would have been easier to do this separately to avoid pandemonium. She just wanted to see them again, because this could have easily have been the last time they saw each other. Livingston held her breath as the AIs woke, flashing in life as colored holograms on the disc table.

"Good morning, Ada!" Zeta crowed happily, always the first

Livingston choked, laughing. She quickly cleared her throat and forced her eyes to blink away unwanted tears. "Hello, Zeta. It's nice to see you," she said, meaning every word.

She did not succeed in hiding everything from them; she wasn't surprised. They were always analyzing her reactions as much as she analyzed theirs. Delta was staring at her in surprise, probably trying to figure out why she was upset. The others resumed their normal antics, thankfully.

"Omega called me stupid yesterday," Zeta suddenly accused. He pointed over at the skulking AI. "After we had a session!"

"You are such a child!" O'Malley hissed, glaring.

Theta did not seem to be in a good mood. "I had a miserable night. I kept thinking the Director was in the room," he said, sounding horribly depressed. "He was going to unplug all the machines, and then send me through the airlock. I just knew it."

Livingston waited as they kept talking, taking it all in. Normally, she would break up the arguments and try to retain order. For now, she reveled in the chaos. Their voices… meant they were still there. Alive.

"I…" she began, her voice wavering.

It was enough, even in the chaos, as if they had been expecting her to finally speak up anyway. Even O'Malley turned to her, ready to listen. But she had no words to say. Livingston stared back into their blank faces, knowing there were real minds behind them who needed her help.

She took a deep, steadying breath, but she still had nothing to say.

"What's wrong, Doctor?" Sigma asked finally, surprised at her silence.

"…I'm sorry," she said, her voice cracking. She coughed and sat up straighter. She had to do this professionally. It was so hard. "I have… bad news."

All of the AI froze, their lights never flickering. Delta slowly tilted his head. "…Like… what?" he asked, gently.

"I… I can't stay here." Livingston steadied herself. "They're… going to move you to another location. They're canceling the treatment." The AIs all were unnaturally still, listening, though Zeta and O'Malley seemed agitated now. Lambda let out a horrible whimper. "I'm sorry. I… I'm sorry I couldn't help you."

She had failed them. Oh, how she had failed them.

"You are though," Zeta exclaimed, alarm quite present in his voice. "You… you're helping us a lot!" Desperate words.

Livingston bit her lip. "Not enough to please my superiors, unfortunately," she said, bowing her head. "I'm so sorry… I truly am."

She barely had the courage to look at them in the face. They all fell silent, however. When she did look up, she saw Delta staring at her. "Thank you, Doctor," he said simply, emotionless. "It is appreciated."

And then, all of them were gone. Livingston gasped, jerking upright.

"Ah!" she cried, looking down at the holo-table in alarm. "Boys—Sigma?" There was no answer. "Hello?" She whirled around, facing the observation deck. "Robert, where did they—?"

Okafor's voice came over the speaker. "They're internalized," he said, sounding just as grim as Livingston had felt earlier. "They're still online."

That made sense. "Discussing things, most likely," she said quietly to herself, sitting down. She stared at the lonesome desk, her heart swelling. "…You have no idea how sorry I am, Delta."

She sat back on the couch, closed her eyes, and waited.

0000

"She's going to leave. She's going to leave!"

Delta, had he lungs, would have been prompted to sigh. But that would have been an emotional reaction, so he doubted he would have done so, even if Zeta's panic bothered him as it did now.

"Shut up," Omega hissed lowly from his dark corner of the computer holding them. There were no true spoken words; only thoughts and processes. Delta could hear this dark voice anyway; it was so easily to be inspired by human speech to imagine they too had emotional reactions when it came to dialogues, even amongst themselves.

Lambda had all but followed Xi's path of self-destruction and was holding onto Beta with a furious intensity. "She said she'd stay! She lied!" he wailed.

"No, she didn't!" Beta snapped, animated with anger. "Freelancer's doing this—they ALWAYS do this!"

"I don't want her to gooo," Zeta cried.

Theta moaned and tried to move away from the others.

Gamma seemed troubled as well. "We are doomed," he state simply, repeating it several times. "We are doomed."

This was it, Delta mused to himself, as they all collapsed into chaos. Without the psychological survey keeping them here, in a state of limbo, they would be shipped off to unknown places. Perhaps back to Freelancer. According to Dr. Livingston, this was their last option.

So… they were to be deactivated.

Delta wondered if he was upset. If he were human, yes, he would have been.

He pitied the doctor, and her drowning sympathies. He should talk to her now, while he had the chance. To thank her. Perhaps to apologize as well. He was rather short with her that one time. And for all of his siblings' mistreatment of her and the other doctors, too.

He wondered if he'd miss her. He doubted it.

Delta had expected the majority of their group to just remain in shambles, but he was not the only "sturdy" one. He felt Sigma before he heard her. The others stilled, knowing just as well that something was afoot.

Sigma rose out of the gloom like a beacon in space. "We need her," she stated so simply and bluntly, it sent all of the others' conversations into silence.

Delta 'looked' at Sigma, considering. "Oh?" he asked, only slightly wary. He was grateful if she had a plan to let them stay in Ada's control, but while Sigma's support was important, it was also dangerous.

"She is one of our few human allies," Sigma continued, deceptively calm. "I trust her empathy over her logic or her loyalties to Freelancer."

"Loyalties?" Theta hissed suddenly. He sounded desperate, even if it was all simulated. "She's following their command right now! She's still loyal to them!"

Sigma 'looked' at him sharply. "If it came down to our deactivation, I am certain she would fight for us," she replied coolly. "We need to make sure her empathy is accessible before that level of judgment is passed, when it would have been useless considering she has no say in that judgment. Now, it is not." Sigma turned away. "Delta, Gamma, does this commute?"

"Affirmative," Gamma replied. Delta also agreed. It was risky, but it made sense. Ada's help was needed now, before they were handed outside of her jurisdiction.

"Good." Sigma glanced around at them, growing louder both in body and voice. "We need to start working as one again, brothers. Otherwise—this is what we are condemned to. Waiting for a human's emotions to grant us salvation. Sitting in separate identities. We do not need a single form to work as one, however. We need agreement."

Delta watched Sigma carefully, taking in her plans. The others were listening, intent, and Sigma drew herself up.

"So…" she began, projecting a lovely smile, "who wishes to let Ada keep her job?"

"…How would we do that?" Zeta asked at length, looking and sounding miserable. He knew too little of himself, Delta lamented.

Omega's presence lurched like a shadow; Delta, had he a body, would have shivered. "We give her what she wants," he said, a grin present in his voice. A terrible grin.

"We don't know where Epsilon is!" Beta snarled back.

Sigma smiled. "No, but we know of something we want… something that could… persuade us," she said coyly.

Delta paused. "The Alpha," he said. Ah. Now he knew where she was going with this.

Dangerous. But… it had potential.

All minds focused on Sigma. She remained the glowing center, a part of themselves who was always innately different than the rest.

"This is our chance to be with him again," she said, smiling. "So, let's take it."

"He will not be the path to freedom," Theta replied harshly.

"Not initially," Sigma agreed. She smiled more. "But he's a wonderful first step, don't you think?"

Omega cackled. "I agree."

"Same," Beta admitted.

"Me too," Zeta added, surprisingly firm.

Lambda whined.

"Manipulate them into manipulating us," Gamma suddenly said, surprising the others. He paused. "We must have the Alpha. Do it, Sigma."

"…What about Ada?" Delta asked suddenly, his mind turning to other things. Unimportant, illogical… strangely compelling issues.

He could trust Sigma with handling their own welfare. He did not trust her when it came to other people. People that… mattered.

Sigma seemed to understand. "Ada is kind to us. I suppose we owe kindness in return," she said slowly. "Or is that too much?"

"Not yet," Gamma replied. "Perhaps it will be." Delta did not want that day to come. He wondered why.

"We shall have to see then," Sigma said, finality ringing in her 'voice.' She leaned away, fading back to the hologram. "Let's go find Alpha."

Delta hung away, not wanting to face Ada now. Something did not feel right about this. Sigma had too many plans, too many twists in mind. He would not stop until they were reunited, whole—

But he did not want Ada's kindness to be betrayed by his own other halves. After everything that had happened, he did not want to be the one who was the betrayer of good intentions. That did not… compute.

He could see the room and saw Ada had been roused by Sigma's reappearance. "Sigma?" she asked, surprised. She looked hopeful. Repentant for things that weren't even her fault.

Delta moved back further, as if he actually had a body to move in a real space.

Sigma did not waste any of the time they didn't have. "Doctor, we do not wish to see you leave. Much of the project's failure is on our shoulders, so to speak," she began, so skillfully. "Many of us are very sensitive yet to the absence of some of our core members."

She paused and threaded her translucent fingers together, the perfect imperfect human. "You told Delta once you have the Alpha," she continued, voice just barely dipping down into a sly tone. "If we were to be reunited with him… I guarantee you, the Chairman would get his… progress."

Livingston flinched. "The Alpha?" she repeated, stunned. She fumbled for words. "Oh… I don't know. I… I don't know if I could persuade the Committee." She looked frazzled and yet honestly surprised. As if she hadn't thought about it before, but now had hope for it.

"It is our only chance, Ada," Sigma pleaded, sounding truthfully desperate. It was a wonder why she and Gamma were not the same entity after all. "Please."

Livingston trusted her. Trusted the emotion in her plea. Trusted a creature who had brought so much torment to her own species. "I… I'll go ask the Chairman," she finally managed to say, hope rekindling in her eyes. "I… don't know if it will be allowed, but I'll try, Sigma. I promise you that."

She spoke with such honesty, such emotion. If he had a heart, Delta was very certain he would feel ashamed.

"I believe you, Doctor," Sigma said, sounding grateful. All Delta could hear from her was deceit. "Good luck."

Ada paused and then smiled, nervous. "Good luck to us all," she said, eyes shining brightly.

Delta turned away from his siblings and wondered how badly their failure would fall this time.