For the Love of Lambda
Chapter Two: Put in Place
For the longest time the Reds stared at the tall man standing below the threshold of their base. The whispering weeds and blades of grass brushed against the armor encasing Missouri's calf. For a moment not a word was said as four men glowered at one, the latter's arms crossed over his thick steel breastplate. His silver visor showed the glint of the sun's light, his helmet bobbing in time with his breathing.
"Alright, I give up." Grif said with a sigh, "Why is it that every time we think we have some down time, a chance to take a break and do nothing, some asshole like you has to visit and shake everything up? I don't like change!"
"If I agreed with Grif I am absolutely certain that the universe would destroy itself in a diabolical explosion. Sure, Grif would finally meet his gigantic red maker, but I wouldn't be around to enjoy it. Ah hell, we've already been over this." Sarge grumbled.
Sarge was trying to agree without agreeing, Missouri mused.
You have been assessing them since you laid eyes on them. Your heart rate is steady, respiratory is normal, despite the excess weight of your armor… You seem totally at ease. Lambda intoned upon his mind.
The feeling tickled slightly at times in his ears, but the knowledge that this Supreme Being, at least in his eyes, was communicating with his very mind often boggled him.
Actually I am at ease. I know these guys are something special, but calm is what you have to be when you are dealing with an unknown. It would serve no purpose to be panicky and confused. Wary is alright and keeps us alive, but worried? Not so much. Missouri thought, communicating with Lambda silently. He thought he saw her wink in the corner of his eye, a sensation that never failed to awe him.
"Who are you?"
Simmons' question startled him and for a moment he didn't know how to answer. He uncrossed his arms and held them slightly aloft for a moment, before replacing his hands at his side, the first sign of nerves on his side. He quickly buried that emotion, but still he thought about his answer.
Who was he? Should he answer to Missouri? To Moe? Tyler Reigns? He knew they wouldn't trust another freelancer, but was it right to lie to them? His options were limited but he finally sighed and opened his mouth.
"To tell you the truth, I ain't exactly sure who I am anymore." Moe answered in a tone just above a whisper.
"Convenient amnesia huh?" Sarge replied, folding his own arms.
"Huh, as if you've never had that, Sarge." Grif responded, the roll in his eyes going unseen by the rest of the men gathered around.
"Oh, come on guys, we should make him comfortable at least. How about we tell him our names? Share some secrets? Polish his armor so it's nice and shiny?" Donut suggested happily. It was a trait that Grif, Simmons and Sarge found irritating.
"No more suggestions Donut. We don't know if he's friendly, or if he's secretly a blue trying to sneak in here and take over our way of life! Who knows what could happen? We could all wake up every morning from here on out singing the Blue National Anthem!"
Here Sarge started singing, his gruff voice rising and falling in time with words that he made up on the spot.
"Oh we're the Blues, we try so hard… To make the Reds fall and die hard… To spoil everything that they dream… We destroy their way and make them scream…"
"Please God, make him stop singing! He doesn't even make any sense!" Missouri yelled, pressing his hands over the points on his helmet where his ears were located.
It was times like now he wished his armor had been built with the audio pickups which could be muted to rescue him from times like now.
"Yeah I know," Grif moaned, "It's what he does."
"So if it's the point that you just missed… We are the Blues, we're communists… But if into Red base a Blue has barged… He will know he just got Sarged! In the form of Shotgun to the face!" The last line was delivered as quickly as he could.
"… Are you done?" Missouri wondered, hopefully.
"Of course. Don't tell anyone you heard me singing that song. I'd die of shame! Whoever wrote that piece of garbage is an idiot." Sarge answered.
"You took the words right out of my mouth Sarge." Grif said, a smile spreading across his face.
"Oh, well, fine! If you guys won't do it, then I will." Donut said.
"My name is Franklin Delano Donut. The one in the orange armor is Dexter Grif. The Red guy is Sarge. The maroon guy is Dick Simmons."
"Thank you… Donut." Missouri said.
Part of him was astonished. The pink guy seemed much friendlier and more outgoing than the rest of the Reds. Missouri found himself to be genuinely thankful that at least one of them didn't seem to take him in as if looking for the best way to overpower him and throw him out.
Moe… Be honest. Lambda said.
You trust them? Missouri answered silently.
Not fully. That isn't plausible. I know what you know. I feel… human. I wish I was imbued with Theta's trust… or even… Sigma's creativity. But remember that with me, all you have is love. I can see what you can't see and I am thankful I am at least useful in that way. But I cannot tell if these men mean to harm us. I say we do what the lightish red guy is doing. Be honest.
Wait… you mean pink right?
No, I mean lightish red. I know lightish red when I see it. Lambda answered, sounding cross.
Okay, okay. I believe you. We'll do it your way.
"In the spirit offered by Mr. Donut, I too will be honest and forthright with you. My name is Agent Missouri, but you may call me Moe. I am not simply another soldier. I'm not a passerby with a strange name and a dark history. I understand your reluctance to trust somebody you don't know. I realize you have been used by some and have been a savior to others without actively seeking those attributes. Above all, I know your will to simply be left alone. I can respect that. I can even relate to that. Like you I have wandered alone for most of my life, not by my own will. I was made to wander alone by a man you all know very well by now I am sure."
"Is he talking about who I think he is talking about?" Simmons questioned.
"If he is, then I quit." Grif said, exasperated.
"You don't even know what he wants!" Simmons argued.
"He wants to either use us to end some stupid war that we have absolutely no part in or he wants to appeal to our sensitive natures and chase some wild goose we have absolutely no part in! It's the same fucking shit every single time we get a moment to ourselves! It sucks!" Grif shouted, throwing his hands into the air.
"Grif! Calm down!" Simmons cajoled.
"You know what? No! Fuck that! All I want is to lay around doing nothing for a while. Just one goddamn week without some freelancer or some weird rebel army saying 'hey aren't you the Reds who took down the Freelancer Project? Why don't you come with us and do all of our fucking work for us?' But no. No time off for Private Dexter Grif."
"Ah, shut up Grif. Your whole life has been time off." Sarge grumbled.
"You know what? I've said this word so many times I've lost track… that is if I ever bothered to count them in the first place. But I have never meant it more than I mean it now…"
Grif turned and strode purposefully back into the base, shouting the one word he loved above every other.
"…Whatever."
BBBBB
Missouri stiffened. There were bad first impressions and impressions that would never be lived down. This was the latter. He had apparently pissed Private Grif off without even realizing it.
"Please, don't mind him."
Simmons' words snapped him back to reality, his brown eyes flitting back to the maroon-armored soldier.
"He is the laziest soldier I have ever met. He's just mad because he thinks there is no more work for him, no more conflicts and then a freelancer approaches the base and speaks to us, so he thinks you're here to try and make us come with you for some reason."
Simmons narrowed his eyes, although it went undetected to the gold armored man standing before him.
"You aren't going to try and convince us to come and work for you, are you?"
"I wouldn't turn down the help if you wanted to, but no. I'm not here on any special assignment. I'm not fighting any wars. In fact…"
Here Missouri paused and turned his head away from the Sim-troopers, looking to the ground as he confessed.
"I am running away from one."
"Well, Ooh Lah Lah, A big mighty freelancer running away from his troubles? What is this big war all about? They can't agree on how to braid each other's hair?" Sarge mocked.
"It isn't a war so to speak, but yes… I am running away from trouble." Moe answered cryptically.
"Now there there, don't feel bad. We all have problems. But it's always better to face them head on." Donut said.
"Thank you Donut, but in this case the trouble I am running from happens to be the entire UNSC military."
The silence was deafening. No one spoke or moved for a few minutes.
"What… Why are the UNSC after you? Are they tracking you?" Simmons asked, momentarily frightened before Missouri put up a reassuring hand.
"We have slipped off of earth completely undetected, they don't know where we are and we are hoping it's for good." Missouri assured the frightened Sim-trooper.
"Who's we?" Donut asked, "I only see one of you."
Missouri sighed. Here goes nothing,
"We is exactly the reason we're running from the military. Lamb?"
Lambda's image flickered over Missouri's right shoulder. Her visage was static-y and unclear and it seemed she couldn't get her resolution filters under control. Even the pale pink light her body gave off seemed dimmer. Her giant green eyes focused on the now stricken troopers above her and Missouri.
"I am we. I am the AI designated Lambda." She said softly.
"Oh wow! Hi Lambda! I love how lightish red you are! You remind me of me!" Donut exclaimed. He leapt off the balcony he had been perched upon to the ground to get a closer look.
"Wait, why is she all fuzzy and unclear?" Donut asked, staring at Lambda's image from inches away.
"I do not work at my full capacity." Lambda explained.
"Sounds like Grif alright." Sarge muttered.
"It isn't a matter of want as seems to be the case with your friend. I am fractured. I was among the last of my brothers… and sister. I was the final AI that worked in any capacity. I am the essence of the Alpha's love and eroticism." Lambda explained.
Her voice seemed to lose volume for a moment before returning midway through her speech.
"She is dying." Missouri muttered, "Every… single… day. Her life only lasts eight hours without recharging. We… don't know how to fix her, to bring her to full strength. She needs recharging though because she is fading fast. If you have a generator or some other type of power source I would humbly ask for permission to charge her up."
Nobody spoke. Lambda flickered in and out of focus above Missouri's right shoulder, also not speaking.
"Wow, that is… actually really sad." Simmons admitted, his voice thick.
"Well, hell. I guess there's no reason to let the lady die. Come on, there's a super computer up here in the base you can hook her to." Sarge said in a rare moment of sympathy, which he immediately broke.
"But if that thing pees on anything I'm hitting her with a rolled up newspaper."
Missouri chuckled, shaking his head.
"That has never happened before… But duly noted." He answered.
Missouri looked to Lambda and smiled.
"Come on Lamb. Let's get you some power."
"That would be incredible Moe."
"Shut down for a while, why don't you? Save the power you do have. And I know how much you hate being removed from me." Missouri said softly as he ascended the ramp up into the interior of Valhalla's Red Base.
"It hurts." She murmured.
"I know. And I am sorry, but it's the only way to…" Missouri started.
"To recharge me so I don't die. I know. Still though. The physical pain is merely a symptom of my… unique condition."
Lambda sounded so sad. So tired. He knew how much she longed to be fixed. In essence she would be cured from an existence of pain, momentary bouts of memory loss and the danger of having to be recharged every eight hours. The life extension would vary from sixteen to forty-eight hours depending on what was used and how she was repaired.
But that was all either of them knew. The secret had been so deeply guarded by the Director that nobody else had an inkling. There was not a shred of information stored upon any of the computer systems that Moe had gotten access to. The one and only successful case of AI repair he knew of without the aid of the extremely rare alien Cartographers was Rho.
However neither Lambda nor he knew anything else. He only knew that AI repair was possible because of the legend of Rho. However neither freelancer nor AI had any other information, and no other information existed. Not a jot, a tittle, a note, a file, a byte worth of knowledge of the process. The only one person who knew died by his own hand after Carolina showed mercy.
"Don't give up hope, Lamb. We can… No! We will cure you! You have my word." Missouri swore, looking into Lambda's big green eyes. She smiled happily.
"I know and I trust in you. I believe in you." Lambda said.
She surrounded Missouri's synapses in the pleasure of a long kiss, minus the pressure of warm lips upon warm lips. He sighed.
"You complete me." Lambda whispered.
"And you complete me." Moe said softly. He brushed his hand through the glowing image of her hair.
"Now do what I said and shut down." Missouri teased with a half grin. Lambda laughed and did as she was told.
BBBBBB
Lambda was tucked away safely within her AI fragment which was currently inserted into the base's resident supercomputer. She was recharging and the tiny image of her prancing along the small circular holographic display residing just beside the computer's monitor caused no end of mirth for Missouri who watched her idly.
She had described the feeling of recharging as sleeping awake. She was completely aware of her energy returning. Where before she had sounded tired and almost sleepy, now she sang and spoke to any of the Sim-troopers who spoke with her. She smiled again as she answered questions about her origin and condition. When Simmons asked a particular question Missouri spoke up for the first time since he had plugged Lambda into the recharging port an hour before.
"So how did you guys meet? I have never seen a freelancer in Mark six armor holding an AI." Simmons asked.
"That's because I was never officially a freelancer. I had a state name and I had a place on the leaderboard… number fifty," Missouri answered, allowing his shame and anger to show when he spoke of his rank, "But I was never considered one of the team. I was hardly ever aboard the Mother of Invention. I was a behind the scenes broker more or less. Otherwise I was totally and completely unwanted due to my views on war."
"Wait, you're a pacifist? Grr, we knew one of those and he was next to useless!" Sarge shouted with a grimace.
"I'm no pacifist. I fight for what I believe in, for what I care about just like anybody else. But I despise wars between cultures. I served without a weapon, but I also knew the value of getting to know my guns." Missouri corrected.
"So he gave you an AI because he thought you were worthless like us. That still doesn't explain why though. AI's are incredibly valuable pieces of technology." Simmons said.
"I am the essence of love and eroticism as I said before," Lambda jumped in, sounding perky, "The Director saw no use in me. He tried selling me to other entities, all classified I'm afraid. But when they wouldn't pay a single credit for an AI that was considered useless on the battlefield, the Director threw me away."
"He threw you away? Just like that?" Donut asked dumbfounded.
"Like garbage." Missouri grumbled, his anger rising.
"Fractured with no combat applications and with no entities wanting to purchase me. Yes, I was deemed unworthy." Lambda agreed.
"I picked her out of the trash and bought her for two-hundred credits. The Director's price, not mine. But in the end, I had my armor and I had Lambda. We went AWOL as soon as we found that we were alone and nobody was watching."
"Hell, that's pretty low. But still, an AI was supposed to help UNSC special agents become meaner, tougher, smarter… not to become hippies. I don't wanna upset any of you, but I wouldn't have bought her either." Sarge pointed out.
"I seemed drawn to her. See it's not simply the fact that I am a compassionate person when it comes to this lovely lady. But I am filled with rage at what the Director did to us. To everyone involved with the Freelancer Project. I hate his memory and the fact that Carolina didn't bring him to justice for what he did makes me angry. Lambda is my influence. She is my cornerstone and my conscience. She keeps my anger at bay and she is very good at doing so. She ended up with the right agent even if by coincidence." Missouri explained.
"Each to his own, Missouri," Sarge replied, "In the end it looks like it separated itself out. I'll tell ya this one for free, son. I've lived a long, long time. I've seen war and I've loved it all. That's who I am though. You couldn't change me if you tried. I love blood and violence. I've got a boner for murder. I wear it well and it doesn't overtake me, too often anyway. I've seen Carolina at her worst. I have walked away from her because I saw too much of myself in her at one time and I knew that she couldn't handle it. She tried to and she failed and we ended up having to ride in to save her and Church. Carolina now, while she will always mourn the loss of her father and that New York fella, is Carolina again. She ain't some angry, revenge-crazy bitch anymore. Carolina is Carolina."
"Carolina did what she did because she had sympathy near the end. But I can tell you one-hundred percent that if it were me in her shoes I would have pulled that trigger." Missouri said. The conviction in his voice chilled the rest of the guys, but not Sarge.
"You do what you gotta do. But I can tell just from lookin' at ya that Carolina was harder and tougher than you are and she was able to walk away. I'm tellin' you now, war is a hell of a lot of fun. Leading a war is even better. I love the thrill of battle even if I never again jump out of a ship in high orbit. But you son, are not cut out for battle. You do whatever this is that way and you're gonna die and then what? Lambda there dies too. Not that I care that much because I don't know either one of you. But you do care. If you are going to be any good to Lambda, then you gotta let that anger go and do it soon. I don't even know you and I can tell you're no angry guy."
"What makes you so sure of that? You think I wouldn't kill the Director dead where he stands if he were still alive?! What makes you think I'm not that guy?!" Missouri shouted. He was standing now, but Sarge never even flinched. Instead he crossed his arms and cocked his red helmet adorned head.
"Son, if I saw myself in some alleyway somewhere, I wouldn't mess with me. Ya know why?"
Missouri didn't bite, knowing the old man was going to answer anyway.
"Because I am an angry man. I'd be afraid of me. But I ain't afraid of you Agent Missouri."
Missouri sat back down, stunned to silence. Before Sarge walked away he spoke a final time before heading off to do whatever it was he did.
"Let it go, Missouri. If you don't it will consume you and you will be no good for that little woman on your shoulder."
With that Sarge was moving on.
"Well said." Missouri spoke.
"Listen, you know how you said you were trying to repair Lambda?" Donut asked, drawing Simmons gaze as well.
"Of course. Do you have any information for me?" Missouri responded. Donut shook his head.
"No, sorry. But Simmons here knows a lot about computers. And Caboose is a real whiz with machines."
Missouri looked to the Maroon soldier.
"Do you think you can help in any way Simmons?" Missouri asked, leaning forward.
"Hmm, I don't know. I've never worked on an AI and while they are computer programs, they are too advanced. I've never had any experience with working on one. But Caboose has performed some repairs on Church when he was Epsilon. He moved him to several different vehicles and platforms and he also seems to know how to repair him to at least increase his memory and make sure he is running optimally." Simmons answered.
"So I should go see Caboose at Blue base." Missouri reiterated. Simmons seemed a little nervous so Missouri asked after him.
"Oh, it's nothing really. It's just that you're a former freelancer and I know for sure Carolina's back in town, for a while at least. And Church knows everything about the organization so wouldn't it be weird for them to see you?" Simmons wondered.
"Maybe so. But I will take whatever tongue lashing from Carolina and insults from Church I need to in order for Lambda to continue running as best as she is able to." Missouri answered.
A faint thump, thump, thump of metal, first on grass and then on the concrete ramp that led up into Red base. A soldier in teal armor approached Missouri and the Reds, huffing from the exertion of his run. He held up an index finger while he panted, his other hand grasping his left knee pad.
"I don't know who you are… But I just wanted to say I'd love a tongue-lashing from Carolina. Bow chicka bow wow!"
Missouri was stunned speechless.
"How did you even hear me?"
"Oh, that's just Tucker. He just shows up sometimes." Simmons said.
Missouri shook his head in stunned disbelief before taking Lambda's memory unit from the computer port and sliding the end into the AI port that was surgically implanted in his neck, connecting with his spinal cord which would allow Lambda direct passage into his very mind.
Taking one last long and silent look at Tucker he moved past and made his way out the door.
Simmons looked to Tucker, who looked back in disbelief.
"Who was that guy?"
A/N: A special thanks to Jaden Silver who simply pointed out that Agent Missouri seemed like an angry person. I wasn't going to make him that way, more of a loving and compassionate man. But she gave me the idea for a dichotomy in his personality which will no doubt be intriguing. We've also talked about some other ideas she had that I will be getting into starting next chapter when Moe visits the Blue base. I'll cover those later, but I just wanted to thank her for giving me the idea to give Missouri a distracting angry side.