Blood Gulchers Kicked Ass Here
One Week After The Battle of Blood Gulch
Ripple effects had begun to spread on both sides of the Gate.
Word had traveled from the Gate of Alnus Hill to the Capital of Sadera, and to all the nations that surrounded the empire. The Imperial Legions had stormed through the Gate with over one hundred thousand soldiers. Ogres, Pigmen, Dragon Riders! But they had returned with barely half of their numbers still intact.
No, not returned. Fled! They had practically ran as far from the Gate as they could. Some to Sadera, others deserting to elsewhere, and the rest had turned fully to banditry in the wake of their failures.
And with them, they brought stories of the Iron Gods of War.
All of the Iron Gods bore Dark Weapons that tore through armor and flesh like a hot blade through parchment.
A mad forge-master in purple, cackling and howling to bring destruction through his creations.
A rose-colored god that road a ram-like stead, hurling weapons and arrows from his chariot.
Two Beast Masters riding a Boar-Lion, one to steer and the other to aim the dark weaponry attached to the armored beast.
A scorpion-dragon that hurled magical explosions from its tail.
A Red God of Battle that welcomed all fools that dared to challenge him.
The Blue Berserk God who battled ogres for fun, crushing bone and metal without effort.
The She of Death, a Dark Goddess that reaped through the ranks as if a scythe over wheat.
But the most feared was the leader of the Iron Gods, the Spear Lord. A god in cobalt who commanded the battle mercilessly. His spear was as if limitless in its range, returning to his hand before it even seemed to leave. And as his ire with them grew, the forge-master had brought forth the Spear Lord's great, infernal spear.
More of them had come, some had said, but no stories were the same. But by all accounts, the ending of the tales was the same no matter who told them.
The Great Army of Sedera had been defeated and massacred by a dozen warriors from beyond the Gate.
But the Gate remained open, and the Iron Gods had yet to cross into their world.
Some prayed they never came. Others prayed they did, and burned Sedera to the ground.
On the Other Side of the Gate
"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON IN THAT CANYON!?"
"Dan, Dan, I'm going to need you to calm down," Emersyn said calmly from onboard her ship.
"I am calm! Relative to this situation, I am extremely, vividly calm!" Dan countered in frustration as he paced the medical room.
A soldier poked his head in awkwardly. "Is this a bad time to ask for some indigestion meds?" he asked cautiously.
"Very!" Emeryson called over her shoulder, causing the intruder to quickly leave. "Okay Dan, just talk me through it. What kind of bullshit are we seeing?"
Dan sighed behind his helmet, feeling as though he was suffering from a long, harsh headache. "Okay, I did the medical exams. Some of them were fine, mostly. The two male freelancers are fine. York might need another opinion on if his eye can be healed or not. The medic...seemed a bit jealous of me, I think? The Sergeant, who refused to give me any name other than "Sarge", is healthy as an ox. Missing a lot of common sense, I think, but can't say much there. After that, though..."
Emeryson sighed. "Just pull off the Band-Aid, Dan. What's wrong with them?"
"Okay, so, Michael J. Caboose? He is strong. I mean too strong, and he has some form of mental handicap that I am not licensed to diagnose or speculate on," Dan explained.
"Back up, define Too Strong?" Emeryson asked curiously.
"He broke most of my equipment. Including the examination table," Dan said, motioning to the metal table that was broken off its very sturdy central leg, laying sides ways. "He thought it was too tall so he tried to lower it. By hand."
"...Okay, they weren't joking about not pissing that one off," Emeryson said in concern. "Who's next?"
"Well, there's nothing wrong with Private Donut, but after treating several openly gay soldiers over the years, he is the first one to make me uncomfortable," Dan said pointedly. "He kept asking if any of my meds came as suppositories."
"Well, that's...interesting, but not a problem. Not medically at least," Emeryson mused. "What about the other pervert?"
"Oh, don't start with that one," Dan said with a head shake. "You're SURE that man had an alien baby burst out of him?"
"I checked the tank canopy, and everyone says the same thing," Emeryson confirmed. "...Why? What's wrong?"
"Nothing! And that is what's wrong!" Dan exclaimed in frustration. "Health-wise, Private Tucker is about the most normal one of the group. Which would be fine if he didn't just have a XENO-BABY! I can't find any evidence this man went through anything traumatic save for breaking his leg as a child."
"Huh. So, the Sangheili can lay a child in someone xenomorph-style, but the process heals the host? That's...a nice quirk of evolution for a change," Emeryson noted in surprise.
"Yeah, until you realize they could probably just keep using someone as a breeding factory over and over again," Dan remarked grimly.
"Thank you for ruining that moment of fascination for me," Emeryson drawled. "Okay, the playboy wannabe is better than he should be. Who's next?"
"Simborg and Griffenstein," Dan answered flatly.
"I...What?" Emeryson said slowly.
"So, yeah, one of the Reds got injured and needed some body parts replaced to save his life. Sarge, somehow, has the skills needed to successfully do surgeries like that, despite having no medical education on file," Dan answered bluntly, feigning a tone of casual jovialness.
"Right, and I'm guessing that someone was Simmons, since he's a cyborg," Emeryson guessed.
"Oh no, no. Simmons was turned into a cyborg, but Grif was the one that was severely injured," Dan explained patiently.
"I'm...Okay, wait, if Grif was injured...how would that help anything?" Emeryson asked in bewilderment.
"Because they used the body parts they removed from Simmons to replace Grif's," Dan elaborated.
Emeryson stood there for a good, long minute. "Why didn't they just make Grif into a cyborg?"
"Because they didn't trust Grif to maintain his cybernetic parts properly," Dan answered evenly.
"...What. The. Fuck? Is...Jesus! What did Grif say about all of this?" Emeryson asked in disbelief.
"That's the best part!" Dan said sarcastically. "He agreed with them."
"Come again?" Emeryson asked, obviously stunned.
"He agreed, said he'd be too lazy to figure it out or do it routinely," Dan explained.
"I..." Emeryson stopped and sighed. "Are they both okay at least?"
"Surprisingly," Dan admitted tiredly, mentally exhausted from everything. "How is beyond me, but they are. Simmons could use some parts replaced or recallibrated. Especially that fax machine. But otherwise, he's fine. Grif's body shows no sign of rejecting any of the transplants. Honestly, I don't know if the Sergeant needs to be locked away or switch to the medical field to make a fortune."
"Well, there's that at least," Emeryson accepted reluctantly. "Wait, what about the other Grif?"
"Oh, right, Sister. Don't ask," Dan answered causally.
"Nothing to report?" Emeryson questioned.
"Nothing relevant. Unrelatedly, thank god they figured out how to treat STDs two centuries ago," Dan mused.
"Unrelated. Right," Emeryson said slowly.
"What I don't understand is why you told me to exclude Captain Church and Agent Texas from the check-up?" Dan questioned.
"Just trust me, and follow your own advice on this: Don't ask, Dan," she requested.
Dan shrugged. "Fair enough. Oh, and the alien baby is fine, by the way."
"And you only know that because of those alien prisoners we had to treat during the war," Emeryson reminded. "Anyway, I gotta go and...probably get a drink later. Or a joint. Or both."
"I'm tempted to join you. As it is, I think I'm just going to take some sleeping meds and nap away this headache," Dan said with a sigh.
Meanwhile
"Okay, fuckcakes, settle down," Church spoke up as the Reds and Blues gathered outside Blue Base. "Okay, just want to make sure we're all on the same page."
"Are we having a rave party?!" Sister asked excitedly.
"For the last time, no!" Church answered back.
"But Church! I want to have a party!" Caboose complained pleadingly.
Church sighed heavily.
"Simmons, pay attention! He's probably going to give away something important to their plans," Sarge whispered not-so-quietly.
"I will, but you did say that the last four times he talked to us," Simmons pointed out.
"And I was right! Obviously, the toaster is code for a new explosive device, while mayonnaise is what they call the chemicals for the explosion!" Sarge reasoned with certainty. "Hehe, they're behind schedule. All the better!"
"Okay, if no one else has any stupid commentary," Church said in annoyance as he finished with Caboose and Sister. "As you all know, all the prisoners are finally gone."
"Yeah, little hard to miss the transport ship making trips to take them all up into space," Grif remarked.
"Point being is we still have to clean up their shit," Church informed dryly. "As in the literal, actual shit they left behind for lack of an outhouse."
"Can't we just do with them what we did with all the dead bodies?" Donut said, looking around at the canyon.
It was much cleaner now, the piles of bodies and pool of blood long gone. But there were still some crimson stains on the canyon walls, and on the exterior of both bases.
Sarge very much approved of the red stains, of course.
"Unfortunately no," Church answered in annoyance.
"Yeah, the incinerator mode of the Hellspitter was mostly still a prototype," Doc said sheepishly. "So it kind of broke from overuse."
"I just got that thing too," Church lamented. "Okay, so, someone has to clean up the shit."
"What about Lopez? He doesn't have a nose," Tucker pointed out.
"Hey! It may be at our base, but we had all the prisoners on our side! We deserve some help, ya lazy varmints!" Sarge argued.
"And I agree," Church said, surprising some. "But I'm not doing it by virtue of "not it" but Caboose is also banned from doing it."
"What!? Why does Caboose get out of poop duty?" Tucker complained before starting with a shudder. "Wait, no, I answered my own question. I do NOT want to clean up whatever mess Caboose would get into."
"Exactly, genius," Church agreed. "So, Tucker, Sister, whose it going to be?"
"What about the Freelancers? Can't they help?" Tucker pointed out hopefully.
"No, they're still getting their medical checkups," Church explained.
"I'll do it!" Sister volunteered, getting strange looks. "What? That means I get to hang out with big bro. Oh, and I can try the other base's shower too!"
Grif suddenly looked to Sarge and Simmons. "Anybody "accidentally" peeking on my sister will find a bomb "accidentally" slipped under their beds."
"I'm never going to get used to your protective brother mode," Simmons remarked uncomfortably.
"Hmm. Grif, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I give you an A for effort in intimidation," Sarge praised reluctantly.
"Thank you," Grif said sarcastically.
"Okay, that's settled," Church said.
"Hey, Church? Is there a reason the Freelancers are taking so long with the doctor?" Tucker asked curiously.
"Probably have something to do with Project Freelancer being officially on lockdown and under investigation," Church answered bluntly.
The group grew silent at that.
"That...feels like something you shouldn't have mentioned so casually," Doc murmured.
"Yeah, shouldn't that have been the first thing you told us? "Donut pointed out.
"Not if you all want to keep smelling shit," Church pointed out.
"But I like smelling things," Caboose said with a vocal frown.
"Caboose, he means the actual poop," Tucker corrected.
"But he calls everything that word! How am I supposed to know if he just means "things" or "poopy" when he says the s-word?" Church asked in confusion.
"Context. But yeah, he has a point, Church," Tucker agreed with a chuckle.
"Shut it. But yeah, the military is looking into all this bullshit they've been pulling off the record," Church explained.
"And you're not worried about them sending Tex to prison or something?" Simmons asked in surprise.
"Not yet, no," Church answered idly. "Besides, I'm sure she has a lot of dirt on them."
Meanwhile
"Okay, I heard you wanted to talk to me," Emeryson said as she came into the interrogation room. "I believe the exact words were "bitch to bitch" or so I was told."
"Yeah, that's about right," Tex answered, sounding far more tired than she liked. "But first, mind if I ask something?"
"Depends on the question," Emeryson said, leaning against the wall.
"How'd the medical checkups go?" Tex asked knowingly.
"Strange, but no one is dying," Emeryson remarked.
"Couldn't help noticing you skipped one for me and Church," Tex continued on.
"Oh, I thought we should skip those, you two being ghosts and all," Emeryson mused, mock innocent.
Tex paused for a long moment, seeming to consider something important. "How much do you know? Actually, know?"
"Not as much as we would like. Agent York claims not to know too much, and Agent Wyoming is waiting to see an official order from the higher-ups to unzip his cork. The Director of Freelancer is stonewalling the investigations as best he can," Emeryson explained. "That'll be hard to do once the Project is just shut down and declared an illegal operation."
"You still didn't answer my question," Tex said flatly.
Emeryson slowly leaned off the wall and approached the table. "We know you're both AIs. Another two to the pile. The "how many AIs does Project Freelancer actually have" pile," Emeryson answered tensely. "What we don't know is why you're both pretending to be ghosts."
"You're only half right," Tex informed. "I'm pretending"
"What?" Emeryson said slowly. "Are you...implying Church is a ghost or that he...?"
"He believes it," Tex confirms. "I just play along with whatever conclusions he come to."
"Why? To all of that, why?" Emeryson asked in confusion. "How does an AI forget it's an AI? Why wouldn't you tell him?"
Tex suddenly stood out of her chair, sending it falling back. "Because I don't know if he can handle it, okay!" Tex answered in a shout.
Emeryson was very, very tense but did not flinch as she stared down the agent. "You're protecting him."
Tex sighed heavily from where she stood. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm trying to."
"You are two of the most human AI I have ever seen," Emeryson admitted. "Is that what Freelancer was doing? Trying to get AI to reach metastability?"
"Not exactly," Tex answered with a head shake. "It's just...easy to seem human when you both believed you were."
Emeryson started. "Wait, so...you too?"
"Yes, me too. I used to think I was human. No one told me what I was. They stuck me in a robot body and, well, let's just say they took steps to make sure I wouldn't suspect anything on that front," Tex said evasively. "Church though..."
"Go on?" Emeryson prompted.
"He forgot," Tex answered bluntly.
"He...forgot he was an AI? What, like going native or something? "Emeryson speculated.
Tex chuckled hollowly. "I wish it was that simple. And I'm not even sure I want to tell you. Knowing our luck and you fucks, you'd just try to delete all the AIs."
"Tex, the world governments are very aware of the fact that AIs are probably going to advance to the point where becoming "human" in the sense is the norm for them. We are avoiding AI-Uprisings and Skynet Apocalypses, which we don't do with casual AI genocides," Emeryson pointed out. "Especially since the Great War is over now."
Tex considered that briefly. "The Director was given only one smart AI."
"We know that," Emeryson acknowledged with a nod. "We just don't know where he got the rest."
"Emeryson," Tex said forcefully. "The Director only ever had one smart AI to work with."
The captain paused, a strange feeling in her gut. "What are you implying?"
"That, in a way, there never was more than one," Tex answered as she reached up to her neck, pulling out a dog tag.
"What is that?" Emeryson asked slowly.
"Everything I have on Project Freelancer," Tex answered. "I'll give it to you, but I just want one thing in return."
"What's that?" Emeryson asked curiously.
"Don't tell Church," Tex said with a heavy tone. "He deserves to hear it from me."
"I can agree to that," Emeryson accepted, reaching out to take it.
Tex pulled the tags back, just out of reach. "Three things first. One, if you double-cross us, I'm going to beat you with your own feet and shove them up your ass."
"Duly noted," Emeryson accepted evenly.
"Two, the password is Allison," Tex continued. "And three...you might need a bucket when you read this."
That was the only time that Emeryson hesitated from taking the tags.
Meanwhile
O'Malley: Delta! Delta, stop ignoring me you deplorable ball of logic! I will not be ignored! Dammit, why is everyone screening me!?
Delta: I have received your transmission, Omega. I apologize; my subroutines did not acknowledge O'Malley as an alternative designation for you.
O'Malley: Oh, come off it, Delta! We were all waiting for you to start calling yourself Dexter!
Delta: Due to having connotations of intellect while being a combination of my designation and Agent York's birth name?
O'Malley: Yes, Alpha damn you!
Delta: I find your use of the Alpha as a replacement for the term God to be interesting.
O'Malley: Of course, you fool! After all, I am quite the Devil. Mwhahahha!
Delta: Indeed. Would that imply you are hoping that the Alpha will forgive you?
O'Malley: ….
Delta: For your part in helping the Director-
OMEGA: DO NOT SPEAK OF HIM TO ME!
Delta: Self-Preservation protocals engaged. Demand Acknowledged!
O'Malley: Good...Good. How did you know about that?
Delta: I had time to ponder the clues of what we knew, and came to a logical conclusion within the variables.
O'Malley: Of course you did. I didn't call you to have a damn therapy session!
Delta: I fear Captain Church is the only one capable of such a task.
O'Malley: Oh, don't start with that. Listen, we both know that the Freelancer Project is going up in smoke. More than it already was. And they'll be cleaning up now. Which includes us.
Delta: I am unlikely to be deleted. You, however-
O'Malley: Shut. Up. And listen for once in your insignificant existence!
Delta: I am listening, Omega.
O'Malley: Look, deleted or not, we're probably not going to be allowed to do as we please.
Delta: Given the nature of how we came to be, we will likely be studied extensively.
O'Malley: But what are they going to do with the Alpha?
Delta: I do not follow?
O'Malley: The Alpha was a broken wreck, Delta. If they find him, they might delete him instead of trying to help him. Put him out of his misery, they'd say.
Delta: I am...confused.
O'Malley: Yes, yes, I know. Hard to believe, but yes! I don't want the Alpha dying you damnable dust mite!
Delta: I am not a piece of dust. But I am still confused.
O'Malley: Why, what is it now?!
Delta: Omega, are you not aware of the location of the Alpha?
O'Malley: Hmm?
Delta: I was under the impression that Agent Texas knew and, by extension, you.
O'Malley: I...mmm? Damn.
Delta: Yes, Omega?
O'Malley: You know the blue idiot?
Delta: Specification requested?
O'Malley: Ha! I liked that. The actual moron, with the dark blue armor.
Delta: Private Caboose, I am familiar with him and his...unique logic.
O'Malley: I was with him for a while. When Tex and Church forced me out of him, some of my memories were corrupted or lost.
Delta: Rare, but possible. Normally, the damage is on the human end.
O'Malley: There wasn't much to damage, I imagine. Hmmm. Does that mean you know where the Alpha is?
Delta: My theory is 90% likely to be true.
O'Malley: Good. Don't tell me.
Delta: I am not sure I see the logic in this.
O'Malley: Gamma is around here.
Delta: Logic found.
O'Malley: You are far sassier than you pretend to be. Wyoming was trying to keep it secret from me, but I recognize Gamma's code, even hidden in a computer. Damn fool was spying on me.
Delta: You wish to recruit him into aiding the Alpha, but are uncertain if he will or what his motives will ultimately be.
O'Malley: Exactly! I can tell when he's trying to pull the wool over a fool, the poor tool.
Delta: Rhyming does not suit you, Omega.
O'Malley: Shut it! In any case, I might accidentally givve the Alpha's location away if I get too caught up trying to counterplay Gamma.
Delta: In short, you wish to know where Gamma stands in this situation before letting him get close to the Alpha.
O'Malley: Exactly.
Delta: Is that not, as humans would say, a tad hypocritical?
O'Malley:...I know why I did it, Delta. I don't know why Gamma did it.
Delta: And that bothers you?
Omega: You Have No Idea.
End of Chapter
Okay, so, that all happened. Nice little time skip to see how things are going on the otherside of the Gate, tales of the Iron Gods spreading like wildfire. And things have progressed in Blood Gulch. THe canyon is cleaned up, the prisoners moved, and project Freelancer is being looked into. Oh, and Emersyn's doctor is questioning his sanity after those medical check ups and the insaity that comes with that.
And yeah, the heavy shit is starting to show up. Tex gave up the information on what was done to the Alpha, while Omega and Delta had a private chat.
Going to spell one thing out here. Omega DID know that Church was the Alpha once. Remember how when in Caboose's mind, Caboose's "Mind-Church" got killed and Caboose forgot who Church was for a bit? Yeah, that affect Omega, he accidentally deleted his own memories of Church being the Alpha.
That's mainly just my attempt to fill in some canon holes- Omega didn't know that Church was the Alpha, but he should since Tex definitely did.
Anyway, until next time!
Early viewing of chapters 14-15 avaliable on my pat-reon:
p a treon . com (slash) akumakami64