hexaflexagons | [Liberation AU]

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[Liberation AU]

The world had changed since one man's cry had sent her crashing across the training room floor, mind ablaze with a single name. And so too had Carolina's place in it.

That she'd awoken alone and scared and dazed, with nothing and no one to anchor her in the recovery ward except the chatter of two imbalanced AI hadn't helped matters. Not with the whispers at her back in the corridors and the feeling of all eyes on her when she'd all but stormed the bridge. She'd been down, yes, but not out. A miscalculation wasn't enough to discourage her, not when she knew that she could handle it. She would prove she could handle it. It hadn't been her fault that the match had been interrupted..

But that hadn't stopped people from staring, clearly wondering just how much more rope was needed for Carolina to hang herself with, for when she took that next fall from the high pedastal she'd worked so hard to climb on top of...

Because that number one slot would be hers again - but not through her own doing. Not in the way it was supposed to count. No, it was 'thanks' to Texas leaving, breaking the trust of the Director and the Project. Attempting to steal other AI. Defection during wartime carried harsh enough penalties as it was, but no, no, Texas had to go one better. She couldn't settle for one death (traitor or no traitor, and oh, it hurt to think of Connie), Texas dared to try and drag the rest of the team down with her. Her team. Her best friend.

Between that news, Iota's petulant whining and Eta's discordant drone in the back of her mind, it had been all Carolina could do to keep from screaming like the child the Director accused her of acting like.

Even now, Carolina could feel the press of two discordant minds on her own, whispering about the shapes in the corridor shadows, how they lingered in the elevator shaft behind York as he stepped out of the dark towards them. "What are you doing here?" Her voice was taunt, wavering in spite of her best efforts, unable to hide the hurt. Across the twin barrels of her plasma rifles, gold visor tipped, tilted to glare as she shook her head. (Distantly, she was aware of the thrum of her weapons', the energy pulse vibrating even through her gloves. The ship shuddered around them, but that, Carolina didn't seem to notice.)

"Why are you helping her?!"

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It was clear by now that something was terribly wrong.

It still haunted him in a way he couldn't dismiss—Delta's very being had throbbed with longing and heartbreak when he joined in with the AIs in calling for Allison, emotions that he never would have suspected Delta to be capable of. Being guided to Carolina's bedside and staying with her as she lay unresponsive for days on end. And finally, being called away by Tex, who he didn't trust until she showed him her evidence.

Suddenly, everything made sense, and the revelations were horrifying. There was more to this than the suspicions he'd stuffed down after the disaster on the highway. These were things he couldn't stand for. He wanted to wait until Carolina had awakened, wanted to show her the things they had discovered and convince her that she had to come along, but circumstances weren't kind to him. Before he knew it he and Tex were being forced to act.

Now he had made his move and everyone knew the score. Even Carolina, who had awakened at some point after he'd fled. He'd almost been afraid he'd have to break into the infirmary to find her, but here she stood before him, her stance aggressive, her words filled with spite. He had to think fast, try to find the right things to say to make her understand what he was doing and why, but under the pressure of the situation, his rehearsed explanations left him. Conversations rarely go the way one has planned for them to go. All he could offer, now that his explanations had failed, was one phrase, one final plea.

"You can trust me."

But of course that wasn't enough, couldn't be enough, because his life had never been that easy. His only chance now was going to be to defeat her in a physical fight, something that was difficult enough for him to accomplish even without the variable of the lack of gravity that they were experiencing now. He had to think fast on his feet, remember to stay connected to the deck at all times, and hope for the best.

It should have been enough.

In another time, it might have been - before dedication to service and the need, the drive to excel, to be better than the triple threat that had walked right in and just taken what she'd fought so hard to earn without so much as breaking a sweat-- But she hadn't and she couldn't, and now CT was dead and if Carolina couldn't do better, couldn't be faster, if she let the other woman have her way, Texas would be the death of them all.

How she'd rallied York to her side, Carolina had no notion, and here, confronting him, putting him on the spot, it felt so very badly like she was tilting at windmills. Being a bad liar didn't mean he would tell her the truth, not the whole of it, not what she needed to hear. That he was not the 'damned partner in crime' the Director had sworn him to be.

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i̠̺t͕͈̗'̬̱̘̖͚̮͓ș̜̫ ̖no͍͇ṱ͇̙̞̝̩̞ ̼͓͇̠̖̱̫sa̤̣̣̺f͚̥̣e ͎̥̲̪̰̻̰n̬͎͉̜e̝̗͈̜̮v̹̳̳̭̠͙e̦̙̮r̭̼͔ ̩̻͖s̗̜͔a̳f͔̻̦̪͉̭e̝͕͍̟̤
th̠̹̮͓͍̳̞e͚y̺̞̯͈̺̩ͅ ̼̣̤͖d̝͔o̖n̬͔͖͎'̖̻͕͈̞̰t̙̬̮̹̜̥ ̳̘͈͇̼̙b̞͙̱͙͓̻̱e͉̯̰̜̝l̺̜ie͓̤̣͈̣͇̳v̬̮͔e̮̥ͅ ̱͔̙͖y̲o̫̤̙̘̞̫ṷ̫̥̱̥̝ ̱͇̲̲͙y̗̻̞o̬u̫͕'̗̼v̥̘e̟̯ ̰̺̰̞f͕͇̦͈a̲͍̮̮i̭̹l̯̗͈͙ͅe̜̩d̤͍̥͙̠̙ ̮͙̱̹̘yo̖̞̙̺͚̦͕u̯̹̻̟͙'͉̩ͅv̭e̞̲̻ ̳͕͔̹ͅa͔̥̤̖̯͉l̜w͖͖̗a̘̣̯̠͎y̭̠̙͓̖̱͇s ̹̮̝̻̗f̘̩a̰̺͉̗̹i̯̦͕̯̼̝̭l̗͖͎̥̯̙e͇͈d͍͈̲ y̠̙͕̮̝o̱ṵ͕'̗̣͕̜l̺͕̲̙͚͇͈l ͕̥̹̤n͕͓͇e̼̫̱̰̙̜v̩̟̰̩̗͕e͍͉̥̲̲͔ͅr͉ ̟̥b̼̫͇̟̱͍e̜̺͎ ̦͓̫̦͔͔ͅw͚̣̯͔̘̰o̠̦r͚̰̥̭̱t̠͕h͙ ̭̭̠͙̻i̬̞̟͉͕ṭ̼̫̝̠ say the voices in her head.

He couldn't be honest with her when she needed it most, not when all he wanted was what the Director warned her about. He and Delta had been a team so long, did that mean he thought he could do better with two? With three? After what had happened to Wyoming (and no matter how much friction had been between them, she didn't want to believe York had been involved in that), did they really think her so weak at target? So incapable?

She had wanted so badly to trust him. "But you can't trust me," she replied, even as her weapons dipped, the regret written in every line. It wasn't fair and she didn't understand, could not comprehend the reasons he wasn't telling her, and his guilt was evident in how he looked away. It's in that pause, within that silent beat between that he makes the first move. She could feel Eta's lethargy and Iota's terror, none of it helping her, all of it hindering as she moved to block his counter, even after being disarmed.

He had to concentrate hard to pull this off—hit, parry, block, all while keeping one mag boot connected to the surface below him at all times. Carolina had the advantage in these fights, always thought a little faster, moved more gracefully than he could ever do, but somehow he took a just-right swing that connected with her helmet. It was harder than he'd intended, but it might just do the trick.

The effort paid off.

She didn't predict him cutting in close when she stepped back, in the midst of lifting her leg to strike with kicks; he knew how she moved, both from observing her training sessions and sparring against her. And (in some small part) he was abetted by Carolina's own performance. Slow when she should have been swift, her reaction time seemed to lag behind as Carolina made efforts to close the gap between them.

The swing cut across, connecting, driving her sideways. With the loss of gravity and her own body's momentum caught mid-pivot on one foot, the blow drove her backwards. She connected with the wall, before spinning, footing lost and mag boots disconnected from the elevator platform. For a moment her vision swam with yellow and teal light, and her mind lurched, unable to fathom that he could have managed to stop her here.

If he was going to finish the takedown, now was the time to do it.

He only saw one option, one he hated because it was really going to ring her bell there inside her helmet. But as she started to fall back, he dove in, intending to knock her backwards into the wall again. Then he needed to grab for her, so she didn't float away from him...if this worked. If it didn't, he was going to have even more trouble, because she wasn't liable to go with him just because he won one little bout of this fight.

For all that actions often spoke louder than words for Carolina in some fields, York was right: winning this fight wouldn't earn her acceptance or regain the trust she felt he'd shattered.

Whether or not it was luck or just good judgement and timing on York's part, his intended move did the trick. Not that Carolina didn't try to block it, one hand reaching to grasp his wrist, twist his arm away and off her, but that second slam of her head against steel finished what the first had started.

The loss of resistance was obvious, body going slack as the loss of gravity pulled her upwards. This was followed by the brief, static-like appearance of her AI, who glitched and twitched, fading in and out of one another. "trAItor!" they shrilled, before vanishing again. Though whether they meant York, or Delta, or even Carolina, was unclear.

He couldn't allow himself to be distracted by their accusation. He only had one chance at this. If Carolina floated away from him, it would make this twice as hard. Considering their momentum he was set to float past her and smack into the wall himself. He put both hands out, watching which direction she was heading, and once he reached the wall he pushed off again. Hopefully he had the angle just right to cross paths with her and grab onto her arm.

He flailed a bit as he got closer—he wasn't passing quite as close to her as he'd wanted—but he was close enough to clasp his hand in hers and once he'd done that he reeled her in closer. They were together now, but they were floating freely, at an upward angle, nowhere near any of the walls. Now that this part of his goal had been accomplished, he set his sights on the next step. He had to find his way back to Tex's transport and buckle Carolina in.

Precious seconds ticked by as they floated there. They were moving toward a surface but not very quickly. When he'd connected with her it had slowed their momentum and sent them off in an entirely new direction. "Well, this is going well," he muttered.

"There was 67% chance that Carolina would defeat you when you entered into hand-to-hand combat," Delta pointed out. "Statistically—"

"Forget about the statistics, D, I won. The question is, when are we finally going to hit something so I can push off and get us out of here."

"You will impact the wall to your left in approximately sixty-three seconds," Delta offered.

"When you put it like that it doesn't sound long. Feels like forever though." He hooked his arm more tightly in Carolina's, taking this opportunity to look down at her. That familiar armor, the second skin she had worn during so many missions and training simulations. He had a flash of a memory, of seeing her pull her helmet off and smile at him, a teasing remark on her lips. He couldn't be too optimistic about how this would turn out but he couldn't help but hope that one day she would smile like that at him again.

The Alpha. That was what her goal was this entire operation. Sure, shutting down the project and stopping all the screwed up things she saw the Director had been doing was a priority, but it wouldn't be worth it if she couldn't get the Alpha out of this hellhole. This wasn't the way to win the war, not like this, not through all the pain and torture and unspeakable things he had put the Alpha through. Her mind was set and there was nothing in the facility that would stop her until she reached her goal.

York had done well to create a distraction and it was clear sides had been drawn since their return onto the ship. It was good to know the other agents weren't entirely blind to what was happening here. None of this was personal, she just had to get the Alpha out of here and then she could truly focus on whatever it took to end this war.

Now where was he?

It was hard to tell by looking at her, but her search was getting more frantic. She didn't have all the time in the world, she had to get to him before they did something drastic to stop her. It almost seemed like an eternity until she made into the bridge. Her best chances of accessing wherever he was stored would be here and she launched herself into the ship's computers. What she found almost made her heart stop.

What have they done to you? was all she could think as she finally had a chance to speak with the Alpha - no, Church. How could they break him like this? What good was a traumatized AI to the war effort? There was no way she could take him like this, not that he even wanted to go with her. Her heart may have stopped once she realized just how far gone he was, but it almost broke when she had to sign off of the ship's mainframe without him in tow. This was neither the time nor place to mourn what had become of Church and the impending danger around her drew her attention in fast.

At least they had taken down what they could of the Project, there was nothing else she could do here and it was time to get the hell out of here. Hopefully York would be waiting at the transport ship for her.

York wasn't sure he ever would have pulled this off without Delta in tow. He needed to push off the wall at just the right moment, at just the right angle. Delta told him just what spot to aim for to ricochet off in the direction they needed to go, and though it took a couple more bounces they eventually got pushed off in the right direction and headed back to the landing bay.

He couldn't help but be relieved the moment when someone apparently got back to the switch and turn the artificial gravity back on. Now he'd have to carry Carolina along, but at least he wasn't forced to bounce around anymore. Though the huge chest plate didn't make that task an easy one either. It took some maneuvering and some suggestions from Delta but he eventually got her into an approximation of a fireman's carry and hauled her the rest of the way back to their Pelican.

He grunted as he set her down in one of the seats, then stood and pulled the crash bar over her lap. "There." He didn't like the way she was flopped into the seat and he frowned. "Sorry, 'Lina," he muttered, then clicked on his radio.

"Hey, Tex. Reached my objective. Got 'er sitting in the transport. You on your way back?"

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OH HELLO WHAT IS THIS, IS IT A TAG, COULD IT POSSIBLY BE???

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