Salvation
Chapter 11
By Nan00k

Sorry it took me 'til now to post this. Hurricane took out my Internet. :O

It's a race to the finish line—but none of them know where this is going to take them.

The last chapter! Thank you guys for all your support! ;) As a reminder, I have an update twitter at nan00kwrites. If you want updates to see where I am concerning the sequel ("Absolution"), you can find it there!

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Warnings: original characters, violence, foul language, mentions of torture, alternate-universe story line after season 8
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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When she was fourteen, she had stolen her father's car. They had lived in the urban section of Reach, so having a vehicle was seen as a waste of space, but her father had been very proud of it. Ada had taken it because her sister had begged her to. Ada could hardly say no to a hysterical ten year old who was holding an injured kitten in her arms. Their parents were out late—very late, at a business party. It was one in the morning and most of the city was asleep, including public transit.

So, Ada took the car, without a license and without permission, after curfew. They got to the nearest vet, and Ada had been happy that not only did she help save her sister's pet (which her parents had not known about yet), she did so without getting anyone else hurt in the process.

Until, of course, her parents came home, found the car missing and their daughters too. The lecture after the fact had been intense; her father was not always the most agreeable sort of man. But she survived it, as did her sister and the cat.

That was the extent of law breaking Ada Livingston had done in her lifetime. She had survived the fall of Reach, the Great War, and a myriad of smaller concerns that came with traversing space while living aboard military vessels.

This… this law breaking? This was very new.

Livingston almost dropped her identification badge when she got to the labs. She had the authority to unlock the lab entrance, sure, but everything else? This was going directly against UNSC authority. She was supposed to have gone up to the officers' meeting room, where the Oversight Sub-Committee was waiting with a death sentence. She would be noticed missing, but maybe, if they were lucky, they'd just see her absence as her acting out again. If she was unlucky, she'd be seen on camera by someone as going into the labs alone.

But entering the labs was one thing. Leaving it with ten—eleven?—AIs in her arms was very different. Very illegal. And frankly, not the sort of thing that would end with her receiving a lecture about driving a vehicle around after curfew.

Livingston swiped her card and nearly fell through the doors when they slipped open. She had just left this place, but now, she had a bigger objective in mind than feeling sorry for herself and her patients.

She had to get them out. Iowa said he could steal a ship, but the shipping bay was all the way across the ship. She had to run; surely the moment someone saw her with the containment unit, they'd raise the alarm.

If this worked, she thought airily as she marched over to the tech assistants' supplies, she would be very surprised.

Many things were still strewn about from the botched presentation. She knew what she needed. She had no idea if she had the technical skills to actually make it work or not, but there was no time to doubt herself. She had lives to save.

Putting the communicator down and yanking off her lab coat, Livingston started to push boxes aside. It had to be there. It had—

"Yes!" she cried, grabbing hold of one of the largest memory units there. It was twice as tall as the regular ones and twice as heavy, but Livingston didn't have a choice.

The partitions were necessary, without question. Transferring the AIs into multiple units had always been tricky. Alpha, Sigma and O'Malley had discovered how to jump across live channels in the airwaves. They had to be locked into the units as they were being transferred from the lab's main computer. Ada had no idea if she knew how to lock it properly, but frankly, she was more concerned about being able to transfer them at all without killing them.

It was a small grace that the team of tech specialists and psychologists had been chosen to work on the project for as long as they had and as closely together as they had been. Livingston knew most of Okafor's passcodes, due to paranoia the UNSC had about the civilian psychologists working with dangerous creatures like O'Malley and Sigma. Because of that, Livingston knew how to lock the computers; that also meant she knew how to unlock them.

"Wake up, wake up, boys and Sigma, we've got to wake up!" she called out, falling over the holodeck's control panel. "Everybody, get ready for transfer!"

It didn't take long for the AI to reappear. Well, everyone but O'Malley fizzled into existence on the holodeck. Livingston didn't have the time to coax him out. She didn't need him out there to transfer him.

"What—whoa, what's going on?" Church asked, alarmed as he realized he was yet again on the holodeck platform. It had only been at best half an hour since she had left them last.

Zeta was concerned, immediately. "Ada, what's wrong? Why'd you come back?"

Sigma's attention went to the memory unit she had dragged over to them. "What is that?" she asked, suspicious.

"A compartmental transfer unit for long term travel," Livingston replied, heaving it onto the counter, ignoring Beta and Gamma's holographic forms in the way.

She grabbed the transfer card on the side of the table, leaving its twin where it was, hooked up to the holodeck system. From what she knew, she had to put it into the input slot on the memory unit; it was synced up to the computer to navigate the transfer. Getting all of them across, however… she hoped she would be able to understand the technobabble on the display screen.

"Wait, we're going inside that thing? All of us? !" Church demanded, only partially distracting as she clicked on buttons while hoping she'd miraculously get the procedure right only from memory of Okafor's actions. "No way! I don't want to be stuck that close next to O'Malley! I'd be a talking box for real in there!"

"Oh, be quiet, Alpha," Sigma snapped, her irritation a new sight. They were all on edge still. "Ada, what is happening—?

Sliding the drive into place, Livingston knelt down before the containment unit, said a quick prayer, and spoke into the command module. She trusted her memories of Okafor's audible commands over her memory of what buttons he pressed manually.

"Operations activated, commencing system locks and mass AI transfer to containment unit 0496B."

The holograms disappeared with a hiss and the whole holodeck rumbled slightly as all of that data—massive, massive amounts of data that made up each individual AI—shot through the system. Ada kept a firm grip on the unit, as each individual partition lit up on its sides. It could handle up to ten AIs at once.

It was a good thing, she thought grimly, that they only had ten to worry about now. The only silver lining, really.

The transfer took too long. Livingston felt sweat drip down her back as she waited impatiently for all the lights on the memory unit to turn on. After fifteen minutes, the last light was still taking its time. Livingston nervously glanced at her watch. Iowa must have reached the shipping bay ten minutes ago. Did he already have a ship? Was he waiting for her? Was he under fire—injured?

Before she had time to start begging the computer to hurry, the light turned a solid white. She sighed loudly.

The unit was locked, but the projector was online. She heard a cacophony of noise erupt once all the AI were settled and allowed access to it.

"I don't like this!" Tau moaned.

"Are you all alright?" she asked, breathless. The unit seemed all right. She disconnected the transfer card and nothing seemed to go wrong. The AIs weren't comfortable like this, however.

"Yes, we're fine," Delta replied. He was on the left side. Livingston did her best to identify which light was which.

"Good," Livingston sighed, relieved. At least she hadn't messed them up, mechanically speaking.

"You call being stuck side by side with Beta and Gamma good?" Church asked scathingly. His partition was wedged between those two.

"Oh, shut it, Alpha!" Beta shouted back, his light signal brightening once.

"What is happening?" Delta asked again, focused compared to his siblings who were whimpering or bickering. "Ada, what's wrong?"

There was no easy way to answer his question. "Change of plans. Freelancer is trying to get you deactivated now," she said, ignoring Lambda's small yelp. "We have to get you out of here."

Church's partition flared brighter. "WHAT? ! I fucking knew those guys were going to do this!" he exclaimed. "What are we going to do? !"

"We are not going to panic," Livingston told him sharply. She knew they couldn't "You guys are going to stay in this storage unit together and get off the ship. Iowa's getting a shuttle."

"I knew this was going to happen!" Beta snarled. Tau and Theta wailed loudly.

Sigma, for all of her distrust she must have had in Ada and anyone in the army, was very aware of the fact that Ada was their only way out of their situation. She didn't share her siblings' panic; she remained in control even inside the memory unit.

"The Freelancer helping is a bit new," their Creativity said with hawk-like attention to details. "And alarming."

"Where are we going?" Zeta asked, concerned, over the sound of Lambda's whining.

Livingston hesitated.

"…Home. At least for some of you." She looked to Church's partition in particular. "I found the original members of the Blood Gulch Outpost team. They're stationed somewhere new now, called Valhalla."

There was a beat of silence. "You found the guys?" Church asked, astonished.

Delta's light flashed. "Ah." He didn't exactly sound pleased.

Livingston gripped the sides of the container tighter. "I… I can't promise we'll get out of this okay, but I'll try my best," she said quietly. "I don't want to see you hurt, any of you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry this is even happening."

The AIs were quiet. She wondered if they were talking to each other. She didn't want to imagine what they were saying.

Zeta's little light flashed gently. "You tried, Ada," the AI told her.

She was trying. Desperately. It probably wasn't enough, but… Livingston at least knew that the AI believed she was trying.

"…Thank you, Zeta." She sniffed, smiling tightly. She patted the memory unit. "Now, let's get you mobile. What is O'Malley's status?"

"He is functional and can withstand the trip within the unit," Delta replied. He sounded calm, which helped her nerves. "I trust you, Ada."

Livingston had to smile. "Trust me when we're off ship," she told them all. Heaving the unit into her arms, she set her sights on the door. "Here we go!"

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The next step was to get them out of the room. The weight of the unit grew heavier the longer she held it up, but that was the least of her problems.

The extra security that had been placed for the presentation's sake was still up. Livingston had little to no knowledge of how to get rid of it. She didn't even know how to turn off the regular EM field that surrounded the lab. The moment she took the AI over the boundaries now, they'd be obliterated.

She left the AI in the middle of the room while she ran back out to try to get into the tech center. If she could just—fumble around, hit the right buttons, do something—maybe she would get lucky and manage to turn it all off. Either that, or she'd just start breaking things until something happened.

That was not a good plan, but it was all the psychologist had.

The computer part of the lab sat peering over the AI side of the lab, where the technition on duty would help the psychologist monitor the AIs. The tech specialists and their assistants would see to the day-to-day needs of the AI, such as making sure the computers were running properly. It also was where they maintained the security for the labs, away from the AIs, just in case.

Livingston stumbled over to the computer lab door, wondering just how she was going to get the technology to work in her favor. She knew nothing of the computer lab; she was lucky she knew anything of the AI room and holodeck system. The security was an entirely different thing. But Livingston had faith she'd get it done. She had to. There was no other way—

The door to the lab abruptly slid open with a faint hiss just as she went to use her own passcode to open it.

The air left her lungs when she came face to face with a dark skinned man in an oxford shirt standing just a sparse few inches from the door, as if he had been going to leave the computer lab. Livingston stared in horror; it was Robert Okafor standing there, just mere feet away.

"Robert," she breathed.

She froze. She didn't know if she should have run—or fought him. Maybe try to convince him to help her. Robert was a good man, but he wasn't as emotionally connected to the AI as she or the other doctors were. He still treated them kindly. Maybe—maybe he'd help.

But Okafor just looked at her with wide eyes. He looked just as shocked as she felt, but it was almost like he was just at a loss over what to do next. He looked like he might have been expecting her to show up, which struck her as odd. Had he even left earlier—?

"Lock me in the closet," Okafor said, making Livingston's brain go huh?

"What?" she asked, almost unable to speak at all.

Okafor's shock gradually faded. He didn't look happy, but he stepped back further into the dim computer lab. "I'll get the field," he said.

Livingston just gawked at him. "Wh-what?"

"They'll never believe that you beat me up or held me by force. I'll tell them that you got the jump on me and pushed me in there. Automatic lock," the tech specialist replied. He smirked and pointed at the closet door to the side before nodding back at the computers. "Give me a few seconds."

He spun around and went to the computers. He started to attack the keyboard, clearly knowing what he wanted to do, but Livingston was struggling to catch up.

He was helping her, by taking down the electro-magnetic fields. He was helping her escape with the AIs. No amount of pretending would change that fact.

"But… why…?" she asked, unable to think of anything else to ask. He had no reason to help. Surely Freelancer would interrogate him regardless of how they found him, or what excuses he gave them. He was risking everything.

Okafor shrugged as he put in the various passcodes. "Because you're doing the right thing. Dunno if it'll get you killed, but I know you're going to do this anyway."

Livingston looked upwards, still horrified. "The cameras…" It didn't matter if he lied; they would see the video feed. Sigma had been right. Everything they did was recorded.

"Are offline because of all that electromagnetic security we put up," Okafor replied, confident. "They'll take a good thirty seconds to come back once I drop the fields, so you have a little bit of a head start."

If that was all this man could ever give her, Ada felt so desperately spoiled. She watched as he swiped his access card—how would he explain how she got it?—and there was a loud humming noise that faded rapidly. She tried to see if anything changed below in the lab, but through the glass, nothing seemed altered. Okafor stood back from the computers, however, so it must have worked.

"And boom, you're off." Okafor turned and smiled at her. "Hope you locked them down right. I would have helped you transfer them, but you looked like you had it under control."

She had never expected to be breaking the law that night, and she had never expected so many kind hands helping her to do so, all for the sake of her patients. Livingston stared at her friend and realized how utterly blessed she was, at least for the time being.

"Robert…" She struggled to find the right words to say. Everything seemed drastically understated. She smiled at her friend. "Thank you."

Okafor smiled back. "Good luck, Ada. Get those guys out of here."

It felt wrong to leave him there. It felt worse when he jokingly slid into the closet and let the door shut behind him. But rationally, Livingston had to focus on her mission. Okafor would be fine in the closet; they'd find him just as fast as they'd find her if she didn't move now.

Livingston rushed back to the lab and noticed how all the door lights were off. There was no more translucent screen. All shields were down. She had trust that they were, at least.

Grabbing the containment unit and grunting at the weight, she stumbled straight through the doors. She couldn't help but feel like the AIs were about to shatter into a million pieces.

It did not escape her that she was manhandling priceless, secret military equipment that also contained ten precious lives. One bad move, one drop or accident, and they were all gone.

No pressure, she thought shrilly.

The moment she was over the threshold and out in the corridor, Livingston looked at the glowing lights on the memory unit. They were still on, the lights. That was a good sign. It had to be.

"Nobody's dead?" she asked, knowing the projectors were still on for the AI. Maybe she should have turned that off.

"Not yet," Church grumbled, almost disappointed.

Livingston sighed. "Thank God." Ignoring her straining arms, she started down the hallway as quickly as she possibly could move. "Okay, here we go."

"Where are we going?" Zeta asked. Somewhere from the opposite side of the container, Theta whined.

"The hangar," Livingston replied, grunting as she adjusted the unit in her grip. It seemed to be getting heavier, but she had to ignore that. "Iowa's getting a ship."

Sigma snarled. "Oh, joy, the Freelancer."

"He's risking his life," Livingston shot back irritably.

"So are you," Delta replied.

She flinched; she was glad they couldn't see anything. "Yes," she replied at length. "So trust me, okay?"

They fell quiet, thankfully. Livingston didn't know if it was a good thing that they did as the minutes dragged on, since the quieter it was, the more it felt like the containment unit grew heavy.

Focus on getting to the lift, she told herself in an adrenaline haze. You can do it. Just keep going.

She got halfway there and had to stop.

"Are you okay?" Zeta asked; they must have heard her heavy breathing and the sound of her putting the unit down.

"Yes," she told him, trying to get feeling back into her upper arms. She peered around the hallway. "I'm going to turn off the projectors, okay? We need to make sure you guys are quiet in case we run into anyone."

"But what if you need help?" Beta demanded, impatient.

"I can handle it. We have a plan."

"Be careful, Ada," Zeta told her, worried.

She didn't make that promise; she didn't feel safe enough to do that. She fumbled with the controls and finally got radio silence for the device. Not having the AIs being able to talk to her was mildly unsettling, but she needed quiet when walking through the halls. If she ran into Freelancers, she didn't want the AIs to panic.

If she ran into Freelancers, she thought idly as she rummaged through her pockets, she'd unlock the containment unit. At least then Sigma and O'Malley could escape. And at that point… maybe the ship wide chaos would be enough to get the others out. Maybe. Livingston did not want it to come to that, however.

It would be a miracle if the whole thing did end without bloodshed. It was next to impossible, really. Livingston tried not to think about that as she struggled to turn the communicator on. There was a horrible draft coming from the broken air duct behind her, but the chill helped her to focus.

"I-Iowa, I have them," she stammered into the mic. She waited a few seconds for a reply.

Iowa sounded harried, but at least he was alive and sounded unhurt. "Affirmative. I'm trying to override the launch codes on this shuttle. They're all coded so there can't be any unauthorized launches during down time."

"Can you do that?" Livingston asked, concerned.

"I'm trying, Liv. Get to launch bay C2. Be discreet and try not to let anyone know you have the AIs."

She'd be carrying a memory unit the size of a large toddler, but sure, she thought shrilly, she'd tried. "Okay."

"You alright?"

"Yes." Livingston looked down at the memory unit and withheld a sigh. "I can't talk while carrying this, so I'll hopefully be down there in a few minutes."

"Be careful," Iowa warned her, before the line ended.

Livingston swallowed hard against the nervous lump in her throat.

Yes, this would be a miracle if it worked.

She focused on that plea, her mind frantically chanting, "Go Faster Go Faster," until she turned the last corner to the lift. She didn't get further than that.

Standing just a few feet from the closing lift doors, two Freelancers were walking directly toward her.

Livingston froze and stared. The yellow one looked horrifyingly familiar.

While she had stopped, the two Freelancers had also slowed, surprised to see someone else there apparently. Livingston almost dropped the memory unit.

"Oh, hell," she said, shoulders drooping.

"Wait…" The yellow Freelancer abruptly realized who she was seconds later. He went for his gun. "HOLD IT!"

Blood and adrenaline surging in her veins, Livingston shot down the path she had just come down. "Oh, God, oh, God—!"

She had no where to go. She heard the Freelancers break into a run, yelling either to each other or to others on the ship. There was no way she could outrun the soldiers. The lift was the only way down to the next floor. She couldn't get around the soldiers—

Panicking, for several seconds, Livingston thought it was over. She was either going to be shot or arrested—and she was certainly not going to hand the AI over without a fight, so she was definitely going to get shot.

And the AI… she couldn't let them fall into the Director's hands. That furious, terrified thought grounded her long enough that she was able to look around the hallway for any actual escape route.

And then, her eyes going to the floor, saw the broken air duct.

Air ducts went through the entire ship. Where she was in comparison to the hangar meant that this one would cut down to the next floor, exiting out near the mess hall. Thirty seconds away from the mess hall was the hangar bay.

It was close enough, Livingston thought through a haze of terror. She raised her foot and kicked the loose grate as hard as she could. It shot off the entrance to the air duct with a horrible screech. The duct was dark, windy, and undoubtedly far too high up for a safe, secure landing at the bottom.

"I'm sorry if this hurts!" she yelled, hurling the containment unit into the dark tunnel.

The resounding cacophony of the metal unit crashing its way down to the next level ruined any hope of subtly, but Livingston was more concerned about getting away from the company that had already noticed her. She irrationally held her breath as she scrambled to get her legs through the entrance and—with one last glance back to the two Freelancers running toward her with terrifying speed—dropped down the shaft.

The forced air that was pumped through the duct system gave her a little drag, but not much. She slammed into the side of the vertical shaft and bashed her head on the opposite side as she tried in vain to right herself in the narrow tunnel. It was a good twenty-foot drop, but it ended all too soon. She landed harshly on the next level horizontal shaft; her one knee took the brunt of it and she was terrified for a moment that it would have been broken.

She fell forward out onto the metal surface that had shrieked in protest at the sudden weight she had added to it. The AI containment unit had thankfully bounced further along. The human didn't bounce or skid as well, but Livingston was glad she hadn't broken the whole pipe.

It took a few seconds to linger over the fears of having broken her leg, but after laying there in hesitance, Livingston realized nothing had broken. If she could escape that fall with just a limp, she'd be lucky, however.

How the hell was she even alive? Livingston let her dazed mind ask that question as she stiffly pulled herself away from the wall. Everything creaked, but she could see the light pouring in from the next duct exit. The AI canister had spun further away, but seemed intact.

Livingston heard shouting from above her, echoing down the air duct shaft, so she couldn't afford herself too much time of panicked reflection. She kicked furiously at the new duct exit. The screen was actually screwed on this one, but it wasn't that sturdy by default. At the fourth heavy kick, the screen fell off with an undignified clatter.

She froze, waiting for a sea of armed guards to appear. But nothing moved again outside the duct. She had to take that for granted and move. She was so close. The minute lead she had gained couldn't be wasted.

She grabbed the edge of the AI memory unit and tugged it toward her and the exit. "Sorry, kids. You can yell at me later for that," she muttered to them. She gently climbed out of the exit. "Okay, okay, let's…"

Livingston didn't even want to know what she looked like as she stumbled out into the corridor. It was just after dinner, but she didn't see anyone coming to check out the noise. She couldn't wait for that. Hauling the containment unit into her weary arms, Livingston set her sights on the edge of the hallway and the two massive doors waiting there.

Her leg was killing her, but the thought of being so close to the escape ship made the pain secondary. She found a new wind and hauled the memory unit and herself through those doors as quickly as she could. Once out into the wide, expansive bay, everything got louder.

There were too many people there. Feeling like a neon sign glowing in pitch darkness, Livingston ducked behind a pelican. The Falcon wasn't a large ship, so neither was their hangar. Finding a particular shuttle shouldn't have been that difficult—right?

Where was he? Livingston looked upwards. She saw the painted C over in the corner, so it had to have been over there. There were only a few shuttles present, but if she went to the wrong one, what if she ran into someone else who knew to stop her? There was no way she could outrun anyone now.

Livingston took a step forward, just past the nose of a helicopter, when she heard shouting. Turning, she saw all the way at the end of the row a group of soldiers. Some of them were Freelancers.

Gasping, she turned and ran. She heard more shouting; she had been spotted. She was very certain they were shouting at her, since about thirty seconds after she ran out into the open section between the planes, she heard gunfire.

They were firing—at her. Livingston did the only thing she could and ducked as low as she could while running. She couldn't outrun bullets. She could only hope she could outpace their aim.

Iowa had been far stealthier compared to her efforts, since he had managed to take over a shuttle without earning this sort of response. It wasn't too difficult to find the shuttle he had commandeered now; the dead man lying by a pile of supplies was a huge hint. Livingston didn't care about the UNSC soldier at the moment, frankly. She had other concerns.

"Run! Run! They're right behind me!" she screamed, jumping over a pile of ammunition that was going to be loaded onto the Pelicans later. The containment unit slammed into her chest, nearly winding her. Her knee burned. "Iowa, start it up! Start it up!"

He must have heard her from the shuttle's control deck, because the boosters of the shuttle began to fire. Clutching the storage unit tightly to her chest, Livingston aimed for the back of the ship, where the lowered ramp led up to the rows of seating. Her knees were in agony, but she managed to climb up the metal ramp and rushed forward towards the front of the ship. There was another body on the floor, but it wasn't Iowa's, so she didn't pay it any heed.

"Go! Just go!" she shrieked. She heard shouting from outside the ship.

"Get strapped in!" Iowa shouted right back, working at the controls. Livingston could feel the ship lurch as they left the hanger floor. She whipped around, looking out at the ramp, which was rising slowly.

She heard the sounds of the guns firing and she ducked on instinct. The shuttle took some hits, because warning bells began to ring and she could hear the sounds of bullets hitting the side of the hull.

There weren't any seats to secure the AIs. Livingston tried to reach one of them, hoping be able to at least keep them secure in her lap, but the ship abruptly lurched, making her lose her balance. She stumbled into the wall and nearly dropped the AIs.

The roar of the engine was immense. It had been years since she had been on a shuttle that size. She couldn't hear the bullets anymore, if there were any.

Did the UNSC realize they had the AIs? They must have. That meant the Falcon wouldn't fire on them. The AIs were still valuable property. They'd be sending soldiers to try to board the ship, or at least to incapacitate it. The Falcon wasn't packing heavy artillery, since it wasn't supposed to be on the front lines of battle. They'd have to send another shuttle after them. She didn't know if that was better or worse for them.

Livingston slid down the wall, using the row of seats to brace herself and the precious unit she wrapped her body around. The ship had survived lift off, and while the rumbling continued for what felt like eons, she knew they had to have escaped the hangar by that point. There was only the sound of the ship.

Being left in informational limbo like that was worse than the bullets whizzing over her head. She clung to the AIs and refused to turn the projector on, even if hearing Delta or Sigma's advice would ease her nerves; she would not subject any of the weaker AIs to her fears.

"…Did we make it?" she asked, breathless.

Iowa slid down from the pilot's chair. They must have made it, if he wasn't piloting it manually. "You okay?" he asked, concerned. He pulled off his helmet and tossed it aside before crouching next to her. "Liv, sit up, let me check for injuries."

"I-I'm fine, they didn't hit me," she stammered. Her leg was throbbing but that could wait. There wasn't any immense pain anywhere else, so she assumed she didn't have a gaping bullet hole in her back. "J-just drive."

The grim look on Iowa's face didn't quite fit the man she knew. "It's on autopilot for the meanwhile. They're going to be scrambling around, so we have a good lead," he said, eyes running over the doctor nervously. "You sure you're okay, Liv?"

"Yes…" She'd have nightmares over this for weeks, if they lasted that long, but she could handle it. She nodded at the ex-Freelancer. "Thank you."

Iowa laughed faintly, sitting back. The whole ship rumbled beneath them. "No problem. It's only my job and life on the line," he joked.

"Ha… you're not the only one, Iowa." She dropped her head back onto the chair, trembling as the adrenaline started to fade.

She was going to have a horrible headache before this day was over. It would take over seventeen hours to reach Nexus, and that was only if they didn't get shot to pieces. The UNSC would be reacting soon enough.

"Jason," Iowa said suddenly, surprising her. He smirked as he leaned back against the corner of the pilot's cabin. "Call me Jason."

It was talk like that that made everything seem far more real, and yet, far away. It made Livingston smile.

"Call me Ada, Jason," she offered in return. In her arms, the containment unit hummed lowly.

For as little as a name was worth, the gesture made Jason smile broadly.

"Okay," he said. He looked back up at the front of the ship, arms crossed against his chest. "Try to get some sleep, Ada. We have a long ride ahead of us."

It would be a long seventeen hours.

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End Salvation.

To Be Continued in Absolution, coming soon!

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