Work Text:
Miller is the last one in the Op center, mission footage replaying across several screens and lighting the dark room, when he poses his question to the ceiling.
“Hey Roland, how come when you're on comms, you don't use your avatar?"
"Can't have my dashing good looks distract the hardworking Fireteams, Miller. Why? Did you miss my face that much?" There’s mirth in his voice as he answers from the wall’s speaker.
Miller sputters at the joke response. He still hasn't gotten better at responding calmly to Roland's jokes and barbs, but he does enjoy working with the guy, program, ...digital person? He’d interacted with AI in the past, but before his posting on the Infinity, Miller hadn’t interacted with Smart AI before. At least, not in this capacity. He had never been bullied by a synthetic person before. This deployment meant a lot of learning as he went and the Requiem campaign was proving to be a trial by fire. And then Roland had butted in on Spartan Ops, because he was bored.
"I'm just curious, it's like, you get to choose how you look and present yourself, but it's also..." Miller trails off, words escaping him. He sits back in the chair and gestures weakly at the helmet footage of Crimson’s latest mission splashed across his workspace, snapshots of enemy tactics, forerunner facilities, and alien landscapes frozen in time.
"An act?" Roland helpfully finishes, his voice quieter.
"Well yes, -- and no. You’re still you, you just have choices. Everyone is putting on an act. That's just being human, we're all behaving and following rules. Hell, being polite or following orders is an act.” Miller takes a breath and searches for the right words. “I don't know, man, I'm a Spartan, not a scientist." He rubs his hand over his head and sighs before he continues.
"It's like, you have less tells when you only use your voice, so you use tone more, but when you use your avatar, you're really animated and lively, so your voice is quieter." Miller gestures vaguely at his workstation.
"Somebody's been paying attention." There's...something in his voice that Miller can’t place.
"Sorry, I'll drop it. I'm just curious why you do certain things. We're coworkers, but it's not like I can ask you if you caught the game last night."
"You could you know, I caught all of them, if you are wondering." Roland’s usual bravado returning to his voice.
"Roland..." He does crack a smile at that.
"You're a funny Spartan, Miller. And a good mission handler. I'm glad I choose to pick on you the most."
"Hey!” Miller looks at the camera above his workstation as he shuts down the systems. “I mean, thanks?"
--
The day was going well, routine ops with little trouble. No missing science teams, no weird artifacts, and no surprises. He and Dalton were working like a well oiled machine and their Spartans were well equipped to handle whatever the missions required. Even Roland’s attempts at making the missions more interesting weren’t making Miller’s life harder. Letting the AI place waypoints and offer running commentary seemed to appease him and let Miller avoid his mischievous side.
Managing multiple Fireteams and missions meant managing time and breaks like clockwork. Fireteams Domino and Majestic were on pelicans back to Infinity and Miller had just enough time to snag some drinks and snacks from the mess before he was needed back at his station. Protein bars could only hold you over for so long.
“I’m grabbing something for Dalton while I’m out. Do you want anything?” Miller says, not looking up from his datapad as he walks towards the door.
“Want what?” Roland asks, curiosity present in his voice.
“Like a drink or a bite to eat?” Miller calls over his shoulder, eyes catching Roland’s avatar appearing on the holodisk near his desk. “They have those juices on the menu to-- I’m an idiot.” He looks over as he speaks, catching Roland’s smiling avatar, and then mumbles the last half of the sentence under his breath.
“Aw no, I think it’s sweet you thought of me, Miller. And I could go for a byte.” Roland emphasizes the last word as he tilts his avatar’s head and holds his hands behind his back. Miller meets his gaze and holds it for a few seconds as Roland keeps smiling. Seeing that he isn’t going to win, Miller turns back to his datapad and orders lunch for Dalton and himself.
“Boo.” Miller says, voice flat, not looking up as he walks towards the door.
“Come on Miller, you wanted to include me, it’s funny you forget sometimes, like when--.”
“I can’t hear you, I’m leaving.”
“Miller, come on. You’re better than this.” Roland’s voice calls from the speaker in the hall.
Esposito from Fireteam Forest passes by and gives Miller a look before glancing at the ceiling. Miller shrugs and makes a face back and receives a nod. Oh right, Esposito had been on the retrieval mission for the Harvester battery, he understood perfectly what Miller was going through.
“Trouble in paradise?”
Okay, so maybe Esposito had a very different understanding of their relationship. Miller balks for a moment and by the time he thinks to turn around and correct Esposito, the other Spartan had turned the corner and was out of sight.
“Oh that went well!”
“Roland.” Miller sighs. This was his life now. “I’m going to get crumbs in the electronics on purpose.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Roland’s voice drops, low and serious, and Miller doesn’t fight the smile forming on his face.
“I would!” He tells the camera near the ceiling. The lens spins and focuses on his face in an approximation of a squint.
“Don’t start a war you won’t win, Jared Miller. I control everything on this ship. It’ll be cold showers and extra email notifications for a week!” Roland threatens. Miller keeps smiling and walking, ignoring the growing list of threats from earlier alarms to password changes to some truly creative ones.
He only has so much time before the next mission, so he waves Roland’s threats away and goes to grab the food before it gets too late.
--
Roland had noticed a certain pattern amongst his crew. A strange human behavior that he had taken note of across different departments and ranks. A nervous tic that presented itself in a variety of ways but he was yet to understand it. There was an almost shipwide hesitation as the crew started their work days, not everyone was affected by it, but enough of them showed signs of stress that it was cause for him to pay attention and attempt to identify the source.
Spartan Jared Miller was one of the more obviously affected crewmembers. He had a set routine and rarely deviated from it when possible, yet every morning as he got to his workstation, the Spartan would fidget his foot, tap his fingers, and his heart rate would increase just enough to cause Roland to notice.
And then he would open his email inbox.
Sometimes he’d groan at the new offending messages and other times he’d visibly relax if there were only a few automated emails, newsletters, and reminders. Roland lurked in the cameras and circuitry of the Infinity and watched as his crew did all they could before opening their dreaded emails. Even Commander Palmer wasn’t immune, some mornings he’d find her glaring at her screen, usually on days she was expecting multiple damage reports. From ensigns to battle hardened Spartans to the captain, his crew all experienced anxiety related to their emails. It’d be funny that his humans were more scared of messages than all of the dangers that space brought, if it wasn’t a widespread everyday occurrence.
Today was no different. Miller came in, sat down, and the defeated look returned to his face as he stared at the inbox count and slurped his coffee angrily. Humans were so noisy and gross sometimes, but it didn’t stop Roland from wanting to help. Even if Miller had gotten crumbs in the electronics and Roland hadn’t talked to him for three days afterwards.
“Good morning, Spartan!” Roland boomed as his avatar appeared on the holodisk near Miller’s workstation. His cameras caught Miller’s flinch and the subsequent glare he was getting over the coffee thermos.
“Morning, Roland.” Miller drawled, tone annoyed and body language that of a man who has given up.
“Now now, you look like you’ve already given up! The day’s just started and nothing’s gone wrong yet.” That gets him a groan in response.
“But lucky for you, you have a privacy breach for a coworker!” He poses his avatar in his usual fashion, hands on hips and a cheeky smile aimed at the beleaguered Spartan before him.
“Roland, what are you saying?”
“That your inbox won’t hurt you and you only have 7 new messages, the usual plus Majestic finally wrote up their reports about what happened with the warthog. You’re fine! Other than having to deal with requisition paperwork.”
Miller blinks at him as the words sink in. Then he puts the coffee down, sitting up with his eyes glued to the screen. His brow wrinkles but there’s a genuine smile on his face as he opens the inbox and skims the subject lines for himself.
“Thanks, Roland.” The words are genuine and Miller relaxes as he pulls his attention away from the messages to look Roland’s avatar in the eyes, “And you’re more than a privacy breach, you’re also a nuisance. But I have to admit you do help on Ops.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He crosses his avatar’s arms and smiles back at Miller.
“Don’t let it go to your head. But really, thanks for the heads up about the emails.”
“No problem! At least you’re not Dalton, his inbox looks worse than yours after Crimson got captured.”
“Hey!” Dalton calls from his workstation, before groaning as he opens his own inbox. “What have they done this time?”
“Crimson found a new way to misuse ordnance and it’s technically Dalton’s jurisdiction,” He mutters to Miller, “Be thankful it’s not you answering for that."
He waits for a beat as Dalton's grumbling dies down before he whispers to Miller with a grin on his face.
"I do have the footage of the incident if you want to watch.”
--
The UNSC Infinity is humanity’s largest and most technologically advanced supercarrier. She’s a multi-role vessel with over 17,000 crew ranging from civilians, Spartans, ONI agents, scientists, and classified passengers. And Roland was in charge of all of them.
Well, maybe not in charge in charge, but he was one of the highest authorities aboard and could triple check the ship’s systems in less than a blink of a human eye.
He also was a great help on Ops, good with navigation and calculations, and could perform weddings. Really he could do it all.
But even a supergenius AI liked to take the time to check in across the Infinity’s different departments. Pacing the circuits and double checking subroutines just made him even more aware of how bored he was getting. His humans weren’t even in cryo, so he had plenty of choices of who to bother.
Turning some of his eyes away from blinking system lights and the processes he could manage in his sleep, Roland scours the ship for targets. Visiting the Huragoks was always an experience. Roland liked to check in on them as he made his rounds, even if trying to talk with them often led to circular conversations on Forerunner tech and how the humans could be doing things better.
He takes a chance and pops in on Crashes Often fidgeting with recently acquired tech. The huragok trills happily at his avatar and gestures at its work.
“Hey Crash, how’s it going?” Roland says at the bobbing creature who is getting dangerously close to the floor. The huragok rights itself before ascending to be level with his avatar as it gestures and chirps excitedly before ducking its head. The other engineers were floating around their bay and either ignoring him or lost in their own work.
Crashes Often signs clumsily back at Roland about its latest work and the status of the request it put in a week ago.
“I’ll make sure Captain Lasky looks at your request soon, but you have to remember that even he can’t get you everything you ask for.”
He receives a sadder shorter trill at that and frowns as he crosses his avatar’s arms.
“Your sad looks won’t work on me, you’ll have to do the eyes at one of the humans.” Roland replies curtly. “I’d try Weir, he’s too nice of a guy. Just stop asking for explosives, you guys are way too flammable for that.”
Crashes Often makes a rude noise before turning back to the tech and Roland scoffs.
"Who taught you that?"
--
“Fireteam Crimson! Roland here, are you enjoying your well-earned time off?” Roland exclaims as he pops up on the holodisk in one of the common rooms on S-Deck. He’s met with a few blank stares and Crimson 5, the newest addition is still asleep in the chair farthest from the door. Spartans Rhodes and Arizona share a look that he doesn’t understand while the youngest member of Crimson waves before going back to his postcards.
“Artyom, don’t wave!” Rhodes hisses through their teeth as Arizona nods. Roland blinks and takes a second to analyse the situation. Crimson shouldn’t have any reason to act this way. They’ve healed from the Requiem campaign and haven’t interacted with him too much beyond the-- oh.
“Ah, are you guys still sore about the Lich battery? Come on! My plan worked. You guys and Miller just don’t appreciate my genius. I did the calculations and everything.”
"You mean the plan you didn't share with anyone? The one where you had us call enemy reinforcements on our own position? The one where we had to board an enemy ship, tear out the power supply, and then escape before it exploded?" Rhodes lists off their questions, tone getting increasingly sarcastic.
“Yup! Wasn’t it awesome?” Roland’s avatar crosses his arms and leans back, body language confident and relaxed while he scans the team’s biometrics to try and get a better idea of their mood. There had been grumbling during the mission, but Crimson was one of the teams who seemed to appreciate his antics on comms.
“Yes?” Artyom responds, only half paying attention to the conversation.
“No Arty! We’re mean now!” Arizona pouts.
Roland turns to address the Spartan he’d seen take down a hunter with just their hands. “Spartan, I saw you get upset when a maintenance drone got stuck in a stairwell just last week. You literally cannot be mean.”
“He was just a little guy and he got stuck!” Arizona whines and Roland knows he’s being included in one of their weird friendship rituals. He’s observed how Crimson has treated each other in the past with curiosity until he had slowly come to understand them.
“Leave Gunny alone, Roland! We’re trying very hard to be mad at you right now.” Rhodes sighs and puts their head in their hands. “It’s not working, is it?”
“Nope! But I appreciate that you’re trying. Thanks for including me in your weird human pack bonding.”
“You’re welcome!” Artyom replies again, and Roland cannot tell if he’s been paying attention or not. The others just look at him before turning back to Roland.
“I thought you liked us! At least pull that stuff with Majestic too, and give us a break once in a while.”
“Hmmm.” He makes a show of his avatar tapping his chin and looking deep in thought, “I’ll think about it.”
And then he blips his avatar away, leaving chaos behind as Crimson leader walks into the room.
--
Turning his eyes to a quieter part of the Infinity, Roland stretches out and fills the circuits of one of the labs. Cameras adjust on the subjects and allow him to notice the microscopic changes and growth that has happened while his attention was focused elsewhere.
His crew liked to go to the Atrium when the gunmetal walls seemed like they were closing in. A wide open space with paths through real trees and grass, thousands of lightyears from home.
Humans loved the Atrium, a miracle and an oasis in space. Nature existing against the odds in the cold vacuum, trees and grass and other bits of their homes, all perfectly alive in space in the name of conservation. Some of the plants coming from glassed planets, the last of their kind, still alive, still green and growing.
The crew had the Atrium and Roland had the botany labs. Here his cameras could note the tiny changes and growth, new sprigs pushing up under UV lamps, water and light levels carefully measured. Datapoints, carefully noted and saved mixed with the chaos of biotic life. Unpredictable offshoots and root patterns following some unseen plan. Plants were different from AI, but not as complicated as people. Plants were like the halfway point, in a strange way. Alive yet predictable, to a certain point. He’d never have a green thumb, but the botanists in the science wing let him putter about and ask questions. Most of the scientists liked to explain their work, even if he could read all the research on their areas of study within nanoseconds. He liked to talk with them, and even commiserate over being looked over or ignored simply for seeming less important. Apparently the botany wing of the science lab was in a bit of competition for space and funding, since their brand of science didn’t “explode aliens or robots, or make portals to other dimensions”.
Dr. Watney was particularly kind and even let him access the mechanism to feed the plants.
Water mixed with nutrients for group A, plain water for control group B, and then the lights on the timer with the day/night cycle of Sanghelios. Repeated a hundred times over. The Swords aboard the Infinity had been surprisingly helpful with the process of growing Irukan, offering their knowledge and nodding as the grain grew properly, developing its distinctive yellow-green color and spiky white seed pods. It had been a sight to behold when the Sangheili warriors graced the botany labs with their presence, towering over the human scientists. Roland had gotten to play translator and even help explain some of the plant science.
Today was more of the same routine work that Roland found comforting rather than monotonous. The labs are quiet when he wanders into the wiring and double checks the data. He checks on some of the plants the scientists had named, and the lab mascot, a pothos cutting named Carl.
The holodisk hums to life and his avatar pops up, more subdued than usual. He waves as the scientists look up from their work and Dr. Watney makes her way over. The lab is a bit emptier since Requiem, and he knows they all feel it. He can see it in their shoulders, their biosigns and NI sending signals.
“Hello Roland. What brings you to our neck of the woods? There’s nothing fun going on yet, just soil tests.”
“Come on, you know I come down here for my peace and quiet.” His joke is met with a raised eyebrow and he kicks his avatar’s foot against the holodisk. “I wanted to check in, and see the plants. Everyone is busy or fine without me poking my nose in. ”
That was a bit too honest.
He pulls himself together and sighs dramatically as he makes his avatar look at its fingernails.
“I mean, I need to check in on you scientists too, but mostly, I’m bored.”
He peeks through the cameras while keeping his avatar nonchalant to see if she’ll drop it. The good doctor hums thoughtfully and stares at him a bit longer than usual. No dice. She begins restocking the experiment station, busying her hands before she speaks.
“People are similar to plants, Roland. They need air and water and sunshine, but everyone always forgets the last thing. They need company.”
“Well, I hate to surprise you, but I’m not exactly ‘people’.” He says from the holodisk nearest the specimens. The newest one that had been added since his last visit, he notes with a funny feeling flashing across his matrix.
“You count. You’re based on people. You aren’t the same as the brain you’re mapped from, but you’ve grown into your own while assigned here. I saw it with Aine too.” Dr Watney wasn’t pulling any punches today, and he’s quiet for a moment. Most of the crew avoided mentioning Aine.
“How’d you know that, Doc? Some things are still pretty classified.” He asks and she flinches, enough that his cameras catch it.
“I had... a change of career earlier in life. Found my real calling and I enjoy my work now.” She sniffs as she organizes pipettes and pointedly avoids making eye contact.
“Many may not agree with me, especially since I am just a botanist,” Roland smiles at her change in tone, “--but I do believe you are alive, in all the ways it matters. Synthetic life is still life. You grow and develop, react to stimuli, process and regulate energy. It may not look like the life we are used to seeing, but I have worked beside AI for years, I--.”
She sighs heavily and sits on the stool near the table while she removes her glasses and folds them in her hands. She’s quiet for a moment, seemingly chewing over what she really wants to say. The glasses leave her hands and are placed back on the bridge of her nose, magnifying deep brown eyes and flecks of age spots on her cheekbones.
“Anyways, would you like to see the latest crop? Bassa saved a few for you to name, since it is your turn.”
“Yeah, I’d like that.”