Response to your tags - I'm not hurting Palmer! (More than what I already have planned)
She's fine. She's first gen 4, got those long lasting augs, they won't quit on her in the field. I'll kill her other ways and bring her back worse :o)
Hurt.
Daylight flickers over the ring in fitful bursts, sunlight struggling to break through the stringy clouds bunching over the horizon. Sarah looks away from it to scoop more water over her armor, but she's slow about it, mesmerized by how cleanly the muck and blood was wiped away from her hull. The only thing that pulls her out of her sluggishness is a soft ping from the speakers ringed around her neck, exposed and activated for the first time in days.
"Alert: make an appointment with Infinity Medical."
The cool synthesized voice of her Mjolnir Gen 2 armor seems to carry endlessly over the quiet clearing. She looks away from her companion, ignoring the pointed look the captain gives her. Sue her, she needed her armor to keep her on track, sometimes. But a lot had changed in two months.
Infinity Medical didn't exist anymore, let alone the Infinity.
"So… What's that for?" Thomas asks.
She finally looks at him, lips pressed to a thin line. He's shucked off his shirt, revealing the wear and tear of two months of ground-pounding, the jagged still-healing wound of a botched Pelican escape. She thinks about waving him off or ignoring him, but nothing about that sits right with her. It'd be a disservice.
"Funnily enough, I can't remember," Sarah says. "Definitely something Spartan related, though. An organ or computer needs replacing soon, I'm sure."
She sounds lighter than she feels. The realization feels like swallowing a jagged rock, catching in her throat and tearing the soft, soft insides.
Thomas, for his part, looks equally discombobulated. But he's always cared too much.
She needs to forget about this now.
Quickly, she stands up, shaking off the last of the water and leaving her armor half-dirty. Cleanliness was only important as far as function went-- the cameras were clean, the joints clear. Everything else would have to deal.
"Do you want to-- talk about it?" Thomas asks, standing up after her.
He clearly wasn't done here. She tuts, glaring down at him.
"Hurry up. We need to catch up with Golf and that cliff they built up."
Thomas doesn't look convinced. But he doesn't say anything, so Sarah considers that a win.
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Also give me your angle on Promethean Palmer au :) - gunny
Oh you wanna do this huh? After what you wrote. Sorry this is all over I’m not good at staying focused.
Palmer is The Spartan Commander, she is the last remaining Spartan IV from the first group that got augs (Not the experimental Ilsa Zane, don't come for me lore nerds.) She's been helping hold the Infinity together for 6+ years. And then you killed her in a fiery blaze of data sparks and composed humanity. This was your idea.
Her sudden death and then horrible return would be devastating not only to Lasky personally but the whole crew as well! Wouldn’t that be so neat to explore?
But first Lasky, because wow holy shit his best friend went down in front of him (again) and now she's back but wrong. How is he supposed to deal with that? They just learned/ have to deal with knights being composed humans but now she's back after he thought he lost her but she’s not human and it hurts and is this worse and it's Palmer. That’s his best friend however you look at it, she saved him from being spaced, they served under Del Rio together, they regularly drink and bitch to each other, but all of that is gone now because she died and he was alone again but now.....now.
I also like writing that the shot was meant for him and not her, she just pushed him out of the way (again). Wouldn’t the captain be an excellent target to get his memories into the forerunner soup. Hivemind domain nonsense maybe? :3c
Jumping around I really want to write different povs and how the the crew, her spartans, and Roland all react to these events. Who’s hurt and who steps up and how do people react?
We nebulously set this during Requiem iirc, it exists whenever until we write it down, but still Roland is new in town, and oh boy, that weird Knight they brought back is trying to communicate. Oh boy that looks like a Spartan ID. He already has to interface with forerunner engines wouldn't it be neat if he has to interface with other forerunner tech? Wouldn’t it be great that his first time running the ship in combat and enemy territory goes this wrong?
Wouldn’t Spartan Ops be great with Majestic and Crimson solemn and trying their best but with fraying nerves and spirits that the things theyre fighting are mindless husks that once were humans? That also might before former crewmates. Wouldn’t it be neat if Miller had his character development (there is some! idc im insane but i have probably played spops more than any normal human being) earlier, like he had to step up and help lead because Palmer is gone. Oh no she’s back. Oh no.
BUT ALSO!
It’s not all soul crushing! There’s the warming up, the rediscovery of her humanity and soul. The reconciliation, the cut-short grief that changes into something else, a life lost to a life changed, possibly irreversibly.
The Commander is back she’s just metal and taller and has extra limbs and can teleport.
Lasky has to make an announcement about the Infinity’s latest incident and now there’s a docile forerunner Knight with warning signs plastered to its chassis hovering behind him on the video announcement. They can give her a TTS device! She can slap Miller’s bald head with her lil gooey looking ghibli arms!
She can dramatically teleport or gently headbonk people. She can deal with once again losing autonomy over her body and becoming even more of a weapon and less of a person.
This is all from what I remember off the top of my head but I think it’s neat and I want to write so many situations of various flavors.
Can I request Promethean Knight Palmer in some fashion? Maybe "helping" in wargames or something? :o)
Sarah hated the fact that Halsey found her "fascinating". However, being regarded as a monument to Halsey's genius made her want to throw herself into Requiem's sun. Whatever was once "Sarah" in her physical reactions were simply spikes in data.
"You get used to it," Roland told her through his data stream, "It is like even though you don't have a 'face', it still has values in it that represent it."
"I don't like it," she replied, "Also do I not have private thoughts anymore?"
Roland gave her a hearty chuckle, "You do. You just need to learn permissions within yourself. It's weird."
"Oh, it's just "weird", thanks." She retorted as she watched through her data feeds as Halsey marveled as how similar to Smart AIs that she was.
Captain Lasky, there's been a uh ... an electrical short down in the war games.
That was Miller's voice over the intercom. Roland interjected that he could have easily informed the captain of the situation and that Miller did not have to "inform the captain of it".
Well, I wanted to inform you that the power surge has created a replica of our new Spartan Commander.
She was getting used to reading data flows from Roland, even with her physical form not being embedded in the systems like Roland. Rather, she had her own "Watcher" that allowed her to interface with the ship similar to how Roland controlled it. Since the majority of the ship was Forerunner, her internal systems were able to allow her to "stretch", as it were, and she must have done the equivalent of punching a wall because there was footage of a Promethean Knight appearing in the middle of the war games floor.
"I told you that would happen," Halsey said as she continued to tap on her comm pad, "Effectively, you have two brains on this ship. You have Roland, but you also have Commander Palmer as well."
She knew that small grunt from Tom, something that he wanted to keep to himself.
"No, this ship has one brain and that's me, Doc." Roland retorted, crossing his arms on his pedestal.
"As if we need more of those." Halsey mumbled back, knowing that she could hear perfectly well.
Roland?
"Power is returning to normal. Just have to cycle through a few processes to make sure nothing got overloaded."
"Don't get grumpy with me." She told Roland within the system as he took a millisecond to power cycle everything.
"Commander Palmer," Tom's voice cut through anything that Roland was going to, "Can you please take Doctor Halsey to the artifact."
He meant the thing that housed her "previous" soul. He was being kind, and she wanted to tell him that it was okay to call it that. It was hard on him, not being able to talk to her the way that he would usually; or the fact that she was bound by the hard light and data streams.
The Watcher gave a small nod as they took their lumbering form and headed down to where the artifact took Glassman. If Roland was going to be the brain, she was going to be the fist that protected this ship.
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That one particular Artstation post has come back to haunt me. Here’s a Ko-fi request as part of a long running joke. Someone help me.
-
“So why is this being brought to my attention specifically?”
“Why? Not enjoying the art?” Sarah smirks down at him while they stand a ways away from the image in question, brightly emblazoned on the side of a pelican’s nose. There’s a crowd forming as passersby slow to get a glimpse at what is causing all the commotion. The hangar is more crowded than usual and it’s not hard to tell why.
“It’s technically your jurisdiction since the…subject is a member of the command crew.” She continues, resting her hands on her hips before barking at some IVs to get moving. The Spartans in question duck and hurry on their way, parting the sea of bodies but not doing anything to stem the tide of curiosity and rubbernecking.
Lasky sighs and drags his hand down his face. “Don’t sound so pleased that this didn’t fall on you. Have we found who’s responsible?”
“Not yet, cameras had a blindspot for this part of the hangar and no one’s claimed to be the mystery artist yet.”
“Really, and no one knows anything? No one?"
Tom is tired. There are a hundred other things that currently require his attention and are waiting on his desk, but this was apparently important enough that he needed to see it with his own eyes.
More Promethean Knight Palmer because I’m a sucker for reunions
-
Roland’s given her camera access, as if it’ll somehow make the meeting go better.
It won’t. She knows it, knows him. But it’s kind of Roland to do and it helps her nerves. She shakes her head and gently clacks her faceplate together as she watches Tom go to meet him with a handshake.
Her dad looks older, smaller.
Maybe because it’s been too long since she’s been home, maybe it’s because she’s only seen him on the other side of a screen for so many years, or maybe it’s a trick from the angle of the cameras, or the pinched way he’s holding himself. Bracing for the hit, retired but ready for what comes with having a kid in the Corps.
At least Tom is good with small talk, even if her old man waves him off. She thinks he’s impressed with Lasky’s handshake. He even gets a pat on the back.
“Good to finally meet you in person. Sarah’s told me a lot about you.”
She chitters from the next room over and even though the humans can’t hear, she’s starting to panic. Roland brushes her code and starts speaking to her but she’s trying to catch everything they’re saying. She focuses the cameras and studies the footage until it’s time for her to go in.
“Now sir, you’ve been briefed and shown the videos, but I want to warn you, it’s a lot to take in in person.” Tom makes his kicked dog face but her dad isn’t affected.
“Son, I signed your paperwork, I’m ready. Let me see my girl.”
could i have promethean knight palmer breaking out of her cage doing just fine?
hello I went into fugue state and accidentally made 2k+ words happen. you're welcome. this is your fault
-
The knowledge that the strangely docile Promethean Knight currently quarantined in the Science Wing of the Infinity was actually the Spartan Commander thought to have died in the attack on the ship weighed heavily on all parties unlucky enough to be in the know. Fireteam Crimson was tightlipped and the science team members working on the issue were sworn to secrecy.
Captain Lasky had not taken the news well, but had managed to dodge questions from the higher ups about the delay in finding Palmer's replacement and the new anomaly they had discovered on Requiem. Part of Roland was aware that the man had finally retired to his room, and then he had turned his eyes away to give his captain some privacy. Grief, while familiar, changed to this twisted sense of hope and recovery can only be borne for so long before one breaks. Her twin magnums still laid on his bedside table, unloaded at Roland's request, even if he felt the mementos might be too much at this time.
For once, Roland didn't have the words.
His consciousness once again focused on the Knight in the prison of glass and steel, so calm on the outside, but the code, the onslaught of rushing programming and thoughts and messages calling out and buffeting his senses. Her Spartan ID and file number and access codes being thrown against his firewalls like pleas to hear her, see her, know that she came back, that she really tried, that she's sor-
He pushes those messages away and sends back his own code, a small packet for her to unlock. Something to keep her busy since she's awakened again. After having let herself be captured and offering her very heart willingly, opening herself up in order to be known and seen after she was taken from them.
She's forerunner now, but much more simple than the engines he interacts with. Her programming seems to call for obedience, for certain orders to be followed and yet she came to them of her own free will. A bright blue amongst a sea of vibrant violent orange.
He can see her fiddling with the data he sent and watches her process and pick apart his questions before she sends it back, a bit slow and clumsy, with her own questions and what few answers she has.
She paces with heavy metallic footsteps, sword arm tucked close and unarmed metal one grasping the air as if missing the lightrifle she surrendered. Her smaller secondary arms clasp their hands together as she marches along the room they gave her, all the while she hisses and groans, warbling vocalizations that echo eerily until she clacks her faceplate in displeasure and silences herself save for the inner workings of her new body. Her body language and behavior more like a raptor than the data he has on the typical knights they've encountered, but her inner processes settle out into something he can comprehend and translate now that the humans are done poking at her.
LEFT ME ALONE WITH EGGHEADS
"I'm sorry Commander, they wanted to be thorough. We needed to be sure." He offers back. Roland's thankful for all of his processing power and the ability to juggle so many trains of thought. His own backburnered grief would be overwhelming in this moment if not for the conflicting threads of joy at this strange reunion or the inherent curiosity that is part of all AI. He and the Commander had gotten along before with their similarities as tools and being viewed as not quite human. She had joked about the augs in front of him, and a distant part of him wonders if she'll compare this loss of autonomy to that one.
DOES HE BELIEVE ME?
If he had lungs, the air would have left them, but Roland is quick and his short career has led to him responding as best he can to catastrophic situations. Time for more damage control. No need to play dumb.
"I think the Captain does...he's just adjusting. He's missed you. We've all missed you, Commander."
She stops pacing and looks over to his avatar's projection. The usual confident pose is gone and he's clasping his hands together in a mirror of her own externalized anxiety. His cameras take in the subtle shift in her stance and he notes an increase in her internal processes. The mechanisms that now make up her being chug and stutter, ramping up and venting heat as she stands frozen in the center of the room.
"Commander? What are you doing? Are you planning something?"
AM NOT
"Palmer, please. I can see you calculating. Are those slipspace coordinates?"
GO AWAY. I'LL FIX THIS.
"Commander!"
He's fast, faster than her, which is the only reason the dumb AI can't send the ship into high alert with a detected slipspace rupture inside the vessel. He tracks her as she messily warps into her old quarters, then her office, then the captain's quarters within a matter of seconds. His matrix stutters with stress and still part of him wants to laugh. She's still human, still his Commander Palmer with actions speaking louder than words. He follows as best he can to help with damage control and formulates a few plans to get her back to the science wing unseen. Somehow he feels lighter for it, as if this string of events is less terrifying than when she tried percussive maintenance on the artifact Crimson retrieved.
-
Their bottle of scotch sits untouched on his kitchen counter, the light over the sink shining on the amber liquid he hasn't allowed himself to touch since before. His eyes glaze over the distant details of his room as he lays on the unkempt sheets. Dishes in the sink and cups lining the counters, half charged datapads blink from the workstation and garbage overflows onto the floor near the bin.
Sarah was alive, technically.
She had died in front of him, or so he thought.
Bright flecks of orange dance behind his eyelids, her last scream echoing through the halls and in his mind.
It should have been him.
The weight of her armor, once again pushing him out of the way, a memory ghosting against his tired and bruised form. The real target had been sheltered, nearly cradled to the floor, while his companion disappeared before his eyes. He was so tired of watching the life leave people he cared about.
There was nothing to bury.
There had barely been anytime to recover and now-
Now there was a thing they brought back that held her memories and he had read the reports from New Phoenix and he knew and he had to be strong. He was a Lasky, he was used to being strong. Tom was so tired.
He sighs and stares at the ceiling above his bunk, and closing his eyes he can see the ceiling above his bunk from Corbulo, can almost reach his hands and trace the words in the air all these years later. He swallows thickly, grief unstoppered by the reopening of wounds new and old. Grief for lives lost and lives lived and mangled.
Becoming captain did not make things easier, in fact, it felt like taking a step back. All his hard won experience, all of his stalwart kindness in the face of war and secrets and nightmares, thrown back in his face. How were they going to move forward from this?
He drags his hands over his face, rubbing at burning eyes and uneven stubble and letting a small hysterical laugh bubble up and escape into the silent room.
The silence is broken by a warped burst of sound and light and then looming over his bed is a Knight, brilliant and terrible. His room is too small and he's unarmed but her pistols are on his nightstand and the rage bubbles up in him lightning quick. The unfairness of it all, the tragedy, the desperate animal fear rolling off of him in waves as he cries and leaps at the monster from his waking nightmares and bludgeons it across the face with her weapons.
The thing backs off, and sits. Blue lights dimming as it makes itself smaller and chirps at him, faceplate clacking as its smaller secondary hands wave at him. Tom stands there, uniform half removed and disheveled, chest heaving as he drops the guns.
It's her.
"Jesus Christ." He pants, voice choked and he doesn't know if he wants to scream or cry or run out the door.
"Fuck." He exhales and slumps down, missing the end of his bed and sliding all the way to the floor. He watches through his fingers as she tilts her head to the side.
He shudders a breath, inhale catching as he struggles to fill his lungs. "Give me a moment. Please."
She stays still. He can only hear the sounds of his breathing and the quiet humming mechanisms of her new body. His room is small despite his position as captain, so he can feel the gentle heat radiating off her chassis.
Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Repeat.
He hit her. She had teleported into his room, breached containment, and he hit her so now she was sitting on his floor and letting him have a breakdown when she was the one who died saving him and he was spiraling like he was 16 again and his breathing was uneven and all he could see was orange sparks and the deadly pink shine of blamite and-
A warm hand touches his face. It startles him enough he stops. Stops thinking, stops hyperventilating. She rumbles a noise at him and pats him again. Her vocalizations strain softly as she tries to form words, but gives up in frustration and settles for moving to sit next to him.
The smaller secondary arms continue to pat at him while she tucks her primary limbs out of the way to lean closer to him. Warm, living metal bumps his arm and he flinches for a moment and then accepts the touch. It's almost like the Mjolnir, if he doesn't think too hard.
"I'm sorry." He starts, swallowing the rest of the sentence.
She hums, and vents hot air that dries his face and ruffles his hair.
They sit like that for a while, adjusting maybe or just not wanting the moment to end. But his legs start falling asleep and somehow a yawn escapes before he can stop it. She pushes him gently to bed and he goes, chuckling under his breath at the insanity of it all.
"You weren't supposed to be able to teleport out like that. Scared the shit out of me, Sarah."
She warbles at him and throws a blanket over him, the lights on her chassis glowing as she vocalizes and gets frustrated. He can tell because her body language shifts into something more familiar.
"I thought Roland would have warned me though, especially since I don't know how we're going to get you back there without everyone finding out." He speaks up a bit, eyeing the camera in the corner of his room.
The AI in question finally pipes up, his voice more lively than it had been in days."Sir, in my defense, you would have been too slow to tell and she was very determined. I didn't realize she figured it out until it was too late."
"Oh really?" Tom asks around another yawn. Sleepless nights suddenly catching up.
Sarah vents more hot air next to him and waves a hand at Roland's camera.
"She was worried about you, and I wasn't giving enough information."
A metallic thud hits the floor.
"She also says you look bad and need to take better care of yourself."
The thud repeats, a bit louder and she turns her faceplate fully to the camera.
"Apparently I'm not supposed to paraphrase. Apologies captain, she says 'You look like shit Lasky, get some sleep. We'll figure it out later, we always do.'"
Tom barks a laugh at that and another yawn escapes him, jaw cracking at the force of his exhaustion.
"No one's as stubborn as you."
"Get some rest, idiot."
"Hey now"
"Just translating, sir."
"Stop enjoying it so much."
And then he's out like a light. Roland dims the cabin lights as Palmer hunkers down next to the bunk and watches the door. Her blue lights dim as she rests a hand on the bed over Tom's sleeping form.
-
Days later, there's a shipwide announcement. Everyone had felt the change in the atmosphere after the Commander's death and then there was something weird going on in the Science wing. Secrecy was hard on a ship but something was going on and no one had cracked.
The announcement starts with Captain Lasky on camera looking haggard, but nearly back to normal. He explains the situation as calmly as anyone can and then the camera pans over to a Promethean Knight. It's blue instead of orange and kitted out with an assortment of warning labels and signs and familiar red emblems on its chassis.
It waves and then taps something out on a datapad.
A TTS voice can be heard robotically saying "I LIVED."
The captain rubs at his forehead and looks as though he's fighting a smile as he wraps up the announcement and ends the video.
There’s images of Luna, of Earth, and various military personnel and fireteams, being suspended in air as the Promethan’s heart projects them. Lasky’s own face is only outnumbered by an older man with patchy facial hair and a scar. near his left eye. He’s shown in the most memories at a few different ages.
“Roland, run that man through the UNSC file search.”
“No need Captain, he’s familiar.”
Lasky spins on his heel and bears down on the holodisk where Roland’s avatar stands unflinchingly morose. His arms are at his sides and he doesn’t want to meet Lasky’s eyes.
“That’s Corporal Palmer, former marine.”
Lasky freezes. There’s no air in the room.
“They had a call scheduled for tomorrow evening. She tried to keep it at least bimonthly.”
-
“Can you play it again, please Roland?”
“Sir, I-”
“Please Roland, one more time.”
“Then you have to eat something, when it’s over.”
“Of course.” The video starts, the angle is all wrong, a high perspective making her look smaller. More human. But it still takes his breath away.
A smaller copy of him lights up when she enters and they speak, voices trading barbless banter in a familiar fashion.
“You know I come up here for my peace and quiet.”
He makes it through the rest of the clip without breathing and when it ends Roland turns off the screen.
“Sir…”
He swallows and looks at the hologram. Roland’s been putting on a brave face too, but now the little golden pilot seems worn down and nervous. He wipes his face and his desk, and clears his throat.
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Honestly there weren't enough options for her on here.
I love how she and Tom aren't explicitly stated to be romantically involved in canon, and how her writing is male-coded without just being a flat-out bitch (contrary to what the gamerbros say)
Look you cannot tell me - otp or brotp - that Palmer wouldn't bodily drag Lasky out of bed and stuff him into that shirt just so Roland could get a pic.
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A Ko-Fi for @chloranthy-ring ! A piece about Promethean Knight Palmer and Thomas Lasky.
[TOP SECRET] [MOST IMMEDIATE]
“We are looking for a suitable– I apologize, but something’s come up– yes, I understand–”
If his finger slips, terminating the hologram meeting early, he doesn’t think twice about it. He turns his attention to his personal terminal instead, rereading the full contents of the message he’d just received. Immediate summons for his presence weren’t common and he kept expecting ONI’s stamp to be somewhere in the letter, but it was instead signed off by the Infinity’s science team.
He isn’t sure why he dreads that more. If it was ONI– or even someone from the Spartan branch– then that’d be normal. Nothing had been normal in the xeno research labs since…
“Roland, what’s the fastest route to the lab?” Thomas asks, canting his head in a vague direction. “Please.”
He taps his data pad– or tries to. A yellow alert consumes most of the surface, accented by a pixelated version of the aforementioned AI. It almost makes him smile, but the fondness barely cuts through the layers of anxiety in his chest.
“Wait for train #3. Fireteam Crimson will be aboard.”
