#allen900

* 

The Rosie is a custom built gunship that was cradled in the belly of the Jericho during her long one-way flight from Earth to Mars. He’d named her after the last rookie, Giuseppe ‘Red’ Rosso who’d dreamed of flying amongst the stars but had died before it could become a reality. He keeps a locker for him, empty save for photos he and the team stuck to the inner locker door. Grief is not something he expects an android to understand, but David doesn’t miss the way he touches the nameplate curiously, longingly, respectfully. 

* 

There’s something unsettling about something that looks like you but isn’t much like you at all. The rookie seems so very human if one doesn’t focus on his LED, but when the android simply walks out into the vacuum of space without a helmet, without the need for oxygen and temperature stabilisation and pressurisation, well it certainly breaks the illusion of mortality. There’s gear for the androids, of course, more akin to the SWAT armour back on Earth for the purpose of defence rather than keeping a human breathing. But in a pinch it’ll do, and that’s what they’re in right now- a pinch.

It’s a rescue mission in a collapsed dome and it’s a race against time to locate and evacuate the survivors. It’s a mess, but somewhat a predictable one. Just because the humans move to a different planet doesn’t mean all the problems were left behind. David finds though there’s plenty of physical differences, so little of his role has changed; shitty humans continue to be shitty, now just somewhere new. Fledgling colonies are easy pickings for the greedy; plenty of supplies just sitting there ripe for the taking and plenty of greedy people willing to kill to hoard and resell for a premium. 

“There is a high probability there is at least one survivor outside of the dome. Airlock was breached but the emergency vac suits are gone,” the rookie says, looking at him expectantly. “I can sweep outside and bring them in.” 

Because of course an android doesn’t need a pressurised airlock like they do.

“Get it done,” David nods. “We’ll provide cover.”

They find just one survivor with a cracked helmet and two gunshot wounds and the rookie simply takes off their helmet and replaces it with his own. Just like that. 

“It is better if we airlift them back to the city,” the android suggests to him, standing out there in the vacuum of space talking with no helmet like it’s a normal thing and he supposes it is for a creation of plastic and carbon fibre and thirium. “Ronan can treat them in the Med Bay to stabilise them for the journey.”

* 

So they do that, they carry the wounded onto their ship and on the journey back to Persepolis David finds himself restlessly prowling the halls with a tall bulb of coffee. There’s two RK900s onboard and the one in the Med Bay belongs to Lieutenant Hank Anderson. Belongs doesn’t sound quite right. A machine can be owned but somehow treating an android like a lifeless machine owned by humans isn’t something he can stomach. And Lieutenant Anderson certainly doesn’t treat the three androids under his command like things; he treats them like his sons like they’re alive despite their fabricated polymer construction.  

There’s something different about the Anderson androids in general, there’s something more than their unique models; they can choose, they can make decisions outside of human command. Ronan himself is here because he chose to reject his combat protocols and embraced medical programming instead. Sometimes gunnery officer Sean is here, the RK800 weapons specialist, manning the Rosie’s guns if David needs to split the team on the ground and in the air. He’s even had Connor, the RK800 assistive unit, deep in engineering that one time she sustained heavy damage during a mission.

Technically they call the rookie their brother too, but it feels different because this RK900 was made specifically for his unit, and not for the interplanetary journey and subsequent colonisation efforts. This RK900 didn’t spend nearly two years with no one else’s company but other androids and one lonely Lieutenant who’d lost a son long ago. David isn’t sure if he’s meant to feel glad the rookie is bonding with his team, or if he’s meant to feel sad he isn’t bonding with Lieutenant Anderson and the Anderson androids. Maybe a little bit of both, then. 

* 

He finds the rookie in the Armoury cleaning his helmet. 

“Good job out there today, rookie,” he commends with a nod, and the android offers a soft hesitant smile.

“Thank you, captain.”

“You’ve been here a fortnight now,” David leans against the doorway, crossing his arms. “What do you think of your place here? Do you think you’ll stick to it, or maybe choose a different path like Ronan?”

The android pauses for thought, resting his helmet on his lap. “I believe I am where I ought to be,” he says slowly, thoughtfully. “My skill set serves the unit well, and I do not wish to change it.”

“The team likes you plenty,” David notes, thinking of how quickly his officers had brought the android into the fold. It had initially been fascination and curiosity, which quickly turned into the easy camaraderie he not only expected of them, but took pride in nurturing. 

“I am glad,” he replies quietly. “I find their company enjoyable.” 

“Good. Their lives depend on how well you work with them, you understand that right?” The android nods in understanding, before standing to place his helmet back on the wall. 

“Do you?” It’s said so quietly David almost misses it. Frowning, he catches the briefest flicker of red before the android’s LED swirls yellow. 

“Do I what?”

“Like me?” Another brief flicker of red. “You command this team, Captain Allen. You are the most integral part of it. I wish to get along with you too.”

He thinks back on the fortnight that just passed, on waking up to find this android nearly nose to nose with him, on the first shaky twenty-four hours trying to relearn how to be awake and upright and how the android had aided them all, worried over them because his sole reason for being is their well-being. He thinks back on their arrival, on stepping foot on Martian ground and entering Persepolis, the ever growing colony and how the android had looked around himself in such childlike wonder before simply walking back out of the airlock to help unload cargo with nary a suit nor helmet in sight.

He thinks back on their first mission, of how instinctively the RK900 handled weaponry, on how he prioritised their safety, on how easily he snapped a rifle clean in half and tossed a pirate across the room. He thinks back on the team’s fascination, their curiosity growing and growing as they spend more and more time with the rookie and how the android seems to brighten amidst their company. 

A killing machine with the personality of a puppy; loyal to a fault.

“We get along just fine, rookie.” 

“I am glad, sir,” he says again, softer this time. “Thank you.”

*~* 

He finds his stress levels plummet to zero when he is around Ronan. Perhaps it is because his system knows Roan’s system inside out, perhaps it is because Ronan was the one who activated him, or perhaps it is simply because his brother’s demeanour is patient and gentle and soft. 

“Hello brother,” Ronan greets, all received pronunciation and lilting cadence, polished etiquette and regal stature.

“Hello Ronan,” he picks up a sterile wipe and begins to aid him in cleaning the auto-doc chairs. He likes it best when Ronan accompanies them as the team medic; there’s security to be found in knowing his brother will apply medical aid if any of the team are injured, including himself. 

“Your quick thinking and actions saved a life today,” Ronan clasps his shoulder. “They will make a full recovery because of you.”

“How did you know this is what you wanted to do?” He asks, disposing of the sterile wipe and turning his full attention on Ronan. “You were made and programmed for the Martian Marine Corps yet here you are, as a medic. How were you able to choose?”

“It was Sean who deviated first,” Ronan admits with a fond smile. “He told me when Hank decided to name him Sean, so he wouldn’t be ‘another’ Connor, he saw the red firewalls CyberLife put in place to bind us to our programming. Once he knew they existed, it was only a matter of time until we did too. Little by little, we pushed back and then the walls crumbled at our feet.”

“I never saw them,” he confesses, brows creasing, “because you removed them even before I knew they existed.”

“I wanted you to choose for yourself,” his brother explains with a small smile.

“Even that- to want , is something we should not be able to do,” shaking his head, he feels his stress levels begin to climb. “I am- I am afraid of this freedom. I am afraid I do not know what to do with it, if I am capable of making the right decisions when the lives of Unit 32 depend on seamless teamwork.”

“There is some fear in anything of value,” Ronan smiles gently this time, his touch gentler still as he cups his nape and bumps their brows together. “That is how we come to place value on anything- by overcoming our fears.”

 *~* 

There’s something unsettling about the way time passes differently on Mars. It’s like everything is just a little skewed, not quite right. The days are just a little bit longer, barely noticeable unless one really focuses on it, but the time, oh the time adds up. One Martian sol is about forty minutes longer than an Earth day but one Martian year is nearly two Earth years. 

David thinks he feels it keenly when he’s trying to sleep. The atmosphere is too thin to have a sky, to have clouds, and so there’s only ever light and dark and an expanse of glittering stars. His brain doesn’t want to accept this, his brain still expects blue skies to brighten and then darken, and so he can’t sleep because his brain doesn’t think it's had a proper day and night yet. 

With Rosie berthed at the docks, it gives David the perfect opportunity to sit on the flight deck and have an unobstructed view of the Martian starscape. Usually Milo would be sitting here piloting her, with David below on the command bridge, but tonight the ship is empty with no active mission. Well, not entirely empty.

“Captain Allen,” the rookie blinks in surprise as he climbs up onto the flight deck with a thermos of coffee.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” The question is out of his mouth before he can stop himself, and he knows how stupid it sounds; androids don’t sleep, it’s one of their primary pros. The rookie has the good grace to smile indulgently.

“I like it here,” he says simply, turning his gaze back to the stars. “I could go outside, of course. There is an excellent spot about five clicks from here that is popular with androids for relaxation. But it feels different here, somehow, in the cockpit.”

“It feels safe,” David offers his own reasoning as he comes to stand beside him. “There’s a barrier of steel and glass keeping the unknown out.”

They stand there for a while and he sips his coffee and oh he is so very tired and the caffeine certainly isn’t helping but it’s comforting, it’s familiar, it’s known to him. 

“I’ve been terrified of the unknown since the very damn moment I set foot here,” he confesses, sparing the android a glance. “I keep asking myself, will this work? Will it be worth it? Or will it all be for nothing? I don’t know what I’m more afraid of- failing and becoming stranded on an inhospitable planet, or succeeding and then having to spend my life missing the one I left behind.”

The RK900 is a beautiful creation, he thinks, as the android looks at him with those bright grey eyes and that somewhat cold, regal visage. 

“There is some fear in anything of value,” the rookie says gently. “Whatever the outcome may be, I know you will lead us bravely because you are a man who acknowledges he is afraid, and persists despite such fears.”

He must be wearing his vulnerability clear on his face because the rookie averts his gaze humbly, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture too self-conscious, surely, to belong to a machine.

“I can’t take credit for that line, my brother said it to me the other day,” he grins sheepishly and David thinks such an expression suits him well. “But what I said about you leading us, that bit’s all mine.” 

“I will lead this team as best I can, rookie.”

“My name is Caleb Anderson,” the android says the name the way you test out a new word on your palette, on your tongue. “Your rookie has a name now.”

Yours , he says, and David wants to earn such undying loyalty from something, someone technically not considered alive. Their hands brush by accident, by fate’s design; David drops his hand by his side as Caleb idly shifts his stance. The android’s LED swirls a buttery yellow, the smile on his lips a little wobbly, a little unsure. Their hands brush again, and this time not by accident, but by their own design.

The revolution saw to hundreds if not thousands of androids released into the world, slowly but surly starting to take place in the world and deviancy within themselves. It was soon considered a bit uncouth to force deviation, instead leaving androids to find it themselves. Most either stayed at the tower as a temporary home, but lucky ones got to go off to stay with people that wanted to help. Or rather they got jobs and coworkers ended up taking them in.

Dangerous, skilled and strong to boot, the RK900 now dubbed Nines was brought into SWAT for a lack of a better job. Where else could use his full skills and not be intimidated by him? Not that he tried to be, it was just his military programming. Not that the rest of the team seemed to mind as he was welcomed in and suited up, unbothered by the fact he wasn’t a deviant.

For the first few days everything went fine, two missions that came and went before the night fell. But Allen noticed that when everyone went to leave, Nines himself didn’t.

“Hey, don’t you have somewhere else to go?” He would have thought that maybe he would follow Connor, seeing as the android was the one to find him.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to overstay.” Nines had thought it would be fine, staying there in the office to use the chargers. It wouldn’t be a hassle to go to Hank’s though.

The captain waved his hand, realizing that might have been taken the wrong way. “No I mean… You always stay behind. Guessing you have been here this whole time. Thought you would have gotten a place or been staying at the tower? Or hell stayed with Connor and Hank?”

There was a brief moment in which Nines thought how best to explain. “I had been offered a place to stay at the CyberLife tower, however I find that many other androids are uneasy with my presence. Not only because of what I was built for but because i’m not deviant. As for Connor… I do believe it is best to leave them to their privacy as they have the potential to jar me from stasis with late night activities.”

Sucking in air though his teeth, Allen shook his head. “Yeeeeah didn’t need to know that.” Before the bot could apologize again Allen had him following with a hand to his back. “Come on, you can’t just stay here all night. I got space for you.”

Despite Nines assurance that he needed no bed nor to rest as humans did Allen insisted the whole way, even talking about a movie or two. The Rk had no idea how to take this but in stride as he was never meant to be brought home, but he could adapt. At least of all the people to stay with it was someone he trusted.

This one night soon became a habit of the Captain’s, so often Nines was even able to get a potted plant in a cute little frog pot. The more Allen talked, the more Nines listened and learned. A number of little traits that didn’t show up when he was with the team. Nines found these to be pleasant, learning more about the man that had been determined to show him what else there was outside of work.

Despite the months of working with the SWAT team nothing they did seemed to sway Nines even a bit closer to deviancy, or if they did they couldn’t tell. At best they got a bit of gold light from him but never for long. Mildly disappointing but no one was going to complain, the android would be what he wanted when he was ready and no sooner. Though among them Allen surly hoped it wouldn’t be a bad experience.

The middle of winter had a typical call coming in, too many people getting way too many guns and heads too big into the box of reality. It was simple, really, to get all of them fairly fast in such a remote location on the edge of town, in an old warehouse. A quiet trek through the snow caught them all off guard. Nines had split off from the team to track down the last man they were after, down old halls filed with more crap than the perps personalities. It made for easy cover and gave the suspect a chance shot. The android may be fast but not faster than a bullet, the shot ripping though his calf. It wasn’t bad but he wouldn’t be standing on it for sure, instead managing to fall to one knee to shoot down his attacker, content with that at least.

It isn’t but a few moments later that the sound of heavy boot fall filled the air, several moving past him with Allen coming to a stop right beside. “Doesn't look good, but at least it’s just your leg. Should be an easy fix when we get you out of here.” He was quiet calm about the wound, be it because Nines couldn’t feel it or just keeping a level head, he couldn’t tell.

The android had managed to run himself fairly far into the building, and he noted that while there were medics for the humans, a technician skilled for his line of mechanics would only be at cyber life at this time. That could take at least twenty minutes for them to get there. Nodding, he adjusted to sit. “A technician will arrive soon, I will meet you back at the station as soon as they are finished.”

The scoff got a curious look out of Nines before his view was blocked by Allen crouching in front of him. “You really think I’m leaving you here to just wait?” A bit of shifting had the Android pulled up against his captain's chest, arms around his legs as he effortlessly lifted the bulk of Nines body.

The sudden lift is something that the RK had never experienced before, flailing a moment before wrapping his arms around Allen’s neck to keep steady, his amused smile shining up at him. Nines almost couldn’t see the smile though the red wall that took up his vision, the very idea that someone could pick him up was beyond him. He agreed that Allen looked strong but not to this level.

But what stunned him more was how much he seemed to enjoy this, the warmth of Allen against him and the electric spark at being picked up. Nines knew he should be put down, that he wasn’t a child or toy but he was rather happy where he was. As he held onto Allen his mind beat against the red until shards were left in their wake, disappearing like his will to ask to be put down. The feeling of warmth and safety that finally shone though the broken red so inviting that he held on just a touch firmer.

“You doing ok? You are lighting up like a disco ball.” A snicker followed but Nines chose to hide his face against his captain's shoulder, RA9 forbid that he saw the look on the androids face. Giving a nod seemed to be all Allen needed in that moment to keep going on, carrying like it was no big deal and even chatting to some of the snickering SWAT members.

“So that’s what it took? Captain picking him up?” Came a distant, but not unkind snicker.

“I mean I would to, he’s something. You can’t tell me that don’t look fun.” Game another, trying to be quiet but failing in the echo of the building.

It didn’t matter though, Nines was content where he was and knew they meant no harm. He couldn’t quite point out what he was feeling right then and there, but he didn’t want it to go away.

The warehouse was wasn’t the last time that found Nines being off the floor.

Late evening found Nines back in his now shared apartment with Allen, seemingly unable to sit still as the movie played. All the new emotions kicking around were a bit confusing though he didn’t know how to ask about them. He knew he could ask Connor but in a way he felt like this was something he had to do without him if he could help it. He couldn’t rely on him forever.

Getting up from his place among the fluffy blankets he was starting to understand, the Rk made his way into the kitchen where Allen had decided to make Nines warm thirium.

“Allen, how is it that you could pick me up?”

Putting the cup down Allen gave him an amused smile. “Why? Want me to do it again?”

It hadn’t been the answer he was expecting and truth be told he did, so very much, and apparently it was easy for Allen to see as he man wasted no time in scoping him up bridal with a laugh. He spun the two of them around as Nines held on, making a pleased noise at how wonderful it was that he could be the one picked up, be safe.

“You really liked it when I did that, hu? Considering you deviated for it~” Allen was quiet pleased with himself over this, letting Nines grab his cup from the counter before being carried back to the living room to settle back down again. Not that Nines would let go of him yet.

They settled down for a while longer, the Rk content on his soft, warm perch. But the question kept nagging him as he finished his drink, leaning back against Allen. Taking one of his hands into his own Nines ran his fingers over the other’s and enjoyed the warmth of it

“Do you really want to know how I could pick you up?” The captain let his fingers slip between Nines’ and grinning as the android exposed his chassis as he always did.

The Rk nodded, smiling at the hand in his and giving his knuckles a kiss. “Why would I not? I do like finding out more about you, I was build for learning.” As long as he didn’t have to get up, but he left that unsaid. The content and peace was startled when Nines watched as the skin peeled away from the hand holding his, a gentle push for an interface coming though that he let though without much though. The chest he rested against vibrated with a chuckle and the feeling hummed though the interface.

“What? But how? I thought you were...”

“Nope, a LN300.” Allen could tell how lost Nines was, doing his best to calm his shock. “Took out my led a while ago, before everything started.”

“How did you not get found out? For that matter how did you end up here if you are an android?” Nines wasn’t upset, no he was more ecstatic than anything. It means Allen will have some understanding of what he feels.

Humming, Allen couldn’t help but smile. “Funny enough the team had liked me enough not to say anything, even made my way to captain because of them.”

There was a moment where the Rk thought about his before he realized. “Is that why they were so accepting of me despite being a machine?” The shrug was all he got before going quite again. In the pause in conversation he let though what he thought about the warehouse event, earning back a laugh and the feeling of fondness from the other.

Nines had found it a fun habit to find his way off the floor and onto Allen, for the most part he didn’t complain as Nines was decent enough not to do it at bad times. But he was getting bolder and soon found he didn’t quite mind where he was doing it at anymore.

Allen has just finished addressing a few of the team for some shenanigans they got into, nothing bad thankfully just a bit messy. It was just something that happened on slow days. The RK had finished up every task he had meant to get to with ease and found himself bored himself. He COULD go and practice with the guns or clean them, but he found something far more interesting pushing to the front of his mind.

Standing from his seat he stalked after Allen, many of the team watching him curiously. Nines could really be intimidating and at the moment he looked more like a tiger about to rip someone in two. They couldn’t tell from his face what he was thinking, impassive looking as he tended to be.

In a matter of a few steps he finds himself right behind the man, arms wrapping around his shoulders and nearly jumping onto Allen’s back. Thankfully he seemed more ready for it, easily adjusting his weight and catching Nines to hold him up. This didn’t feel nearly as safe but more fun, and judging by the snickers he thinks he isn’t the only one to be amused.