The Stonefree drifted in space. With a renewed sense of purpose, the modern flagship of the Freelancers had allies at her back. The UNSC and the Legion weren't far behind; as a matter of fact, one of the UNSC's carriers overtook the Stonefree and drifted forward in the battle-group, tauntingly sailing ahead into the black.
The ship, though scathed, was patched up and ready to step back into the ring, like a fighter coming out of their corner as seconds slid under the ropes. Onboard, at the helm, former Admiral and Freelancer helmsman James D. Teach stared out into space, rubbing his chin as his bridge crew busily worked to correct course and stay out of the way of other ships, the Stonefree slipping into the center of the cluster of human vessels. Upon observation, the ship would appear a rather motely crew; vessels of all shapes and sizes were present, with something in common; they were the ones who got away, other than the Infinity. But running wasn't their aim.
This alliance intended to keep fighting, starting with asset denial. If the remnants of the Covenant wanted to pick the bones off of UNSC occupied space, they had another thing coming. All the humans needed was some room to breathe, and a place to hunker down.
Dr. Bailey sat on the observation deck, staring out at the stars above (or whatever counts as above) the ship. It was comforting to have a sense of purpose; working with the UNSC burned her a bit, after years underneath ONI's thumb. She'd had her tech stolen for years by people eager to take credit while putting in half of her effort. Be that as it may, she was always satisfied when working for a good cause, and this was one.
Walter A. Law had sprang to work the moment humanity's A.I. turned traitor. The "Created," they called themselves. They'd hijacked a large number of constructs called Guardians, one of which the Freelancers had fled from. With an army of Promethean warriors, they intended to enforce peace at any cost. No surprise that Walter chafed under the idea. After maneuvering Bailey into a partially clean get-away, he'd summoned his considerable forces, rounded up as much of the UNSC as he could, and fought his way to where the battle-group now resided in deep space, far from the Guardian's purview.
Bailey sighed as she sat up. She felt she had to say something, but couldn't quite form the words. However, a comforting hand grasped her shoulder. A woman she'd only recently met on an abandoned planet hovered over her. Dark blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, she wore a simple, elegant, white shirt with black pants, and a pair of simple sandals. Her blue eyes stared down at Bailey as she prepared to make a request.
The woman who simply called herself Peace, had been found in stasis by John-B069 and Samus-B086, along with her three sisters. They'd invented pseudonyms for themselves to avoid suspicion, and Bailey had placed them on payroll with hire dates that stretched back to when the Freelancers were first formed. Peace (or Patience Finley Ariadne, as she was officially named), was one of the easiest people to talk to that Bailey had ever known. When she spoke, it steadied Bailey's nerves.
"May I make an announcement on the intercom? I imagine your vassals could use something to listen to." Bailey quickly nodded, and pressed some buttons on her holo-pad, before handing it over. "Thank you. Oh. It appears I'm live. I'm sorry for the wasted words."
Patience cleared her throat quickly, and lifted her chin, narrowing her eyes as she prepared to speak. She carried the air of a grand orator; everyone who'd seen her knew that she was the real deal, and treated her as such. Bailey got the same strange feeling from her as she did from Walter; they were beings created to lead, and lead they did.
"Hello. I am Patience Ariadne. I imagine most of you know me as Peace by now, so call me what you like. I've been filled in on the details of our predicament. I understand we are at war, as we often are. Nothing brings me greater sorrow than to see an era where cooperation fails, and weapons are drawn. But, this time in particular, we are facing a type of foe unfamiliar to you."
Patience quickly adjusted her hair when a few strands fell into her face. She rolled her eyes and shot Bailey a wistful smile, then continued, her expression flattening.
"For years, you faced extinction at the hands of the alien forces known as The Covenant. They were intent on eradication. But this new beast you face claims to vie for peace. It offers an olive branch, and claims that so long as you submit and kowtow to their might, they will spread prosperity. Even if that were true, my answer...would be an emphatic no."
Her composure broke for a moment, her fingers gripping the pad rather tightly and her expression darkening as she continued. The sight sent goosebumps up Bailey's spine.
"They mean to rob you of your road. They would steal your celebration of life. Your culture. Your pursuit of advancement and strength. Under the rule of this fallen hero Cortana, you would languish, and the future of your children would be left up to chance. For this, I implore you, lift your fists and rage against these enemies with every ounce of your strength. I will walk that treacherous road alongside you."
Patience, in closing, sighed deeply away from the holo-pad.
"Know this. We must show Cortana that one cannot meet disagreement with force. One cannot justify actions with strength alone. We must admit to ourselves that the future of our children cannot be built upon subjugation and misfortune for those who refuse to toe the line. As much as it pains me to say it, but humanity is a warrior race. Do what you were made for, in any way you can. Fight. When the dust settles, we'll build a world where all can cooperate, and false distinctions fall away. But for now, we must resist our malefactors, starting by stealing back the Elduros System. Be prepared to kick some serious ass, my friends."
The woman handed the holo-pad to Bailey, who gripped it. Rather awestruck, she wiped her nose and entered one final side-note. "You heard the lady. Combat personnel, put on your battle dress. We're not far from the Elduros system, so get ready."
The ship, though scathed, was patched up and ready to step back into the ring, like a fighter coming out of their corner as seconds slid under the ropes. Onboard, at the helm, former Admiral and Freelancer helmsman James D. Teach stared out into space, rubbing his chin as his bridge crew busily worked to correct course and stay out of the way of other ships, the Stonefree slipping into the center of the cluster of human vessels. Upon observation, the ship would appear a rather motely crew; vessels of all shapes and sizes were present, with something in common; they were the ones who got away, other than the Infinity. But running wasn't their aim.
This alliance intended to keep fighting, starting with asset denial. If the remnants of the Covenant wanted to pick the bones off of UNSC occupied space, they had another thing coming. All the humans needed was some room to breathe, and a place to hunker down.
Dr. Bailey sat on the observation deck, staring out at the stars above (or whatever counts as above) the ship. It was comforting to have a sense of purpose; working with the UNSC burned her a bit, after years underneath ONI's thumb. She'd had her tech stolen for years by people eager to take credit while putting in half of her effort. Be that as it may, she was always satisfied when working for a good cause, and this was one.
Walter A. Law had sprang to work the moment humanity's A.I. turned traitor. The "Created," they called themselves. They'd hijacked a large number of constructs called Guardians, one of which the Freelancers had fled from. With an army of Promethean warriors, they intended to enforce peace at any cost. No surprise that Walter chafed under the idea. After maneuvering Bailey into a partially clean get-away, he'd summoned his considerable forces, rounded up as much of the UNSC as he could, and fought his way to where the battle-group now resided in deep space, far from the Guardian's purview.
Bailey sighed as she sat up. She felt she had to say something, but couldn't quite form the words. However, a comforting hand grasped her shoulder. A woman she'd only recently met on an abandoned planet hovered over her. Dark blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, she wore a simple, elegant, white shirt with black pants, and a pair of simple sandals. Her blue eyes stared down at Bailey as she prepared to make a request.
The woman who simply called herself Peace, had been found in stasis by John-B069 and Samus-B086, along with her three sisters. They'd invented pseudonyms for themselves to avoid suspicion, and Bailey had placed them on payroll with hire dates that stretched back to when the Freelancers were first formed. Peace (or Patience Finley Ariadne, as she was officially named), was one of the easiest people to talk to that Bailey had ever known. When she spoke, it steadied Bailey's nerves.
"May I make an announcement on the intercom? I imagine your vassals could use something to listen to." Bailey quickly nodded, and pressed some buttons on her holo-pad, before handing it over. "Thank you. Oh. It appears I'm live. I'm sorry for the wasted words."
Patience cleared her throat quickly, and lifted her chin, narrowing her eyes as she prepared to speak. She carried the air of a grand orator; everyone who'd seen her knew that she was the real deal, and treated her as such. Bailey got the same strange feeling from her as she did from Walter; they were beings created to lead, and lead they did.
"Hello. I am Patience Ariadne. I imagine most of you know me as Peace by now, so call me what you like. I've been filled in on the details of our predicament. I understand we are at war, as we often are. Nothing brings me greater sorrow than to see an era where cooperation fails, and weapons are drawn. But, this time in particular, we are facing a type of foe unfamiliar to you."
Patience quickly adjusted her hair when a few strands fell into her face. She rolled her eyes and shot Bailey a wistful smile, then continued, her expression flattening.
"For years, you faced extinction at the hands of the alien forces known as The Covenant. They were intent on eradication. But this new beast you face claims to vie for peace. It offers an olive branch, and claims that so long as you submit and kowtow to their might, they will spread prosperity. Even if that were true, my answer...would be an emphatic no."
Her composure broke for a moment, her fingers gripping the pad rather tightly and her expression darkening as she continued. The sight sent goosebumps up Bailey's spine.
"They mean to rob you of your road. They would steal your celebration of life. Your culture. Your pursuit of advancement and strength. Under the rule of this fallen hero Cortana, you would languish, and the future of your children would be left up to chance. For this, I implore you, lift your fists and rage against these enemies with every ounce of your strength. I will walk that treacherous road alongside you."
Patience, in closing, sighed deeply away from the holo-pad.
"Know this. We must show Cortana that one cannot meet disagreement with force. One cannot justify actions with strength alone. We must admit to ourselves that the future of our children cannot be built upon subjugation and misfortune for those who refuse to toe the line. As much as it pains me to say it, but humanity is a warrior race. Do what you were made for, in any way you can. Fight. When the dust settles, we'll build a world where all can cooperate, and false distinctions fall away. But for now, we must resist our malefactors, starting by stealing back the Elduros System. Be prepared to kick some serious ass, my friends."
The woman handed the holo-pad to Bailey, who gripped it. Rather awestruck, she wiped her nose and entered one final side-note. "You heard the lady. Combat personnel, put on your battle dress. We're not far from the Elduros system, so get ready."