Chapter One
Agent Louisiana didn’t take boredom very well.
Nevertheless, “borrowing” a Black Cat-class subprowler—the UNSC October, if memory served—with a handful of other Freelancers for a joyride to a forbidden area of war-torn space was stretching the Director’s patience to its limit.
Arcadia was classified as off-limits by the UNSC due to continued Covenant presence on the planet, making it a planet in theme with the current holiday season. That didn’t explain why the increasingly agitated Louisiana was taking several of her colleagues to the planet, however.
Director Church simply hoped that the agent knew both what she was doing, and exactly what was waiting for her when she came back. Because she was coming back, he was sure...After all, his daughter was among those accompanying the wayward Freelancer...
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Arcadia was a living, breathing jungle.
Thick and dense, everything was covered by green with the occasional bright splashes of color. There was a lot of red, as well. Red like the blood that Louisiana had no problem imagining the planet to be drenched in. To the Freelancer, Arcadia was dripping—was gushing red.
Before the Covies had come back the second time and successfully glassed it, the planet had proceeded to do what it had always done: provide agricultural supplies to Earth and the Inner Colonies. Though its cities had crumbled and been retaken by nature, the people of Arcadia had continued with what they knew, after that first attack had wiped away most of the manmade structures on its surface.
Twenty years before—before Arcadia had been found by the Covenant, before this hellish war had begun—the planet’s economy had consisted of agriculture, its function as a vacation getaway, and as resident to the Deep Space Research Array; those of the planet’s inhabitants that hadn’t reveled in the anarchy had clung to what they knew best after that first attack. After that first, initial destruction of... everything.
Now, after the Covenant’s return, the only thing that should have remained on the planet’s surface—primary succession, Louisiana thought it was called, when life took root again after complete destruction— was ash. The only thing that should have remained...
But here it was—a lush, untouched wonderland of flora and fauna; no sign of the brutality that had occurred. No sign of the myriad of lives that had needlessly been lost.
The young Freelancer—she was not a child, for children didn’t exist in this world, after seeing all the cruelty it possessed—had seen a planet or two glassed in her time. It wasn’t pretty. Covies didn’t just wipe out all life planet-side, they carved their beliefs into the very flesh of the world.
She had heard somewhere that the glyph they burned onto every human world they destroyed meant ‘faith’. How very ironic, Louisiana thought, that people should be killed--murdered—by faith. That people should kill with their faith...
But reminiscence about past atrocities was not why she and her fellow Freelancers were there, the silver-armored agent reminded herself firmly. They weren’t there to ruminate on the wisdom (more pressingly the sanity) in their war with the Covenant, nor the horror of how many innocent, civilian lives had been wrenched away in this one engagement, let alone the entire Covenant campaign against humanity...
The agents of Project Freelancer were struggling their way through the Arcadian wilderness for one reason and one reason only: to find a little peace by getting a little even with the Covies.
It may not be logical, and it may not be entirely sane itself, but it was October 30 and fear was so present in their lives that they felt more than a little inclined to spread the holiday cheer with some of the people who put it there.
Soon, Louisiana thought grimly, as she hacked her way through the dense green of the jungle-planet, blue and purple will drown out the red, and this planet can finally rest knowing that good people didn’t just stand by. We got even.
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“What are we doing here?” South griped as yet another thick branch whipped across her visor, having previously been held “politely” by Louisiana when everyone else had attempted to get past it.
“What do you mean?” was the disinterested reply from the silver Freelancer just behind her. “I told you before we left.”
South stepped aside when the smaller young woman pushed past, in an effort to keep from toppling over. “No,” she objected grumpily. “All you said was that you were going on a field trip and anyone who was as bored as you was welcome to hitch a ride. That is literally all the information you gave us.”
The purple Freelancer looked to her darker-armored twin for backup, having caught up with the rest of the group, before remembering that he was off on an official mission with Wyoming. Fucking snipers always stuck together.
“Yeah,” piped up a familiar voice from the very front. “I’m kinda wondering why we’re here, too, Lou... And why’d you ask ‘Lina to scout ahead instead of doin’ it yourself?”
Louisiana—who attempted to hit South in the face with another branch but failed—gave up and jogged closer to the front, just behind the tan-armored man who had point. “Carolina’s at the top of the board—I’m sure she can handle anything she encounters ahead, so don’t worry your pretty little head, lover boy,” was her amused reply.
“And I didn’t go myself because I’m a hell of a lot more worried about what might happen to the group if I’m not here to guide you idiots, than I am about a highly trained and capable soldier.”
“We’re highly trained and capable soldiers!” Mississippi protested from the middle of the group, the pale yellow of her armor practically glowing amidst the foliage.
“Yes, dear,” Louisiana said with exaggerated patience. “But soldiers in a group are just like normal people in a group—a person is intelligent, logical, and applies common sense to all situations. People are stupid, short-sighted, reckless, and can’t be trusted with their own shoelaces, let alone their lives.”
Mississippi opened her mouth to argue but was cut off by the return of their Glorious Leader in sea-foam green.
“Yo, Care,” Louisiana greeted cheekily. “What’s the sitch?”
Carolina, the only one of their group seemingly unaffected by the greenery, spoke with the authority that came with being the Glorious Leader. “As far as I can tell, Louisiana, there isn’t another living creature on this planet...” Then she shook her head and switched tactics. “What exactly are you planning on doing here?”
“See?” South cut in, before the agent in question could respond. “Even Carolina wants to know why we’re here.”
Louisiana sighed and threw her hands up in surrender when everyone in the group stopped to look at her expectantly. “Fine, fine, fine... Just gimme a second to talk to Care, alright?”
The silver Freelancer jogged to front of their odd little assortment that was so out of place among the green it was almost funny—scoring a kick at Mississippi’s ankle, and watching with satisfaction as the woman hobbled out of range, as she went—and fell into step with their cyan “superior”.
“What’s up?” She asked, keeping her voice soft enough that she didn’t think the others could hear.
Instead of keeping to low tones like her fellow agent, Carolina spoke normally, allowing her voice to carry to the others. “Arcadia has been classified off-limits by the UNSC because of the Covenant’s maintained presence on the planet,” she said without preamble.
Raising her eyebrows at their Glorious Leader, Louisiana adopted a carefully neutral tone that fooled no one. “Is it? Well, fancy that... I just heard that it was a good vacation spot.”
“Nuh-uh, I call bullshit,” Mississippi called from the back next to Oregon, who had yet to contribute to the conversation. “You said to pack heavy artillery, a plethora of med-kits, and a fuck-ton of ammo. You even grabbed a jet-pack! What—are you trying to get us killed by Covie energy swords?!”
“Just you, Missi,” Louisiana quipped. “And seriously--plethora? Do you even know how to use that correctly?”
Smugly, the silver Freelancer could hear Mississippi grind her teeth before snarling, “I’m blonde; not dumb!”
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive, dear,” she fired back at the yellow-armored woman as they walked, before adding under her breath, “Especially not with your record…”
“Hey! I heard that!”
“My God,” Louisiana gasped mockingly, falling back on her time-honored tradition. “Your ears can detect vibrations in the air and transmit them to your brain for translation? It’s a fucking miracle.”
“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit,” Mississippi snapped.
“And you’re the lowest form of life, so I suppose things even out,” Louisiana replied with false sweetness.
It continued on like that for the next quarter of an hour—while the Freelancers headed farther into the jungle in the direction Louisiana had pointed, and farther away from their “borrowed” ship—with the two young women’s insults becoming steadily nastier and more personal. Occasionally, one of the other agents would interject—the mild-mannered Agent Oregon in burnt oranged even going so far as the mention past wrongs, forgotten by one or the other—but no one tried to break it up.
Everyone knew better by then, even their Glorious Leader, and the familiar ease of their bickering was welcome in the oppressive silence of Arcadia’s jungle. It was so creepy when nobody spoke, like the entire planet was watching their progress across its surface with malevolent eyes.
It was not a comforting feeling, to say the least.
Eventually--finally--Carolina held up a closed fist and ordered them quiet. She crept forward through the brush, having the presence of mind to activate her Chameleon armor enhancement, and disappeared from view.
They all held their breath as they waited for the teal Freelancer to return. Louisiana walked forward silently and laid a hand on York’s shoulder, seeing in his body language the furious struggle that was taking place inside his mind:
While Carolina had given a silent command to stay here, York’s every instinct was screaming at him not to let her out of his sight. To watch her six. To protect her. To not let her go into dangerous and unknown territory without backup... To keep the fierce, red-headed woman he loved safe...
He had to physically restrain himself to keep from following Carolina through all that green, and Louisiana’s hand on his shoulder was a welcome anchor.
After a few minutes passed, Oregon approached the two silent Freelancers and laid an orange hand on York’s other arm and gave it a light squeeze. He looked over to Louisiana—the contrast of she and Oregon, only 5’9” himself, against York was nothing short of hilarious—and she gave a single, grateful nod.
As they waited, Louisiana worried the flesh of her bottom lip between her teeth, and tried not to think about what this latest demonstration of outright stupidity might result in. If she got any of these idiots killed, all for the sake of some Halloween fun and pent-up aggression, she’d walk into a shrink’s office of her own volition and talk about her uncaring mother to their shriveled, walnut-sized heart’s content.
After what seemed an eternity, they all heard rustling up ahead, and waited anxiously for what would walk through the greenery...
Nevertheless, “borrowing” a Black Cat-class subprowler—the UNSC October, if memory served—with a handful of other Freelancers for a joyride to a forbidden area of war-torn space was stretching the Director’s patience to its limit.
Arcadia was classified as off-limits by the UNSC due to continued Covenant presence on the planet, making it a planet in theme with the current holiday season. That didn’t explain why the increasingly agitated Louisiana was taking several of her colleagues to the planet, however.
Director Church simply hoped that the agent knew both what she was doing, and exactly what was waiting for her when she came back. Because she was coming back, he was sure...After all, his daughter was among those accompanying the wayward Freelancer...
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Arcadia was a living, breathing jungle.
Thick and dense, everything was covered by green with the occasional bright splashes of color. There was a lot of red, as well. Red like the blood that Louisiana had no problem imagining the planet to be drenched in. To the Freelancer, Arcadia was dripping—was gushing red.
Before the Covies had come back the second time and successfully glassed it, the planet had proceeded to do what it had always done: provide agricultural supplies to Earth and the Inner Colonies. Though its cities had crumbled and been retaken by nature, the people of Arcadia had continued with what they knew, after that first attack had wiped away most of the manmade structures on its surface.
Twenty years before—before Arcadia had been found by the Covenant, before this hellish war had begun—the planet’s economy had consisted of agriculture, its function as a vacation getaway, and as resident to the Deep Space Research Array; those of the planet’s inhabitants that hadn’t reveled in the anarchy had clung to what they knew best after that first attack. After that first, initial destruction of... everything.
Now, after the Covenant’s return, the only thing that should have remained on the planet’s surface—primary succession, Louisiana thought it was called, when life took root again after complete destruction— was ash. The only thing that should have remained...
But here it was—a lush, untouched wonderland of flora and fauna; no sign of the brutality that had occurred. No sign of the myriad of lives that had needlessly been lost.
The young Freelancer—she was not a child, for children didn’t exist in this world, after seeing all the cruelty it possessed—had seen a planet or two glassed in her time. It wasn’t pretty. Covies didn’t just wipe out all life planet-side, they carved their beliefs into the very flesh of the world.
She had heard somewhere that the glyph they burned onto every human world they destroyed meant ‘faith’. How very ironic, Louisiana thought, that people should be killed--murdered—by faith. That people should kill with their faith...
But reminiscence about past atrocities was not why she and her fellow Freelancers were there, the silver-armored agent reminded herself firmly. They weren’t there to ruminate on the wisdom (more pressingly the sanity) in their war with the Covenant, nor the horror of how many innocent, civilian lives had been wrenched away in this one engagement, let alone the entire Covenant campaign against humanity...
The agents of Project Freelancer were struggling their way through the Arcadian wilderness for one reason and one reason only: to find a little peace by getting a little even with the Covies.
It may not be logical, and it may not be entirely sane itself, but it was October 30 and fear was so present in their lives that they felt more than a little inclined to spread the holiday cheer with some of the people who put it there.
Soon, Louisiana thought grimly, as she hacked her way through the dense green of the jungle-planet, blue and purple will drown out the red, and this planet can finally rest knowing that good people didn’t just stand by. We got even.
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“What are we doing here?” South griped as yet another thick branch whipped across her visor, having previously been held “politely” by Louisiana when everyone else had attempted to get past it.
“What do you mean?” was the disinterested reply from the silver Freelancer just behind her. “I told you before we left.”
South stepped aside when the smaller young woman pushed past, in an effort to keep from toppling over. “No,” she objected grumpily. “All you said was that you were going on a field trip and anyone who was as bored as you was welcome to hitch a ride. That is literally all the information you gave us.”
The purple Freelancer looked to her darker-armored twin for backup, having caught up with the rest of the group, before remembering that he was off on an official mission with Wyoming. Fucking snipers always stuck together.
“Yeah,” piped up a familiar voice from the very front. “I’m kinda wondering why we’re here, too, Lou... And why’d you ask ‘Lina to scout ahead instead of doin’ it yourself?”
Louisiana—who attempted to hit South in the face with another branch but failed—gave up and jogged closer to the front, just behind the tan-armored man who had point. “Carolina’s at the top of the board—I’m sure she can handle anything she encounters ahead, so don’t worry your pretty little head, lover boy,” was her amused reply.
“And I didn’t go myself because I’m a hell of a lot more worried about what might happen to the group if I’m not here to guide you idiots, than I am about a highly trained and capable soldier.”
“We’re highly trained and capable soldiers!” Mississippi protested from the middle of the group, the pale yellow of her armor practically glowing amidst the foliage.
“Yes, dear,” Louisiana said with exaggerated patience. “But soldiers in a group are just like normal people in a group—a person is intelligent, logical, and applies common sense to all situations. People are stupid, short-sighted, reckless, and can’t be trusted with their own shoelaces, let alone their lives.”
Mississippi opened her mouth to argue but was cut off by the return of their Glorious Leader in sea-foam green.
“Yo, Care,” Louisiana greeted cheekily. “What’s the sitch?”
Carolina, the only one of their group seemingly unaffected by the greenery, spoke with the authority that came with being the Glorious Leader. “As far as I can tell, Louisiana, there isn’t another living creature on this planet...” Then she shook her head and switched tactics. “What exactly are you planning on doing here?”
“See?” South cut in, before the agent in question could respond. “Even Carolina wants to know why we’re here.”
Louisiana sighed and threw her hands up in surrender when everyone in the group stopped to look at her expectantly. “Fine, fine, fine... Just gimme a second to talk to Care, alright?”
The silver Freelancer jogged to front of their odd little assortment that was so out of place among the green it was almost funny—scoring a kick at Mississippi’s ankle, and watching with satisfaction as the woman hobbled out of range, as she went—and fell into step with their cyan “superior”.
“What’s up?” She asked, keeping her voice soft enough that she didn’t think the others could hear.
Instead of keeping to low tones like her fellow agent, Carolina spoke normally, allowing her voice to carry to the others. “Arcadia has been classified off-limits by the UNSC because of the Covenant’s maintained presence on the planet,” she said without preamble.
Raising her eyebrows at their Glorious Leader, Louisiana adopted a carefully neutral tone that fooled no one. “Is it? Well, fancy that... I just heard that it was a good vacation spot.”
“Nuh-uh, I call bullshit,” Mississippi called from the back next to Oregon, who had yet to contribute to the conversation. “You said to pack heavy artillery, a plethora of med-kits, and a fuck-ton of ammo. You even grabbed a jet-pack! What—are you trying to get us killed by Covie energy swords?!”
“Just you, Missi,” Louisiana quipped. “And seriously--plethora? Do you even know how to use that correctly?”
Smugly, the silver Freelancer could hear Mississippi grind her teeth before snarling, “I’m blonde; not dumb!”
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive, dear,” she fired back at the yellow-armored woman as they walked, before adding under her breath, “Especially not with your record…”
“Hey! I heard that!”
“My God,” Louisiana gasped mockingly, falling back on her time-honored tradition. “Your ears can detect vibrations in the air and transmit them to your brain for translation? It’s a fucking miracle.”
“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit,” Mississippi snapped.
“And you’re the lowest form of life, so I suppose things even out,” Louisiana replied with false sweetness.
It continued on like that for the next quarter of an hour—while the Freelancers headed farther into the jungle in the direction Louisiana had pointed, and farther away from their “borrowed” ship—with the two young women’s insults becoming steadily nastier and more personal. Occasionally, one of the other agents would interject—the mild-mannered Agent Oregon in burnt oranged even going so far as the mention past wrongs, forgotten by one or the other—but no one tried to break it up.
Everyone knew better by then, even their Glorious Leader, and the familiar ease of their bickering was welcome in the oppressive silence of Arcadia’s jungle. It was so creepy when nobody spoke, like the entire planet was watching their progress across its surface with malevolent eyes.
It was not a comforting feeling, to say the least.
Eventually--finally--Carolina held up a closed fist and ordered them quiet. She crept forward through the brush, having the presence of mind to activate her Chameleon armor enhancement, and disappeared from view.
They all held their breath as they waited for the teal Freelancer to return. Louisiana walked forward silently and laid a hand on York’s shoulder, seeing in his body language the furious struggle that was taking place inside his mind:
While Carolina had given a silent command to stay here, York’s every instinct was screaming at him not to let her out of his sight. To watch her six. To protect her. To not let her go into dangerous and unknown territory without backup... To keep the fierce, red-headed woman he loved safe...
He had to physically restrain himself to keep from following Carolina through all that green, and Louisiana’s hand on his shoulder was a welcome anchor.
After a few minutes passed, Oregon approached the two silent Freelancers and laid an orange hand on York’s other arm and gave it a light squeeze. He looked over to Louisiana—the contrast of she and Oregon, only 5’9” himself, against York was nothing short of hilarious—and she gave a single, grateful nod.
As they waited, Louisiana worried the flesh of her bottom lip between her teeth, and tried not to think about what this latest demonstration of outright stupidity might result in. If she got any of these idiots killed, all for the sake of some Halloween fun and pent-up aggression, she’d walk into a shrink’s office of her own volition and talk about her uncaring mother to their shriveled, walnut-sized heart’s content.
After what seemed an eternity, they all heard rustling up ahead, and waited anxiously for what would walk through the greenery...