Hi there. You may not know me, but my name is Epsilon. Some time ago, my friends and I were shipwrecked on a planet called Chorus. If you haven't heard of it, I don't blame you at all. But, all of us who survived the crash as well as the planet's inhabitants are in dire need of help. If this is transmitting to your computer, please examine the files that I have attached to this transmission. They include our coordinates, as well as information on the survivors of the crash, who you may recognize as the heroes of the UNSC that went missing during their flight home. Most importantly, however,are the files that prove the undeniable guilt of Malcom Hargrove. Orchestrating our shipwreck was just one of an impressively long list of crimes the dear Chairman has committed in the past few years. Once we are rescued, we'd be happy to discuss the list in greater detail as well as answer any other questions that you may have, so long as it ensures that Mr. Hargrove never sees the light of day again. Thank you for your time, and please - hurry the fuck up, and just come get us. ~Epsilon
Captain William Smith woke up the second he heard the voice. It has been years since he has heard it. Not since before the Great War had he even heard mention of him outside the news.
"Alpha", he muttered to himself. As he listened intently to the transmission, he tried to get nostalgia out of his head. He has finally found his legacy. As the images of the simulation troopers appeared, he remembered the shady history pertaining to his past and the frigate that had been his home for so long.
After getting dressed into his UNSC uniform, he strode down onto the bridge of the Frigate. The Charon-class vessel was hovering over ONI's headquarters in Boston. Already finished repairs, it was maintaining synchronized orbit around the command base until further orders were given. Well, now they have one.
Opening up a channel to ONI, he waited several minutes as the administration side grinds its gears. When the tone hits his compad, he immediately commanded to talk with Michael Sullivan.
"Hey, Willie" Michael called out in his cheery demeanor. But William is not having the small talk that comes with conversation with Michael. He's read the files on him, including his psychological analysis. He could see through his facade like an experienced desert dweller.
"Cut the crap, Sully", William ordered out, making Michael bolt upright. " I need every chunk of information on Charon Industries, Malcolm Hargrove and," with hesitation, "Project Freelancer".
"You know, Willie, we're kinda busy right now", Michael coolly answered, "what, with the Biko thing and Benji -"
"You know, I REALLY don't want to do this, I'm out of time, and I don't want to go through your drivel, Mike", William added with a cold sense of threat. It's no doubt that he was enjoying this as much as all those on the bridge was too, as making an ONI official listen to a FLEETCOM Commander was extremely rare, and not the other way round.
William turned to the Weapon specialists on board the bridge. "Crewman James, how long can we get the MAC up and running?"
James took a quick glance at his his monitor screen, before replying.
"Sir, we can get her up within two minutes, including activation of the magnetic coils".
William smiled as an idea formed into his head. Calling out to the helmswoman, he signaled her to pitch the ship down so that the MAC cannon faces the ONI headquarters. As he looked into the holographic display of Sully's room, he imagined how it would look with an ground-busting metal rod through it.
Sully was simultaneously scared and angry, using every cuss he could think of, while at the same time, telling him that Admiral Hood would "personally hang him for treason". The idea was both amusing and serious, (truthfully, seriously amusing) because be honest, when was the last time a navy hung a man for treason - what, 600 years ago? At least he'll make the history books. William was not angry, nor scared this time round. This time, as coolly as Michael was several moments ago, he began to count down. The crewmembers were amused too, as they have no less hatred of ONI than the Commander. Some were even beginning to bet on how many ONI members would be buried, or even if he was going to fire at ONI at all.
"I'm warning you, all I need is the information that you guys have, and your office won't get a redecoration by oversized gauss round. And don't bother calling the rest of HIGHCOM. By the time any vessel manuevers into our position, ONI would likely be a crater by then. So we're on 3..."
Michael was already on his compad transferring files to him. With an angry scowl, he warned that he would see that the Commander would be facing an UNCS tribunal court in the near future. But the William was not even worried. He just smiled nicely, and with a curt "thank you", he closed the connection before Sully could even say a word.
"Crewman James, commence shutdown of the MAC", he ordered, "We'll need it when we get to our destination."
He turned towards the helmswoman, who served aboard every kind of UNSC craft for years. Lieutenant Rebecca Rawley, was absolutely focused on every mechanism under her control.
"Rawley, open a slip under the coordinates that Epsilon just gave out", William barked.
Rawley raised an eyebrow at his direction. "You're going after them, are you?", she asked with a hint of amusement, knowing who they want to pick up.
It took a moment for William to think of all the possible answers he could come up with, but he decided that a simple "Yes" would suffice.
"You know, even with the powers of the Shaw-Fujikawa engine, it would take a week to arrive at Chorus, right?", Rebbecca reminded him. But William already knew that.
"I know, that's why I have a week to prepare", was the answer, as William briskly marches away from the bridge and heady into the Armory hallway.
Now, Rawley is confused, but preparing for the worst case scenario in her mind.
"prepared for what?", was the question she aimed at Commander Smith.
The answer?
"A family reunion".