[center][img]https://www.pngkey.com/png/full/391-3919368_file-unsc-symbol-logo-halo-wars-the-great.png[/img][/center]

[center][h2]UNSC [i]Unbroken Hope[/i][/h2][/center]

[h3]0830 Hours, April 15th 2550 (Military Calendar) /
Unknown system, Unknown sector.

Interacting with: [?]

	The mess-hall was alight with activity, even before Marcus had began to sit down with his cup of coffee. Choosing to seat himself down at the table farthest from the entrance to the room, he watched as the majority of service personnel filed in and approached the counter to receive their breakfasts. He could clearly- almost distinctly tell who was a fresh-faced recruit and who was a stone-faced veteran, simply by the way they carried themselves. That, and how the Helijumpers had taken to wearing all-black fatigues whereas the Marines wore their standard greens. Taking a sip of the steaming black liquid, he wondered how many fights these people had gotten themselves into onboard his ship for petty trivialities like rank and who-did-what. As more people filed into the room, already he had spotted a few familiar faces from the bridge, and some from below. Artyom spotted him and nodded; silently signaling that he was going to make his way over when he obtained his tray to which Marcus nodded back. Looking up, he already saw three figures making their way toward him. The first was a man dressed in an all white flight uniform; contrasting sharply against dark caramel skin with matching dark brown hair and eyes. The second, a lean yet muscular man donning the typical black short-sleeve tank top of the Helijumpers; each arm nearly covered in ink as much as scars pockmarked his body against the visage of a square-jaw, short blond hair and deep blue eyes. The third, a slender, athletic woman donning the typical green short sleeve and long combat pants of a Marine. She had black, short hair and pale blue eyes. They seated themselves at his table uninvited, and Marcus knew he was going to be met with a volley of questions without backup from Artyom.

	"Amir, Leon, Elizabeth. Good to see you all." Despite his calm facade, he internally reeled at the thought of knowing the blame of being stranded out in an anomalous sector would inevitably come back to him. Already, he'd suspected they'd each come to give him a verbal lashing on endangering the lives of the men under their command, but Marcus was prepared to counter, and accept the responsibility. As they neatly set themselves down at the table, each of them gave him a curt nod in return in being addressed. Finally, Elizabeth broke the silence. "Good to see you too, Admiral. I... realize we've all been quite unexpectedly brought into a universe that isn't our own. It wasn't your fault, and Issac told us everything from the meeting on the [i]Resurgence.[/i] Granted, that doesn't mean I wouldn't be pissed if you didn't make the right call- but you have us to see it through should the [i]Unbroken Hope [/i] perform any external operations." Marcus blinked, internally sighing in relief as he quietly took another sip of his coffee. Leon spoke up next. "My men are fine. I'm assuming we'll be working in tandem with the Spartans for the majority of any covert ops you have for us." Marcus nodded, and didn't need to know how the man felt about the Super soldiers; the word was practically laced with an underlying venom. Amir spoke up finally,. "Everything is it working order on our end- but I am admittedly concerned. We have 10 Pelicans and 14 Longswords. Not to compare on how Battleplating does, but we haven't exactly flow into.. laser fire before. Blaster laser fire, yes? Would our weaponry even work against them?"

	Now the real questions were being asked, right on time as Artyom came over and seated himself close to Marcus. Long before he became an Admiral, Marcus joined the Marines in 2532, serving for fifteen years before transferring over to the Navy. He'd had his share of close calls before, and knew how well their weapons worked against the Covenant despite being more primitive to their tech by moss on a rock. Yet, those troopers onboard the Resurgence were from here. Would a 7.62x45mm go through that armor despite their military moving to blaster warfare? Not to mention shielding, ship-board weapons, missiles and armor. Several second of a ponder later, and the Admiral spoke up with a grim expression on his face. "I don't know, Amir. The only things I can see matching up and potentially exceeding with anything in this place is our MAC Cannons, and anything explosive provided it is not intercepted and shot down. When I was on the [i]Resurgence[/i], there was a woman there who claimed she had no other choice but to bring us here. 'Us' being ourselves and every other 'delegate' in that room- including the Elite. Beyond offering upgrades, I've put in a request for any and all information on just exactly what we're up against. Until I can ensure that we're not throwing wood into a fire, I'm having everyone refrain from any military engagement. If our hands are forced, so be it, but I don't intend fighting a battle we can't win, even with upgrades." Marcus concluded, and Amir nodded. The Admiral looked up and around with a sudden perplexion, turning to Elizabeth. "Where's Jackson?"

	"Medbay. Delayed release in Cryo meant he got... burnt. He's stable and recovering, but understandably pissed off. We've all had time to relay the news to our men, and some have taken it a bit harder than others. We've got more than a few people who were going to come home within the next month. Security's been tightened around some sections of the barracks because of stress, and anyone below CO is holding a grudge against people like us. As if we're responsible because we told them the bad news. Only reason Briggs is upset is because, and I quote, 'If I were out there, I'd make them quit cryin' or give them something to really cry about." Liz purposefully spoke an octave lower, making Amir snort and Leon nearly choke on his breakfast. Marcus chuckled and shook his head, taking another sip of his coffee as Leon recovered and cleared his throat. "I think the most difficult part for now is on matters of military intelligence. We simply don't have access to an ONI probe, or SATCOM. Which means unless a Recon team goes down, we're not going to have much Intel on what exactly we'll be walking into. Which means we'll have to consistently balance extremes to avoid bringing a mountain to a molehill, and vice versa."

	As Marcus finished the last of his coffee, he nodded to Leon's point. "I'm in agreement, and the last thing I want to do is set a bad example of 'not pulling my weight' when I'm simply being cautious about the lives of my personnel. Down to the last man, we're not expendable. It seemed that way given the circumstances back home, but then again, that was ONI talking. To them, we're all expendable if it meant trading lives for time. Thankfully, they're not here and we can rest easy about that, and plan ahead on what we're going to do next. Rest assured as a plan develops, I'll be sure to have you all head up to the bridge for a meeting." As the activity was winding down, the five servicemembers stood up from the table and exited the mess-hall. Artyom walked alongside Marcus as the pair made their way to the elevator; the Navigation's Officer speaking up along the way. "Thought you were going to get slaughtered by those three, Admiral. I'm surprised they took it as well as they did." Marcus nodded, speaking in return to his compatriot as he lead with a sigh. "We have to. All of us- have to realize that as overwhelming as the situation is, we need to keep optimistic that we're going to get out of here alive. I went over this in the meeting aboard that ship, and the only one I'd even see remotely being in agreement with my words is the Sangheili. Keep in mind, these guys aren't Covenant- hell I'm surprised that Sangheili actually chose to listen over attacking. Not to say that I'm not suspicious of their motives, but as crazy as it sounds, we're going to need to trust them until proven otherwise."

	Artyom gave a gruff "hmph," as they made their way back to the bridge. Upon entering, Issac and the crew quickly snapped a salute to the Admiral, then relaxed as Marcus nodded. The duo approached the table, where the white-colored hologram spoke up to address the pair shortly after. "Morning Admiral, Navigation's Officer. We've been idling around the giant station and monitoring the mineral extraction procedures. Kind of strange how similarly it mirrors our own methods with the Turops-class vessels back home. NAVCOM channels have been open-band since the delegations finished so that the other ships can contact us should they choose, but we haven't heard anything back from anyone." Marcus nodded, and out a hand underneath his chin in thought before speaking up. "I'm not going to reach out unless contacted. I really didn't get an official order from the acting FLEETCOM when everyone left the CiC. As far as I'm concerned for the moment, they come to us and we follow with discretion. That factory is supposedly able to produce ships essentially from our universe, but placing an order for something as small as a Paris-Class would mean that we'd have to divert a significant portion of our crew over to the ship. Unless... Do you think it could be automated?" 

	Issac raised an eyebrow. "I uh... haven't considered that possibility before. Automating it would obviously work, but not without creating a second copy of my functions to run the thing from a DCC. Plus if there's no crew, the abilities to actually make sure the thing doesn't get crippled during a fight would be counterproductive to operations. Also, my functions would be significantly reduced by 50%. This is a double-edged broadsword, Admiral." Marcus sighed, nodding. "I'll think on it. For now, just resume as we are. I'll be here in case anything significant comes up." 

	"Aye, Sir." Issac said, snapping another salute as he vanished into the table. Artyom pivoted on a heel and moved away from the bridge and back to his station, with Marcus himself going over to the Command Chair and taking a seat. It felt like hitting a wall, yet there was a notable crack in the middle. As he started out into the oynx-tinted void, the massive rectangular station caught his eye as he observed the tiny yellow pods go to and from the nearby asteroid field; their hulls emitting trails of particulate dust that swirled gracefully behind the blue engine lights. A secondary ship would certainly help, but dividing the crew to 500 and not having anyone with specialized training would be just as ineffective as Issac's baseline automation of the frigate. He'd have to ask questions, and despised the thought of reaching out first. Surely there would be a silver lining in all of this, right? Marcus sighed, slinking back in the chair and quelling his anxieties silently to himself. He hoped that the rest of his people weren't taking it as hard as he was.