"Shipmaster, Scout Team #27 has reported in." The Elite looks up from his control panel at his commanding officer.

The Shipmaster slowly turns his head towards the young Elite. "Go on."

"The whole planet has been trained for war." The Elite reports. "They know how to use our weapons and vehicles fairly well."

"And how exactly did they get them?" The Shipmaster questions.

The Elite looks back on his panel and then replies. "They have.. a Key."

The Shipmaster quickly stands to his feet. "WHAT." He roars.

Everyone on the bridge shifts at his outburst. No one wants to speak a word.. unless they wanted death.

The Shipmaster gets himself under control and sits back down. "Does a human have the Key?"

"Yes Shipmaster, a human with aqua armor." Came the Elite's reply. "He was an ambassador for our race a few years ago by the name of Lavernius Tucker."

The Shipmaster folded his hands, remembering the name. 'Lavernius Tucker.' He thought. 'The very annoying one.'

"Is he assisted by anyone?" The Shipmaster continued calmly.

"He is assisted by the soldiers at his original base and former agents of Project Freelancer."

"Project Freelancer.. what is this Project Freelancer?"

The Elite taps his control panel. "It was an organization under the UNSC, training soldiers similar to the Demon. Then they disassembled after some of the agents found out about the laws their boss was breaking."

"How many of them?" The Shipmaster asks. He doesn't like the sound of these.. Freelancers. Especially if they are anything like the Demon.

Four Spartans appear on the large main panel in front of the Zealot Shipmaster. "Four. One of them has knowledge of our ways and the other three have experience fighting our kind." Came his reply.

'They could be a problem.' The Shipmaster thought as he stares at each Freelancer.

He knew he had to make a move soon before they find his fleet hiding near the atmosphere. If not, then it would be harder for them to capture the planet.

And if they can't capture the planet, they would have to glass it which the Shipmaster isn't fond of doing.

"Tell Scout team #27 to stay on the outskirts of the city and to not engage any human." The Shipmaster ordered. "Tomorrow we will send the jackel snipers and try to take these Freelancers out."

"Yes Shipmaster." The Elite turns back to his control panel and sends the scout team a transmission.

The Zealot looks at the four Freelancers again. Two in Mark VI armor, one in Recon armor, and another in Air Assault armor. All battle scarred and experienced.

'May the gods grant me this victory.' The Shipmaster prayed as the pictures disappeared and the stars takes it's place once more.