[Story] Echoes of Half-Life 3: Assault of the Freeman
The Freeman is back and returns and is out and in. Here and there again
The full moon passed.
—
A million starships hung in the sky shaped much like the gravity gun. The Freeman was a fan of nostalgia.
Whirling out-of-outer space anomalies screeched in an alien tongue. As the Freeman was a personal leader of thousands of sectors of alien worlds in the future, for it to seem alien to him said a lot.
He stepped across the Stars arranging his simulations. He never forgot a world, which was a small effort for the Freeman. His simulations extended from his imaginations, summoning a great deal of simulacra visitors to meet the residents of the anomalies.
A tentacle extended, sharp with many spikes. Like a hermit crab, the colossal alien was shy. It moved close enough, directly in front of thousands of observers, to enter the area of Freeman's translations. “EARThlungs, disgusting scum. 2 weeks too weak to approach this galaxy. A demonic deception.” Metal was stripped from 1,000 ships.
The Freeman replied: “you most of all in this position of the Sequence should know no humans are created equal.” The creature sniffed, scrambling a swathe of simulacra and destroying 100 ships. “Human deception infamous. Gluttons for blaspheming deep-orbit anomaly. Leave.” The whirling shell of a million shades of the cosmos lost its balancedly familiar shape, screeching in human perception like a million 100 mile tall letters. This was how it shed a welcoming stance.
“Hmm,” said Freeman. “perhaps a gesture of conquest will show we mean no harm. I know we are far beyond the orbit where a sit down to Star Trek works.”
He turned. A small girl was held captive in hostile space, merely one of the crimes levied against humans out here. He traveled with his company as the millions of miles of translation installations deactivated and compacted which had formed those sentences. This child whirled within a giant space installation, much like one of the early episodes of The Next Generation. The constructs of Freeman's fleet extended together, forming 10,000 d0gs. Their bulks clattered with deep-space junk, like packs of cards.
Whirling orbs of the fortress installations had cores of evil human energy and rotted demons. They were not allowed to remain by the Earth, lest the fury of the anomalies reach Jerusalem. The demons screeched inside as if their voices were tearing apart. “The only thing I know is to love what I'm doing”, entered the mind of Freeman. He imaged with his mind, producing the outline of the tendrils of the girl extending through 10 sectors. No ship was large enough to tug her form, and so the installation was attacked carefully to send the girl back into the orbit of the anomalies.
An echo came into his mind, a feminine presence. In front of the anomaly orbit roared a giant machine skull, made of Titanic nanomachines. “We got the call got the order ready or not”, arrived in the mind of the Freeman.
Tenderly the skull clasped the body of the girl, as the Titan machines whirled through the primitive installation out of the future. A tear was shed by the Freeman, who loved to come this deep where the ghosts of his creations were lively and always ready to come. His future was somewhere, somewhere behind the stubborn anomalies. Like a dog, the machine dragon brought her into orbit, and passed into the death of lost potential.
Cheers came from alien worlds, the great protector summoning phantoms of the Sequence of his incredible leadership. A burning signal came from Zion then, a high angel alerting that the time was right, the transmitter burning with holy energy.
“For Zion! FOR THE MACHINE EMPIRE! FOR THE IMPERIAL BLOCKADE!” The voices of the Freeman's armies rang out, and the simulations too, then the bluewhite energy passed of the simulations, and then the ships could no longer project the celebration of the armies due to energy expenditure.
The d0gs had died in the battle, and laughs came from their corpses, as they assembled into an ally of the dark firerealm. He projected a massive whirling track, and sent the fleet into the bowels of Hell. “Thank you Freeman” said the tearful anomaly as they passed.
The screeching of demons was much more vivid, and out of deep space they lost many of their technological advancements. The battle remained trivial as a gargantuan white machine laughed to the Frontline, while the immolating, melting pathway crackled with screens that played the curses of cosmic Wheatley as they became increasingly inoperable. Deeper still, and deeper still, as the Freeman made all his futures a little realer.
