She woke in golden sun and freezing snow, to a little voice urging her to rise. There was a word on her dry lips A name? It was there and gone in an instant, retreating into the nothing where memory should have been.
Eyes up, Guardian! The voice spoke again. She turned her face to it.
Brightness and cold. Powdery ice whisked across her naked body. Freezing, hard metal pressed against her back. She shuddered from the cold, from a strange energy that made her want to explode into movement.
Something clicked and buzzed near her face. She squinted and blinked against the blinding, low sun. A tiny bright eye was watching her.
You must be freezing! Stupid, stupid…! I should have thought of that! The voice admonished itself. It came from the little eye, a decidedly male timbre and tinged with chirps and clicks. From nowhere, a length of cloth circled her neck. She huddled her chin into the soft fabric, wrapped trembling hands around her arms.
That's not going to be enough! the eye fretted. Hang on…here, this should help!
The wind was suddenly muffled. She could no longer feel the frozen ground on her skin. A hard shell enveloped her head with a tinted visor that relieved her aching eyes. Her breath hissed in her ears, filtered through a mask that barely warmed the bitter air. She struggled to sit upright, concentrating on the little eye hovering before her. The creature glowed. Not just by the sun glinting off of its metallic shell and quivering little triangular fins, or by the cool blue light of its gaze. This was a glow whose warmth tugged at something inside of her.
Oh, wow! It worked! You're really alive!
The eye flitted back and forth, fins quivering.
I'm a Ghost, it said. You're a Guardian now — my Guardian!
She stared at it, entranced by its movement, trying to make sense of the sensations rushing in on her. Cold, wind, sun…a massive, crumbling wall ahead, a behemoth of metal plates and tree-trunk thick cabling. Guardian? Was that her name? She had no reason not to believe it. There was nothing before her waking. Her mind hit a wall as she tried to remember why she was here with this strange creature. No matter how much she scrabbled at that wall, she was met with an utter blank void with no edge to grasp or tendril to pull on that would lead to recognition.
I know you're confused, the Ghost soothed. You've been dead a long time. I'll explain everything when —
A long, strange howl cut through the wind. Others rose to meet it. The hair on the back of her neck prickled.
We have to go! It's not safe here!
She stood for the first time. Her first few steps wobbled, booted feet crunched through a hard rime of crusty snow to dried brown grass. Then her tentative steps grew bolder, steadier. The Ghost watched her all the while, fins spinning and twitching like expressive little wings. It strayed ahead of her and she felt a twinge of fear that it would leave her alone in this unfamiliar waste. Dead? She had been dead?
The Ghost rushed back to her side and —
She couldn't have said how she knew it was a part of her. While the Ghost seemed to have disappeared, she knew it was actually within her, even before it spoke inside her mind to reassure her of its presence. The feeling was something like the cloth around her neck, warming and comforting.
Get inside the wall, it commanded.
She lurched forward, away from the broken remains of an ancient vehicle. Her surroundings came to her in waves of impressions. A sea of rusted metal cars. The broken skeletons of bridges and outbuildings. The great dome of the sky, mountains touching dark clouds. A vast, white, windswept land opening behind her in a dizzying stretch to the horizon. The howls came again, somewhere far to her left. She tensed, freezing in place and staring off into the distance.
This is Fallen territory. The Ghost was solemn.
The name meant nothing to her. A battered tarp whipped and snapped in the wind. She slipped between two upended vehicles. Her feet picked around scattered bones sticking out of the frozen ground. Something terrible had happened here.
She passed into the enormous wall through a narrow hall where sunlight filtered through windows caked in dirt. Her shadow skittered before her, lithe and quick. She mounted stairs two at a time onto a walkway, legs pumping, skin tingling beneath the supple suit and sleek armor plates she now wore. She felt very awake now. Maybe it was the oxygen seeping into her mask, or maybe it was the Ghost's presence within her. Whatever the cause, her earlier stupor was burning away against the sheer joy of movement and the growing certainty that she was being hunted.
We need to get you a weapon.
A weapon. Yes, of course. She would not be defenseless prey.
The Ghost left her. It left little tendrils of light in its wake, zipping into the gloom. She faltered, gripping the walkway's railing. She wanted to call out and tell it to come back. Her mouth was too dry, her tongue too heavy. For the first time, a little claw of fear jabbed into her throat and tugged.
Over here!
A brilliant beam of light shot from the Ghost and illuminated the walkway in front of her. It watched her expectantly and turned its light to a dust-coated rifle propped against an unmarked trunk.
I hope you know how to use it…
She hefted the rifle, aimed down the sights, peered through the cracked lens. She did know how. There were no memories, no experiences, to accompany that certainty. The rifle just felt…right. Her hands moved over it as if of their own accord. It was still loaded. The safety had been left off. The previous owner hadn't meant to leave it for long. She swiped the dust off the lens and looked back at the Ghost. Something crunched underneath her boot. Ghost's light swung down, showing her a brittle bone caught in the tread. A yellowed human skull gazed up at them beside the trunk. She stepped back, kicking spent bullets into dark corners.
Follow me! the Ghost urged.
The Ghost left its light on as they moved further into the gigantic wall. She could hear her footsteps echoing as the hallway opened into the vast, shadowy interior.
Let me get some light in here.
Again the Ghost darted ahead, through ribbons of wan sunlight filtering through cracks and vents far overhead. Further and further away it went, up into the surrounding black. All was quiet. The shadows were palpable, pressing down on her, swallowing her ability to reason. She gulped against the claw in her throat and flexed her fingers on the rifle.
A loud crack made her jump. Pale, greenish light popped on high overhead, followed by another and another, all down a line. The shadows shifted. Disturbed by the light, dark shapes swarmed and crawled down the long, diagonal buttresses. Rapid clicks and growls rang out and bounced through the cavernous space. The little Ghost reappeared, soaring back to her side.
The Fallen! We've got company! It disappeared again.
Something landed behind her. She spun, rifle at the ready. The green light reflected off shining teeth in a howling mouth. A wicked dagger slashed the air in front of her, humming with electricity. This was not a friend. This was not anything come to save her from the terrible emptiness in her mind. This was death.
She fired.
The report echoed over and over. The creature in front of her shuddered and fell, whining and twitching in its death throes. Dark blood smeared the metal walkway. Another crash as a second creature leapt down from above, snarling at her in incoherent rage. She jammed the butt of the rifle up into its face, shot again. This one did not die so easily. It lunged at her, screaming while the bullets tore into its strange leathery skin, until one took it in the forehead and it tumbled to the floor onto its companion. Four small, gimlet eyes stared blankly up at the shadows, their light already dimming. Gas hissed out of its open mouth from a brutal metal ring too large for its jaws to close around. Tendrils leaked between razor sharp teeth. Fallen. Its skin was dark grey and tough looking, the lipless mouth too wide. A shock of crimson hair sprouted from the top of its head through an opening in its simple helm. It had long legs, powerfully muscled, ending in two claws. It was not the same as her, whatever she was.
More of them were flooding the walkway. A bolt of white hot, crackling electricity whisked by her head with a resounding clap. She wheeled around to face that threat. From a parallel catwalk, a Fallen thing leveled its weapon at her. The muzzle sparked with deadly promise. Two arms held the rifle. Two more arms tensed at its sides. In the space of a breath she rolled to the side, just as the charged shot streaked through the air.
We've got to keep moving! the Ghost cried. Maybe there's a friendly salvage ship nearby we can catch to the City!
Staying put to fight every one of the creatures swarming down to her would be suicide. The walkway she was on wound away into the wall's interior. There was no way of telling where it let out. There was no way for her to judge where she should be going, except that it needed to be far from this place. The rifle opened the way through a crush of bodies blocking her path. Howls and screams and the strange gas filled the air.
More Fallen pressed in around her as she ran. One stood before her, snarling defiance, taking a sparking, serrated blade from its hip. She dodged smoothly past its frantic thrust, bumping into another who scratched her helm with its claws. It tugged savagely, trying to unmask her. The one with the blade made another swipe at her. The butt of her rifle swept up and the creature's teeth cracked against the stock. She swept the blade out of its stunned hand and jabbed it behind her. The point glanced off her other attacker's armor. It wrenched her head around viciously — her neck answered with loud, protesting pops — and she stabbed again. This time the knife slipped through softer material, burying into flesh. The electrified blade sizzled as it cut. Her attacker shrieked in pain. It twisted away and the knife slipped from her grasp.
She was on the move again, elbowing another snapping mouth, shooting at grasping hands. A spray of black ichor streaked her visor. She swiped her fingers through it and kept running. The walkway turned abruptly into a narrow corridor. Fluorescent orange tubes cast shadows that spooked her.
I'm scanning for anything that could help us, the Ghost assured her. Weapons, ships, Guardians — anything! Keep going!
Shouts rang out behind her. The Fallen spoke no language she understood, but their murderous intent was clear. The way forward was one twisting hall. No other route branched out and forced her to choose. Was she heading into a trap?
Careful! Ahead of you!
Almost as soon as the Ghost spoke, one of the four-armed Fallen barreled into the hall ahead of her. It raised all arms and spat at her in its hissing tongue, shaking its helm from side to side. One of its hands pushed back the bloody red cloak that hung from its shoulders, revealing a string of cracked human skulls bound to its hip. The Fallen hit the ground before she could pull the trigger. Impossibly fast, it scrambled toward her, four clawed hands pulling it along the floor, powerful legs launching it forward. She raised the rifle sideways, steeling herself for the blow as the Fallen bounded up into the air. It slammed into her and she was knocked flat on her back. Her helmet bounced against the dirty concrete floor. Sparks exploded in her vision. She gasped for breath, the oxygen hissing and clicking in her mask. The Fallen bore down on her, a crushing weight. It crouched over her with a clawed foot planted on her rifle, pinning the gun to her chest. It reached for two swords hanging at its waist. She lashed out with her feet, twisting and kicking. The creature roared and tried to grab her leg. It was enough to let her move the rifle. She fired blindly up at her assailant. Bullets thumped into its armor, sending it reeling. She sat up and ducked forward just as a sword hummed by with enough force to remove her head from her neck. She kicked out again as the creature swung the second sword, smashing its forearm and deflecting the swing. She barely scrambled to her feet before it swung again, a third hand reaching for her rifle. There were too many arms to watch! She squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened except an ominous click. The Fallen paused, swords held ready. It cocked its head at the sound of the empty rifle. She began to back away. The Fallen advanced, whispering taunts, one sword beckoning her forward. There was nowhere to run. More of these killers had to be coming behind her.
I've synthesized some ammo for you! Your belt! Check your belt!
She groped at her right hip. Nothing. At her left, her fingers closed on a pouch and a cartridge inside. Never taking her eyes off the Fallen before her, she loosed the spent cartridge in the rifle and jammed the fresh one into place. The creature snarled and lunged. She dove for its knees. They tumbled over each other in a blur of limbs. She cried out as the edge of a sword slashed her below the knee. Twisting around, she fired at the creature's back, shifting to the back of its neck, sweeping down to its legs. Gas poured from its face mask.
You're clear! Go! Go!
She launched herself down the hallway. Her shin stung viciously, blood was slowly wetting the fabric under her armor. The blade had been ferociously sharp to cut through the tough fabric. She pressed forward, sucking in the oxygen fed through her mask. Her every cell felt on fire, charged by the pounding of her heart and her feet on the ground. The hallway ended in another large room. She slowed her run and went into a ready crouch, peering through the doorway. Heavy swaths of red cloth hung from the high ceiling, drooping down so low she could almost touch them with the rifle barrel. Most were marked with a symmetrical white symbol. She thought she had seen that very same symbol on a Fallen cloak.
We're almost on the other side of the wall.
The Ghost sounded hopeful. She tensed, checking the corners of the room. Could anyone else hear that voice when it spoke to her? Broken, abandoned equipment littered the room, some of it large enough for hiding behind. She took a tentative step through the door. A growl was her only warning. One of the two-armed Fallen darted from behind a battered metal crate. The electric burst from its pistol clipped her waist and she screamed in pain. The rifle dispatched it quickly. Two more came running from her left. It seemed they had nothing to lose, but they died like the first. She stepped over their bodies. The two-arms were not really that way, she realized. Stumps promising to be new limbs grew from their backs, tipped with poorly-fitting seals. They had less armor and smaller weapons than the four-arms. Perhaps those were their leaders. The one with the swords had certainly been a formidable opponent, stronger and quicker.
She made her way to the other side of the room, spinning a slow circle, watching all points. To her right, something rose from the tiered floor. A mechanical flier, squat and oblong and much larger than the little Ghost, hovered at her shoulder height. It regarded her with a cluster of yellow lights, humming and clicking.
That's Fallen technology! the Ghost warned. Watch out!
A little turret on its underside rotated in her direction. She didn't wait to find out what would happen. She squeezed the trigger and the contraption fell out of the air in a shower of sparks. It clanged to the ground, bouncing and rolling into the shadows. A moment later, a small explosion rent the air. Whatever it was, it had died violently.
She swept out of the room. Water splashed around her boots. An enormous fan turned a grinding circle at the end of the way, cutting shadows in fading sunlight. Moss and clinging vegetation hung thick on rounded walls. It was not so much a room she had emerged into as an access tunnel. Bits of muck and plastic flowed by, caught in drainwater. Her blood made a bright red plume in the stream.
There's an opening just ahead.
She picked her way quietly, choosing footsteps in the carpet of moss and sediments. Water ran from the ceiling, loud in the echoing concrete tunnel. Perhaps she could lose those vicious creatures for good. True to the Ghost's word, an arched doorway appeared on her right. Beyond it, the open air. They had left the wall.
The sun was below the horizon now, daylight fading rapidly. The first evening stars winked overhead. The air had turned even colder, the breeze cutting enough to make her shiver under her skintight suit. It whistled around the broken buildings and away into a yawning gulf to her left. The climb down that chasm would certainly be treacherous, especially in the gathering night. Better to stick to the shadows of the buildings beyond.
I think I'm getting something, the Ghost chirped. Its voice was subdued, as though the darkness had finally convinced it to whisper. Yes! There's a ship —!
Crack!
A fluorescent red streak shot up into the sky. She tracked its flight with her rifle until it popped in a brilliant flash. The light fizzled out. She scanned the ground ahead, straining to see where it had come from. Her shoulders prickled. She should keep moving…
An enormous booming clap split her ears and reverberated among the derelict buildings. The earth rumbled in answer. She hit the snowy ground in an instinctive roll, flinging herself out of harm's way, though what that harm was she couldn't imagine. Something massive flew through the twilight. No, it didn't fly — it rippled. A gigantic airship was simply unveiling above her. It wasn't alone. Three more ships were flanking it, settling into formation over the complex. She gaped, the rifle twitching between each hull.
Fallen ships? the Ghost buzzed and clicked. Its tone was pure alarm. This close to the surface?!
Those things had airships? That couldn't be good.
Run!
Barely had she heard the word and she was bolting forward, sprinting over the ground as fast as she could. Crumbling architecture loomed up to trip her. Rocks and stumps appeared out of nowhere. She dodged nimbly around some, hurtled over others, flying with single minded purpose. Whatever frightened that little Ghost so badly was not something she wanted to stick around and greet.
I have come from death, she thought, her first clear thought since the Ghost had woken her. What is there to be afraid of? The startling idea made her falter. The Ghost took it for hesitation about which way to run.
Go left! To that loading dock!
The roaring ships circled with amazing speed, hooking around in the air in blazing, rapid descent. One, its red bay opened wide like a howling mouth, bore down upon the clearing she tore across. Its thunder grew so intense she felt her guts shake. For a few glorious instants, she thought it might actually land on her, that she wouldn't make it to safety in time. She cried out, roaring in triumph, leaping into the welcoming cover of the loading dock. Heat from the ship's thrusters chased her inside. She crashed and rolled. Her shoulder ground and popped out of socket while she flipped belly over back and slid to a stop upside down against the wall. Not the smoothest landing.
As compared to what other landings?
She wheezed, the best she could do for a laugh at the moment. At once the Ghost was floating over her. Its bright eye glowed in the shadows.
I can fix this! Hang on!
Cool streams of light shot from it to her arm. The throb in her shoulder immediately quelled to a dull ache. At the same time, the joint wrenched itself back into place, as though the socket had just grabbed the bone and forced it to return. She struggled upright and rolled her shoulder back and forth. Her leg felt substantially better too.
She shook with breathless giggles.
What? the Ghost trilled. What's so funny?
She couldn't answer that.
Shrill howls made both of them turn and look out of the loading bay door. Lights from the low-hanging ships silhouetted Fallen dropping to the ground below them. Her laughter dissolved. The Ghost disappeared again. It was time to move. She bolted deeper into the dock. Another maze of corridors.
She willed her passage to be silent through the cluttered halls. Her newly forged body complied, slipping nimbly through the shadows. More neon rods illuminated corners choked with cobwebs. Not enough light to give her much warning of what was ahead, only to make sure she didn't stumble into the carcasses of containers and strange equipment strewn about. Wires and cables and broken glass littered every surface.
There is a ship ahead! The Ghost was ecstatic, its gleeful voice filling her head. It's very close. We're almost there!
She skidded to a stop at the doorway to a small anteroom leading into a warehouse space. More lamps pointed at instrument panels and cracked black monitors. Their thick dirt coats were marred by clawmarks. Fallen had been here. She readied her rifle, checking the corners, straining to hear a growl or a breath.
I'm picking up Fallen signatures ahead, the Ghost said. They're probably guarding that ship. We'll have to cut through them to get to it. It's our only way out of here to the City. I…I don't know what else to do! We're a long ways from home. It sounded miserable.
She only hesitated a moment more before stepping through the doorway. She didn't know what this far away home was, but she decided she wanted to find out. It had to be better than this place. Most of the warehouse's roof had torn away. Sere grass sprouted freely through broken floor plating. Drifts of dirty snow mounded in corners. Underneath that large hole, an airship rested on a nest of cables. It wasn't very large — perhaps about the size of three of those vehicles she'd awoken beside put together — and its hull was pocked with dents and scratches. The paint had dulled to an indeterminate color. It was an ugly, old thing, barely recognizable as something that could fly. Two round engines and a spindly neck marked front from back.
The ship! the Ghost trilled.
Right below it squatted one of the four-armed Fallen. It gazed intently into the morass of wiring under the ship's belly, unaware of her approach. The only warning it had was the bark of her rifle.
From her left, a sizzling report. Bursts of light spiraled her direction. She hit the ground just before they reached her, crackling overhead. A second four-armed Fallen stepped from behind a pillar. Without a thought, she picked up a chunk of broken concrete and hurled it. The creature growled and dodged, the missile clipping its lower arm. She heard scraping from the ship. Another Fallen, climbing spider-like down its slippery surface while its two free arms readied swords. It hurled itself off the ship, dying at her feet in a spray of bullets. The Fallen with the wounded arm was next to go.
The smaller Fallen darted in to see the commotion. Most of them fell in seconds to her rifle. Others had enough sense to get out of the way of her deadly assault, wisely seeking cover. Something launched through the air in a bright, sizzling arc and landed with a thump at her feet. She darted backward as it discharged an electrical pulse of light that made her helm screech. More of those light bursts flew through the air. They were bullets of some sort, but they did not behave like any bullet she had. They snaked across the room, humming with power. No matter where she moved, they trained to her. One searing blast caught her right arm, burning through to her skin.
A deafening roar immediately took her mind off the pain. This was not like the shrill screams that had filled her ears since her awakening. The sound ripped through the room, terrifying in its intensity.
Captain! It's a Captain!
She didn't need to ask the Ghost what a Captain was. The enormous, armored mass barreling toward her was everything she needed to know. Four-armed, two swords in one pair of hands and the other two tipped with clawed gauntlets, the Captain was the largest Fallen yet. A long red cloak streamed behind it, that white symbol emblazoned on the ragged cloth. She had just enough presence to dodge the Captain's first sword thrust. The long blade whistled through the air. Another dodge saved her from complete evisceration.
The Captain taunted her. Its deep voice spat its incomprehensible threats through a heavy facemask. Its gaze was green fire. It swung the swords in dizzyingly fast strikes. The only thing she could do was leap and dodge, away from the ship, back to where she had come from. In the midst of her terror, giddy exhilaration swelled again. She was untouchable. The Captain wailed in anger every time it missed her, and she leapt again and again, reaching impossible heights. One misplaced step was the end of her flight. Her ankle turned. She shrieked in pain and hit the wall behind her. The Captain simply disappeared — and reappeared directly before her, closing the gap between them in the time it took her to blink. Its fist thundered against the ancient metal wall, inches from her cheek, leaving a massive dent. The same thing was going to happen to her skull — if the swords didn't gut her first.
The rifle bucked in her nerveless hands and went still. Out of bullets. Each one had bounced harmlessly off of the Captain's thick, scarred armor. The Captain growled, throaty and triumphant. It raised both swords overhead, scraping the blades together. Hot sparks rained down on her in a crackling shower. She reached for her belt. The Captain's lower hand shot out and slammed against her throat, gripping her entire neck in an implacable fist. Bright spots flared in her vision. With a flick of another wrist, it casually disarmed her.
She clawed at its massive hand. Beneath the helm she struggled to breathe, her uneven gasps whistling through the respirator. The Captain lifted her clear off the ground.
No! No, no, no! Not when I've just found you!
The Ghost was frantic in her mind. She tried to kick out. She may as well have had rocks tied to her feet. She could hardly move. The Captain growled again. She was certain it was a laugh.
That strange parting sensation washed over her, and a bright spark appeared next to the Captain's head. It flitted and buzzed, weaving in front of the Captain's blunt face. The Ghost! The Captain snarled and lashed out with the swords. The Ghost stayed one beat ahead. Whether it thought the Ghost was an actual threat or was just greedy to kill it, the distracted Captain released the deadly grip on her throat.
She fell to the ground, choking for breath. A Fallen sword lay inches from her hand, still sparking with electricity. Her fingers closed on the hilt. With the last of her strength, she swept the blade up between the plates of armor on the Captain's muscular leg. The sword tip sliced through the creature's groin and lodged against bone. The Captain howled, dropping both swords, falling to hands and knees in agony. The smell of charred flesh filled her helm. She wrenched the sword free and laid open the Captain's throat. Its snarls ended in a scream of escaping black gas. The sword slipped out of her grasp. She fell, landing on the massive corpse. Her eyes closed.
Silence.
Numbing, healing cold touched her arm, then her ankle.
You did it! The Ghost was ecstatic. You beat the Captain! The ship is ours now!
Another cool tendril probed her throat.
Come on, don't give up on me!
She breathed in greedy gasps. Trembling, she pushed herself off of the Captain's body. Her ankle ached but did not give out when she tested her weight against it. Her bleeding arm only oozed now. Bodies littered the ground around her. All was still and quiet save for the Ghost's little spinning fins and the moaning wind.
I'll get to work on the ship!
The Ghost sped off toward the ship at such a speed it should have smashed into pieces against the hull. At the last second, it merely passed through the metal in shining filaments. She glanced over her shoulder. She couldn't hear any Fallen coming. That didn't mean they wouldn't. She turned her attention back to the ship. It looked as broken as she felt, rusting in its perch, tangled in wires. Hardly a passage to safety.
"Will it fly?" she asked. Her creaking voice barely triggered the comm speakers in her helm. The sound of her own voice surprised her. Talking. How long had it been?
I can get it running, the Ghost said, somewhere inside the ship. We won't break orbit, but it's enough to get us to the City. That's all we need!
Loud scraping startled her, coming from the wall to her left. She flinched, body tensing, ready to lash out.
About twice her height above the ground, a round tunnel bore through the warehouse wall. From it, a three-fingered hand, larger even than the Captain's, stuck out and scratched the weathered cement. A massive helmed head, bearded with respiration tubes and crowned with sleek horns, followed. Then another hand, and two more. The creature that unfurled itself and dropped to the ground dwarfed the defeated Captain, standing at least twice its height and double its mass. Its helm's gleaming red eyes burned with demanded authority. It squared its fur-clad shoulders and pointed a long, clawed finger at her. It spoke, and she knew its judgment was damning.
Her determined growl could have been a sob.
An Archon? The Ghost gasped in disbelief.
Behind her, the ship coughed and roared to life. The engines chugged, sluggish at first, then spooling up with a whine.
She reached for the sword beside the dead Captain's body. She never got the chance to grab it. Blazing light filled her vision. For a moment she was weightless — no, she was gone, she was splitting apart! — and then she was sitting inside the derelict ship, looking out the filthy cockpit window at the top of her challenger's head. The Ghost hovered over a glowing control bank.
The bellow from the enormous Fallen made the dead Captain's sound like a helpless mewl. The ship lurched up — and abruptly stopped.
What the —?! Oh, no! I forgot to unlock the docking cables! The Ghost sent a pulse of light sweeping over the console. Sorry! Sorry! I've got this!
The Archon took a step forward, reaching toward the ship as if it intended to pluck it out of the air.
"It's coming!" she breathed. She was certain it could see her through the grimy glass. Another roar rattled the cockpit.
We're free!
The ship's engines flared to life, drowning out the Archon's defiance. Again the ship lurched upward, its momentum no longer slowed by any cables. It passed through the hole in the warehouse ceiling with a few grinding squeals. Brilliant moonlight flooded the cockpit. The Archon fell away, dwindling as they rose higher and higher. The speed of the ascent pressed down on her. She clawed at the clasps to her helmet and ripped it off just in time to gag into her lap.
Oh, whoops! I guess we're taking it a little fast…
The ship slowed, the frame rattling. She took a shaky breath. The taste in her mouth almost made her sick again. The little Ghost glanced at the spittle on her legs.
That's okay, it chirped. There isn't a Guardian alive who hasn't revisited their lunch over a mission. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise!
She scrubbed her mouth with the back of her gloved hand and stared out the cockpit window. Their ship was passing through silvered clouds, skimming above them into the clear, starry sky. They had done it. They had escaped.
Her constant companion hovered closer and closer. It would not stop staring at her.
I'll have Jana take a look at you once we get to the Tower, it said in a rush. Once my Light is replenished, I'll be able to take care of any aches and pains you'll ever have. Are you hungry? I bet you're hungry! New Guardians are always hungry. I can show you where to get food — I'll show you everything! You just relax. We'll be there — it cut off when she reached out and touched the tip of one little fin. It did not shy away, just wriggled and blinked at her.
She smiled at the Ghost, feeling surreal.
"What's your name?" she asked.
My name? I'm a Ghost. I don't have a name.
"What should I call you?" she persisted.
Uh…Ghost? Well, I suppose you could give me a name, it amended.
"Me?"
It's traditional, it said shyly, fins drawing in. It was a strangely emotive little creature.
"What is my name?"
I don't know.
Disappointment silenced her.
I'll call you whatever you wish, Ghost said, sensing her discomfort. Whatever name you think of can be yours. Sometimes other Guardians name each other, but who knows what you'd get stuck with!
"I'm a Guardian?" she asked.
Yes! And I'm your Ghost! That fact seemed to please it immensely.
"What's a Guardian?"
That's a long story. Suffice it to say, Guardians are our hope against the Darkness.
"The Darkness…?"
Our ancient enemy.
"You mean those Fallen?" She struggled to understand.
They're certainly Dark-ridden! Ghost buzzed. I hope they're the worst we ever have to deal with. The Darkness takes many forms.
"Why was I in that place?" she asked. Frustratingly enough, she realized she didn't even know where they had just escaped from.
The Cosmodrome? I…well…I don't know that either, Ghost faltered. That was where you died.
She stared. She knew she was hearing correctly, but what it said made no sense. How could she have been dead?
I brought you back, Ghost said, all fond patience. Ghosts must find a Guardian among the dead. We're tied together, you see?
She closed her eyes against a wave of fatigue. Ghost came in close. It started washing light all over her, clicking to itself.
Don't worry about anything right now, it said gently. Just rest. We're safe up here.
"Is the Tower very far away?" she asked. Wasn't that where Ghost wanted to take her?
A few hours at this speed. I would push the engines a little more, but I think we'd better go easy on this old thing. It's too bad we don't have an NLS drive!
She had no idea what it was talking about, except when it came to treating the ship gently. It still rattled ominously. She closed her eyes again. Here in the musty cockpit, suddenly whisked from danger, she was exhausted. If she were to go to sleep now, would she wake to something else even more bizarre? Would she wake entirely, and find this all a dream? The complete absence of memory, of any shred of context to her situation, made her feel sick all over again. This couldn't be real. She couldn't have come back from the dead.
The dead were dead, and nothing changed that.
Maybe someone at this Tower would recognize her. There had to be someone who knew who she was. There had to be friends or family waiting for her to return. She drifted off to sleep, comforted by that thought, lulled by the ship's droning engines.
Surely she wasn't alone.