Chapter 1 - All or Nothing
The setting sun has washed the tower in vivid shades of rose, lavender and yellow. Dezdemona found the sight very appropriate and comforting - her return marked with the Royal Colors spilling across this symbol of the Guardians power. She was coming back from a patrol run, tired and sore. This was just what she needed to take the edge off. As her 'Damsel' pitched forward into its approach vector she made sure that her shaders were set to just the right hues of purple and gold, matching the light show below. There was a time that she felt uneasy, even somewhat fearful - openly displaying her loyalties as a Queens woman in the Tower. Not anymore. Now she loved everything about wearing the Royal Colors. The way they set off her blue skin and bright red crest of heir, and the way they showed everyone where her true loyalties lay - with her people. Her ghost gave the unnecessary warning about the upcoming trans-mat, and she wondered - not for the first time - if there was a way to change the voice setting on the thing. She keyed up the cargo case to be trans-matted with her just as the tell-tale haze of matter displacement obscured her vision.
Her eyes refocused on the Tower plaza, a far less magnificent view than the one she was treated to on approach. The faint scent of ozone that always accompanied any trans-matt arrival was quickly fading on the cool evening breeze. The familiar hum of her jump ship's engines receded into the night as she picked up the cargo case that had had materialized at her side. The plaza was nearly deserted, and that's how she liked it best. With the creeping shadows cast by the dying sun streaking across it's worn pavers it looked like some forgotten war memorial - a place of ghosts and faded glory. Which is exactly what it was, as far as she was concerned. All the Guardians going on about their business may have created an illusion of life, but that's all it was - an illusion. "We are all walking dead here" - the words escaped her before she had the chance to catch them, but there was no one around to hear them regardless.
It did not take her long to reach the upper tier residential blocks. The door to his flat was left wide open, as always. She knew how she would find him before she made her way inside, and she was not wrong. Sitting at the weapons bench, eyes like arc-blue pinholes in the deepening twilight of the room, her uncle looked completely at ease amidst the implements of death and destruction decorating the walls around him.
"Death becomes you" - once again, she spoke without thinking, but lately she's found it harder and harder to care about minding her tongue.
His mouth twitched into a customary half-smile - "So does Life, I hope. We all have both in equal measure". He set aside the ancient auto rifle he was cleaning and sat back - "How did it go?"
She ignored his reply and approached the workbench. Always having an answer at the ready was one of his more frustrating traits. Setting down the cargo case amidst the clutter of tools and oiled rags she punched in the pass-code - "Archers Line is crawling with Fallen. They're like cockroaches - for every one you kill two more crawl out of the cracks." The vacuum seals released with a hiss and the case slid open, spilling the golden light of its contents into the now darkened room. Inside, rows upon rows of helium coils pulsed with unearthly radiance. "But in the end, that's all they are - cockroaches."
The concern on his face irked her even more then his know-it-all attitude - "Don't give me that look - as you can see they were not a problem. I did not become a Guardian yesterday." She hated sounding like a child, but that's exactly how she felt when dealing with him. They were both adults now, and yet things between them always seemed to revert back...back before the dying. Before coming back. Back to when they were both kids and everything was Summer. Her Ghost knew enough to keep quiet.
He nodded slowly in response and reached inside his coat - "I've got something for you too." When he drew his hand back out, the last remnants of light seemed to flee the room entirely. At first she could not make out exactly what he was holding. It looked like a black hole torn in an already dim and dreary reality, a jagged darkness with a faint greenish glow pulsing at its heart. He tossed it to her and she caught it on instinct. It felt warm to the touch. Warm and strangely heavy. She could feel the faded horror of this thing, like a shadow of a long forgotten nightmare - and then she knew what it was: "Thorn."
He nodded - "Don't worry, I made sure to sever any link that it had to its former masters..."
She slammed the weapon on the table hard enough for the cargo case to jump. The startled look on his face would have been funny any other time, but all she could do was grind out one word through the haze of frustration - "Why?"
Confusion replaced surprise on his face - "You're my niece, no matter how long..."
- "Not what I'm talking about!"
- "Then you'll have to explain yourself a bit better than this." - his voice took on a harder edge as he gave her an expectant look.
- "Look around!" - She was just as surprised at her own outburst as he was. She had to admit to herself that this has been eating at her far more then she realized. "Look around you. This is the Last City on Earth! All remaining sentient life on this planet is huddled together within a few dozen miles of their broken God. Nowhere else for humanity to go. This is our, no, your last stand! So then, where is the leadership to see this City through its darkest hour? The Consensus is a jumbled mess of confusion and chaos, the Factions vying for the limited resources available in order to pursue their own unique vision of the future. The Speaker sits in his tower, mouthing empty, pithy phrases. No unity, no cohesion. And the Guardians?! The strongest, most able defenders of the City? Just as fractured, if not more so. The Vanguard Council is a joke! They don't give orders, the award bounties. Do you understand that? They bribe their fellow Guardians to carry out strategically crucial operations with better gear and more powerful weapons!" - she started laughing, a note of hysteria creeping into her voice.
- "So this is why you've pledged your loyalty to the Queen?" - his voice was carefully neutral, but she could still hear a note of disapproval. How dare he.
- "Yes. I may look like a traitor to some, but I tried. I swear to god I did. I spent nearly a year trying to do things like everyone else. Hunting bounties, running the Crucible, working with the factions." - Her face twisted in a grimace of disgust - "And for what? We spend more time here fighting against each other then against the ugly bastards trying to wipe us all out. All that effort - diffused, unfocused. It's like this City can't make up its mind on what the hell it wants to do, so it just flails around helplessly. So I left. I had heard of the Queen and the Realm of the Awoken, but I had to see for myself. I needed to know how they were able to survive, out there, sitting right underneath the deepest Dark you can imagine." She had to try and make him understand - "She is magnificent. Holding the Reef against the Fallen and who knows what else with the sheer strength of her will and clarity of vision. The Queen is the only reason the Awoken are still there. Still fighting. No Factions, no Councils. Just her. And when I arrived, she did not turn me away. She answered my questions and offered me a place in her service. She is a true leader, a true Queen. How could I refuse her?" - It felt so good to talk about this. To tell him the why and the how. And to ask him in turn - "That's what I don't understand: I told her about you, told her that I have an uncle who, by some freak twist of fate is also a Guardian. She gave me leave to extend an offer of Royal Service to you. And you said 'No'" - She looked at him with the same shock and disappointment she felt then. "I don't get it. You are one of the most insightful people that I know. You work so hard, risk so much." - She picked up Thorn - "I have a pretty good idea what you had to go through to get this, and to make it safe enough to use. You have to know that your efforts, your talent is wasted here. While this City is barely able to maintain its perimeter, the Queen has acquired an entire Fallen House! With our help, she can regain control of the Belt. And from there, start retaking the Inner System. And yet, you still refuse? Why? Why work so hard - for nothing?"
She felt spent and strangely empty. She had gotten it all out, said what she had to say. She could only hope that he would be just as open.
- "Sit down" - he motioned to a chair pushed up against the wall.
- "What?" - of all the things he could have said...
- "Pull up a chair. Sit down" - he reached into a bench drawer and pulled out a bottle and a pair of shot glasses that looked like they were made from heavy caliber shell casings - "Let's have a drink."
Too tired to argue she pulled the chair over and sat down facing him across the workbench. It felt good to sit. She had forgotten in the heat of the conversation just how sore she still was from the patrol. Leaning back she watched him pour the dimly glowing neon pink liquid into the improvised shot glasses. A faint but distinctive smell filled the room as he set aside the bottle - "Drink up."
She picked up her glass - "Smells like warp dive coolant."
"You may have just discovered the secret ingredient" - he knocked back his shot.
"Hell with it" - she followed suit. The chemical smell shot up into her brain as liquid fire burned its way down her throat. For a moment she couldn't breathe. And then the burning faded into a warm glow that seemed to roll out through her aching muscles like a warm summer breeze. She melted back into the chair - "What the hell is this stuff?"
"Edge City 'shine" - he was already refilling their shots. - "They run it out of an old scrap reclamation plant on the western outskirts."
"Consensus know about this?" - she reached for hers once it was full and emptied it without any urging from him.
"I'm sure someone is getting a kickback somewhere. Now, to answer your questions. First things first - I declined the Queens invitation because I don't like her politics, I don't like her brother, and I sure as hell don't like her. However, without the Awoken of the Reef holding up all those Corsair Fleets the Fallen got scattered throughout the Belt, the City would be overwhelmed in" - he rolled his shoulders as if looking for a proper timeframe - "months, if not sooner. Fact is, the Queen is the only potential ally the City's got. And like it or not, you're now her direct representative to the Vanguard Council. I guarantee you, that's why she sent you back here, rather than keep you at her side."
She shook her head - "Petra Venj..."
He waved his hand dismissively, cutting her off - "..is nothing more than a good will ambassador. She's here to hand out some trinkets, run some PR and get the Guardians accustomed to not shooting at any non-Guardian that's got a gun. I said I did not like the Queen, I did not say she was stupid." He leaned forward to refill their jiggers. "It's clear she sees the need for closer cooperation. Or it may be that she knows of some new horror getting ready to come screaming out of the Outer Darkness. Either way, once Petra runs out of her stock of souvenirs, she's gone. You, on the other hand" - he raised his shot-glass to her - "are now the only real means of secure communication between your Mistress and the leaders of the City. "
She picked up her shell-casing-turned-drinking-implement and sipped at the drink. It tasted vile. She made a face and he laughed - "You're doing it wrong."
"So this is an all or nothing type of concoction, huh?"
"Pretty much" - they both emptied their shots and set them back down. He didn't move to refill them again. - "Now, as for the City's leadership. Yes, it's fragmented. But that is actually far more of a strength then it is a weakness. Unlike the Awoken of the Reef, the threats we face are many and diverse. No one single approach would work in our case. All of the different Factions and Clans of this City provide an endless source of ideas and tactics. Of course, this requires constant communication, which is why from the outside it may look like the City politics are nothing more than an endless shouting match. The fact that there aren't enough resources to go around make the situation that much more tense. But the centuries of war have taught the people here how to handle these disagreements without turning on each other and starting an internal bloodbath."
"Except for the Guardians" - she said it more as a statement then a question.
"True. But we are a special case" - he picked up the bottle and motioned to her, but she put her palm over the shot glass and shook her head. The stuff was strong, and she wanted a clear head for the rest of this conversation. He nodded and capped it up. "We can kill each other all day, and call it a training exercise. As long as the light of our Ghosts is not drained away we can't really die. The point is, the governing structure of the City is exactly what it needs to be for us to survive. If it wasn't, we wouldn't still be here. If anything," - he cocked his head at her the same way she remembered him doing when they were kids - "I daresay your Queen, with her iron fist and velvet glove, would be ill equipped to hold this City. And keep this in mind - it cuts both ways: if the City falls, it won't be long before the Realm of the Awoken is swallowed up as well."
The sun has long since set. The glow of the helium coils was that much brighter in the darkness, almost drowning out the sickly green aura of Thorn. The only other source of light in the room were their eyes - the icy glow of his and the solar heat of hers.
"Last but not least: I don't know who around here sees you as a traitor, but I certainly don't. In fact, I'm glad that you were able to place your loyalties away from the City, and away from the Traveler." - he let the words hang there, and took her a moment for it to really sink in.
"Wait" - she sat forward, the easy comfort of moonshine fading like gun smoke - "What are you saying? You though the Traveler may have somehow been able to prevent me from doing so? Like he can control what we do?" - her Ghost stayed quiet. Smart move. She had no idea what his Ghost may have been saying to him this entire time, but she has developed a working understanding with hers - and she was at least glad to see that understanding was holding.
He nodded - "Think about it. All of us Guardians were brought back from the dead by these Ghosts, these fragments of the Traveler - an entity whose capabilities and motivations we have only begun to understand. As long as these...beings, are bonded to us, we cannot die. But we can't separate ourselves from our Ghosts either, now can we? That means that essentially, we are all linked to the giant cracked space ball hanging over the City in a massive network. And just like any network, I'm thinking it can be used to control its substations" - he motioned to her - "that would be us."
Her body felt numb, and that no longer seemed like a good thing - "But isn't the Traveler dead?"
He smirked and shook his head - "I doubt that something, someone of that magnitude can ever truly be destroyed. I think it's going through some sort of a hibernation/reboot cycle. Who knows, we Guardians may even be essential to its re-awakening. But that's why I was so glad to see you freely able to serve a power not directly allied to the Traveler. I think I would really hate being a zombie, even if it's for a good cause."
His attempt at humor felt flat and hollow to her. The realization that in the midst of her personal crisis of faith, she has failed to see something this glaring was not a pleasant one.
He did not give her time much time for reflection - "I do want you to keep one thing in mind" - the sudden urgency in his tone made her refocus - "The Queen is an absolute monarch. The trouble with all autocrats is that they bear sole responsibility for the fate of their entire nation. That tends to make them see all of their individual subjects as chess pieces - expendable, given the right set of circumstances. Make no mistake, you are one of the most valuable pieces on her board, but if she feels she needs to, she will sacrifice you without a second thought. I'm not telling you this to try and shake your loyalty to her, I just..."
It was her turn to cut him off - "I know" - She shook her head and smiled - "I appreciate you looking out for me, but I knew what I was jumping into before I took the leap. I may be wet for her, but I'm not blind."
If he was surprised by her admission, he gave no sign - "Glad to hear..."
Whatever else was going to be said was interrupted by the light cutting on above their heads.
"Ay, you smarty-pants Warlocks always hold your deep conversations in the dark?" - the slight distortion in the voice, typical for all exo's, carried a familiar note of wry humor. Even as she was blinking rapidly, trying to shake the sudden blindness, she found it strangely satisfying to see her uncle finally startled by something.
"Damn it, Barter, you ever knock?" - he was shielding his eyes from the light, but neither one of them needed to see the speaker to peg his identity.
"I move silent, like the breeze. Besides, you're the one always leaving your door wide open."
As her eyes adjusted she could see the him leaning against the doorjamb, his cloak draped just so over his left shoulder.
Her uncle was still rubbing his eyes - "That a new one? Looks nice."
She had only been back in the Tower for about a month, but she already knew how passionate her uncle's second in command was about his cloaks.
"Thanks, Russo. Yeah, just got it" - the dapper Hunter came off the door and turned around, posing - "I wanna look good for the ladies."
Her uncle laughed - "What ladies? You do remember what we're getting ready to do, right?"
"Hey, you never know who you're gonna come across out there." - Barter turned back around to face them - "Last time I did a run into the Hellmouth, came across this Hive witch - she couldn't keep her claws off of me."
"I'm pretty sure your rugged good looks had nothing to do with that."
"You don't know that" - Barter suddenly looked at her - "That's a nice new toy you got there."
She looked down at Thorn, laying forgotten at her elbow. The massive six-shooter did not seem nearly as ominous now, bathed in the artificial light of the rooms main projector. She guessed Barter must have been part of the Fireteam her uncle took to acquire it - "Thank you."
"Oh, don't thank me. I wasn't in on that ride." - Barter turned to her uncle - "Ay, Russo, wasn't that Chief and Hurtful?"
She still had no idea how they came up with their call signs, but she knew whom he was talking about. Hurtful was a human Warlock, a Voidwalker. Calm and reserved, he was easy to overlook next to all the loud and colorful personalities of their Clan - until you got to see him in action. Unlike most Voidwalkers that she knew, he didn't live off of the flashy and devastating abilities of that school, saving the Nova Bomb only for the most dire of circumstances. Instead he relied on his uncanny accuracy with whatever weapon he was sporting at the time, able to thin the enemy from the back before the front runners of the Fireteam ever made contact.
Aside from being another human Warlock, Chief was the exact opposite. A Sunsinger, and the only female of their Clan, it was impossible to miss whenever you were in the same room with her. Or on the same comm channel. Verbose and opinionated, she always had something to say about everything, even if only to point out that the sky was blue. And 'point out' was really the wrong way to put it - she proclaimed it as a Universal Truth, like a Traveler zealot preaching on a street corner. But there was no one you would rather have on your Fireteam in a tight spot, when some random piece of Fallen shrapnel had shredded it's way though your guts and you're hoping one of your teammates can revive you before your Ghost is destroyed. More often than not, that someone ended up being Chief. In her extensive collection of ancient artifacts was a winged helmet, a relic that one of the Cryptarchs called 'Light Beyond Nemesis'. It somehow harmonized with the Light frequency of their Ghosts and made the process of reviving fallen Guardians that much faster. She wore it everywhere and put it to great use.
Her uncle nodded - "Yes, they helped out with that one. Never been that deep into the Hive before." - suddenly he looked old - "We still have a lot of cleaning up to do down there."
"Not gonna get it done sitting around here" - Barter activated his portable inventory trans-mat system and a helmet materialized in his hands - "Ready to roll?"
Russo stood, picking up the auto rifle he was cleaning when she arrived. He looked at her - "It's late, and you look tired. If you want, you can crash here for the night." With that, he headed out the door.
"Later, Drez." - Barter flicked a two finger salute her way and turned to go.
"Bye." - the exhaustion and the moonshine almost made her miss it - "Wait, what? Drez? What the hell?"
"Your new call sign. I figure if you're gonna be running with us, you're gonna need one." - his voice was so matter of fact, she couldn't tell if he was joking.
"But, Drez? What the hell does that even mean?"
"That thing on your head" - he pointed to the crest of bright red hair cutting across her otherwise clean shaven scalp.
"Yeah, that's a Mohawk." - she was still trying to figure out if he was serious or not.
"Nah, a Mohawk is straight." - he made a chopping motion, as if to illustrate his point - "Yours just kinda goes diagonal. Looks like a Drez to me" - he shrugged - "Besides, can't keep calling you Desdemona - by the time I finish yelling 'Desdemona, duck' that minotaur is already gonna be standing on top of your corpse, and you'll only have your parents to blame." - he put his helmet on in one smooth, practiced motion - "Russo was right, you look tired. Get some rest."
Before she was able to respond he was gone, moving silently into the smothering darkness outside.
After they had left, she sat there staring at Thorn as it lay on the workbench, deceptively tame in the bright light of the room.
"They're right, I should get some sleep" - her own voice sounded hollow in her ears. But the evenings conversation kept rattling around in her brain, not letting her settle down and not resulting in any real thought either. It wasn't long before she reached across the bench for the bottle of moonshine and the two shot glasses.
"All or nothing" - she spoke the words like a benediction as she filled the two shell casings and emptied them one after the other.