Ulaina watched the sun go down on Mars.
The little incandescent disc sank low towards the distant ridge. Its thin light bled through the even thinner atmosphere, painting the usually dusty gray sky with vivid strokes of copper, gold, and faded blue. Long shadows stretched across the land as the desert settled down for what would have been a calm and quiet night.
The soft wind picked up around her, carrying dusty orange sand up from the valley below. The little grains danced across the scoured brown stone, much as they had for millions of years, before the aliens, before the colonists, before the Traveler. It would have been serene, peaceful even, if it weren't for the Cabal fortress occupying the middle of the valley.
The ugly black military complex sprawled across the entire floor of Ares Channel. It extended for miles in either direction. Low round buildings squatted between dark tarmacs and large, uniform blocks of tenements. Tenements that housed barracks, ammunition stores, and most importantly, laboratories.
Together, the structures formed a brutal metropolis of black metal and composite, completely at odds with the rugged Martian landscape surrounding them. Harsh white searchlights swept across the perimeter, cutting through the deepening dusk. In the distance, to the south, power plants belched thick black smoke into the air. Nearer to Ulaina, along the side of the valley, the ground was littered with shattered scraps of stone and metal. The remains of the Cabal's forced entry into the Vex ruins that had once occupied the site.
Ulaina had no sympathy to spare for the Vex, but the destruction of their ruins was a symptom of the greater Cabal disease. The brutal, militaristic creatures were not welcome on this world. Their only purpose was to conqueror and destroy. One day, she hoped to see an end to that.
Ulaina pressed her finger to the side of her helmet. "Estado?" she asked, her Ghost instantly relaying her voice to her teammates.
"No change," Cannard replied, his voice smooth and calm. "Nothing's gone in or out of the lab in the past hour, which means…"
"Valus Mru'ural is still in there. Maldita," she muttered.
"Wait, what does 'estado' mean again?" a different voice asked. Sharper and slightly metallic, with a faint accent that once originated in northeast America. Brontis-17. Their somewhat insane Striker Titan.
"It means 'what's your status,' you dolt," Cannard lectured over the comms, "You've known Ulaina for three years now. Can't you be bothered to learn a little Spanish?"
"Do the Cabal understand Spanish?" Brontis asked innocently.
Ulaina rolled her eyes. Here we go.
Cannard gave an exasperated sigh. "No Brontis, the Cabal don't speak Spanish. Neither do the Hive, or the Fallen, or the Vex."
"Exactly!" Brontis replied with glee. "So what good would Spanish do me if they won't even understand what I'm shouting at them as I kill them? Yelling in Spanish ain't no different from yelling-"
"That's enough," Ulaina interrupted, "We're not here to have an estupido linguistics debate. Brontis, has there been any change where you are?"
"Nope," the Exo replied, "Nobody's noticed old turd-face here is missing. Kinda getting bored actually."
"You're always bored when you're not fighting," Cannard muttered.
"Speaking of which, why don't we just attack already?" Brontis asked.
"Because Mru'ural is one of the best Cabal warriors in the system," Ulaina answered, "She was Sha'aul's right hand. Her job was to break through Vex defenses on Mars and hold ground against the counter attacks. When we saco the Primus, she took over the Blind Legion and continued his research. Breaking into the lab will be mui hard with her inside."
Brontis grunted, obviously not satisfied with the answer, but he didn't press the subject further. Ulaina was in charge on this mission, and he respected that fact.
"You know," Cannard said after a moment, "He's not wrong. If the Valus doesn't leave, we'll either have to have to attack while she's in there, or call it off and try tomorrow."
"Delaying any longer isn't an option," Ulaina declared, "We've already waited too long. They'll notice the piedra de cerebro killed one of their guards sooner or later. Give it another half hour, and if she's not out by then, we'll go in under the cover of dark."
"Copy that," Cannard said. Brontis simply grunted again.
Ulaina bit her lip. This was a precarious situation. Any moment now, the Cabal could notice one of their colossi was dead, and then the whole base would be on lockdown. No chance of getting in or out, and no chance of ever retrieving the ancient artifacts the Blind Legion hoarded.
Out of habit, she patted the side of her faded purple trench coat, where the tiny leather journal sat. The journal that led them across three worlds, to the ruins built in the side of Ares Channel. I hope your secrets are worth it, old man.
She settled down in the narrow crack in the ridge, and waited.
Brontis-17 was getting tired of waiting.
He sat on the dusty ground, idly tossing pebbles at the dead colossus. They bounced off its armor with little plinks. Around him, the breeze softly moaned through the gallery of jutting red boulders.
The mass of standing stones spread out from the base of the western valley wall, like a forest of squat red trees. The Cabal base was built close to the eastern side of the valley, which was where Ulaina and Cannard were camped out. If you wanted to approach from the west, you would have to cross three miles of open ground. Unless of course, you used the cover of the boulder field. At their closest, the rocks came within a mile of the perimeter fence, and it was pretty easy to slip between the rocks without being seen.
That also meant Brontis hadn't seen the colossus standing guard until he was right on top of it. Oops.
Brontis sighed and climbed to his feet. He started pacing, checking his auto-rifle and shotgun for the hundredth time while he walked. He could feel his Arc energy buzzing in his chest, begging to be unleashed.
Punch things, it said, let me vaporize them. It'll be fun.
The colossus had been pretty disappointing. Barely lasted three minutes. And they were supposed to be the tough ones!
All in all though, Cabal did put up the best fight in the system. Fallen were cowards. Always running away and ducking behind cover. Minotaurs and Knights were fun of course, but they were too hard to find to really be worth it. The Cabal though, each one of them was like a juicy punching bag in a crunchy armor shell. Hence why he was here, instead doing yet another round of Dreadnaught patrol with Derpy and Boring. Even if it did mean he had to listen to Cannard's poetry.
Brontis glanced to the east, where the lights of the base stained the darkening sky with a pale glow.
"Sally," he said, "How much longer do we got?"
"It's been seven minutes," his Ghost replied in her bubbly lisp.
"So how many minutes left?"
Sally sighed. "We both know you can do basic math. Honestly, you're not that stupid."
"But I'm a Titan. I'm only supposed to punch stuff."
Sally appeared in front of him and glowered with her single eye. "Twenty-three minutes," she relented after a moment, "Well, twenty-two now."
"Oh," Brontis said, disappointed. Back to pacing, I guess.
His feet crunched on the rocky ground, which was a mix of rough red pebbles and fine, orange sand. Already, he had worn a faint path in the substrate.
An explosion of light flashed across the sky.
It lit up the night, briefly shining like day and outlining the distant ridge behind him. Brontis spun to face that direction, but it was already fading. A loud crack ripped through the air, then slowly faded to a low growl.
"Uh Sally, what was that?"
"Spectrographic analysis suggests the air was super-compressed, maximum volume of the thunder suggests a minimum of five million cubic meters was displaced. Something huge just entered the upper atmosphere. If I'm reading the sound pattern correctly, it's a Cabal cruiser, heading this way."
"Uh boss, you seeing this?" Brontis asked over the coms.
"Unfortunately," Ulaina crackled on the other end. "This complicates things. Get ready to move in five, leame?"
"Understood," Cannard replied. Brontis just grunted.
A dark, blocky shape lumbered over the western horizon. Thick and slab-like, the cruiser belched the same oily smoke as the Cabal power plants.
"I don't recognize the markings," Sally said, puzzled. "Not Blind Legion, and definitely not Sand Eaters or Dust Giants."
Brontis frowned. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but the ship looked like it was…red? He'd never seen those colors on a Cabal craft before.
"Ulaina," Cannard warned, interrupting his thoughts, "The Valus just left the lab."
"Meirda!" Ulaina spat, "Change of plans. Go now. Cannard, engage as soon as Brontis is in position."
"Copy that," Cannard chimed.
"Okeydoke," Brontis said, deciding another grunt would have been too predictable.
He turned away from the approaching ship and stooped over the dead colossus's heavy slug thrower. Say what you would about the Cabal, they knew their guns. He gripped the handles and pulled it away from the colossus's corpse. The ammo belt went taut as he started walking. A sharp tug ripped the belt free..
Brontis rested the giant gun on his shoulder. It was as tall as he was, and probably weighed about a quarter-ton. The belt trailed a good twenty feet be hind him.
Oh boy, this was going to be so fun.
He emerged from the standing rocks and started walking across the broad plane, towards the glowering base in the distance.
Cannard watched Valus Mur'ural through the scope of his sniper-rifle.
He followed her as she wove between buildings. She walked quickly, moving away from the laboratory block to his left and into one of the central arteries of the sprawling war-base. Her pace was…hurried, but not desperate. Like she needed to be somewhere, but didn't want to rush.
Above in the distance, the war-cruiser ploughed through the air. Brontis's Ghost was right; this ship belonged to a previously unseen Cabal deployment. Was it possible there were reserves they had managed to keep hidden from Cayde's scouts? Or was it a different type of reinforcement? Fresh troops from the outer system?
Either one was a disturbing possibility, and would mean the situation with the Cabal on Mars was in major need of re-assessment.
Cannard dismissed the thought. If he knew anything about Ulaina, she wouldn't let this development slow them down. They would continue their mission tonight, and asses the situation after. If anything, the additional activity would make their job easier. Hit them fast and hard, get out before they have time to realize what's going on.
Wait, where did the Valus go? He silently chastised himself for being so lax as he scanned the base. Movement towards the center of the complex caught his eye. He focused on it. Just as he suspected, the Valus's armored figure was making her way towards the landing pads. A fair number of soldiers were following her as well. Good. The less Cabal guarding the labs, the better.
As he watched, a trio of harvesters detached from the cruiser and began descending towards the landing pads. Who are you meeting, Valus? And why?
The harvesters touched down on one of the auxiliary landing pads. A small contingent of Cabal emerged from each one. Cannard squinted. It was difficult to make out any details at the distance, even through his scope, but the leaded of the new Cabal was definitely taller than the rest, and had impressive decorations mounted on its back.
Brontis's voice crackled in his ear. "I'm in position," the Exo said.
"Go. Go now," Ulaina ordered.
A loud crack boomed in Cannard's ear. The sound quickly dissolved into a wall of white noise. Alarms immediately rang out across the base. The complex burst to life as word spread. They didn't know it was only a solitary Guardian, but even that was enough to warrant full counter-measures.
The din of noise continued as Brontis continued his attack. Ajax helpfully turned down the Striker's audio channel as Cannard stood up and threw off the red-brown camouflage tarp. He was exposing himself, standing in plain sight on a ledge not a hundred meters from the nearest guard-tower, but the sentries' attention was currently directed towards the other side of the base.
Cannard held up his sniper rifle. Ajax transmatted it away in a sparkle of light. A moment later, a rocket-launcher materialized in his hands.
Cannard settled the launch tube on his shoulder and peered down the holographic sights. The perimeter fence didn't look very substantial, just several thick black wires strung between twenty-foot tall pylons. Those wires were electrified with Arc energy though, and had enough voltage across them to fry a whale.
He aimed the sights at the base of the guard tower. The black column rose another ten feet above the fence top, and had a covered platform at the top to house three lookouts. Lookouts who were still distracted.
Cannard smiled and squeezed the trigger.
The rocket-launcher bucked in his hands. The warhead tore from the tube with a woosh, and a flash of light. It crossed the distance in the blink of an eye and struck the base of the tower.
The missile exploded in a crimson fireball. The base of the tower disintegrated instantly. It toppled over and spilled its contents onto the dirt outside the base. The nearest sections of fence sparked and went dark.
Ajax transmatted the rocket-launcher away as Cannard took two steps back and jumped off the ledge with a running start. He drew on his Light as he reached the crest of his jump and pushed down. The lift carried him over the jumbled rocks at the base of the crag and deposited him roughly on the hardpan between the slope and the fence. His gray, orange, and indigo armor easily absorbed the impact.
He drew his submachine-gun as ran. One of the Cabal sentries, sprawled on the ground in front of the tower, growled meekly. Cannard put a handful of bullets through its skull as he ran past. The other two were already dead, pinned beneath the remains of the guard tower.
Another jump carried him over the smoldering gap in the fence. He stumbled to a stop and took his bearings. The base was about five miles long, but only two miles wide. The labs were in the northeastern end, but most of the troop quarters were towards the southeast. The fastest route from one to the other was along the eastern edge of the base, which was right were Cannard was.
Unfortunately, the buildings in this part of the complex were spread fairly wide apart. Too easy to get surrounded here. He needed to go southwest a short distance, where the buildings were packed closer together.
He took off again. Ajax had a schematic of the base and put a marker on his helmet visor to lead the way. Cannard followed it between the black buildings and down the narrow lanes, cutting down the few foot-soldiers he came across. The scarcity of guards meant the bulk of their forces hadn't yet mobolized. Good.
Finally, he found the spot he had picked out earlier. Two broad, low walls separated a staging ground from a communications array. The gap between the walls was only fifteen feet wide, and to circle around them, one would have march more than a mile to the west. It was the perfect choke point.
Cannard stepped between the buildings. The staging ground, broad and open, stretched before him. Two-dozen Cabal were already assembled on the far side, and more were arriving.
He dropped his submachine-gun, letting it dangle by the shoulder strap, and tugged on his Void source.
Flowing vibrations immediately blossomed in his chest. The power twisted and churned, propelled by an unseen current. He reached into the space surrounding him and grasped a specific thread of reality, one that resonated with his power like a chord.
He thrust his hands outward, mentally pushing the void into that null dimension. The fabric resisted at first, then burst like an unseen damn. Tendrils of purple Light sprang to life around him, fusing and hardening into seamless barrier. Trails of mist and little purple motes danced as it solidified. The Ward of Dawn. Perfectly spherical and thin as a sheet of paper, yet strong enough to survive a small nuclear blast.
Across the field, a centurion roared and fired its projection rifle at Cannard. The slugs struck the surface of the Ward and exploded harmlessly. The centurion growled in frustration.
Cannard hefted his submachine-gun as the assembled Cabal started advancing. He started a mental timer for seven minutes. That should be more than enough for Ulaina to get in and out. Given enough time, the Cabal could probably overwhelm him, but for now if they wanted past the choke, they would have to go through him first.
The heavy slug thrower ran out of ammo, and Brontis's maniacal laughter died with it.
The quad barrels of the gun glowed white hot. The result of firing a constant torrent of micro-missiles for nearly two whole minutes. The ground around him was littered with shell casings and the empty ammo belt, but that was nothing compared to the damaged inflicted on the Cabal base.
A whole fifty feet of the perimeter fence, including a lookout tower, were reduced to lumps of half-melted slag. Behind it were the smoldering remains of at least forty legionnaires and phalanxes. Some lay twisted and broken on the ground, armor cracked and blasted, while others…well, there wasn't enough left to qualify as a body. Cabal weapons were a thing of true beauty.
More Cabal surged from the bowels of the complex. Most of them were phalanxes with their oversized shields. They lined up four ranks deep in the open space between the fence and the line of interceptors at the back of the field, planting their shields in the ground to form a defensive barricade. There were at least a hundred of them.
Finally, Brontis thought with smug satisfaction, they sent something worth fighting.
For a moment, they simply regarded each other, soldiers staring at him with their stony masks, Brontis doing the same. His Arc source still buzzed eagerly in his chest, full to the point of bursting. Time to let it all out.
Brontis charged.
He hurled the slug thrower towards the left side of the shield wall. It crashed against the line, knocking a few phalanxes back. The surrounding soldiers reared back, expecting a follow-up, but Brontis was already angling towards the far right flank.
The Cabal there, still firmly entrenched, raised their slug pistols and opened fire. Brontis grunted as dozens of tiny explosions pounded his armor. The plate held, so he kept going.
White, electric power swelled in his chest. It surged through his limbs, making him faster, stronger. The line of shields came up fast. Thirty feet, then twenty feet, then ten feet. With his last stride, he pushed down and leapt into the air. His momentum carried him clean over the Cabal.
For a moment, he was suspended over the armored soldiers, tendrils of electricity trailing from his shoulders.
Brontis came down in a flash of lightning and fury.
The Cabal around him instantly dissolved in a blast of white-hot ions. The ones further out were thrown back by a pulse of blue electricity. The ground cracked beneath him as the Fist of Havoc cleared a twenty foot wide crater of ash.
He was on the move before the slam had fully dissipated. He pushed sideways with the energy flooding his body. The pulse of Light threw him towards the remaining Cabal with reckless speed. His shoulder connected with a flash, and eight more phalanxes were vaporized.
Brontis growled, searching for more heads to crush. A clump phalanx remained in formation a short distance away. Even as he turned to them, they raised their guns and planted their shields, expecting another direct attack.
Instead, he forced the Arc energy into his fists. The glowing Light snapped at his fingers as it solidified. He threw the grenades at the squad's feet.
The grenades detonated on contact, sending out pulse after pulse of electricity. The Cabal flinched and stumbled back, and didn't even see Brontis came down on them with another slam.
Brontis spun and surveyed the battlefield. Some twenty of the original battalion remained, but more were already flooding the yard. Far too many for him to handle with his dwindling Light. His Fists of Havoc burned through his reserves incredibly fast. Sustaining his power beyond a single slam even was a challenge of sheer will power.
He sighed as he released his Arc source and reached for the shotgun over his shoulder. Cannard was supposed to be keeping the bulk of the garrison occupied, but that apparently left more than enough Cabal to keep Brontis busy.
Well, he thought with a smile, we'll just finish the old-fashioned way.
Ulaina ran onto the rocky plain with reckless abandon, tails of her coat flapping in the wind.
A hundred meters ahead, the perimeter fence loomed. She angled herself towards the gate set between two pylons. It wasn't a very large gate, just wide enough to accommodate two interceptors side by side. The laboratory wing occupied the northwest corner of the complex, far away from the main hubs. The gate would only serve to deploy the occasional patrol, while larger vehicles would use more robust entrances.
A low, thick wall encompassed the top of the black metal gate. A mini-gun was mounted atop it, and six Cabal stood guard.
They noticed Ulaina as soon as she emerged from the rocks. Once perhaps, the sight of a lone figure suicidaly charging towards their fortification would have given them pause. Unfortunately, the Cabal had been loosing a war against the Guardians for nearly three years now. They knew each and every Guardian was an army unto themselves, and didn't hesitate to open fire.
Most of the opening salvo missed, striking the ground around her and throwing up explosions of dirt and pebbles. A few struck her body, each one hitting like a punch to the gut. She gritted her teeth and forced herself forward, trusting her shield and fieldweave to protect her. Seventy meters.
She was closing rapidly on the gate, but that just meant she was a bigger target for the guards. Their next wave of shots was far more focused, and forced Ulaina to dodge to the side. The impact of the explosions made her stumble. She barely managed to right herself and continue. Fifty meters
Atop the gate, one of the Cabal finally brought the mini-gun around. The barrels flashed as it opened fire. Forty meters. Close enough that the gunner wouldn't even have to aim to hit her.
Ulaina called upon the Void and threw herself into the spaces between atoms.
Her body immediately dissolved into a dozen tendrils of purple mist. They billowed outward, seeking to expand and spread to a state of higher entropy. She gripped them with her mind and forced them to bend in a single direction.
The tendrils coalesced, and now she was hanging fifteen feet in the air, stream of angry red slugs streaking harmlessly below her.
The Cabal started, surprised by her sudden teleport. She didn't give them time to react.
She reached deeper into the Void as she began to fall. She grasped past the atoms, past the baryons and leptons, past the bosons that bound them together, until she touched the stark vacuum itself, and the base power it jealously guarded.
Seething purple Light blossomed in her hands. She drew her arm back even as it began to collapse. Her arm snapped straight, and the Nova Bomb streaked away and struck the gate with the force of a dying star. The fortification exploded and imploded simultaneously, vanishing in a wave of exotic particles and energies.
Ulaina gently floated to the ground on a cushion of Light and surveyed her handiwork. Very little of the gate remained, not even smoke or ashes. The cables of the fence dangled in the air on either side, with nothing left to connect to.
Her path now clear, she strode forward. She released her Void source and felt the twisting threads of reality retreat. Using the Void always left her feeling…hungry, and hollow inside. Such was the price for the power to split the world asunder.
She pushed her musings away as she glided over the crater that marked where the gate had stood. A month of reconnaissance told her the laboratory wing generally saw the least activity of any part of the base. With any luck, Brontis and Cannard would keep the Cabal from noticing her intrusion for several minutes. She drew her hand-cannon from the holster on her hip and started jogging.
Cabal bases were sprawling, haphazard affairs. The structures were built from prefabricated sections. This made them quick and easy for invading forces to deploy. It also meant that as battalions settled down and expanded their camps, they would simply add new structures to the edges of the base, wherever they could find open ground. The result was an ugly sprawl with the bare minimum of central planning.
In their weeks of scouting, Ulaina had memorized the layout of this part of the base, and knew the exact route to Valus Mru'ural's main lab.
She rounded a corner and ran right into a pair of legionnaire guards. She yelped and jumped back as the surprised soldiers turned to face her. They raised their slug rifles.
Ulaina fired two quick shots into the head of the right one. It dropped as its helmet exploded. She blinked left as the second Cabal fired. Its slugs sailed through empty air. Two more taps of her pistol, and the soldier joined its companion.
Ulaina jumped over the bodies of the guards, reloading as she ran. Several more turns later, she was standing in front of a squat black door. Mru'ural's main lab was on the other side. The lab where she kept the various artifacts she had discovered and pillaged over the years. Ulaina's Ghost appeared and started scanning the door.
"That's interesting," Marco said, "The systems have been bolstered with manifold encryption. Almost like…they upgraded it using Vex technology? Since when were the Cabal that capable?"
She shook her head. It was only mildly surprised the Cabal had graduated from studying the Vex to tinkering with them. They were playing with a fire they couldn't control. "How long?" she asked.
"Give me thirty seconds. It's complicated, but it's still a Cabal system underneath. I can just brute force it."
Ulaina nodded and stood guard while Marco worked. The storage yard in front of the door was cluttered with stacks of equipment. That would giver her plenty of cover if any Cabal approached from any of the three paths that led into the small square.
The red warship still hovered ominously in the distance. Dozens of harvesters ferried between it and the ground. Something's happening, she thought, and I wish I knew what.
Something flashed in the corner of her vision. She turned to the source, somewhere to her left, but it was already gone. Then it came again, a flash of light illuminating the eastern horizon. Just like the one that accompanied the arrival of the warship, but more distant, towards Meridian.
"Uh Marco," Ulaina said, "Que fue eso?"
Marco stopped hacking the door and turned to her, wobbling slightly in the air. "Ulaina, something is very wrong."
"I can see that," she snapped, "What is it, more cruisers?"
"No Ulaina, not that," he sputtered, "The Light…it's…"
Marco blinked once and dropped out of the air. Then Ulaina felt it.
There was a horrible sucking sensation in her chest, like something was being ripped out. All her strength evaporated, and she fell to her knees as her legs suddenly became too weak to support her.
"Marco," she gasped, forcing down the urge to vomit. She picked up the Ghost and shook his shell. He didn't stir. She reached for her Void so she could draw strength from it.
It wasn't there. Where her source of power should have been, there was only a gaping hole. Her Light…it was gone.
Ulaina set her jaw and clawed her way to her feet, fighting the trembling exhaustion in her body. She leaned against the wall, panting for breath, Ghost in one hand, hand-cannon in the other.
Right at the moment, a dozen Cabal soldiers, including Valus Mru'ural, rounded the corner.
Brontis ducked the shield bash and pivoted, bringing his fist up into the phalanx's chin. The hulking soldier grunted and stumbled back. Brontis jumped, putting his full weight behind his fist, and split both the phalanx's helmet and skull open.
Something heavy struck his back, driving shards of searing shrapnel through the cracks in his plate and into his synthetic skin. Brontis growled and spun around.
The legionnaire panicked and desperately scrambled to reload as Brontis charged. He closed the gap in three long strides and dropped to a knee. The legionnaire's shots sailed over his head as he slid across the dirt and came to a stop ten feet in front of the legionnaire. Right in optimal shotgun range.
The soldier grunted meekly as Brontis pumped his three remaining shells into its chest. It dropped, dead as an avocado.
Silence settled over the battlefield.
Brontis exhaled and stood. He began reloading, waiting for more reinforcements to arrive, but none came.
He glanced around. Dozens, hundreds of Cabal corpses littered the ground. How long had he been fighting? Can't have been more than a few minutes. Huh. Not bad for a warm-up. Now, if they would only send a real challenge, maybe this mission wouldn't have been a waste of time.
Sally appeared and started repairing his armor. His chest-plate and gauntlets were so mangled and cracked, they barely clung to his body. Cool air blew against his carbon-fiber face. When did he lose his helmet? Oh yeah. Head-butting that centurion's brains out. Both their helmets had shattered. The metal plate on Brontis's head held. The centurion's skull did not.
The Ghost worked quickly. She repaired the plate across his chest, restoring structural integrity, but leaving the dents and scrapes as a record of the battle.
He glanced at the cruiser as Sally moved from his chest to his gauntlets. He couldn't see much through the buildings, but the sheer volume of air traffic meant they must be loading or unloading something from the ship. Perhaps the base was getting reinforcements. He'd love some fresh heads to squish.
In front of him, Sally stopped and looked up, the spines of her flower pink shell bristling. "Um, Brontis? Something just happened," she said.
"What do you mean?" Brontis asked, suddenly growing more tense, "Ulaina, Cannard, are they in trouble?"
"I…I think I'm going to faint."
Sally's blue optic went dark, and she dropped to the ground with a thunk.
Brontis stared at the Ghost.
"Very funny Sally. Get up and finish my armor before more space-turtles show up."
Nothing.
He nudged her with his foot. "Sally…?"
Brontis scooped up Sally. Around him, the base buzzed with activity, harsh lights cutting through the dark sky. The same hubbub as a moment before, only different. There was something wrong, something that was there before, and gone now. His spine tingled. Reflexively, he drew on the Arc, ready to fight.
His Light was gone.
The buzzing, pulsating hum of energy that had sat quietly in the back of mind since the moment he came back to life had vanished. Not distant and faint, like it sometimes was when he spent too much time wandering Hive tunnels or the Dreadnaught. Just…gone.
A chill went down his spine as the realization settled in. No Arc meant no space-magic. No grenades, no lightning fists, not even a simple lift. Whatever just happened, if it had hit him while he was fighting, he would have been utterly screwed.
Cannard. The other Titan was still to the south, holding off an entire battalion. If he lost his powers too…
Brontis needed to find him. He closed his eyes, struggling to remember the layout of the base. Maybe he should have paid more attention to Ulaina's endless briefings on the subject.
He glanced between Sally and the direction he guessed Cannard was. Without his Ghost, he had no sparrow. No sparrow meant he was stuck here until more reinforcements showed up and pulverized him. Alone in a Cabal war base with no Ghost, no powers, low ammo, and two friends in a lot of danger.
Then he remembered the fleet of interceptors parked along the far side of the battlefield.
Cannard dragged himself behind the stack of crates as the explosive slugs tore up the ground around him. He recoiled as a plasma bolt from a psion's sniper rifle flashed through the space his head had just been.
The Cabal continued to pound the choke point with ordinance. They had pounced as soon as his bubble went down, every one of them opening fire at once. None of the assembled soldiers moved to advance though. They were still weary after he effortlessly dispatched the first squad they sent into his Ward.
They expected some trick. They worried that maybe he had lowered his defenses because he wished to draw them in. They anticipated him to be waiting to some hidden surprise. The simple truth was there was none.
He tried summoning a grenade. If he threw one towards the line of Cabal, it might distract them long enough to get around the cornere, and escape. It didn't matter though. Somehow, a simple grenade was beyond him. Even his body was weak and trembling. Ajax was unconscious in his backpack. He was living on borrowed time.
Cannard peaked over the top of the crate, and immediately, a dozen guns locked on the motion. The crates shuddered with impact as he slumped back behind them.
He fidgeted, a sense of unease growing in his stomach. For the first time in a long while, he was truly afraid. This wasn't some transient pre-battle anxiety. This was real, gut-wrenching terror. He had no Ghost, no powers, nothing. If he went down, that was it. He was dead.
Why hadn't the Cabal attacked his position yet? Even if he had some trap for them, they outnumbered him a hundred to one. Cabal were brutal, merciless in battle. They should have charged forward, heedless of danger. Victory or death. That was the essence of the Cabal, and right now, Cannard was losing.
He had to get out. Get out and run as fast and far as he could, and hope and pray his team made it out too. Cannard closed his eyes and forced himself to think. He needed a distraction.
No grenades. Without Ajax, he couldn't summon his rocket launcher either. He glanced down at the submachine-gun in his hands. He had maybe a third of a magazine left. Wouldn't last him long in fight. His scout-rifle sat unused on his back, with two extra mags on his belt.
Cannard sighed and slid his scout-rifle over his chest. He held up the submachine-gun in front of him. The faded turquoise paint was chipped and scratched from years of action. It had seen him through some hard times. He was going to miss it.
He tossed the submachine-gun away from the crates, waited a beat, and ran the other direction.
The Cabal, who had finally started moving forward, saw the movement and opened fire. The weapon exploded in a hundred pieces.
Cannard ran across open ground, back towrads the base's edge. The Cabal didn't see him until he was almost around the corner. Something heavy hit him as he dove behind the wall of the building and broke line of sight with the legion.
The agony came a moment later.
He cried out as a sharp stab of pain shot up his leg. A slug had hit the back of his knee, right in the gap in the armor. It burned clear through the fieldweave and seared his flesh.
Cannard set his jaw and stood up. He made it two steps before his leg gave out and sent him sprawling in the dust.
The heavy clomping of Cabal footsteps came from around the corner. He was out of time. Cannard closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath.
This was it. He always knew deep down that it would happen eventually. Nobody, not even a Guardian, could last forever. And now that he accepted it was over, a harrowing emptiness settled over him.
With his Light gone, at least it would be quick.
He dragged himself so he sat slumped against the wall, facing the corner. He set the extra magazines on the ground beside him so he could reach them easily. If he was doomed, he would take as many with him as he could.
Two psions peaked around the corner. Cannard opened fire. One of them reeled back as three bullets tore through its torso. The other took a hit to the arm and ducked back behind the building.
A moment later, a line of phalanxes lumbered into view. Cannard cursed. Their broad shields formed an impenetrable wall.
He fired, sending a spray of bullets towards them, hoping to find an exposed hand or boot. There were none. His magazine ran out with a click. Cannard reached for another magazine. His fingers closed around it as the phalanxes retaliated with a volley of slugs.
The first one slammed into his shoulder like a sledgehammer. Others struck the wall around him, the soldiers sacrificing accuracy for volume. Another hit his stomach, accompanied by a flare of pain. The explosions flashed brightly, blinding him through his visor.
Within moments, he couldn't even determine where the pain was coming from. It infused his entire body, pure agony. He was just a punching bag of plasteel, flesh, and bone. Darkness clouded the edges of his vision. Already, it felt like the explosions weren't even coming from his body. They seemed distant, like it was the phalanxes, not him, getting blown apart.
There was a terrible groan, like metal being rent, then a deep crash.
Silence.
Cannard groaned. His body was…numb, like it wasn't even there. He tried to look around, but his vision was cloudy and indistinct.
Was this what death felt like?
Something moved in front of him. He could feel the vibrations in the ground, and just barely detect a hint of an outline. It reached for him. He tried to shy away, but his body just didn't respond.
The thing reached down his back, grasping for something. It was making noise, trying to communicate. All he heard was muddled syllables, like he was underwater. What did the thing want with him?
The blurry form sat back, hand outstretched. Something yanked at his head. His vision and hearing unclouded at once.
The thing looming over him was a face, sharp and metal, with shining blue eyes. He recognized it from somewhere. Where? It held a peaked orb in its hand, and it was horrified.
"Can you heal him?" the metal face asked.
The orb turned weakly and regarded Cannard with a dim blue eye. Where had he seen the two beings before? A vision from one of his past deaths? No, that wasn't right. Something was blocking his mind, not letting him remember.
"Not…enough…light," the orb muttered meekly, "damage…too…extensive…"
"Can you at least stabilize him?" the face pressed, "Keep him alive? I'm afraid of what will happen if we lose him."
"I can…try," the orb whispered. It fluttered in the metal man's hand and projected a thin blue light.
Cannard gasped. Icy, blistering pain shot through his body, cutting through the numbness like a razor. With the shock came a jolt of lucidity.
He wasn't dead, but his body was pure agony. So. Much. Pain! His torso and head throbbed. A concussion at least, if not worse, and several of his ribs were definitely cracked. His legs remained strangely numb.
Brontis sat back and sighed. "Thank the Traveler. Cannard, can you hear me?"
Cannard nodded slowly. His mouth was thick and swollen. He worked his jaw and spat out a tooth and a large glob of blood.
"Something happened to the Traveler," Brontis continued, "I don't know how or what, but I'm guessing you lot your powers too?"
Cannard nodded again.
"Right. Our Ghosts are still able to heal us, but we can't come back now. We need to find Ulaina before she does something stupid and gets herself killed. "
"Okay," Cannard rasped. He pushed on the wall to help himself stand up. He only succeeded in sprawling in the dirt, his legs a dead weight beneath him. Cannard swallowed. "I can't feel my legs," he whispered.
"Too much damage to the spine," Ajax muttered, "Not enough light to heal it. Had to fix your head and chest cavity first…" The Ghost passed out again and dropped with a thud. Cannard twisted and protectively scooped up the little orb.
"We'll figure out what's wrong with you later," Brontis decided, "We need to go now. Can you shoot?"
"Yes," Cannard replied. His voice felt more firm than he felt. He reached for his scout rifle. It fell apart as he picked it up. The barrage of Cabal ordinance had reduced it to a shattered lump of scrap.
"Just take this," Brontis said, handing Cannard an auto-rifle. The Exo knelt and effortlessly lifted him into the air.
"How are you still walking?" Cannard asked. "I lost all my strength with the Light."
"I'm a robot, Canard," Brontis growled. He lowered Cannard onto the arm of a waiting Cabal interceptor, right next to his Ghost with that ridiculous pink shell.
Cannard cast a glance to where the phalanxes had been. Brontis had used the interceptor's rocket launchers to drop part of the building on them, crushing them and blocking the path. He could even see some limbs sticking out, and hear their commander gutturally shouting on the other side.
"Lots of ships over Meridian," Brontis's ghost slowly said as the Exo climbed into the pilot seat behind Cannard. "Lots of vibrations in the crust too…"
"That doesn't matter Sally," Brontis said as he took the controls, "Right now, we need to get the hell out of here."
He threw the controls forward, and they tore away at a reckless speed.