Chapter 3 - Departure

Slade ran his hand over the polymer aluminum hull of his Phaeton-class jumpship. The negative gray exterior and sleek jet-like design made it a perfect stealth flyer, undetectable by most any radar or material scans. It was a Hunter's dream ship, and Slade had never regretted paying the heap of Glimmer it had cost to salvage and upgrade the vehicle.

"Slade," a voice called. Slade pivoted on his heel and was, admittedly, somewhat surprised to find Hal Gerick striding toward him.

"Gerick," the Hunter replied simply, suspecting they weren't quite on a first name basis.

"I've changed my mind," the Titan said.

Slade's eyebrows raised a half centimeter. Hal's words brought even more surprise than his presence. "Changed your mind?"

"I'll come with your team to the EDZ," he said. "There's probably nothing there and I'll just lose a day's salary."

"And if there is something?"

"There isn't."

Slade turned back to his ship.

Hal spoke. "But if there is, we'll deal with it."

Slade glanced back at Hal's hands, now concealed by gauntlets. "Well, I'm glad you came around."

Hal changed the subject. "When're you leaving?"

"Soon. We're heading over to the Vaults first to pick up some gear. Our last stand on Mars depleted more resources than we anticipated."

"That a Phaeton-class?" Hal gestured to the ship.

"Yep. An LRv2 Javelin. Malcolm's got an AX19 Spindle Demon; he's all about performance."

"And Vesta?"

"NS66 Cloud Errant. Sometimes takes an LRv3, though. What do you fly?"

"I don't," the Titan admitted. "I see them coming in all the time from the Walls, but… well, I have an Atalanta's Hunt."

"That's a nice one."

"Not when it's been rusting in the back of the port for eternity."

"See if Holiday can clean it up a bit while we're at the Vaults. Doesn't need to look pretty, just needs to fly."

As several Frames scraped the rust off Hal's ship, the Hunters and Titan trekked to the underbelly of the Tower, to the legendary Vaults. Any single compartment contained a treasure trove of Titan weaponry, Hunter collections or Warlock research. The Seraphim owned a huge storage area, which seemed impractical to Hal given how rarely they visited the Tower. Each of them grabbed handfuls of ammo and a half-dozen guns, which their Ghosts carried for them. They were Hunters, after all, and they were preparing for anything and everything.

Hal unlocked his vault and disappeared inside. He only occasionally threw something in, but never took anything out. Hal emerged carrying everything he thought he would need, and waited as Jordan wordlessly began dematerializing his selected equipment. The Seraphim stared at him with something akin to awe.

"Where'd you get all that?" Malcolm said, brow furrowed, mouth somewhat agape.

"Various places," Hal answered.

"How'd you afford it?" Vesta asked.

"I worked every single weekday for thirty years atop the Walls and didn't waste my glimmer on drinks and trinkets. It's amazing what thinking conservatively does."

Jordan finished storing Hal's gear.

"All right then," Slade said. "Let's move."