"Where else do you want to go?" Zinnia asked. "Somewhere inside, I hope! This weather is ridiculous!" Quarrel and the Warlock were walking along the Tower plaza. Cold winds whipped the Tower banners and flags and sent thick clouds scuttling around the Traveler. The huge orb was just visible in a cloak of grey mist off the balcony. All kiosks except for the diligent Postmaster's were shuttered against the dreary afternoon. The Cryptarchy's abandoned workstation wouldn't reopen until the season definitively entered spring.
The whole day was grey. Grey light, grey clouds, grey drizzle that threatened to become snow. Dead leaves scraped across the smooth stones in front of their feet.
Zinnia fought with strands of her curly hair escaping her bun and plastering against her face. Her long vestments billowed around her ankles with each gust. The Tower as a whole shared her frustration with the weather. Guardians and personnel scuttled from alcove to alcove, heads down, burrowed into armor or coats and scarves.
Quarrel looked around her. They had already investigated the North Tower, passing the Archives and the empty Speaker's Study — cold and silent, the great bronze machinery hanging eerily still and the enormous banners rippling like living things against the walls — and they had made their way through much of the Central Tower, filled with meeting halls and visitor housing and crowned by the grand lecture hall that Zinnia said the Cryptarchs liked to use for their presentations. Inside the Tower's massive column, they'd strolled by the gun range, the Vanguard armory, Warlock meditation rooms, storage floors and Frame workshops. They had worked their way from the bottom of the Tower and its personnel quarters to the top, where Guardians took their rest, until they had finally reached the pinnacle at the promenade. There had also been a quick stop into the cafeteria, of course. Zinnia appeared to have a great friend in the head cook, who plied them with hot drinks and sweets in the toasty, oven-heated kitchens.
"How about the Hangar?" Quarrel suggested. "I can check on my ship." It was likely there was nothing new to report since her last inquiry the day before, but it was something to do. She needed something to keep her occupied. Talking with the Speaker had soothed her churning emotions of the past few days, but she still felt restless, like there was something she was supposed to be doing. Joining the fight, Quarrel thought as she looked toward the Hangar. That's what it is. What I've been avoiding.
"Sure!" Zinnia liked the idea well enough. She was fascinated by the fact that Quarrel had a ship of her own. They struggled against the wind to the narrow passage that would take them into the Hangar. Quarrel lowered her chin into her scarf, tucked securely into coat collar to keep from blowing away. That last gust of wind had definitely had a chill spray of ice on its breath.
The passageway was empty save for a few shipments that had not yet been processed by the Hangar crew. The wind shrieked around the slim doorway, sounding angry that it could no longer reach them.
"I hate the cold!" Zinnia exclaimed, shaking out her vestments and fussing with her hair. "I wish it would be summer already!"
Quarrel nodded. A little warm weather would be much appreciated right about now. This cold, wintry day reminded her of waking in the Cosmodrome, and that made her even more uneasy. She followed Zinnia down the plain concrete passage to where it emptied into the primary Hangar bay.
"I'm saving up for a ship of my own!" Zinnia called to her over the constant noise of engines and machinery. "You're so lucky to have found one!" She supposed she was. Though Guardians appeared to be well taken care of in the Tower, with food and a place to stay costing them nothing, there wasn't much beyond those basics that she could count on receiving for free. The equipment they had perused on the armory walls that afternoon was expensive, and surely wasn't easily crafted. She was beginning to see that it was an enormous undertaking to outfit the Tower.
They made their way across the walkway and down to the Sparrow staging floor. Zinnia goggled at the goings-on as much as she did. When Quarrel glanced over the railing to a lower deck at the close Hangar wall, she caught sight of a small group of civilians standing in dim light, their heads together in conversation. Many of them wore the ever-present City scarves wrapped over their heads and faces. Their whole manner was furtive, trying to be unnoticed by those around them.
Zinnia tugged at her arm and brought her lips close to her ear.
"Those are members of Dead Orbit," she said, her expression disdainful. "See that Awoken man? That's Jalaal, the Arach in the Tower."
She could see the man Zinnia pointed out. Straight black hair hid most of his face from view. He gestured fiercely to the people gathered around him. Quarrel watched a moment longer and the Arach glanced up, catching sight of her. His eyes glowed like Zinnia's, a very pale blue instead of her electric green. Those eyes were curious about her. Zinnia tugged on her arm again.
"Let's go. You don't want to talk to them. The Arach will just bother you, begging for glimmer and spare parts."
She let the little Warlock lead her away from the railing toward the shipwright's workbench. They were in luck; Holliday was off the workfloor. At her last visit, Quarrel had only been able to track down a crewman to talk to.
"Afternoon, Guardians," the shipwright said, looking up from a stack of invoices. "You're here about your ship, I expect? Well, I'm happy to report she's ready for you. I just haven't had a second to sign off on it." Amanda's look was apologetic, though her tone was firm. This was a woman who was used to delivering such news to Guardians and didn't worry about whether they found it displeasing. "There's been a whole mess of issues to address, but she'll do right by you now. Those old Arcadias were built to last."
"Thank you," Quarrel said, enormously pleased that there would be no more delays.
"It ain't no trouble," Amanda brushed the thanks aside and turned to Zinnia. "How about you, Warlock? I'm buildin' up a Misfit that would be just perfect for you. Got a downpayment ready yet?"
"No," Zinnia sighed, her look dejected. "I had to buy a new bracer last month."
"You'll get there, Guardian." Amanda smiled sympathetically. "It'll be worth the wait. In the meantime, maybe your friend can shuttle you around. That Arcadia's got a jumpseat — if you don't mind a tight squeeze."
Zinnia's eyes lit up at the suggestion.
"You've got launch authorization queued up," Amanda said to Quarrel. "Looks like an open-ended request from Cayde. You headin' out tonight?"
Quarrel hesitated. The idea was sorely tempting.
"Tomorrow," she said. "As early as possible." Tonight was for preparation…and maybe a little about gathering her courage.
"We'll be here," Amanda said. "Have your Ghost send a launch time, then make sure you're here on the dot. Mornings are busy, so you don't want to lose your place in line!" She gathered up the invoices on the table. "Now, beggin' your pardon, Guardians, I've got to check on some deliveries."
They stepped aside to let the shipwright pass. Quarrel wondered if Amanda ever even so much as sat down during the day.
"It's ready!" Zinnia exclaimed. "How exciting!"
"From the way the crewman talked yesterday, I thought I'd be waiting another week," Quarrel said.
"Holliday is always overestimating her work times. Boone says it keeps Guardians happy because they think she's always prioritizing them." Zinnia looked appreciative of that small trick.
Quarrel glanced around the Hangar, taking in the bustle and commotion.
"Where to now?" Zinnia asked.
There didn't seem to be much that they would be encouraged to explore here. Quarrel watched an overhead crane transport a glistening wing from one end of the workfloor to the other. It was then she realized there was a skybox presiding over the entryway.
"The Future War Cult meets up there," Zinnia explained, following her gaze. "They're really secretive. I keep trying to find out what exactly they're about, but they're so strict about membership! There's always someone on guard at the top of the stairs." She gestured to a tall metal staircase leading up to the skybox, just beyond where they stood.
"They don't let Guardians in?" Quarrel asked.
"Oh, they love Guardians!" Zinnia said. "It's just that nobody knows how Lakshmi — she's the leader — chooses her candidates. Master Rahool says that meeting with Lakshmi is by invite only."
"Doesn't the Vanguard know what they do?"
"Maybe. But who knows if the Cult are even telling them the truth?"
"What's down there?" Quarrel asked, pointing at a staircase below the skybox that descended into shadow.
"Not much. Just the Hunter Lounge."
A Hunter Lounge? That sounded like it could be interesting.
"Can we see it?"
Zinnia hesitated a moment, then shrugged.
"It's nothing special. Just a junky old ship turned into a junky old hangout."
Quarrel began to descend the stairs, heading into the lower depths of the Hangar. Zinnia followed, looking a little uncertain.
"Will the Hunters allow us in?" Quarrel asked.
"It's a free Tower!" Zinnia said, not sounding terribly convincing. "They can't keep us out. Besides, it doesn't really belong to the Hunters. They just started congregating here and the name stuck. Tory's had parties here loads of times anyways, so they know me." Quarrel wasn't certain if Zinnia was trying to reassure her or justify their presence to herself. Either way, the Warlock followed.
The stairwell split around a Frame maintenance kiosk, tucked underneath the platform they had just come from. From there, Quarrel could see the open bay of an old cargo transport, its loading ramp down and secured to the floor. Ratty netting lined either side of the ramp. Inside the bay she could make out couches and tables in dim light. Three banners hung from the ceiling, a dusty red that once had been bright crimson, each clearly sporting the three-tiered symbol of the Hunter Order in deep black.
Quarrel stepped onto the ramp and entered the little lounge. In the back of the bay she could see a counter littered with bottles and papers, sharing space with an intranet terminal covered with fingerprints. Above the counter hung an assortment of trophies: a massive shield, a long skull from no creature she recognized, broken, retired weapons. On her left, a huge, wrinkled map hung on the wall. Long knives stuck out of it at various points. Couches were drawn together by this map, around a table with dogeared copies of magazines, City newsprints, and what looked to be pieces of a Sparrow manual. One of the engine access pods acted as a sort of brazier on the right side of the bay, casting an orange glow and considerable warmth. Two extremely worn couches had been pulled up around it. Three Hunters sat on them. All three wore full armor, their cloaks carefully positioned so they were not sat upon.
The first to catch her eye was a slight Awoken woman sitting crosslegged directly opposite to the bay door. She had dark, straight, shoulder-length hair held by a thin braided circlet around her forehead. Her violet eyes flicked between Quarrel and Zinnia, ringed by thick eyelashes. Her expression was not upset at the intrusion, but neither was it friendly. The other two Hunters, in the middle of conversation, turned to see what their companion was looking at.
One of the two was an Exo. His frame was matte black, his eyes glowing white. Two thin, black nodes stuck up at an angle from just below his temples, giving him an elfin look. His eyebrow plate twitched upward at the sight of Zinnia.
"Can we help you, Warlock?" The third Hunter asked. He was human, his hair close cropped and a short auburn beard along his jawline. Even though he was sitting, she could tell he was very tall and lanky. His expression and tone left no room for doubt — they were not welcome here.
"I'm just showing our new Guardian around," Zinnia answered frostily. She had her chin up, as though daring the Hunters to find some fault with that.
The man's displeased expression curled into a sneer.
"Fresh meat, is it?" he said to Quarrel. "I've heard about you. You're the one scrounged up from the Cosmodrome."
"My Ghost found me there," she answered, matching his stare.
His sneer grew a little bigger. Then he unfurled himself from the sofa in that languid way peculiar to Hunters. He was definitely a tall man, standing a couple inches even over her considerable height.
"Great Dane," he said, holding out a gauntleted hand. She hesitated. So this was the Great Dane of Crucible fame that Boone and Tory were talking about. Deciding not to be rude — yet — she shook it.
"This here is my crew," Dane said. "Guinefort-13," he gestured over his shoulder to the Exo, "and Gelert." The Awoken woman continued to stare stonily. Great Dane looked to Zinnia, his sneer deepening.
"You playing hooky from lessons? Or have you joined the Tower Pages as well as the Cryptarchy?" That earned a chuckle from Guinefort.
"I'm doing what I can to help a new Guardian," Zinnia replied. She had to crane her neck to look Dane in the eye. Her fingers were beginning to bunch in her vestment sleeves. "Some of us like to keep busy."
Dane snorted. The jab was apparently inconsequential to him.
"We're on our way to the Crucible," he said. "A little skirmishing in the European Dead Zones. You been to the Crucible yet, fresh meat?"
"No," Quarrel replied.
"She's seen battle," Zinnia said at practically the same time.
"Is that so?" Dane asked. He kept staring into Quarrel's eyes. He was waiting, she realized. Waiting to see what she would do.
"She fought off a whole detachment of Fallen all by herself," Zinnia went on, "and she won a ship. All right after her Rebirth!" The Warlock did not even try to hide her smug grin. She sounded as proud as Ghost.
"Impressive," Dane said, though he sounded anything but impressed. "Then I think it's high time you tested your skills against fellow Guardians. What do you say, Gelert? Guinefort? Think we should take this one under wing?"
"If she can keep up," Gelert said quietly. Her entire tone was doubtful about that prospect.
"Only if she's willing to learn from the best." Guinefort added casually. "I'm not so sure that's the case." His white eyes lingered on Zinnia. The Warlock's jaw tightened.
"Come on, Guinny," Dane crooned. "I'm sure Zinnia makes an excellent tour guide. Few have spent such time in the Tower like she has. I bet she knows all the best places to escape for an afternoon or ten!"
A red flush bloomed on Zinnia's cheeks.
"I might be interested in the Crucible," Quarrel stepped in, before she could stop herself. Was she mad? She wasn't even certain what the Crucible was! Some kind of Guardian competition? "Wemight be interested," she gestured to Zinnia, who checked with surprise.
"Ah," Dane said, his eyebrows climbing in amusement. "You'll quickly find that some people are…beyond training. Even with a gun in their face. But I'm willing to take you on as a pupil."
"I think I still need to vet my teacher," Quarrel said. "Make sure you have the skills I'm looking for." The corners of Zinnia's mouth twitched in a smile. Dane's grin slipped ever so slightly.
"That's wise," he said. "I can have a feed set up to our match this evening. You might learn a thing or two if you watch."
"I might."
He nodded. "I'll do that. Take notes. Zinnia can show you how." He beckoned to Gelert and Guinefort, who rose from the couches. For a moment, Quarrel thought the tension was actually going to turn to blows. But the three Hunters merely walked past them and down the ramp, Great Dane passing so close to Zinnia that the little Warlock had to step aside or be trampled on.
"See you around, fresh meat," he said. "Think about my offer."
Zinnia scowled at their backs, her fingers twisting in her sleeves so much the fabric was pulled taut.
"Ugh!" she exclaimed. "Of all the people to run into down here! I'd rather have talked to Jalaal!"
"What's his problem?" Quarrel asked.
"A big head, that's what!" Zinnia scowled. "Dane thinks he's the Traveler's gift to Guardians just because he's top in the Crucible right now."
"Is he really good?" she asked.
Zinnia's lips twisted, struggling to find what to say.
"He's okay," she mumbled. "Shaxx likes him, for some reason. And Shaxx doesn't openly admit he likes just anyone." She sounded wounded by that.
Quarrel felt a stab of pity for the Warlock. Clearly, she was not popular with those Hunters. Zinnia was trying to shrug off the encounter, but her expression was decidedly subdued now. They certainly had not been kind in their assessment of her. Apparently her affiliation with the Cryptarchy was a matter of some hilarity.
"Don't pay them any attention," Zinnia said, turning to Quarrel and quickly fixing a confident grin on her face — for all the world as though she were the one who had needed reassurance. However much Dane may have needled her, Zinnia had a startling capacity to put her frustration out of mind at a moment's notice. "Those three are all talk, just like Boone says. He can give them a run for their glimmer any day, without even tripping a circuit!"
"Can I really watch their match?" Quarrel asked as Zinnia led her out of the Lounge. Apparently the Warlock did not want to hang about.
"Sure," Zinnia said. "One of their Ghosts just has to authorize the interlink to yours. But why would you want to?"
"I'm just curious," Quarrel replied.
"Wait." Zinnia stopped on the stairs leading up from the Lounge and turned to her with an incredulous look. "You're not seriously going to take Dane's offer, are you? He's just going to put you on the opposite team, shoot you a bunch, and call it training!"
"How do you know?" she asked.
Zinnia flushed again.
"It's his favorite thing to do! Tons of Guardians have fallen for it!" She renewed her climb up the stairs with extra vigor. "It's a good thing I'm here to keep you away from stuff like that!"
Quarrel bit her lip. She had the feeling the Warlock had been one of those who had fallen for it.
Outside the Hangar, Zinnia listened to the tolling bells and sighed. "It's almost time for me to go back to the Archives. You want to stop by the cafeteria again? I'm going to bring a snack!"