Chapter 8: The Devils' Lair
Whisper did not enjoy being stuck in the City as each day of lockdown slowly crawled by. True, it was filled with innumerable things to learn, but somehow knowing that she couldn't leave made what had been overwhelming seem constricting and small. She waited in the park for Emilia, but the girl never came. Nobody else did, either, which made her suspect that even the civilians' movements had been restricted.
She wandered. At her chosen thinking spot at the top of the tower she found a small, half-hidden room that seemed abandoned, marked with odd red symbols that looked like an owl. And she thought a lot, about her purpose, about the guardians, the Last City, the Fallen, the Hive, the light and the darkness. There was so much she didn't know, so much to learn and try to figure out. It was daunting, seeking out answers that guardians hadn't learned in centuries, but strangely exciting, motivating. Learning buried secrets appealed to her, and she wasn't sure why.
She was considering why she was excited by this prospect when her contemplation was interrupted as she felt a tap on her shoulder. She started and turned to see an exo standing behind her with a bemused expression. He didn't move, instead sizing her up, and she took the opportunity to do the same. His face was less human than her own, and shaped like a helmet from which shined aqua-colored eyes. His legs were mostly free, covered in light armor, while his waist was lined with pouches. On his torso he wore an armored plate attached to a carrier with metal rivets, all wrapped in a yellow cloak that looked suspiciously like it was made of stitched together banners of the House of Kings.
Perhaps most importantly, she hadn't heard him approach.
"Who are you?"
"It's Shiro-4. I'm a scout for the Vanguard, and you are my ticket out of this lockdown, at least for a while. Cayde asked that I give you the rundown and teach you some of what I know. From what I hear, you've got good instincts and move well. But it's one thing to do that by reflex and buried protocol, and another to understand why you're doing it. I can help with that. And they'll let us both out of the City while I teach you."
Whisper was hesitant to trust someone she didn't know, despite Blabber quickly verifying his identity, but the temptation of getting out of the City won out. "Alright."
"Good." Shiro turned and led the way down the Tower and out through one of the huge gates, confirming their authorization with the titans on guard there. Outside in the snowy, open fields Whisper could breathe easier. To the extent she needed to breathe, at least.
Shiro, too, seemed more at ease outside the City as he led the way a short distance from the gate towards a small group of trees that would keep them out of sight from the Fallen scouts that watched the City at all times. "Ah, finally. And don't worry about the Fallen too much – they shouldn't be interested in one or two guardians, especially if we stay in sniper range of the wall. So. I heard that you lean toward void light, which would make you a Nightstalker. Pretty rare, and not something I can help you with. You'll have to find another Nightstalker for that. But it's important to understand at least the fundamentals of the other types of light energy."
Whisper frowned. "I thought you were going to teach me movement?"
"And I will. But using the light is a key part of movement, and this is stuff you'll need to practice on your own time, so we might as well start with it. Do you know what the other types of light are?"
"Arc and solar, right?"
The scout nodded. "Hunters drawn to arc light are Bladedancers, like me, and those drawn to solar light are Gunslingers. Each have their own strengths and weaknesses, so you should at least get the basics of them down. But we'll get to that. First, how have you used the light so far?"
Whisper considered. "I… have gathered it into my hand and thrown it like a grenade."
"What about mobility?"
"Um, no. How do you use the light to move?"
"Let me show you." Shiro launched himself into the air with the superhuman strength of a lightbearer and exo, then gathered himself and jumped again, pushing off a thin mist of light to soar even higher, before thumping back down into the snow. "Now, your turn."
"You're not going to teach me?"
He shook his head. "Like most things with the light, it can't really be taught. I can show you some of what's possible and give some pointers on conceptualization, but it's up to you, hunter."
So she tried, leaping into the air over and over again, struggling to grasp at the light. And, slowly, it came. The light hardened beneath her for a fraction of a second, just long enough to push off it and launch further into the air, before crashing back to earth again.
"Good. Experienced hunters can sometimes get a third jump in, so keep practicing. Now let's talk arc energy. Every guardian experiences the light a little differently, but the general feeling is that solar energy is hot and fierce and must be gripped tightly so it doesn't burn you. Arc energy is violent and fast, a wave of power to be ridden, a groove you sink into or it slips away. And void energy is subtle and fleeting, like a mist you get absorbed into. So, reach out for the light and keep looking until you can find one."
Helpful, she thought sardonically. But she did as she was asked, sitting down on a large rock and closing her eyes. At first, nothing happened as she groped blindly for something. Then she changed tactics and reached out to the only light she knew, easing herself into it until she could feel the void energies around her. Then she let go of it and reached a little further. There, beyond it, was more light. It was different – where the void energy was ephemeral, this was crackling and wild. She tried to reach out to it, to hold it, but it sizzled against her and was gone. She frowned unconsciously and tried again, this time remembering Shiro's advice. Instead of melting into it, as she did with void light, she forced herself forward, tried to move with it, and for a moment it was there, bolts of crackling electricity in her fists, before it ripped itself away.
"Impressive!" applauded Shiro. Whisper couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. "Now, give solar a try."
Whisper nodded, excited at this new discovery, and searched further into the light. It took longer to find than the arc light had, as if it were on the far end of the spectrum she most naturally connected to, and she struggled to fumble her way out to it. But, at length, she made it, and there it was, a fountain of raw power, a smoking volcano threatening to explode. She reached for it and jerked back as it burned, threatening to devour her, to melt her down until she was nothing before that endless heat. It's so hot… can I really hold this? The moment of self-doubt was swallowed by a powerful combination of thought and emotion from the murky half-remembered past. If they can, then so can I. Not pausing to think on this, she thrust out a hand and grabbed onto the solar light with all her strength. It burned, thrashing, struggling to escape and threatening to destroy her in a maelstrom of violence, but she refused to let go, and waves of solar power radiated from her. The heat grew stronger and stronger until she could hold it no longer and she lashed out her arm, sending it smashing into a tree that burst into flames despite the cold, melting snow and ice around it.
She looked up at Shiro, who grinned at her. "Excellent. Keep practicing with both of them until you can consistently hold them, then keep practicing until you can do it without thought, and then we'll talk about the highest expression of light. But that's enough for the moment. Let's get into the fun stuff – movement. Exos are always a mixed bag here – some seem to have leftover military training, and some seem to know nothing at all about combat. So let's see what you've got. Head over beyond that tree down near the gully there and see if you can sneak up on me."
The next few hours passed quickly as Whisper tried and failed to sneak up on Shiro. Each time he caught her he would explain her mistake and have her try again. And there was a lot she got wrong—the sound of her weapons shifting as she moved, glare from the sun bouncing off her metal skin, the color of her grey armor standing out against the white snow or brown of the trees, and on and on it went.
Eventually Shiro called her over. "You're making good progress. Normally we'd sit you down and teach you theory first, but we don't really have time for that, and the practice is more important, anyway. But I will emphasize one thing – movement draws the eye faster than anything else. The most important thing to staying hidden is to move very, very slowly. It takes discipline and practice, even for an exo. Keep practicing, both this and with your light, and you'll get the hang of it. Unfortunately, we need to get back to the City, and I have other things I have to take care of. But who knows, maybe I'll see you around again sometime."
…
By the fourth day of lockdown, Whisper felt trapped in the City. She needed to be out there. She passed the time wrestling with the light, trying hold onto it and shape it consistently. She was starting to get the hang of arc energy, but solar was still a struggle every time. At least jumping she had down, but she could work on the light only so long before exhausting herself, which was a bit of a surprise that led to a realization. Her body was a tireless machine, but her mind was not. She needed at least a little rest, and while her emotions were muted, thanks to the absence of the chemical drivers of so many of them, they were still present.
When she wasn't practicing, she was thinking. Thinking about her place in the City, her purpose in existing. About the Collapse. Zavala said the Darkness hadn't shut down the Array… but it had been shut down, locked down by security codes by the people of the Golden Age. Why? Was it sabotage from within? Why would they want to blind themselves? She didn't know, and it bothered her.
As the days dragged on without major incidents, the mood in the City slowly returned to normal. Whatever Rasputin was up to, he'd stopped throwing his thunderbolts from the sky.
…
On the eighth day of lockdown she received a request from Commander Zavala for a meeting. Both Whisper and Blabber were excited about it, but for different reasons; Blabber wanted another mission to save the world, while Whisper just wanted an excuse to get out of the City again. They arrived at the Vanguard's headquarters in the Tower and discovered she wasn't the only one to receive the call. Two other guardians were there, waiting.
The first was a massive awoken male outfitted in heavy armor. His faintly blue skin flickered impatiently, bulging arms crossed. The other was a human female. Her face was hidden behind a complete bubble helmet and she stood so still for a moment Whisper thought she might be an exo.
Zavala emerged from inside, eyes scanning each of them impassively. "Good, you're here. We've held back for a week now, waiting for Rasputin to turn its gaze on us. So far it has not, but we cannot wait here forever. The destruction caused by the Warmind has distracted our enemies. With the House of Devils' Archon dead, they grow nervous, and in the absence of guardian patrols they are taking advantage of the opportunity to move their Prime Servitor to a more protected location deeper underground. We've sat back long enough – it is time to strike back. I don't need to tell you that the Fallen will continue to claw at the walls of our City unless we strike them down. The target is called Sepiks Prime, and thanks to our new link to the Skywatch, we have learned that Sepiks prime is currently located in the shadow of an old colony ship, in a House of Devils lair. It is there that it feeds the House its strength. We must destroy this machine god and send their souls screaming back to hell."
Well that's dramatic.
Zavala nodded to the titan. "Vistrek, you will lead the fireteam in this mission. With you will be Alice, a warlock with whom I believe you are already familiar. And you will also have Whisper-0. She is a new guardian, but has already caught the attention of the Vanguard."
Vistrek looked at Whisper with open skepticism. "With respect, you're sending a brand-new guardian, and a hunter at that, on a strike mission?"
Zavala stared him down. "To reach the target before it is back under cover and we lose track of it, you will need to avoid the Fallen patrols, not fight through them. Whisper has the Fallen patrol routes. And the Prime Servitor is only moving because the Archon is dead. She's the one that killed him."
Vistrek looked back at Whisper, sizing her up once again. "Huh."
Zavala nodded. "Indeed. But I understand your hesitation—I don't like sending an unproven fireteam on such an important mission. However, most of our fireteams are already deployed securing key targets and observing the earth-side Rasputin infrastructure that we know about. You are what we have. Trust in the light, and work together, guardians. Move out at your discretion, but don't take too long. Now that we know what to look for, Sepiks Prime emits a strong signal, but once it gets too far underground we will lose it. Dismissed."
Vistrek immediately waved them over to a corner of the Tower on a balcony. Whisper and Alice glanced at each other, shrugged, and trailed after him.
"As the Commander said, I'm Vistrek. I'm a striker titan of the Firebreak Order, so I've been on a fair number of strike missions outside the City." He gestured towards Alice.
"I am Alice, a sunsinger warlock of the Praxic Order."
Whisper looked back and forth between the two of them. "I am Whisper, and everyone keeps telling me I'm a hunter. Am I supposed to understand what any of this means? I've heard of titans, but what are strikers? And what's the Firebreak Order?"
Vistrek's jaw tightened. "You mean to say you don't even know what type of light you wield?" Void light? Maybe? She wasn't sure enough to say, so instead she shook her head mutely. Vistrek visibly unclenched himself and sighed. "Look, I'm not sure I believe you killed an Archon without even manifesting your light, but I'm going to have to trust in the Commander on this one, so I'll explain. A striker titan is a titan that manifests arc energy. The Firebreak Order is named after the ancient technique of firebreaks. We move out ahead of an advancing fire, scorching the earth and creating a barrier across which the approaching inferno cannot cross. Where most titans focus on defense and stay close to the City, titans of the Firebreak Order move out aggressively, protecting the City by keeping the fighting far away from it."
"So… you operate like force recon? Making enemy forces commit additional troops to secure their positions, limiting their scouts and deployments, while locating targets of opportunity for these 'strike missions'?"
Both of them stared at her for a second. "Has anyone ever told you that you are very strange, even for a hunter?"
"Yes. And sunsingers?" asked Whisper hopefully.
Alice glanced at Vistrek, then shrugged. "Sunsingers are warlocks that wield solar light. And where most warlocks focus on studying the light, the Praxic Order is more concerned with making use of it to destroy darkness."
"So that's each of us," stated Vistrek loudly as Whisper tried to ask another question. "As you heard from Commander Zavala, I'm the fireteam leader. I'm open to advice and ideas, but once we're in the field, if I make a decision, you follow it. That's not me having a big ego—I would do the same if one of you were put in charge, because it is extremely important that we coordinate and work together. It's usually better to all commit to and follow through on an imperfect course of action than to sit there arguing over a better one. Doubly so when we haven't worked together before."
For some reason, both of them turned to look at Whisper again.
"What? I don't like being ordered around, but it makes sense to me. Momentum and decisive action swing battles, and those only work with quick decisions and disciplined obedience." Not for the first time, Whisper wondered where these thoughts, these words she spoke on reflex and instinct, were coming from.
Vistrek apparently wondered the same. "Are you sure you're a hunter? You don't sound like any I've ever met."
Whisper shrugged. "I haven't met any, except for Cayde-6. What are they normally like?"
"Flighty," stated Alice tactfully.
The titan rolled his eyes. "That's one way to put it. In my experience, they're insubordinate, carry more attitude than armor, and always think they know better. Though I admit they are very good at what they do." He considered for another moment. "However, I'm hoping I'm not going to have problems with you. So, according to Zavala, we don't have time to waste. Let's get down to the ground and then you can lead us through the patrols. Let's go."
They made their way over to the hangar quickly, with Vistrek's bulk cutting a path through the crowd. At the hangar's entrance a scanner buzzed to life and examined them, and moments later three jumpships rumbled up from the tightly packed docking slips below and hovered a few meters over the hangar. Vistrek stepped over to another Arcadia-class jumpship like Whisper's own, though his was painted blue with copper accents and looked to be in a lot better shape. With a small flash of light his ghost transmatted him into the ship and he roared off into the sky. On the other side, Alice approached a matte-black jumpship that held the same triangular shape, but with wings that swept back beyond the engines. Her scanners marked it as an Aurora Lance. Alice disappeared, and a moment later Blabbermouth moved her into her own jumpship, and they were off.
Whisper led the flight out and around the edges of the Cosmodrome, then cruised low enough for the ghosts to transmat them out to the ground while the jumpships zoomed up into orbit.
"Alright Whisper, what are we looking at?"
Whisper kept her eyes scanning the horizon while she responded. "From the patrol records, it looks like this was some sort of refinery, probably to prepare fuel and load supplies on the colony ships. The Fallen patrols move along the surface every few minutes, but they tend to stay away from the underground. I would guess they've run into the Hive down there."
Alice looked up sharply. "The Hive are here? Is that confirmed? I thought it was just another rumor."
Whisper nodded. "They are definitely here. So unless we want to fight them and the Fallen, we need to sneak our way at least into the refinery itself."
The titan grunted in agreement. "So, how do we do that?"
"When I was finding my way out of a House of Devils outpost, I mapped out a bit of the passages, and I think I can get us there. Follow me."
Thirty minutes later, Vistrek may have been regretting his decision to let Whisper lead. The big titan crawled his way forward through dirt and muck in an ancient pipe. "This… is not… the most glamorous… moment of… my guardian life," he huffed when he had enough space to breath between jerks of progress as he hauled himself forward.
"Quiet. We're almost inside." Whisper crept forward carefully, then froze as a small squad of Fallen passed by below, chattering to each other in their strange, clicking language. Whisper half wished she could see them to verify they were gone, but there was nothing for it. She watched and waited a full minute before pressing forwards once more. Around a bend, at last, was an access hatch. She paused to listen for a moment, then gave it a push. The corroded metal opened with a shriek and powdered mist of rust. She slid out quickly, SMG raised and looking both ways.
"It's clear, come on."
Alice popped out next and somehow floated to the ground. How does she do that? Vistrek forced himself through the small gap, ripping the door off and cracking the surrounding pipe before it snapped and he clattered to the concrete floor in a heap. "Finally, out of that mousetrap." He clambered to his feet and hoisted a large auto rifle. "Alright, Whisper, you're in charge of tracking that signal. I'll take point, Alice, stick close to me, and Whisper, you watch our backs. Let's go."
Whisper brought up the rear, quickly directing the fireteam forward. It wasn't long before the titan held up a fist, bringing them to a halt. Echoing through the dark was the sound of weapons fire, both the sizzle of Fallen arc weapons and the deep hum of void weapons. "Movement ahead. Sounds like Fallen and Hive going at it."
"We can wait them out and avoid spreading the alarm," replied Whisper, uncomfortable at the thought of diving into a pitched battle.
The fireteam leader considered. "They're already fighting an open battle, and delay increases the change of someone coming up behind us. Alice, thoughts?"
"I agree with Whisper. I don't know about the Fallen, but once the Hive knows guardians are around, they throw everything they have at us for kilometers around."
Vistrek nodded reluctantly. "And in the chaos, the Fallen slip away. I understand. We'll wait here, but be ready to move—we're still against the clock here." They settled in uneasily. Vistrek lasted only a few moments before he began to pace restlessly. Alice settled into what seemed to be a meditation pose. Whisper couldn't tell, thanks to the warlock's robes, but it looked like she was hovering just off the ground. For her part, Whisper thought, processing the information.
From what Blabbermouth had explained, each Fallen House was led by a Kell, while the Archon interfaced between the Fallen and their Prime Servitor. With the Archon dead, were they moving the Servitor because it was vulnerable? To meet the new Archon? Or for some other reason?
Vistrek looked up abruptly. "It's quiet. Come on, let's go." They gathered themselves quickly and pressed forward. Around the corner was an open space in the refinery proper. Large storage tanks lay in regular intervals, surrounded by conveyers and other broken-down machinery she couldn't identify. It made for a complicated battlefield full of nooks and crannies, favoring short-ranged, heavier weapons, which in turn made for brutal fights, like this one had been.
Dregs had been svagely beaten down by swarms of thralls, while vandals had been shot apart by some sort of dark energy. Of the defeated Hive, there remained only smoldering green embers.
"The Hive won and pressed forwards in that direction," announced Vistrek. "Whisper, are they headed towards the target?" She nodded. "Alright, move out."
They pressed forward through the cramped confines, following the trail of transport mechanisms leading towards the spacecraft outside, and before long heard the scream of thralls ahead. The primary corridor had narrowed leading to a reinforced bulkhead at which the thrall threw themselves uselessly. Above them floated a long skeletally thin figure that seemed more bone than flesh, with fiercely glowing eyes. Its scream of rage drowned out those of the thrall beneath it, and it hurled a globule of darkness at the door that sizzled into the ancient metal.
"Focus on the wizard."
The fireteam followed Vistrek's lead and opened up on the wizard with auto rifle, SMG, and Alice's pulse rifle. The initial rounds ricocheted off shields, but the combined fire overwhelmed it and punched through, ripping into the wizard and throwing it back to earth. The thrall raced to engage them while they reloaded, but Vistrek threw a crackling ball of arc energy and swapped his auto rifle to a shotgun, which he unloaded into the last thralls with devastating effect. Moments later, silence had returned.
"I'm guessing we need to get through that door?"
Whisper nodded and he shrugged. "I figured as much. Any ideas?"
"Those doors aren't made by the Fallen, they're part of the original facility," pointed out Alice. "If the Fallen can open and close them they must still be connected to whatever is left of the network down here."
At the thought of searching for signals a new overlay appeared in Whisper's vision, and she scanned the area until she saw the electronic glow of a large cylindrical construct. "I think I found it. Blabber, what do you think?"
Whisper's ghost appeared and flitted around the ancient computer terminal. You're right, but the Fallen have gotten their claws on it—they've connected it to a shield mesh generator on the other side of the door. No wonder it held up against the wizard. It's pretty complex—I'll need some time.
"Defensive positions. I'll take the left tunnel, Alice you have the right. Whisper, you take the middle and back us up."
He'd just finished speaking when the chittering battlecry of desperate Fallen echoed from each side, and were met with the thunder of automatic weapons followed by shrieks of anger and pain. After a few moments of chaotic violence, the surviving Fallen were driven back.
"Blabber?"
The ghost continued his rapid scanning. The Fallen are getting smarter. It's like the entire system is wired to— An alarm klaxon began to wail. Ah. I'll work faster. And just so you know, there's more Hive and Fallen on the way.
Vistrek grunted. "Fall back to the door and get ready."
They crowded together, backs to the wall, as the Fallen rushed forward from the left, desperate to protect their servitor, and the Hive charged from the right with enraged ferocity. The guardians made themselves small, hunkering down as the two sides slammed into each other. Dregs and thrall hacked at each other while arc and void energies ripped back and forth as Fallen vandals and Hive acolytes blasted at each other.
Through the chaos emerged a huge Fallen, bigger even than a captain, with ornately designed armor. Void energy sizzled against its powerful shield while its shrapnel launcher blew big holes in the Hive lines with every volley. Strangely, unlike the other Fallen in the red of the House of Devils, the Fallen wore white armor wrapped in a heavy, pale blue cloak marked with a white sigil that looked something like a downward-pointing arc blade.
"Baron on the field!" shouted Vistrek. "Open fire!" Whisper held back with her short-range SMG, instead firing on any dregs that got too close while the others focused their fire on the baron. For a few moments they had free reign while the Fallen reeled from the unexpected assault on their flank, but the baron fearlessly directed his Devil troops, pulling them around into better positions, and then fire was coming back at them. Whisper hunkered down, trying to stay out of the line of fire, while Alice's pulse rifle flared in precise bursts and Vistrek stood fearlessly.
The Fallen, already hurt by the Hive, were falling steadily under the combined fire of three guardians. As they began to fall back the baron shrieked in rage and charged at them. Trapped, they unleashed a hurricane of fire at the baron, but its powerful shields held. The baron fired a swarm of white-hot projectiles that slammed into Alice, nearly cutting her in half and launching her back into the bulkhead in a spray of blood that cut short her agonized scream. Her ghost, thrust out into the open, scurried over to hide behind Vistrek.
Whisper held down the trigger on her SMG and the baron's shield finally gave out, and the last bullets in her clip sparked uselessly across hardened heavy armor. The baron fired again, this time catching Vistrek square in the chest. The titan's shields evaporated and shards of metal bit deep into his armor. The raw kinetic energy forced him back a step, but incredibly, the big man was still on his feet. Armor shredded, bleeding from a dozen wounds, but unbroken, the titan roared and charged, glowing with the power of light. He leaped into the air, cracking with arc energy, and brought down both fists on the baron. The light exploded outwards in a blinding display. When her vision cleared, Vistrek had dropped to a knee, utterly spent and gasping for air. Above him stood the baron, its armor shattered and crackling with slowly dissipating arc energy.
The baron raised its shrapnel launcher unsteadily, while Vistrek could only stare up at him defiantly.
The room erupted in the booming report of Whisper's sniper rifle and the baron's head snapped back, and the mighty Fallen at last toppled over.
Silence fell, and the two ghosts leapt into action. Vistrek gasped as light enveloped him, and climbed to his feet. Whisper watched in fascination as Alice's body vanished in a pillar of light from which her outline was sculpted, details rapidly filled in, until the warlock stood before them once more. "Well, that was unpleasant," she mildly.
Whisper turned and knelt to examine the Fallen baron a little more closely. He was so big. She couldn't think of any species where full-grown adults varied from the size of a dreg to this towering baron. It had to be the ether, right? The baron had a full mask breather and the biggest ether tank she'd seen on his back. Did they pick individuals to get ether and rank? Or did they reward ether for successes?
And perhaps most importantly… "Have either of you ever seen different Fallen houses working together like this?"
"No. Blue cloak and white armor… is that the House of Rain?"
"No. This is, or was, Naksis, a baron of the House of Winter," explained Alice. The warlock considered the broken Fallen before them. "It is very unusual for a baron to leave the ketch they command. To hazard a guess, he may have survived the destruction of his ketch, and been sent here to serve as a symbolically powerful ambassador from the House of Winter's headquarters on Venus. This could be an issue—the last time the Fallen Houses attempted to coordinate they launched the Battle of Twilight Gap."
Good news, I've cracked the door!
Everyone stared at Blabbermouth for an awkward moment. Uh, what did I miss?
"Nothing important, Blabber," said Whisper quickly. "Let's keep going before the Prime Servitor gets away."
The doorway, now unsealed, ground open slowly and loudly, to reveal a small courtyard. It was overgrown, vines climbing up steep, concrete walls. On the far end, in the shadow of a shuttle launch platform, still loaded with a huge shuttle and long since looted supply pads, was the House of Devils' base of operations. At heart it was a hardened bunker of a control center for the launch pad above, but the Fallen had repurposed it. Cargo crates had been arranged into a walkway of sorts leading across the courtyard to the bunker. Above the walkway stretched red banners with the sigil of the House of Devils, culminating in a humongous banner over the entrance to the bunker itself. Strangely, the cargo crates had images scrawled on them in the same white pain as the banners.
Vistrek pressed forward cautiously, auto rifle leveled. "What is this?"
Whisper examined the paintings more closely. They were… strange. The images portrayed Fallen, but without their environmental masks or ether tanks, and they wore brightly colored, formal regalia instead of their worn down, practical armor. It was vaguely reminiscent of the fancier baron's armor, in fact. They seemed to be in conflict of some sort, the images facing each other and holding weapons, but pressing forward towards the bunker.
She followed the images, fascinated. A meter onwards the Fallen had united, all bowing towards a ball of light backed by a cleverly placed spotlight, making it hard to look at. The following images were hard to follow, depicting a complicated hierarchical structure of what had to be Houses, with labels she couldn't read.
And then, darkness. The Devil Banners overlapped here, filtering out most light, leaving the images barely visible. They showed devastation, fires, and a strange… mist? It was hard to make sense of, but it was followed by fleets of ketch on the black of space, wandering. There were other planets, only briefly shown, then, unmistakably, earth. Above it hung another ball of light that must be the Traveler, but its light was faint and distant compared to the previous sphere they worshipped.
The impromptu tunnel opened to the entrance of the bunker in a small, open courtyard. Incredible. This isn't just a base, this is a religious site, a temple. This is a spiritual journey, sharing the history of the Fallen to its people. But what does it mean? Is there another Traveler somehow? Or did the Traveler visit them before coming here?
"Incoming!" shouted Vistrek urgently. "They're deploying a Walker tank and ground troops. Get to cover. Whisper, keep them off us while we take down that tank. Alice, focus on the knee joints—they vent heat there. If we can damage them, the tank will expose its core engine to keep it from overloading—that's the best way to take it down."
Whisper pulled back and knelt in the darker part of the tunnel and pulled out her sniper rifle while the ground rumbled with each step of the Walker tank as it made its way into view, rotating a frighteningly large cannon towards them. Vistrek and Alice charged out of cover, splitting up to give the tank separate targets. Their shields flickered as arc weapons fired at them from the bunker, and a swarm of dregs charged out with screeches of rage at the trespass and violation of their place of worship, heedless of the danger.
The sniper rifle hammered her shoulder again and again, cutting down Fallen, its report drowned out by deafening thunder of the Walker. The dregs were going down, but behind them was something strange, a shimmering in the air. Her mind hummed trying to process what she was seeing when a jolt of electricity spasmed into her back, followed by a sharp tearing feeling.
She rolled over, limbs spasming, and pulled the trigger blindly. Through dumb luck the heavy bullet connected and with a crackle of energy a vandal appeared and toppled over, dead. She dropped the rifle and kept rolling while she grabbed her SMG, then planted her metallic knee and launched herself to her feet.
The air flickered around her with more stealth vandals and she fired in an arc, spraying bullets wildly. Though the Fallen armor held up under the bullets, their cloaking mechanisms were more fragile and failed, leaving them exposed. She lobbed a grenade that erupted in purple light to cover her while she reloaded. The vandals pressed in recklessly, trying to swarm her under, and she backpedaled desperately out into the open, opting for the unknown dangers behind her over the certain desath at the hands of the vandals.
An explosion erupted behind her and then she wasn't alone anymore. Bullets from an auto rifle and pulse rifle cut down the pursuing vandals, leaving her clear.
"Whisper, are you alright?"
"Yes." She nodded her thanks to Vistrek, and saw that the tank was a flaming ruin. She took a moment to collect herself, then retrieved her sniper rifle and knelt to examine one of the stealthy Fallen while Blabber emerged and hummed while he examined the damage to her back. The blade cut deep, and the arc discharge caused damage to secondary systems. Not a problem.
Whisper twitched as light flooded into her, knitting her back together again, but she kept her focus on the stealth system. It wasn't built into the full armor like she had assumed—rather, it was a smaller unit that projected a field outwards, which explained how even their weapons were nearly invisible. Strangely, the stealth system was also attached to the vandal's ether tank. Did it run on ether? That couldn't be the same tech they used for stealth on the skiffs and ketch without consuming an impractical amount of ether, which was in limited supply, or else they would all be captains, not mostly dregs and vandals. Hmm…
The fireteam leader interrupted her thoughts by putting a hand on her shoulder. "Come on, hunter—you'll need to leave your investigations for another time. We can't let the target get away."
Whisper nodded and carefully detached the stealth unit and held it up for Blabber to transmat away. "Understood."
"Good. Gather your light and ready your weapons, people. This is going to be a fight." They approached the bunker briskly, leery of staying out in the open too long. Strangely, the immediate interior was empty, walls painted pale teal with orange trim, bearing warnings in old Russian painted over with the forms of Fallen reaching upwards, ascending. They followed the paintings, climbing stairways up to another landing which ancient humans had used for final storage before transportation outside to the shuttle. The open area was filled bones. Human bones. The sight gave the entire fireteam pause.
Scanning. Some of these bones belong to guardians who fell to Sepiks, but most of them were pulled from old stasis pods. Hmm… they're scratched in the same way. Were they… sacrificed?
Alice knelt and examined the bones. "Strange. I've seen records of this type of sacrifice only once before, from just before the Battle of Twilight Gap."
"It might be a coincidence," mused Whisper quietly, "but didn't you say that that was the last time that the Fallen houses worked together? And now we have what may be an envoy from the House of Winter, and more bones."
"All the more reason to destroy Sepiks Prime, then," stated Vistrek emphatically. "Let's keep moving." Ahead, Vistrek's ghost activated the loading bay doors which opened to reveal the loading dock itself in the shadow of a towering, stripped colony ship. Scratch that. Ship wasn't the right word for it. Massive rockets had been strapped to a what boiled down to a small space station, complete with smaller shuttles mounted to docking arms. Back on the ground, there were shuttered cargo loading doors on each side of them where once supplies had been loaded for final delivery up to the station above. The loading dock itself had two long platforms on the left and right, between which transports would arrive for loading. The Fallen had transformed it, draping much of it in their blood red banners. Many Fallen knelt along the two edges looking up at a huge servitor.
It was a silver sphere that, at this size, bore an unmistakable resemblance to the Traveler, though with a few differences. The core of the sphere was a bright purple and looked like a huge eye, while long poles, or maybe spikes, had been added to the exterior, giving it a harsh, menacing aura.
For a moment the Fallen simply stared at them, shocked at the intrusion into their sacred space. Then the moment passed, and the dreg worshippers rose and charged with arcblades and even bare fists, while vandal guards leveled wire rifles. Whisper hung back, dueling with the Fallen snipers, while Vistrek kept the dregs off Alice with his auto rifle and fists, and Alice focused on the huge servitor.
Violence exploded into what had been a quiet scene as energy, bullets, and light screamed back and forth. Dregs and vandals went down in droves, but more kept coming from the rest of the facility, sprinting towards the sound of conflict with the courage or faith, or maybe both.
Alice hunched for a moment then released a burst of golden energy and began hurling solar energy at the Prime Servitor with enough power to knock it backwards in the air, burning through the outer shell. But it wasn't enough. As Alice's light faded to its normal level the machine recovered, eye glowing with rage, and responded with a rapid-fire barrage of void energy under which Alicen simply evaporated, her ghost desperately dodging arc blasts.
The servitor turned towards Whisper and she refused to face it, jumping over the edge of the loading dock and down into the tangle of crisscrossing structural supports below as another energy blast exploded behind her, shattering her left leg. The servitor turned away and she rolled over in the snow, grateful she could turn off pain at need, and pulled out her rocket launcher. I hope this works. Braced on her good leg, she pressed the firing stud fell over backwards as the rocket sliced upwards and slammed into the bottom of the servitor. The cracks deepened and parts of the shell rained down. Then Vistrek roared through the air, streaming dregs that vainly tried to cling to him and crackling with energy, and slammed into the machine like a battering ram.
His fists smashed into the servitor's eye again and again. The servitor shuddered in the air, trying to throw him off, but the stubborn titan crunched his fist down one more time and the core finally shattered, sending the dead hulk of metal crashing to the ground.
All around them the Fallen cried out in horror and disbelief, then turned their backs and fled in terror.
Finally the battle was over, and their ghosts restored them to full functionality. It was over—they'd won. Vistrek set up watch. "Alice, Whisper, look around and see if you can find any information on Fallen patrols or outpost locations. But be quick; this place is clearly important to them and won't take them long to try to reclaim it."
Whisper nodded and got to work. The loading dock had a central computer that, long ago, had coordinated the loading of hundreds of tons of cargo. The Fallen had reactivated it and used it themselves. "Blabber, can you break in?"
The ghost materialized, spinning anxiously to look for Fallen. I'm on it. For her part, Whisper examined the compute console itself, after pulling a dead dreg off it. Built into the end of the loading dock arm, it was in surprisingly good shape, like most of the golden age tech she'd encountered. Or at least, it had been until about a minute ago when a half-dozen bullets had smashed into it. The display flickered with static and went dark as the whole system went down.
Vistrek saw the power die. "That's it, then. Let's go." Well, he certainly was living up to the Firebreak Order ideals, if he was this uncomfortable on defense.
"Come on, Blabber." They regrouped and retraced their steps. The trip was earily quiet, completely devoid of the Fallen.
…
Once again the fireteam stood in front of Commander Zavala, now joined by Cayde-6 and another severe-looking, dark skinned woman who must be the warlock member of the Vanguard. Vistrek reported in, doing his best to maintain a stoic demeanor, but not quite able to curb his enthusiasm. "…and finally, under our combined fire, the Prime Servitor was destroyed and the Fallen fled."
Zavala nodded approvingly. "Excellent work, fireteam. Sepiks Prime cast a great shadow over our City. With its destruction, the Fallen House of Devils will grow weaker. But we must stay vigilant. The Fallen are crafty—they'll find a way to survive. They always do." He looked up out the office window at the Traveler. "The dream of the City is a fragile one. But today, for the moment, the death of Sepiks Prime makes it feel obtainable. We will spread the word of this victory. For now, take a break. You've earned it."
The Vanguard leader nodded once more then returned to stand at the room's large conference table and started typing in messages rapidfire.
Cayde gave her a quick thumbs up, checked to see if Zavala was looking, then slunk away. Vistrek led the fireteam back towards the door. Word must have spread, because she could hear cheering outside. But before she reached the doorway Whisper felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see the warlock leader.
Whisper resisted the impulse to take a step back. She had presence, a palpable mixture of competence and raw, destructive power. "Hello, Whisper. May I have a moment."
"Of course," she replied absently, torn between relief at being spared the crowd and intimidation.
The warlock inclined her head towards a more secluded corner of the room and led the way, then spoke quietly. "First, let me echo Zavala and congratulate you. But while your victory over Sepiks is important, I am more interested in your eyes and insight than your fighting ability. We need more guardians who use their heads for more than headbutting. So, tell me what you saw."
Whisper stalled, taken aback. "Why don't you ask Alice? She's a warlock like you and has more experience."
Ikora's lips twitched in a ghost of a frown. "Alice is a very capable, promising young warlock, but she is a member of the Praxic Order. They are… the most direct of the warlocks, in a sense. Their study and focus is to learn how to destroy the City's enemies—no more, no less. I believe that destruction is not always the same as defeat. We must understand our enemies to truly defeat them."
That… sounded reasonable enough, Whisper supposed. "Well, we recovered some information. It was mostly garbled, something about respecting only what they cannot steal from, and comments aspiring to have ten thousand arms."
"Meaning?"
Whisper frowned. "Meaning that they really do remove and regrow arms as a political and status symbol rather than for practical reasons.'
Ikora nodded. "Correct. They call it 'docking,' and implant caps over the stumps to prevent regrowth without permission. And? From what I have heard of your reputation, you should have seen more."
"My reputation?"
The Vanguard leader allowed herself a small smile. "It's not every day that a brand-new guardian defeats an Archon. And perhaps more importantly, it's not every day that a guardian learns or does something that changes the status quo. Your actions at Skywatch have drawn eyes to you, and enough interest to draw the Future War Cult to break tradition to get to you first despite the irritation it caused the other factions. The others were both intrigued and amused when you turned them down."
Whisper simply stared at her, flabbergasted. She had felt lost in the crowd, not singled out for attention.
"And as I believe Zavala explained to you, the political situation in the City is somewhat delicate. While the Vanguard directs the guardians and enjoys overrepresentation on the Consensus, our role is far closer to managing the factions as they run off in every direction than it is to governing anything. But to keep the City from tearing itself apart, we need information, which brings us back to you. So, I appreciate your circumspection, but tell me what you saw."
Whisper nodded. Ikora had proven her point—she was not someone to be crossed lightly. "What I saw was… worrying. The Fallen base was not a military outpost, it was a religious site, a temple, maybe. The decorations depicted a great journey along the path that Fallen followed deeper into the site. It was difficult to follow without context, but it looked like long ago a Traveler, or maybe the Traveler, arrived at the Fallen home world. Then there was destruction and the Traveler and the Fallen both left their world. And at the center, at the end of the journey, was Sepiks Prime. It was huge for a servitor, nearly the size of the loading dock. It was so big it reminded me of the Traveler, and I think that was deliberate. I think they worship the Traveler, and designed their servitors to remind them of it, rather than worshipping their servitors themselves."
Ikora stared at her intently, rapidly analyzing. "Interesting. If their focus on the City is truly an effort to claim, or perhaps reclaim, the Traveler it would explain much, such as why the Fallen continue to attack the City despite their losses, and why they were willing to work together only to attack the City. And perhaps even their enduring hatred of guardians. Anything else?"
Whisper hesitated, then shrugged. "I had one more thought. The way they look to their servitors as a symbol of the Traveler, who provides them ether… could that be an imitation of the Traveler providing guardians with light?"
The warlock frowned. "A curious conclusion, but not unwarranted. But it raises as many questions as it may answer. Hmm. I will have to think on that. Zavala recognizes that the House of Devils isn't finished yet, but if you are correct and you destroyed both the Archon and the Prime Servitor, then you have dealt them a religious and political defeat more than a military one. There is no telling what they might do. Disband completely? Make a suicidal, all-out attack on the City to redeem themselves? Spawn an entirely new religion? It is impossible to predict without more information."
She stared into the distance for a moment longer, considering, then refocused on Whisper. "I will admit, I am impressed, Whisper. You've given me plenty to think about, so allow me to return the favor. I have a request and an offer for you. I would like you to become one of the Tower's Hidden."
"And what is that, exactly?" asked Whisper warily.
"The Hidden are the eyes and ears of the Vanguard. Mostly they serve as scouts, though there are some within the City."
"You want me to spy on the factions?"
"No," Ikora replied emphatically. "At heart the factions are little more than power games among the oldest guardians. Dangerous, yes, and I would expect you to let me know if you learned anything about their movements, but you could do little there given how young you are as a guardian. You are an intriguing new piece in the City's game, but not yet a player. Nor would I expect you to simply scout troop movements. No cloak and daggers, no spying, no hiding from the people of the City or the other guardians. What I would ask is that you continue your journey as a guardian. But in your journey, keep your eyes open and keep thinking. Don't allow other, smaller concerns or the ambitions of the factions to blind you to the larger picture. And don't stop at what our enemies are doing, but keep at it until you can see why they do what they do. And let me know what you learn. That is all."
Whisper hesitated. "I… will think about it."
"Good. Now, go enjoy your victory."
A/N: Taking some tentative steps at the edge of cannon with the Strike mission. Most of it was implied, but not quite present, and I think it works to tell the story that in the game was left to the lore cards. What do you think? Too far?
