TITANOMACH I | TRIUMVIRATE
PROLOGUE | PATRIOT-3
SANCTUARY CITY | EARTH
Standing alone on a hill, a humanoid figure looked upon a sprawling city.
A closer look revealed that it was not a Human, nor was it even technically alive. A chassis tall enough to make most Humans feel small stood with unnerving silence, merely appraising with a machine's focused efficiency. Hydraulics and metal passed for skin and bones on the machine, and oil ran through the body in lieu of blood.
Yet this machine had a history, albeit one which was vague enough to imply anything. The chassis was scratched and dented; faded blue and white coating the body in color, with scuffed and faded emblems emblazoned onto the shoulders and back.
Exo.
Even if she didn't know anything else, she knew that was what she was.
She didn't know how she had been made at all. Her life before awakening was unknown, something only filled with blank spaces and question marks. Yet there were subtle clues she'd seen, which if they didn't explain who she was, at least gave answers as to what she had been created for.
The full anatomical knowledge of Humans was hardwired into her memory, along with technical specifications of so many weapons and systems, along with how to use them. If she'd been given a random weapon, she could probably identify it. She could rewind her memories back to the point of her awakening, and recall each and every word, syllable, and sight experienced in her short time awake.
She did not breathe. She did not eat. She did not sleep. She could run for days and not tire. She could walk while moving in near silence. The tips of her fingers could extend into talons and her wrists held blades and a short-range flamethrower. Her fist was durable enough to cave in the skulls of wildlife and aliens. Her grip tight enough to crush flesh and steel.
It was clear she had been built for war, though one that had long since ended.
She'd accepted this fact, appreciative that she knew even a little bit, but had largely given up hope of ever being able to learn her past on her own. Although she idly wondered which side she had fought for – and if it was the right one. Ultimately moot in her case, as computers didn't fix themselves like that.
And when it came down to it, that's what she was. A computer. A weapon. Artificial.
Something aware, but not alive. Something real, but a derivative. A machine made in the image of something else. A tool, a weapon, not a person.
At the same time, she felt with an intensity that even surprised her.
Curiosity at the mysteries of her life and where she had come. Fear at the dark nights of Earth as aliens wielding strange weapons and wildlife whose teeth dripped with poison came to hunt her. Revulsion at the sight of the corrupted fields and wells of tainted water. Relief from knowing she didn't have to rely on sustenance to live.
Maybe she only felt pale imitations of emotion, but it seemed odd she felt it at all.
Machines probably shouldn't be capable of that.
No logical reason to let a machine feel.
Yet she did nonetheless.
It had been a very long trek from where she'd awakened – or more accurately, been repaired. When the blue lights of her optical receptors had come online, there had been a brief, overwhelming rush of utter panic – before it had vanished completely. And overhead, her savior had hovered with an almost playful innocence, as he now did by her shoulder.
It was a curious little machine. Small enough to fit in the palm of her hand, but as it had proven in their long trek, it could probably kill her without much difficulty if it chose. A bright blue light which served as an eye and the core was armored by eight 'points' or 'fins' which could move, detach, and be manipulated to surprising degrees, making it oddly expressive.
She'd tried figuring out how it could possibly work, and had given up a long time ago.
One thing was certain though, without it, her trek across the corrupted Earth would have been lonely indeed. It called itself a Ghost, for reasons it claimed to not know; though it somehow knew quite a lot about everything else – or at least implied as much. She'd half-considered the idea that she was being led into a trap, but something told her that she could trust the little machine.
After all, if it really hadn't wanted to help her, it would have left her rusting under the rubble.
"So," she said, a female voice tinged with an electronic lint. "We made it."
"Yes, and they've finished the seventh ring," the Ghost bobbed excitedly. "So much progress has been made! I'd like to see the Fallen attack this time!"
The "Fallen", the name it had called the aliens that had tried attacking her. A name that seemed pointlessly vague and demanded more questions than answers. Initially she'd thought they were more advanced, as she didn't recognize any of the weapons they'd used, weapons which had clearly not been designed for humanoid anatomy, which was why she hadn't salvaged any of their weapons.
Though they weren't especially dangerous. Well, at least the ones she'd encountered hadn't been.
The city was impressive to her eyes; and the comment on the 'seventh ring' made more sense when she saw that rings actually meant walls. The walls were rings that extended outwards, gradually growing larger and larger. Within were what seemed to be houses and stores…though as she used her eyes to zoom in, she confirmed that it seemed definitely closer than a military installation than a regular 'city'. Flashing lights from hovering vehicles created skylines which were filled with small speeders and vehicles that dove and rose, making the immediate airspace over the city notably crowded.
There were massive guns which dotted the rings of walls, with soldiers both standing guard and patrolling the streets and walls. Quite a few of them seemed to have Ghosts of their own – meaning the little machine escorting her wasn't unique. She'd assumed that, given how it talked, but she'd not really been sure what it was.
It had been able to repair her, though was vague about how. It was able to fire beams of energy from it's eye. To some extent it was able to purge the corruption throughout the world, and other times had performed feats that seemed impossible, from appearing to make materials out of thin air, to reducing a half-dozen Fallen into molecular slurry, while practically bubbling about how 'the ground would be well-fed'.
That was when she figured out that it was a rather homicidal little death ball. Almost cute if it wasn't utterly deadly.
She'd made a point to be nice to it.
War platform, psychotic maintenance machine, rogue experiment, she'd considered all of this, and why she hadn't thought to consider it a military support unit, she didn't know, but that now seemed the strongest candidate. Still, it didn't explain the borderline fantastical things she'd seen it do, though the Ghost had delayed explaining itself, or done a poor job of it. It liked to ramble, which she now wondered if it was a security measure to keep it from explaining anything too important.
In the middle of the city was the clear centerpiece – a tower that starched far above the city, almost ludicrously high. It was just as well-defended and armed as the rest of the city, and she could only guess at how heavily defended it was inside. But it was what hung above it that commanded attention.
"It's big," she said quietly.
"Very much so," the Ghost concurred. "Forever vigilant over Sanctuary."
Hovering precariously over the Earth was a celestial sphere, one whose white surface reflected the setting sun. There were visible markings and patterns which she couldn't tell if they were damage or ritualistic, but they ran throughout the shell. Though what stood out was the stark coldness of the sphere.
A dead thing whose reach still impacted the living.
She'd seen the Traveler in the distance, of course. It was impossible to miss it, and it was then when the Ghost had told her what it was called. Even from far away it was imposing and impressive. But standing before the city - right under it - she could see how large it really was. There was a slight tinge of fear in her core too, a fear that the thread holding it back would snap and it would fall to Earth, killing everyone below.
She crossed her arms. "It looks dead."
The Ghost's fins whirled as it seemed to contemplate. "Not dead, simply recovering."
"Right," she looked to the outermost wall – and realized that there were some on the patrols that had stopped. Zooming in closer she saw the sniper rifles trained on her, though they held off firing. Unfortunately, it seemed her knowledge banks were out of date, because these soldiers also carried weapons she didn't recognize. "Uh, I think they see me."
"Don't worry," the Ghost said, floating a little ahead of her, before turning and indicating the path. "Come on, they won't attack."
With some reluctance, she began walking down the path to the city entrance. At least here the landscape was more…pleasant. There were no signs of the rotting, twisted, and utterly unnatural vegetation she'd seen in the past weeks, nor were there any signs of violence, be it from aliens, Humans, or wildlife.
Made sense that they'd tamed the land around the city.
There were a large number of farms and developed land, though even it was not untouched by the militarization. Guards also stood outside of outposts, and drones flew overhead, hovering for any potential threats. There were a few civilians around, but they moved away when they saw her coming, while the guards watched her warily.
"Is this the only one left?" She asked as she approached, glancing up again at the defunct Traveler.
"The only city?" The Ghost whirred. "Oh no! There have been many more established since the Collapse. There are other sanctuaries on Earth, and many outposts have been reestablished throughout Sol. Recovery continues, slowly but surely."
"Hmm." She disliked the Ghost continuing to be vague and allude and speak to things she had no context or knowledge of. It was obvious some great cataclysm had befallen this planet, the "Collapse", but the words thrown at her were so vague as to be meaningless. With how much the Ghost had deflected or outright refused to answer her questions, she was growing more certain that it was some kind of programming block preventing them from answering unless certain criteria were met.
Well, the Ghost had promised answers. If whatever it was leading her to didn't have them, there had to be someone here to help her. If necessary, she'd ditch the Ghost, though it wouldn't be surprising if it followed her. Preferably she'd do that without the machine noticing, otherwise it might jovially kill her.
Could be a problem
I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.
"Should I do something?" She shot a nervous glance to the ever-imposing walls where she saw the rifles aimed, even without zooming closer. "They look antsy."
"No, they don't fire upon visitors, trust me," the Ghost assured her. "They'll send down one of us shortly – ah, and here one comes."
Sure enough, another Ghost floated from the shoulders of one of the snipers. This one though was not the same as the one tagging along by her. It was closer to a perfect sphere with a red eye. Were it not for the exact same identifying core, she would have wondered if it was something completely different.
"Please hold still for identification," the Ghost commanded in a much deeper voice opposed to her own Ghost's more flippant and airy one. Her body was covered in a glowing red mesh as the Ghost scanned her. "Identification not found. State reason for entry."
"I've found and repaired her," her Ghost answered. "I'm taking her to the Speaker."
The black Ghost appraised her, swiveled to face the opposite Ghost, and hovered for a few long critical seconds, making her wonder if she should say something. But without so much as a word, the Ghost simply turned away and flew back up to hover behind the shoulder of the sniper, who withdrew his weapon, with those beside him following suit.
"There!" The Ghost said cheerfully. "Simple. This way, the Speaker is not far now."
THE TOWER | SANCTUARY CITY | EARTH
The inside of the city was a lot less militant than it seemed from the outside.
There were people out and about, mostly Humans but there were some blue-skinned figures that the Ghost had called "Awoken" which he had unsurprisingly failed to elaborate on, and there were also other Exos like her – in the sense that they were mechanical humanoids. Most of them didn't match her model, and if she had to guess, they were an advanced or modified model.
She was still taller than many of them though, and she had a few heads turn to her as she walked through the crowds, though not in alarm. The Ghost hovering beside her seemed to reassure everyone that she was a friend. Still, she didn't fail to notice that there seemed to be two or three Humans following her covertly.
Maybe she was being paranoid.
The city was notably clean as well, with the streets being minimally dirty and the buildings lacking any rot or vegetation growing along the walls. There didn't seem to be a janitorial crew, but there were little machines that she saw occasionally move through the street, both on the ground and floating like the Ghosts. Cleaning robots, most likely.
Not that there wasn't any kind of vegetation. There were neatly curated rows of trees and plants along the sidewalks and streets, but all heavily controlled and managed by machines as well. There were a lot of flowers too, which she guessed would probably sweeten the air, had she been able to smell.
But there was a definitely a subtler military presence. She didn't see any more of the soldiers, at least not the ones manning the walls. There were armored figures roaming the streets and standing as supposed 'guards', but there wasn't really a coherent uniform, nor were they armed.
Some had Ghosts of various shapes hovering over their shoulders, while others didn't. They seemed friendly with the people too, with a couple of the guards playing some ball game with a group of children in a nearby field. She did think that it was an illusion to some degree. If it was really safe, then there wouldn't be layers of walls nor patrols of soldiers.
The Tower was close now, and like the Traveler, up close it was massive and it seemed that the closer they got to the Tower, the less crowded it was and the more secure it became. After they passed the fifth ring of walls, the one where the tower lay, she saw she was definitely in what was effectively a military camp.
There were shooting ranges on the gray concrete that stretched out throughout the area, which oddly had no obvious barracks. The soldiers likely lived in the city itself then. The base was not completely devoid of structures, warehouses and storehouses were dotted throughout, along with rows of tanks she didn't recognize the models of.
Now close to the Tower, she saw that were some details she'd failed to notice initially. From a distance it looked like a typical cylinder tower with a guarded top and a uniform outside; up close it was less so. There was no smooth exterior, and was instead fitted with openings that could be opened and shuttered at will. "Is there something in there?" She asked, pointing.
"Yes, our fighters," the Ghost explained, bobbing in the air. "Or bombers. Or whatever our fleet is. It always changes depending on the mood of the pilots. If the city is ever attacked, the doors open and our fleet is released!"
"Huh," so the Tower effectively functioned as a hangar. Fascinating and rather impressive from an architectural standpoint. A good space saver too, though the comment about the 'fleet constantly changing' seemed odd, but there was probably some context she was missing.
The true entrance to the Tower was up a flight of steps and through a large open door guarded by towering soldiers in white battle armor, though each was accented with unique colors, markings, and slightly altered details and helmets, making them far from a uniform bunch.
They appraised her suspiciously as she approached, with all of them having Ghosts of their own, except the lone male Exo, for some reason. "Titans," the Ghost whispered, floating close to her ear as if sharing a secret. "Let me do the talking."
She clamped her mouth shut and decided to do just that. "Access to the Tower is restricted," the leading Titan stated in a firm voice, stepping forward. "I can't stop you, Ghost, but I don't recognize her."
He was massive, even managing to stand taller than her. Orange color accented his armor, and he held a weapon she didn't recognize, though it looked like a shotgun, with a monstrous pistol strapped to his thigh. Even more curiously, there was a blade of some kind anchored diagonally to his back. This was definitely a soldier no one would want to mess with.
He appraised her more closely. "For that matter, I don't recognize your model."
"I'm taking her to see the Speaker," the Ghost explained with a bounce. "She's been repaired, and requires answers."
"Yeah, and twelve new Guardian candidates were selected this week, and none of them saw the Speaker," the Titan rebuffed, turning his helmet back to the Ghost. "She needs to be processed – and in her case upgraded – then trained like all of the others."
"She's not like the others," the Ghost insisted, floating around her for emphasis. "Trust me, the Speaker will want to see her."
"Sorry, but I'm going to need a better reason," the Titan shook his massive head. "No offense to you, ma'am, but we don't just open the Tower for everyone. Apologies if he gave you the wrong impression."
"Look at the emblem on her shoulder," the Ghost hovered directly over it. "Take another good look."
An audible sigh sounded from the Titan as he shifted and took a look at the purported emblem. She expected him to only look at it a few seconds, but instead didn't move the helmet long enough that it was almost awkward. "Confirm, please," he said to the gray Ghost hovering over his shoulder.
A bright beam of blue light flashed as the Ghost scanned the emblem. The Ghost then proceeded to float around, scanning her entire chassis. "Scan finished," the Ghost said, an accented female voice sounding. "Confirmation – First Generation Triumvirate American Exo. PATRIOT-Class."
She was grateful for the lack of expression on her face. Had she not been a machine, she would have noticeably started in surprise.
The other Titans looked at her with new interest, though fortunately didn't seem hostile at the confirmation – or revelation. The lead Titan cocked his head, his tone less confrontational than before. "Where did you come from, ma'am?"
She shrugged. "I don't remember. I don't know who I am."
The Titan looked to the Ghost. "Corrupted memory?"
"She was heavily degraded," the Ghost said with some degree of pride. "It took an extensive amount of time to return her to functionality. Memory loss was an unfortunate side effect. As I said, the Speaker will want to see her."
"Agreed," the Titan muttered, shooting a glance at her Ghost. "Alright. Follow me ma'am. I know this may be confusing, but it's best if the Speaker himself explains your situation."
"Perfect!" The Ghost whirred joyfully, spinning the fins around.
"And you stop talking," the Titan ordered the Ghost, pointing a finger at him. "She's probably tired of your nonstop chatter. And your upbeat psychotic behavior."
"It's fine," she placated with a waved hand, feeling obligated to defend the machine, if only because she didn't want it to randomly vaporize her. "It would have been a lonely walk without him."
"Your tolerance for homicidal machines is greater than mine," he said dryly, motioning to follow her. "This way please. I'll take you to the Speaker."
TOWER ENTRANCE | THE TOWER | EARTH
The inside of the Tower was as grandiose as the outside. It was bustling with activity from armored, robed, and uniformed men and women of different species (though still mostly Humans) performing their duties and going to their workstations. There appeared to be two ways of ascending the Tower, using a ramp that wrapped around the outside of the wall that went up to each level, or using the elevators in the center.
Considering how tall the tower was, and the apparent urgency of the Titan, they entered the elevators.
She rubbed her wrists with some awkwardness as the elevator started. "Oh, this is exciting!" The Ghost bubbled. "I haven't seen the Speaker in so long."
"Why not?" She asked, glancing up at it.
"Because he's a bloodthirsty little machine," the Titan chuckled wryly. "Isn't that right, Little Psycho?"
The Ghost bobbed indignantly. "I take offense to that name. It is hurtful." It bowed his eye so dramatically that she had to sigh – or at least simulate the motion.
"Oh really?" The Titan asked sarcastically, shaking his head, amused.
She glanced back to the Ghost. "'Little Psycho'?"
"Certain people around here like to call me that," the Ghost turned to almost glare at the Titan. "Probably jealous of my impressive capabilities. Name another Ghost who has faced a Kell on his own!"
"He's one of the more infamous Ghosts," the Titan explained, not answering the challenge while leaning against the wall of the elevator. "I'm surprised he found you at all. Normally he's more interested in hunting Eliksni."
"I prefer being proactive," the Ghost defended. "Besides, it's not like it hurts anyone! Except them, obviously."
"Eliksni?" She asked hesitantly.
"Four-armed aliens," the Titan answered, with a wave of his hand. "Hunt in groups; the ones on Earth are largely disorganized and from minor Houses."
She nodded, recognizing some of what he was saying. "Oh, the Fallen?"
"That is their…unofficial name," the Titan said tiredly, fixing the Ghost with a helmeted glare. "Simple and all-encompassing, not surprised that's why he called them. Don't particularly like it since it trivializes how complex the Eliksni situation is. I don't even know where that name came from."
"Ahem, I beg to differ," the Ghost responded. "The situation is actually simple! All Fallen pose a threat to the Traveler, a threat I take great pride in reducing!"
"Torturing." The Titan corrected, lifting a finger.
Her eyes shined brighter. "What?"
The Titan tried booping the Ghost on the eye with a finger, though the Ghost easily floated out of the way. "He's not called the Little Psycho for nothing."
"Lies and slander!" The indignant Ghost protested.
"But true," the Titan's Ghost added. "Sorry."
The Exo let out a small yelp as the Little Psycho shot a weak beam of energy at the Titan's Ghost, which literally vanished and reappeared a few inches away from where it had been shot. "Insipid maniac!" The gray Ghost practically sputtered in response.
"Liar!"
The Titan smacked both of the Ghosts with surprising swiftness as they started encircling each other. "Both of you knock it off!"
"She insulted me!" The Ghost implored to the Titan.
"Yes, and if I remember, you once removed the skin of an Eliksni to see if it would kill it," the Titan answered knowingly. "So I wouldn't take offense so readily. Unless you're going a bit easier on the Fallen now?"
The Ghost whirred defiantly, almost insulted. "I would never!"
She blinked. "You did what?"
"I performed a few tests, that certain people in the Guardians are not especially comfortable with," if it was possible for a machine to look guilty, the Ghost definitely looked guilty, though somehow still defiant. "But it wasn't intentional! How was I supposed to know that wouldn't kill it?"
"Using common sense?" The Titan's Ghost asked rhetorically.
The Little Psycho simply made an electric sputter.
"I think you made the point," the Titan glanced to the Exo with an apologetic shrug. "Don't worry though, he's perfectly harmless around us. So far."
"I see," she muttered, not sure how to feel about owing her life to what appeared to be a homicidal death robot who was incessantly cheerful. The elevator was finally coming to the top level, and it opened into a new floor. She followed the Titan to a nearby chamber which was filled with papers, electronics, crystals, and weapons all stacked along the walls. In the center was a bowl-like table that projected a hologram of the Sol System, and a staircase ascended to an upper level wrapped along the circular chamber.
Sitting at one of the tables was a robed figure who heard them enter and stood to greet them. His robes seemed interlayered and colored a soft white. They seemed to offer no protection, aside from the small gray pads that covered his shoulders. Black gloves covered his hands and a black shawl wrapped around his head like a hood.
His face though was obscured by a rounded white mask that in some ways reminded her of a vertically elongated hexagon, with some slits and gaps lining the mask, though no obvious eye slits that she could see. There were no visible emblems other than crisscrossed lines that were faintly overlaying his robes, and a three-pronged triangle-like symbol on the center of his shawl near his neck.
From the way he stood and appraised them, this was definitely a figure of authority.
"Welcome," he said in a slow, soft, but commanding voice, as he inclined his head.
"Apologies for the unannounced visit, Speaker," the Titan placed a fist over his chest in greeting. "But we have something – or I should say, someone you should meet. The Little Psycho brought her here himself."
"So I see," the Speaker noted, stepping towards her. "I haven't seen this model in a very, very long time." He waited a few seconds before addressing her directly. "I am curious - what do you remember? If anything at all?"
She shook her head. "Nothing."
He nodded, before motioning to the Ghost and Titan. "Thank you. I will speak to her alone now."
The Little Psycho flew away and the Titan nodded, though spoke to her first. "When you're finished, I'll be waiting for you outside."
"Thank you," she told him. "I'm sorry – I didn't even ask your name."
He paused. "Lucas Song, Striker Division and Fireteam Commander. It was good to meet you…"
"Patriot-3."
"Patriot-3," he repeated. "I like that one. I hope you get the answers you want." He turned and departed, leaving her alone with the Speaker. There were a few more long seconds of silence before the Speaker addressed her again.
"Allow me another question," the Speaker laced his fingers together. "Your name – is it your true name? The one you were created with?"
She shrugged. "I don't know, but that's what my HUD identifies me as. I don't have a better one. So that's who I am now."
"Understandable," he motioned to a chair which she sat down in, as he took the one opposite her. "I imagine you have questions, and also suspect the Ghost was not forthcoming."
"Not really," she admitted. "Are they always like that?"
"Evasive? Vague? It depends," the Speaker answered. "Programming restrictions by the Traveler. They are only fully able to be honest around Guardians, so while they are friendly, their vagueness can grind on certain people. Once they deem you trustworthy, they are among our most reliable allies and friends."
She shot a glance to the door. "I assume they're not usually that…ah...violent?"
The Speaker chuckled. "Usually not. There was a time when they were much more restrained, though since the Collapse they've developed some…interesting personalities, the Little Psycho among them. But given the state the Traveler is in, one cannot blame a Ghost from wishing to protect her with all their power, if not avenge."
Patriot-3 cocked her head. "Her?"
"Yes, 'her'," the Speaker confirmed, appearing to be amused. "A bit unexpected, I know."
She gave an electronic snort, thinking of the massive celestial object floating above the planet. "How does that even work?"
"I admittedly don't know why she identifies as such, nor asked," the Speaker said nonchalantly. "You identify as a female despite technically being a collection of metal parts, mechanical fluids and circuit boards. The same principle applies to the Traveler. An ultimately minor detail I don't see a desire to question or debate, let alone judge."
"Fair point," she agreed. "So, you…speak for her then?"
"Yes, though she is still quiet now; recovering," he confirmed. "Only myself and the Ghosts can communicate with her directly. Her wishes and commands are few and vague, but I know she trusts me to lead us out of the Collapse – a mission I have done my best to see completed, even as I strive to heal the trauma she endured."
She nodded. "I see. How long has she been like this?"
"A long time," the Speaker answered quietly. "Centuries. Though you being here is a sign of recovery. If even that particular Ghost is starting to seek out new Guardians, it is a sign she is growing stronger. Previously they were largely left to their own devices and to assist us. If she is taking greater control…it bodes well."
Shifting in her seat, Patriot-3 decided to get down to the burning questions. "Look - I don't know who or what I am – but I think you do."
"I can't speak to who you were," the Speaker said regretfully after a few seconds. "But I most certainly know what you are."
"You said you haven't seen one like me in a long time," she recalled. "How long, exactly?"
The Speaker leaned back into his chair. "If my estimate is right, it has been close to seven hundred years."
Patriot-3 felt an electric surge of shock. Both that she was that old – and that the Speaker seemed to be as well from his earlier comments. "How is that possible?" She wondered aloud. "How was there anything left of me?"
"That," the Speaker noted, steepling his fingers. "Is an excellent question, though one we will address in due time. The insignia on the shoulder – do you recognize it?"
"I can't even see it."
The Speaker raised a hand and golden energy materialized around his wrist, before forming into a glowing golden symbol in front of an uplifted palm. It was a shield, with six stars within it. "Do you recognize this?"
She shook her head. A waggle of his fingers and the images shifted to other emblems and insignias. Four golden stars, an ornate wheel, a hammer and sickle; at each one she shook her head, feeling like she should know these, but the explanations eluded her. Finally, the Speaker lowered his hand back into his lap.
"It isn't surprising," he said. "In your condition, it was unlikely to result in even partial memory. No matter. You're a very unique individual, Patriot-3, you come from a time before the Traveler. Before the Guardians."
"Was there a war?" She asked the obvious question. "The world…it seems like there was something. Something that almost killed everyone."
"There was," the Speaker nodded. "A cataclysm that almost destroyed us. Darkness that descended upon the Traveler. She pushed it back, but at great cost. Only now is the worst of the Collapse beginning to fade." He shook his head. "But you did not fall in that war. You fell in one much earlier, back when the Triumvirate controlled Earth. Back before the Traveler arrived."
"Who were they?" She asked. "What happened to them?"
The Speaker released a breath, as his voice became melancholic – and almost sorrowful. "That is a long story, but one I will tell you. Ensure you are comfortable, Patriot-3, I suspect we will be here for some time."
TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER I | ARRIVAL
