The Ghost Gossip Network was particularly busy that night. As news spread that a new Guardian had been conceived and needed a ghost, many ghosts set out for the Tower at once.
Varan listened to the chatter, and a little hope touched her core for the first time in centuries. She had wandered far from the Last City, explored the moon and Venus, and ventured back to Earth again. In all those long years, never did she find a hint of her Guardian's spark. She'd joined the spy network of Tower ghosts who mapped Earth's dead zones and guided refugees to the Last City. Many ghosts had perished while doing this, but Varan managed to survive. But it had cost her all hope.
She didn't want to let herself hope again. Not one more time, not just to see that hope crushed.
But ... a baby Guardian, born to Guardian parents. The child's spark may not be compatible with her own, but she might still venture to view this wonder. It wouldn't hurt to visit the Tower. Hope had nothing to do with it. By the time she got there, the child would likely be bonded to a ghost, anyway. This was all curiosity.
This was what Varan told herself as she took to the sky and flew north.
Jayesh reluctantly departed on his assignment to Mars, where his teammate Nell cracked a lot of off-color jokes about his manly aptitude. He took it in stride and concentrated on the mission, but at night, he picked up his messages from Kari and treasured each one.
Kari started work in Intelligence and Analysis. She'd always enjoyed the detailed, fiddly work it required, and it occupied her mind. But as the days turned into weeks, her morning sickness grew worse, until she was dragging into work looking distinctly green.
Because of the length of maternity leave, there were no other Guardian mothers in the Tower to sympathize with her. But she did find a friend in Tara, an elderly Cryptarch.
Tara had been a Guardian for centuries, to the point where she was beginning to show signs of age. In her immensely long life, she had married and reared children, although none had been Guardians. She worked in Analysis, studying ancient tech recovered from the various planets.
When Kari was late to work one morning, Tara met her at the door with a cup of mint tea. "Come rest in my office," she told Kari. "I know what you're going through. I was sick with my first one the entire nine months."
Kari followed Tara to a small office with a decent chair beside the desk. Tara offered it to her and made do with a hard-backed folding chair.
"How're you holding up?" Tara asked, regarding her seriously.
Kari started talking and didn't stop for an hour. She poured out her fears, her loneliness, how badly she missed Jayesh, how she had no idea how to raise a child. Tara listened sympathetically. As Kari wound down, Tara said, "Come in for a cup of tea each morning before work. I raised seven children of my own, four boys and three girls. Now I have hundreds of descendants scattered across the City. Two of my great-great-great grandsons work right here in the Tower." She smiled fondly.
"I'm so glad I can talk to someone about this," Kari said. "This is when it would be really handy to have a mother to ask."
"That's the drawback of being a Guardian, isn't it?" Tara said. "No past history. No family ties. We Guardians have to stick together, because we're all we have." She patted Kari's hand. "Better get to work, dear. Don't want to fall behind."
Kari did, feeling somehow much less nauseated than she had in days.
That evening, when she left work and stepped outside, a cloud of ghosts enveloped her.
Kari gasped at first, then laughed. There were about thirty of them, all wearing basic shells, each blue eye bright and hopeful. They swooped around her, careful never to touch her, the breeze they created ruffling her hair.
"I hope one of you is the one," she said.
"Us, too," several said.
They scanned her abdomen one by one. And one by one, the ghosts flew away in silent disappointment.
Finally Kari was alone with only Neko beside her. "No matches?" she asked him, crestfallen.
"No matches," he replied sadly.
This became a common occurrence. When she stepped outside in the morning or left work at night, a cloud of ghosts descended on her. She grew so used to it that she would read her datapad while they all scanned her and departed one at a time. It was better than paying attention to the looks of dejection they would display. Kari read ghost emotes as clearly as human ones, and it hurt her heart to see them so sad.
Meanwhile, the child continued to grow. Soon Kari couldn't wear the same pants anymore, and had to have an old pair resized to fit her growing waist. The doctors kept a close eye on her, but so far, her pregnancy was progressing naturally.
Six weeks after he departed, Jayesh returned, strained, anxious, and tired from weeks of fighting Hive.
Their reunion was warm and passionate. Kari fixed him a special dinner - real grass-fed beefsteak - and listened to his stories of the Martian front.
"We took out three brood lairs and their queens," Jayesh told her. "They're migrating away from the poles, toward the equator, where its warmer. The Cabal still have holdings out there, and they hate the Hive, so sometimes we sat back and let them do our work for us."
Kari laughed. "The enemy of my enemy, right?"
"Right." Jayesh studied her. "How're you feeling?"
"Oh, well." Kari glossed over her near-constant morning sickness and told him about Tara. Jayesh was pleased.
"I'm glad you've got some kind of support like that. You know, an older mother. I don't know any Guardian fathers. I had Phoenix ask around on Mars. Lots of casual hook-ups. But no ... you know ... actual commitment. It's too hard, always being at war."
"And we miscarry so often," Kari said. "Guardian women have something like a fifty percent miscarry rate. One healing goes the wrong way, the baby dies. Or you die and get resurrected, the baby stays dead. It's heartbreaking."
Jayesh looked a little teary and gulped water to steady his voice. "No ghost yet?"
Kari described being visited by ghosts whenever she stepped outside. "I can't watch them anymore, though. They're so disappointed. So many ghosts, and they all want Guardians so badly. I think I empathize with ghosts too much."
Jayesh smiled sadly and looked at Phoenix, who floated nearby, his red and yellow shell in need of cleaning after six weeks of field work. "I probably do, too."
"You empathize with everyone," Phoenix pointed out. "You even had trouble cleaning out Hive brood."
"Gross, seriously?" Kari said.
Jayesh took a few bites of steak before answering. "Well. We were destroying eggs. With life in them. And it made me think about you, and ... it was hard."
"You still did it, right?"
He nodded. "It's what I was there to do. But I was sick in decontamination afterward. They thought it was just from being around Hive filth. Lots of Guardians get sick from that. That's what I let them think."
Kari rubbed his shoulder as he pushed his steak around. It was a while before he could finish it. She'd already devoured hers and felt better than she had in days.
"At least I've got a whole month until my next assignment," Jayesh said, cheering up. "They're keeping me on Earth for now. I'll run local patrols in the meantime. Maybe take hospital mercy missions. My new healing power is so strong, I could probably do a whole hospital by myself."
"I wish I could," Kari said wistfully. "After being out there, fighting to protect our home for so long, a desk job feels so ... stale. Interesting, but not like I'm saving the world."
"It's better than fighting Taken in the Reef," Jayesh told her. "I'm glad you have anything to do."
She forced a brave smile. "Once I reach second trimester, I'm supposed to feel better. I'm halfway there."
He looked at her anxiously. "I hope so. I wanted to make love tonight, but I'm terrified of hurting you, somehow."
"It's all right," she murmured. "We'll take it slow. The doctors said it's safe."
Jayesh looked relieved. "You let me know if it's the least bit uncomfortable, won't you?"
"I will. Don't be so scared, Jay."
And in the end, it worked out, and they had a wonderful evening.
Varan listened to the GGN constantly. Most of the discussion now was about this Guardian and her unborn child. Many ghosts had met her and scanned the child's spark, but none had been able to bond with it. Many ghosts were sad and a little bitter.
Varan didn't let herself hope. Not when so many others had been turned away. She flew night and day for weeks, staying at high altitudes, where nothing could harm her. The European Dead Zone rolled by beneath her, all mountains, forests, and rivers. She kept track of the time, estimating the child's growth. First trimester. Second trimester.
She sang to herself, very softly, as she flew. It was all right to dream, wasn't it? A dream wasn't the same as hope.
"Dreams are nothing more than wishes," she hummed, "and a wish is just a dream you wish would come true."
So she dreamed of bonding to a new, young Guardian, and tried not to let it become hope.
Then one night, the news broke that the child was sick.
The GGN filled with panic and mourning. A baby Guardian who might die for lack of a ghost? Details flew as ghosts analyzed the child's condition. Birth defects, they said. Flaws in the brain. The child might make it to term, but would die at birth.
Varan tried to fly faster, using the wind currents to speed herself onward.
More news. The mother had been assigned full bed rest with a doctor's visit once a day. The Guardians were determined to save the child, and talked of letting the father try a healing rift.
"The father's a warlock," Varan whispered to herself. "What might the mother be?"
Another warlock, the GGN informed her.
"And they're both wonderful," the mother's ghost told the GGN. "Please, keep trying, friends. Someone has to bond with this child before it's too late."
Varan liked warlocks. But then, she liked titans and hunters, too. Most likely, she wouldn't be a match for the child, either. But a tiny part of her dreamed of what it might be like to have not just a Guardian, but to belong to a Guardian family. To watch her Guardian grow up with no questions about their past.
She reached the Tower one evening as the child was entering third trimester. The child's poor health was holding steady, but the defects meant that he was certain to die once he left the womb.
Varan crept around the new Tower, which she had never seen before, marveling at the damage left by the Red War. It seemed terribly crowded, Guardians and ghosts everywhere.
She sent a message to the mother's ghost, Neko. "I'm here, but it's getting late. When does your Guardian accept ghost visits?"
"She's already had three waves today," Neko replied. "I'll ask if she'll allow one more."
Varan waited, trying not to hope. It would only hurt worse when she was incompatible with the spark.
Neko spoke again. "How many ghosts are with you?"
Varan looked around in the gathering darkness. The Tower was winding down for the night, humans and Guardians congregating in the Tower's ramen and tea shops. She saw no other unattached ghosts. "It's just me."
"Come on in, then. Here's our location." Neko sent her a navigation marker.
Varan followed it downstairs, into the wall itself, where the dormitories were. The marker led her to an upper level apartment - one of the nicer ones with plenty of floor space and a good view. She hesitated outside the door. "I'm here."
"Phase inside," Neko said. "They're waiting for you."
Varan faced the door and sudden fear seized her core. She was about to fail. She would let these Guardians down, and their ghosts would humiliate her. She was about to scan the suffering child for herself and her heart would break once more. Maybe there was no spark compatible with her own. Maybe she should quietly return to the wilds and not open herself to more pain.
She flew in circles in the hallway. No, she had come so far. It would be foolish to travel all the way to the Tower, only to leave without even trying. She was no coward.
Varan phased through the door.
Inside was a tidy apartment lit by warm yellow lamps. A home, she sensed at once. Not just a place for a Guardian to dump their gear. The Guardians here had worked to make this place welcoming for each other.
The mother and father sat together on a sofa, the mother's feet propped up on a chair. They watched Varan with the same expression - wary hope.
Varan wanted to beg them to please not hope. Not for her. Not when she had spent centuries searching for a spark that probably didn't exist.
She halted near the door, too terrified to move any closer.
The mother beckoned. "Come on. It's all right."
"But I'll let you down," Varan said. "So many have tried, and I'm ... I'm ..."
"Just try," said the father. "There's nothing to lose at this point."
Nothing but hope. The hope Varan hadn't wanted to feel. The hope that this rare, special Guardian might be destined for her. Who was she to think she deserved that?
She inched forward, not scanning, only watching their faces, feeling their sparks. Such fine, bright sparks. Some Guardians had fairly dim ones, but these were nearly as pure as the Traveler, itself.
The child's spark glowed from his mother's womb, where he lay curled and comfortable, sleeping. Varan simply gazed at it, not even trying to scan. Such a beautiful life, scarcely begun. It tugged her forward, calling to her, singing a song of love and friendship.
She halted with a gasp.
"What?" the mother exclaimed.
The ghosts of the two Guardians appeared in a flash of Light, staring eagerly at Varan. "She's the one," Neko said.
Varan looked at their eager faces, hope and disbelief battling inside her. A wild impulse to flee crept through her mind. She backed away a little. But the baby's spark continued to call to her, singing.
The father held out a hand. "Please. Don't be afraid. You can save him."
Varan hung in midair, looking at their eager faces, then at the child's glorious spark. Her own Light surged, and without meaning to, she opened her core. Her spark brightened, and she bonded it to the child's, taking in everything about his personality, how his body was knit together, and building the empathic link that let ghosts communicate with their Guardians. It was all the love and companionship she had been created for and lacked for so long.
The child stirred, turning his head toward her, blinking in the darkness of his mother.
"Hello," Varan whispered.
The child had no words yet, but she felt him question, felt his curiosity as he reached for her. And she felt the wrongness in his body.
"You won't die, my Guardian," she murmured. She shone her healing beam on the mother's belly, reaching inside to the baby, repairing the damaged DNA, restoring the missing cells, and fixing numerous other small things wrong that the doctors hadn't yet found.
The mother burst into tears. "He'll live now. He's going to live!"
Varan looked at them all, steadier, her desperation gone. Deep contentment filled her. "I'm sorry, I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Varan."
Thus she met Jayesh and Kari, Phoenix and Neko.
"And what's the child's name?" she asked.
Kari and Jayesh exchanged a look.
"Well," Kari said, "we hadn't picked out a name ... because ..."
"I understand," Varan said, hovering close to Kari, which was as close as she could get to her Guardian. "Then ... if I may ... might I call him Connor? I knew a human by that name once. He fought to save his family from the Fallen. They were rescued, but he was struck down, and ... I'd like to honor his memory."
The parents gazed at her for a long moment, then looked at each other. "I like Connor," said Kari.
"Sounds good to me," Jayesh replied. "You know, Guardians usually name their ghosts, but this is the other way around."
"I hope it's not too forward," Varan said.
"It's fine, Varan," Kari reassured her. "I'm so glad you've found us. I can't even express how glad."
Phoenix and Neko flew to Varan and looked her over from every angle. "You'll need a new shell," Phoenix observed. "You're too pointy to be with a baby."
"You're right," Varan exclaimed, horrified. She turned pleadingly to Kari and Jayesh. "Might I ... would it be possible?"
"We'll get you a new shell," Jayesh reassured her. "Tomorrow, so you can get used to it." He sighed. "I hope you don't mind being adventure-free for a few decades."
"I've had enough adventure," Varan replied. "Lonely, solo adventures are frightening. Having a Guardian is the only adventure I want from now on."