The jumpship lurched over a pocket of warm air. Rahool gripped the armrests and glared at the cockpit door. Was Cayde trying to make him airsick? He tried looking out his window, but the view just dazed him. It was one thing to enjoy the sights of the City from the safety of the solid Tower. It was another thing altogether to look at it from the air. Blessed Light, he'd never get used to flying! Ships in orbit were all well and fine. But in the atmosphere…? All his considerable knowledge of physics couldn't put his mind at ease. Or his stomach. Blast it all! Couldn't Cayde avoid any of this turbulence? Why did the air have to be so choppy off the mountains in the spring? The Darkness take this whole afternoon!
He tried to relax and think about the day ahead. If they arrived on schedule — which wasn't looking to be a problem with the speed Cayde was taking them at — then he would have roughly forty-five minutes to meet with Dean Kamat and set up the testing space to his liking. These Cryptarchy examinations were all quite routine by now, but he liked the extra time to be prepared. He had to admit it was nice to be able to arrive by jumpship instead of taking the mag-train as he normally did. The trip was infinitely faster this way. Still, he would be lying if he said he didn't prefer ground transport to this infernal machine. But Ikora no doubt thought that the less time Cayde spent in the City would be better for them all, and so she had arranged for shuttlecraft.
The Cryptarchy candidates didn't seem particularly promising this year. As the City College's semester wound on and Rahool corresponded with mentors, he had been disappointed to learn that, once again, the standards he set for admission into the Cryptarchy were not quite being met. The College was slipping, no two ways about it. The board was always ready with excuses as to why they couldn't justify a certain subject or needed to spend less time on key topics like history. The Traveler save him, what were they doing down there these days? Once, they had actually managed to turn their dismal excuse for a school around. There had been a diverse program of study for all students, not just those looking toward the Cryptarchy. The Foundries had released their jealous grip on the school and allowed for exploration into peace studies and the arts with as much pride as their weapons manufacture and engineering programs. Lately, that position seemed to be reversing. It was starting to look like the bad old days all over again.
More than once the President had strongly intimated the College's desire for Rahool to join their ranks, to make the Cryptarchy a permanent installation of the College. The thought was tempting. The ability to shape that school to its potential was no small thing for him to consider...
But no. The Cryptarchy needed to remain at the Tower, close to the Guardians. Perhaps it wasn't always the ideal home, but it was the best he had. Even if that home meant constant dodging through the labyrinth of Tower politics. There were consequences to being in the City, too. How much harder would it be to avoid the Factions and their squabbles outside the Tower? And how much would the Warlocks sneer about how they always knew Rahool was going to give up?
"Hey, Cryptarch!" Cayde's voice crackled over the intercom. "Check it out! There's a pretty good view of the Traveler coming up starboard. Uh, that'd be your right side."
"I know what starboard means, you pretentious ass!" Rahool muttered.
He dared a look out the window as the jumpship banked in a long, gliding arc. The Traveler loomed into view, huge and blindingly bright in the midday sun. Looking at the enormous sphere day in and out for over thirty years had done nothing to diminish the wonder he felt each morning he set eyes on it again. Especially now, this close. Cayde was flying well away from the defense perimeter — the perpetual no-fly zone was meant to protect the Traveler from threats of destruction, as well as from overzealous tourists looking for a better view than from the monument below — and still this was the closest Rahool had ever been. They were flying high enough that, from his window, he couldn't see the ruin at the Traveler's south pole. Here there was only its ivory skin, crisscrossed with mysterious grooves and arcing lines, looking as delicate as the membrane of a bubble. He could almost imagine it was whole and well.
The sight cheered Rahool. His hands slowly relaxed their grips on the armrests. When he put a finger up to the window to trace one of those curious designs on the Traveler's surface, he startled at the sight of the Light over the back of his hand. Like all Awoken, Light crawled in little shimmering waves over the surface of his skin. For him, those waves were dim and fleeting, an echo of what they once had been long ago and far from Earth. At the moment, the Light on his hand was still faint, but the waves were now moving in little eddies and whorls. The Traveler was pulling on it like a magnet. He'd always meant to do a thorough study of his own on the subject, even though the Praxics insisted the phenomenon was well understood. Perhaps, with the Vault project going nowhere, he ought to try again...
Before long, the Traveler was behind them. Rahool sat back in his seat reluctantly. They were passing over the Inner City now, and that meant the trip was nearly over. The College rested almost directly opposite the Tower in the circular layout of the City at large. Their route had been as direct as possible. A trip that usually took over an hour was going to be accomplished in about twenty minutes. Remarkable mode of transportation, air travel. He supposed it was no wonder people preferred it.
Rahool leaned down to rummage through his satchel and double check that he had everything he needed. The ship rattled over another air pocket, sending his stomach into a flip. Blast it all! He'd rather walk!