"The Orokin were not ones to suffer invasion lightly. They possessed the most brilliant minds ever witnessed. Solutions were multi-faceted; their approaches manifold.
Technocyte was the first. An instinctive reaction, perhaps. Short-sighted, most certainly. A targeted biological plague, as adaptable and numerous as the very machines that had descended upon the Origin System. Accounts of where the plague was released are largely expunged from the public record, but the author is aware of a number of select, seemingly proscribed texts which indicate that the more unruly elements of the civilian populace may have been intentionally seeded with the virus. These are likely spurious claims, intended to discredit our ancestors.
Other accounts differ; maintaining that the plague predated The Destroyer's arrival.
In any event, untamed Technocyte proved too difficult to control. Impossible to harness in its raw, primal state. A control mechanism was needed. Orokin scientists raced to find a means of doing so. The presence of Dark Sectors today indicates they never succeeded.
In the meantime, the venerated Dax soldiery would be deployed, in numbers hitherto unseen in the history of the Orokin Empire. Their lives would be expended for time; a brutal calculus, while a more definitive solution was found.
It was in researching these solutions that I stumbled upon the curious case of the Zariman Ten Zero, a forgotten Orokin science vessel, all but expunged from the official record…"
- A History of the Latter Orokin Empire, Collected Essays by E.M. Saronal
Kef Mehrino's fluted glass hit the floor and shattered into a thousand pieces. Outside the observation window, the horizon was a tableau of explosions and sudden flashes of plasma fires; and beyond, a line of inbound hostile transports barely visible through the haze.
He rounded on Eythan in an instant, pointing across the room.
"You! You did this! A trick, some corporate treachery! How dare you!"
In the blink of an eye Kef Mehrino was choking, his throat clamped in a golden gauntlet. The strength required to lift the portly Corpus trader was superhuman. As was the speed with which Eythan crossed the chamber. Mehrino's guards stood frozen where they were, entirely intimidated by the golden warrior.
"Any more accusations, Director Mehrino, and I will silence you the only way I know how."
Kef Mehrino's legs kicked in the air, as he choked for air. Mehrino's eyes bulged out on stalks, his face steadily turning blue.
"Now listen here and listen closely, worm: our agreement stands, but only upon delivery."
The last word was all but spat. Eythan released his grip; dropping Mehrino like a wheezing sack, before stalking from the chamber.
Kef Mehrino lay gasping on the floor, puce and sweating. He flapped a hand at Kren Maruk.
"Go, go you idiot!" Mehrino croaked. "Defend that ship! Defend my city!"
The Exchange Commission, much like the rest of the architecture throughout the Upper Tier, was a sterile, functional space: all clean lines and spotless decking. The only difference was that this building was blast insulated, scan insulated and sound insulated; featuring a thousand security systems and inhabited by the widest variety of cutthroats, mercenaries and guns for hire this side of Venus: an oasis of bad behaviour in an otherwise sterile environment.
Yet no rules were broken here. To do so would be suicidal in the extreme.
Terrenus Vern and his team sat in a boardroom, opposite a single gaunt clerk who calmly processed their claim. They had left Neera Hosk with the guards at reception, where she would be taken for independent verification.
Two guards stood by Brakarr, a necessary precaution given his Grineer heritage. Two others stood in the far corner, arms folded behind their backs. The guards were Commission Agents; dressed in spotless white long coats, their eyes hidden by dark glasses which doubtless afforded them with all manner of scanning software. They had been heavily cyberized; though the work was expensively subtle.
The room was bare, save for a pitcher of iced water and a series of crystalline glasses. Parson-Luk reached forward with grubby hands, and started greedily drinking from the jug, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly. The clerk wrinkled his nose in disgust.
Isolde hid a smile despite herself.
A face appeared on the wall monitor: a rakish man with a neatly clipped goatee and cybernetic eyes not dissimilar from Vern's own. He smiled down at them, as a teacher would to their most favourite pupil.
"Ah, Terrenus. Such a pleasure to see one of our most accomplished assets."
"Drask." Vern nodded. "Long time."
"You've been under contract on that rock for months now. Isn't it time you came back into the fold?"
"Yeah. Business first. Got a bounty for you. Consider it my buy-in."
Drask read the details as the cleric uploaded them.
"Neera Hosk." Drask whistled. "A risky proposition. Though you've never been afraid of upsetting people."
"It generally pays the bills." Vern agreed.
Their conversation was interrupted by a muffled explosion. Parson-Luk spat water across the boardroom table, twisting about in his chair; earrings jangling. Even this deep inside the Exchange, Isolde could feel the rumble in her chair. She exchanged a glance with Vern.
The Exchange Agents stood as they were, unmoved. Drask's expression remained as politely civil as ever.
"A domestic dispute. Local agitators I expect. Still, you know the drill."
A series of yellow circles appeared on the spotless white wall to their right.
"Hands on the circles until you ident is confirmed."
"Is this necessary?" Vern scowled.
"One can never be too careful, in the days of projection shrouds."
Vern's team padded over to the wall, grumbling as they lined up and pressed their hands against the yellow circles. This was routine to them, but an unwelcome one. They had earned their Platinum Rating long ago.
Vern's circles turned green, followed by Parson-Luk's. Brakarr's flared orange. He flexed a cybernetic hand twice, hit it against the wall, then tried it again. It too flushed green.
Isolde's went orange, then flared an angry red. She frowned, took a step back. Tried it again.
Another pulse of angry red.
A suppression unit unfolded from the ceiling. Suddenly the room was bathed in that uncomfortable warbling energy jelly that robbed Isolde of her Void Sense. A Nullification Field.
The Commission Agents drew on her in unison.
"Ah, so it is true." Drask smiled.
Vern turned and glared up at the screen.
"What's going on, Drask?"
"We'd heard rumours you were running with a person of interest, but needed to be certain. Took us a while to recalibrate the software to match the samples we'd been given. You see, there's somebody in-Sector with a great deal of credits; actively seeking people very like your young companion there. A Tenno, most unusual."
All eyes were on her now. Vern, stoic and grim. Parson-Luk, his eyes wide in concern. Brakarr's face was unreadable, but she felt his stare even through the visor. Isolde grew even paler than usual. Without her Void Powers, she suddenly felt naked and alone. She was outnumbered, significantly outgunned. Most crucially, Void Blind.
Drask's smile deepened to a grin.
"Congratulations, Terrenus. You stand to make a great deal of credits altogether."
Isolde looked at Vern. Vern looked at Isolde.
"Uh, Sir, if you would kindly place your thumb on this pad please?" the clerk asked, pushing a data slate across the boardroom table toward Vern.
Vern looked at the sum cited on the bounty slip. More than any lifetime of hunting could provide. His mouth became set. He looked back at Isolde, intently.
"Terrenus…" Isolde said. She hated the unfamiliar fear in her voice. "Terrenus please."
"What did I tell you, the day we met girl." Vern said quietly.
She blinked.
"…That I wouldn't have to fight for anybody but myself."
He gave a curt nod.
"And the second?"
"That nobody in the galaxy looks out for us…"
The words caught in her throat.
Vern nodded with grim finality. He drew faster than Isolde could blink.
The Lex sounded twice; twinned thunderclaps in the confined space.
Vern lowered the gun, barrel smoking.
The clerk's brains painted the wall as he hit the floor. The Nullification Field evaporated in an instant.
"Only us." Vern finished for her.
It was an instruction as much as any thing else. The Exchange Agents snapped their attention to Vern in a flash.
The first fell silently, a kunai lodged in his eye socket. The second went down choking, a blow-dart in his throat; rare poisons swelling his face beyond all human recognition.
The two beside Brakarr were simply lifted and bashed together like cymbals. The giant Grineer cast them aside with a wet thud.
Edmun Drask, Broker-in-Chief of the Exchange, looked down at Vern, simmering with an icy rage.
"Never figured you for the sentimental type, Terrenus."
"Nobody fugs with my team. Not even you."
"We'll hunt you for this. You know that."
The Lex sounded again. Vern dumped the entire mag into the monitor. A shower of sparks and descending glass cascaded across the floor.
"Gear up." Vern ordered as he smoothly reloaded. "We're leaving."
The City Watch's response to the invasion was groggy; punch-drunk from the blistering assault the Resistance had unleashed, yet even so they began to rally. Local drone servers were down, but the numerous trade galleys did not stand idly by as the Upper Tier erupted in fire. Open rebellion was anathema to the Corpus Order, irrespective of Guild affiliation.
Urgent distress signals were sent. While Anyo Corp had all but washed their hands of the colony, this did not mean the Corpus Navy sat idly by. Reinforcements were surely coming.
For now the Watch were on their own. Fireteams hastened through the swirling smoke, lugging anti material projectors and interceptor launchers. Long-barrelled Supra repeaters were dragged out by firing crews; their bipods hastily erected on short notice.
The Resistance craft were all but on top of them as they fanned out across the landing pads. Air processor units became command points; maintenance channels became makeshift trenches as the City Watch mustered a last minute defence in the face of the oncoming storm.
Hosk had anticipated such a response. The transports were not toothless.
Rocket pods unfolded from the dented fuselage of the transports. They were single use munitions, disposable. That didn't matter. This was a one way trip.
The rockets shrieked out, twirling into the air before slamming into the Corpus line in geysers of fire and smoke. Plasma shot and repeaters rounds blitzed through the dust, stitching across the transports. One transport's rocket pod cooked off and went up in an eruption of fire; a plume of smoking fire venting freely from its belly as it twisted and smashed down amidst the Corpus in a searing flash; vaporising everything within the blast radius.
Transports made landfall: bare metal bellies shrieking across the deck in sheets of flitting sparks. Landing hatches slammed down with a jolting clang, disgorging resistance fighters. They let out a resounding roar as they charged. Hard rounds and an exotic chatter of weapons fire joined the cacophony. Weapon crews on the upper decks of the transports hosed out a withering hail of suppressive fire. The transports became makeshift siege towers, lining the open landing pad like ominous tombstones.
Hosk was first out amongst his men. Men and women collapsed around him, cut down as they charged.
He didn't bother shooting. He just pumped his legs, hurling himself into the first maintenance trench available. Hosk didn't feel his age, or the painful bang his knees took as they hit the deck. Adrenaline buzzed through his system. Every hair stood on end; every detail rendered crystal clear from the combat high.
The other rebels reached the first marker; dog piling into a make-shift trench beside him. The trench floor was carpeted with Corpus bodies. Gasping for breath, hands shaking but determined, Hosk set his Burston on the trench lip and picked out shots. He had no idea whether he was hitting anything or not.
A shadow flitted overhead. The Tenno, sailing through the air in a twisting leap that defied all rational physics. Hosk could taste the eldritch Void on his tongue; that electro-static tang.
Mirage fell amongst the Corpus, a machine pistol in each hand. By the time the Warframe landed it was already moving, killing; laughing. Body parts flew through the air, as a ball of light seared down the Corpus trench, demolishing everyone and everything in its path.
The weight of incoming fire on the Resistance trench line slackened immediately.
"Forward!" Hosk bawled, rising to his feet. "Forward! For the colony; for your children!"
In the air, the Severance Package continued to weather the storm as more Resistance dropships droned by; as a second wave brought fresh fighters to the fray. With the aerial defences down, the Resistance flyers focused the entirety of their furious assault on the bruised salvage barge. Time and time again, the shields threatened to fail. More than a few flyers were caught by its thundering emplacements; chewed into flaming shrapnel and brief gluts of fire. The Severance's crew roared approval and thumped their chests with each successive kill.
And yet still the onslaught continued. Several times the shields nearly collapsed. This underscored the weight of incoming fire. Beneath its scabrous plated hide, the Severance was ultimately a Corpus vessel, complete with redundant shield systems. But even these would not hold forever.
"Secondary shields at thirty percent." Pohld warned Bravic.
"Divert power; all non-essential systems!" The captain barked. "Keep us in this fight!"
Inside the boy's cell, the Nullification Field strained to fever pitch, then failed altogether; fading with a descending groan.
The boy rose to his feet, shivering as his connection to the Void flooded back.
The energy screen that formed the traditional cell was pitifully weak. He simply raised a hand and blasted the wall beside him; searing clean through the deck plating.
The boy stepped out into the corridor, wreathed in smoke. He closed his eyes, sensing through the Void.
It called to him, guiding him.
The decks were largely empty; his only encounter being with a lowly crewman who saw him, blanched, and fled gibbering in the opposite direction. The boy ignored him, instead touching a wall and breathing deeply.
Not far now. Just up ahead.
He found it in one of the engineering bays; stretched out on the table like an anatomical specimen.
The boy hesitated when he saw it. Its draw was palpable, but the feeling of nostalgia and connection almost overwhelming. The Frame belonged to him; and he, in many ways, to it.
Flesh and steel that was not his own, and yet he knew every inch, every armoured plate and curving line. He marvelled at its craftsmanship, the corded muscle of its sword-skin. Instinct called to him.
The boy placed a glowing hand on the Warframe's domed head. The Frame jolted; hands shaking as it reawakened after centuries dormant. The glowing light flowed up through the boy's arm; enveloping him as he closed his eyes.
And remembered everything.