"Bullshit," I said heatedly. "I'm sorry, that's utter shit."

Cayde moved forwards, and I drew my pulse rifle. He flinched, and I levelled the weapon at him.

"It's me Ace," he pleaded. "It's your dad."

I kept the rifle level, and said nothing. Cayde attempted to take another step forewards, before remembering that a rifle was aimed at him.

"If you were my dad," I said slowly, making sure that the barrel of my gun didn't shake. "You would know the name of my mother, your wife. What was her name?"

He looked panicked. "I don't remember! I've wiped my memory six times. I don't even remember the reason I wiped my memory. I have fragments, but your mother ain't one of them,"

I laughed, a humourless harsh sound. "I'm sorry. When you left…when my Dad left, he promised he'd be back. That he'd be cured. Seven years later, the Fall happened, and you still hadn't come back. I was Thirteen when Clovis Bray said that you'd been redeployed on active duty. That you couldn't fulfil your promise. Why am I even talking to you? You can't even prove you're my dad!"

Cayde's face fell. I'd met a few Exos before the Fall while training to be a soldier. They had been soldiers, robots whose expressions matched their impartial training. None of them had ever showed anything but a impassive, metallic expression. But this Exo seemed to show actual despair.

"You're right," he said. "I can't prove I'm your father. My memories are fragmented, my biological body gone. I can't show you a ID, I can't remember much but the war. For the past 50 years, I've been searching for you. I knew that you were probably dead. Hell, I named my gun after you. I remember that I loved you, and that I wasn't always there. I have nothing but a feeling in my metal gut to know that you're my son, and I know that you have no reason, no evidence to trust me. But I know one thing about you. One thing. Your name is Ace and I loved you very much."

He looked crestfallen. "If you like, you can just walk away. But if you want to find me, you'll find me where I usually am. In the map room. See you round, Ace."

He walked away, and I had a itching feeling to go after him. The frame behind me reached out and touched my shoulder.

"Kadi 55-30 knows one thing about User Cayde. He has a unclaimed and unsent letter for Designation Ace. No details were provided, and User Cayde left the letter here in case the Unregistered Entity known as Ace came to pick it up. Kadi 55-30 has analysed the Emotional State of User Cayde over the years, and has come to a independent conclusion: User Cayde loves his son. Missing or not."

I looked in surprise at the Frame. I'd never known a Frame to have sentience. They were designed as non-sentient labourers and soldiers. They weren't meant to come to such conclusions. I looked past the Frame at the various mailboxes, filled with packages and envelopes. The Frame had obviously spent a lot of time active. Each box was carefully tended for, with the name of the users each tended for embossed along the outside of the frame. I noticed that the Frame's torso, limbs and head showed many signs of hard, long labour: possibly since the tower was created. But I also saw signs of carefully performed repair jobs, of polished casing, of care that had been given to this frame. I looked over at the other frames, which (while well cared for by the Tower technicians) did not show this level of care or of the amount of time in service. I looked back at the postmaster, and asked one more thing.

"Please retrieve Letter from Cayde 6 to Ace."

That evening, I came up to my new quarters. They were out the back of the main courtyard, in one of the many housing units that lined the edges. It was a small room, well tended to, and bare of ornamentation. All the basic stuff was there. According to the introductory pamphlet had been given by the postmaster with my key, each guardian was assigned quarters somewhere in the tower. Most of them were quartered in the body of the tower, but a few were quartered in there relatively new rooms. Each composed of two main rooms, and a bathroom. A small food synthesiser was located in the main room, as well as a island benchtop for eating at. A sitting area was at the back, and featured what I assumed was the post-apocalyptic version of a holoscreen. A cupboard was located at the back of the room for storage. The bedroom was pretty simple, with a foam mattress and a few pillows. A blanket was provided, but Ghost said most guardians didn't sleep, as they usually were on active combat. A charging port for Exos was provided, as was a small toolkit in the bedroom. I closed the door, and sat down on the couch that was in the main room. I pulled out the sealed envelope. It was quite old, and had 'Ace' written across it in writing that I didn't recognise. Then again, I hadn't seen my Dad since I was thirteen, and that was 500 years ago. Plus, no one really wrote actual letters by the time I was born. Everyone just used texts. Plus Clovis Bray was planning to release a new thought-based communications system that would eliminate the need to even tap out a text on a screen anymore. Then the Fall happened, and everything ended. Except it both didn't and did.

Ghost hovered beside me, looking down at the letter.

"That letter is approximately 35 years old. Are you sure you want to read it?"

I nodded, and unsealed the envelope. I felt as if I was opening something that didn't quite belong to me, but when I pulled out the letter and began reading, I knew it was from my dad.

Dear Ace;

I know you're probably dead. So many times I've tried to write this letter. So many drafts. I'm about to wipe my memory for the 6th time, and I will tell you why later in the letter, but for now, let me prove who I really am.

When I left home all those years ago, cancer killing my flesh body, and my hopes fixated on finding a cure at Clovis Bray, I promised you I'd be back. That I'd be in a different body- a strange, metal one- but that it would me. I left, and Clovis Bray turned me into what they later called a Exo. I didn't know it then, but they had no intention of sending me home. I lost my name that day, and they gave me a name: Cayde.

I don't remember much after that. They wiped my memory three times, each time after I began to remember my old life. They were scared of a robot uprising, like I in those old Terminator Holomovies, and they feared me as a result. I was a soldier, one they could control. After those three times, the collapse happened, and I got sent out to fight in the hopeless battle. Did you know that although Humans and Awoken can remember the majority of their past life, Exo revived by ghosts suffer a effect simular to memory wipe. Each time our memory is wiped, we lost bits of our memory forever, but they're not gone. I remember fragments, but each is like a fish swimming round a pond. At least I think they are. But let me continue this metaphor, if you will. I remember fragments, and I can 'catch' more by associating objects that I currently possess with memories. For instance, I have a hand cannon which I associate with you. It's called 'The Ace of Spades'. Pretty damm catchy name, but the gorram gunsmith won't start building it. He keeps talking about how 'You don't have enough glimmer to pay for a custom job'. I tell him 'Well maybe you'll help a fellow Exo and just build it?'. He just doesn't get that glimmer is meant to be spent on drinks. Not on guns. Well, guns are good, but would you rather get drunk out of your metal ass or buy a hand cannon with a poker symbol on it? I really would prefer the drinks. They help me keep my mind off the fact that I have no idea what to say in this letter. Oh right, I've already written most of it. Guess I've had a few too many drinks. Now that I read what I've written, I realise that this is the letter I've been looking for. No! I don't want to leave. Eris can wait Amanda! Uugh, Vanguard stuff. Anyway, I hope I finally find you. I'm just going to finish this whiskey…maybe another two. Goodbye possible figment of my drunk ass mind!

The letter was unsigned, and undated. I also noticed several spelling errors in the document, and what looked like beer stains and a few decaying peanut crumbs along the centre fold. I read it again, and smiled. Guess Dad hadn't lost his sense of humour. The reason I was so sure? Nobody else I knew used the word Gorram. Dad used to love that old space western show. Flame Mosquito or something. There was some sort of cowboy astronaut who Dad joked was his uncle. They sounded so simular. I didn't get why he watched a show that was cancelled after one year almost 200 years before I was even born. He said I 'didn't appreciate the classics' and that 'I should shut my gorram mouth'. I tucked the letter back into the envelope, and went to find Cayde.

"Ace!"

Cayde rushed from the map table, looking like he was going to hug me. He then remembered what I had said, and stopped.

"Don't worry Cayde, I'm definitely your son," I said grinning. "No other person uses the word 'Gorram' in normal conversation. You still obsess over a dead show?"

He gaped, and then set his metal mouth into a smile.

"OMT. So you read that letter?"

I nodded, and was about to move forward to hug him, when the Titan Vanguard interrupted with a polite cough.

"I'm sorry to interrupt the family reunion, but we have a situation here. We were just about to summon you in fact…Ace is it?"

I stepped forwards, all focused on the job now. "Commander Zavala wasn't it?"

The tall man (apparently a member of a race called 'Awoken') nodded, and gestured towards the map table.

"Three hours ago, one of our listening posts near the Cosmodrome picked up a signal emanating from a unknown location. It was a wide-area broadcast, and quite fragmented. It contained some form of distorted radio message, which we were unable to decipher. A few minutes later, we intercepted a Fallen communication from the same area of the cosmodrome. Our translators worked out that they were ripping apart a certain area of the Cosmodrome looking for some Golden-Age treasure. We need you to scout out the location and find out what the Fallen have discovered. We're counting on you, Guardian."

I nodded, and said my goodbyes. I rushed out, telling Ghost to summon the ship. I reached the courtyard, and transmatted into the cockpit. I fired the boosters, and began my trip to the Cosmodrome.

Authors Note: Well, here is chapter 4 of Outbound hopes people. I have a few things to say, one of which is thank you! I have received 7 follows from people now for this story in the short time it's been out, and I'd like to thank the new followers. Thanks to Clare Prime of Ultra, PrimesGirl93 (are you the same person as the previous follower? If so, thanks for your support), SynapticSync and Dekuton. I'd also like to thank Claire Prime of Ultra especially for also favouriting the story. Your support helps me keep the courage to publish this stuff. They say that writing comes from the soul, so I'd like to thank these people for aiding the transferal of writing from such a non-scientific concept that I totally don't believe in.

Just BTW, there will probably be 2 chapters for this story published this week, as I have exams next week, and therefore need to study. As a result, please hold on for the next few instalments. As a warning, this may be all I can publish this week, so hold your hats. As always, please review this story and tell me what you think!