Pack Your Bags

Fun fact: if you ever need to leave Sol for distant star systems, you need to hit FTL.

Other fun fact: Standard jumpships given out to Guardians who work in the Vanguard, and even then most ships that people find lying around on both Earth and Sol's planets, can't hit faster-than-light speeds.

It was the second major road block when it came to venturing off to Nu2 Lupi. Of course, when she did get the coords for it she thought it was a joke, but Drifter assured her (as assuring as a guy laughing his ass off could be) that yes, it's in the Lupus constellation and that she, of all people, is going towards it. The star itself is said to be older than Sol, but when it comes to stars the word 'old' is measured in the billions, and a few centuries from it's discovery doesn't change that thought. Funnily enough, however, it's not too far from Sol itself. On a galactic scale it's only a few dozen lightyears away from here.

Only an hour or two's drive on a sparrow, if you scale it down. Going now would be trying to scale the same distance the sparrow would go by crawling on your stomach. Roughly.

To be exact, the planet she's aiming for is Nu2 Lupi d, which was supposed to be some sort of water-covered super-Earth. The odd part was that, between the Golden Age and the later parts of the Dark Age, it shrunk. Drifter told her himself that he was just as confused when he saw that, back in the day.

It only makes her more worried. The power to do something like that must be immense, something the likes of a Dark being hyped up on power from the Sword Logic, or perhaps the Vex molding the whole thing to suit their needs, like a weirder Nessus. If it does end up being Vex, she is immediately turning her ship around and heading the other direction because this vacation is supposed to get her away from the things, not towards them.

Back on track; if she wants to hit FTL, she's going to need a jump-drive that can handle going such a distance. Thankfully, she knows of a few locales that holds a few ships that came from outside Sol. She might not be able to rip apart the fabric of space like an especially powerful Hive being, and is most definitely not going to attempt to pull a Praydeth and try to use Vex time gates to just teleport there, unlike a certain hunter she knew. Thankfully, there are more sane means of travel that other alien civilizations have discovered. So, she decided to loot a downed ship that might still have a drive that can handle such strain.

Which might explain why there's a hail of micro-rockets assaulting her current position. Said position is a heaping scrap pile of a recently detonated Red Legion hover tank. The hunter absentmindedly tosses an explosive knife when she sees a Legionary overextend itself, hearing a singular beep before a meaty thuck removes it's chest cavity.

"You know," Her Ghost speaks dryly through their link. "If you wanted to throw down with the Cabal so badly, you could've just stormed Hades again." A second pause, then "They're trying to flank your left, now."

She ignores the first part, fingering the trigger guard of her rifle, then shaking her head and saying "Need something better than a pulse, then. Bow?" The rifle in her hands, which had a strange collection of rings around the barrel, disappears in a flash of transmat, and then a second and third flash gives her a longbow with brass curves and a quiver to match. "Thanks."

Eying her right, she pulls on the Void within her, letting it eat the idea of her presence being revealed to the psion sniper that has her pinned down almost forty meters out choke her, and when she dives the only thing that gives her away is an arrow going into it's helmet, herself reappearing much closer. Pulling further on it's demise, the Void rewards her with a second puff of voidsmoke, and she's gone by the time the troupe of incendiary units turn around, spewing fire in her general direction.

After a few seconds of continuous fire, where her previous cover becomes nothing but a pile of slag along with a good bit of the street the firefight took place on, she reappears within the triangle formation the spooked Incendior units formed. Tossing another knife at what looked like the one farthest from her, she pulls back the drawstring and hits the tank of the one looking directly away from her, and by the time the third looks at her it gets an arrow through one of it's lenses. By the time the third one hits the floor, she threw herself away from the resulting explosion of the second-

And getting her right leg bathed in flames for her trouble, punching right through her shields. Biting back a scream, she looks back at the approaching Incendior to see that her knife left a long, bleeding gash in the side of it's helmet.

Must've turned it's head when I wasn't looking. Standing back on her legs, despite the seared one's protest, she gathers her Light as she sees it pull out it's super-heated wrist blade and charge her. Feeling the Void rush through her limbs, she swears every time that if she puts in more that she might just become nothing, then pushes as a dark arrow flies from her bow. The Void reduces it to nothing before it hits the ground.

The only sound left is the slowly dying fire of the reckless Incendiors and her labored breathing. Another look around the clearing shows no signs of targets.

"Nothing on radar; looks like you're in the clear Wolf."

The hunter lets out a sigh. "I'm losing my touch." She mutters, carefully hobbling her way through the burning fires and towards a less-scorched piece of ground. Ghost materializes beside her, moving to heal her leg with a burst of Light. As he finishes, she bends down and picks up the knife that only grazed her last opponent. There's still a bit of blood-and-oil stuck to the blade, along with some dirt. "Eugh."

Ghost moves up and moves his shell in the approximation of an impatient look. Wolf shakes her head. "Right, super-advanced jumpdrive first, knife cleaning later." She rubs off as much as she can in a single swipe across her non-scorched thigh, then looks up at the downed vessel.

From the outside, it doesn't look very assuming. Well, as unassuming as any other Cabal vessel looks like. Seeing how they love to throw themselves out of cannons and literally smash themselves into combat, one would think they would make a jumpship capable of faster-than-light travel look obvious. The Cabal, of course, disregard that rule this one time and make one that looks just like any other old Harvester transport vessel to confuse little Hunters looting about.

Wolf looks at the "Harvester."

She turns her head to Ghost. "So... where's the thingamajig?"

Ghost turns to her with an affronted look. "'Thingamajig'? You're calling a piece of technology that's more advanced than anything from the Golden Age was able to be achieved a 'thingamajig'?"

Wolf tilts her head to the side in thought. "...yeah." She shrugs. "I mean, it's impressive, but we just got done with time travel and deleting a ship the size of the Last City, so I'm feeling kind of blasé about it at the moment, you know?"

Ghost swells up his shell, as if he's about to argue it, then reshuffles his fins as he lets out a sigh. "I'm going to scan the ship, see if the drive core is still stable for transmat." He manages one more roll of his green optic before flying off to dive into the modified Harvester.

She chuckled, relishing how she could still feel the fondness radiating off of her partner since, well, forever. Literally. She owes so much to him, for a multitude of reasons, and right now? Telling him something honest? It's the right thing to do, since they're both in it for the long haul. She should have started earlier, when she was still getting her bearings within the world, or star system, really. And that whole silent treatment she gave the universe shouldn't have included Ghost.

It's different, now, but as much as she's liked to change fate, that part of her past she can't shape.

"Gone for a stroll?"

It took every fiber of her being to not pull her gun and keep looking forward. "Something like that, yeah."

Whoever sneaked up on her definitely wasn't detected by Ghost, and seeing as how he hasn't sent any warning to her he either is alright with whoever is behind her, or still has no clue that they have a tag-along. The odd drawl practically screams something like wherever Holiday used to be from, and they have to be some kind of Hunter. That, or an absolute sidewinder of a Warlock. Or Drifter.

Out of the corner of her eye, the man walks up besides her, hands resting on his hips. Said hands are pushing back a cloak. So, definitely not the last two. The question now is which one is this?

"Heard that it was going to take you a long while to finish this stroll. That true?"

"Something like that, yeah." She tried her best to get a better look at the figure next to her, but the cloak is still covering too much of him to see much else. "So uh... not to be rude, but who the hell are you?"

"You'll figure that out real soon." He shifts from leaning on one foot to the other, seeming to examine the crashed ship before them. "But you know that I tend to keep an eye on certain problems, and make sure they don't get out of hand." He looks towards Wolf. "Can't figure out which one you are, yet."

Even though he can't see Wolf's face through her helmet, she can't help but slowly blink. "You... might need to be more specific." She gets the sudden urge to add a wave of her hands for dramatic flair, but end up looking away from this stranger. "I've done- well, I've done a few things that weigh me down."

A moment of silence.

"Well, everyone has their moments." Wolf hears him say, a laugh in his voice. "And I can tell you that I have much more weighing me down. But that questioning?" He twists slightly, and out of the corner of her eye, she spots tanned skin covering a jaw, a faint hint of a five-o-clock shadow covering his chin. "That's what's makes you dangerous. I don't know what side you're on, kid."

Wolf grits her teeth.

"Who are you?"

She's shivering. It's so cold, despite the sunlight on her face.

"Don't you recognize us?" It mockingly said, with her face. "We are not your friend." A step closer. "We are not your enemy." She's cornered, despite being in the open. "We are your... salvation."

Wolf squeezes her eyes shut. Takes in a breath, holds it for five seconds, and lets it out. She takes the corner of her cloak, rubbing the Awoken material between her gloved finger and thumb.

She turns a bit, going to answer. "I..." Then falters, her voice once strong falling to a whisper. "I don't..."

Quiet falls between the two.

"Well, regardless of that," In complete contrast of his imposing presence a few moments before, he bends down to pick up a crate that most definitely was not there a few moments before, and holds it out to her. "Here."

Wolf looks down to the crate and can't help but raise a brow. Wow, that thing's... old. It's metal, and it's about the size of her torso, with the box itself worn down to the point that it's warped in certain spots. And, despite it's unassuming exterior, she can't help her skin from crawling at the sight of it. Hell, her very Light shivers from proximity.

The young hunter looks up to her senior, still unable to see the upper half of his face thanks to his cloak. The questioning eyebrow isn't visible, but he seems to pick up on it. "It's to help solve that uncertainty. This is me asking you a question, and you'll know the answer when you work towards it."

She looks down at the box again, torn. I was just supposed to head out here, go grab a thingamajig, and be on my merry way to a working vacation, and here's another eccentric hunter pulling... something on me.

Telling herself that if it turns out to be a bomb, she'll just reverse-engineer it and mail it back to him (whoever "he" is) Wolf takes a step forwards and grabs the crate from him. "Uh, thanks..." She starts, only for the mystery hunter to turn away from her and start walking off. "Where are you going?"

"Off to deal with more problems. Now, I would say to not start any problems yourself, but..." He turns a bit, and-

There's a flash of gold at his waist, and she freezes on the spot.

"You're in a little too deep now, for you to stop. Best get to answering that question."

It grins, looking into her eyes. "And now you are, too, Salvation."

She waits until he's gone, from every sense both causal, paracausal, and her gut instinct, to drop the crate, rip off her helmet and upheave her lunch onto the scorched ground. Her hands shake, and she grips them together, trying to get them to stop in time-

"Wolf?" But too late, always too late, Ghost sees her before she can compose herself, and it's another failure to add to the collection. "What's wrong; tell me, please!"

She can't say anything, her throat feels as if it's constricting on itself, and the taste of bile makes it hard to breathe, and-

A weight settles on her left shoulder, and she can vaguely recognize a tune being played softly into her ear. Some old song, older than the discovery of the traveler. Singing it's message that everything will be alright.

It takes time, but she recollects her bearings. She asks Ghost if he found the FTL drive, and he replies in the affirmative. He asks what the crate is, after that.

Her voice is grim. "An answer. One that The Man wants out of me."

She can feel the worry radiate off of him. "What do we do with it, Wolf?"

"Vault." She bites out. "I'm falling apart at the seams, Ghost. I don't know if I can handle another truth."

He quickly takes the whole crate into their personal vault, shivering as he does so. "That... that was Dark, Wolf." He turns his optic to look at Wolf. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

She stares off into the direction the hunter went, eyes distant. "I don't think I have a choice."

Coming back to the Tower felt oddly... final, for some reason. She knows that she'll be back, because she will most definitely not abandon the Last City and throw it to the warbeasts. But while she haggled with Amanda about if she really needs to play the full price of installing a new drive core if Wolf was doing it herself; 'come on Holliday, I've done more dangerous things while under gunfire, let me just pay a bit to borrow your tools', which lead to a whole argument on why Wolf needs a FTL drive core installed, 'where are you going, Wolf, no don't touch that'-

It was a whole thing, and Ghost had to drag her (metaphorically, of course) away, with him giving the shipwright the glimmer needed to install the damn thing. Now, the hunter is walking around her flat, doing something that Ghost said was necessary for when you go for a long trip: cleaning the fridge.

In the middle of cleaning out some apples, she spots a small bag sitting in the corner of the same drawer. Pulling it out, she wrinkles her nose at it. "Plums? I don't even eat plums, where the hell..." She drifts off, tossing both bags into the trash. Ghost, sorting for the third time all of their supplies that they're taking on their trip, fakes a snort of laughter. Wolf shoots a look towards him, brow raised. "What?"

"Nothing, nothing." He doesn't look up, taking another scan of a satchel full of medical supplies. "I think the plums came from Chrys; he said something about it helping Guardians after a rez, but you were preoccupied at the time, so I put them away for you. And there they go, Chrys' hard work, nothing but garbage."

"Hey now," She has to stop herself from laughing, turning back to cleaning out the fridge. "Just 'cause he tends to be wrong a lot doesn't mean all of his theories are bad."

"True: nobody would know the truth unless they set out to find it. He just..." He lifts his side fins in a mockery of a shrug. "Fails. A lot. Traveler bless his determined plasteel heart."

She huffs out a laugh, then goes back to cleaning. The talking help move things along faster, even though in reality it's probably slowing her down, but it makes the process more... fun? Not really, but at least she isn't alone, even though Ghost could probably finish all that she is doing in about ten seconds. Not that she'd make him do it, he is not her servant, and that line of thought is what Dark Age Guardians thought of and she is better than that-

Wolf shakes her head, realizing another ramble coming forth. That way leads to madness, lass. Devrim would probably say that. While, like, drinking tea in one hand and popping the head of a phalanx in the other from a hundred meters out.

After another while of cleaning, in where she finished the fridge and is debating with Ghost if they can pack some foodstuffs into engrams for longer preservation times (yes to a few favorites, no to the whole pantry) when a knock interrupted their argument.

She looks from the door to Ghost, then back to the door. "Did someone call, and I didn't know?"

She hears Ghost shuffle his shell a few times. "No, nothing broadcasting on any channels, either."

Her eyes squint slightly, trying to hide her nervousness. "It's not Jax, is it?"

The hunter can feel Ghost's gaze drill into her. "Why?"

She shrugs. It's laughably inadequate for how she feels about that question. "Just..." She waves her hand a bit. "A lot of baggage I don't need for the trip, you know? I'd be better if I just go, and ask for forgiveness when I come back?"

The knock comes back, same pattern and everything. She drags up enough determination, slaps on a bright smile, puts way too much swagger in her step, and opens the door.

A dark skinned woman with a shaved head stands before her. The smile wavers greatly. "Oh... hey, Ikora. Ma'am." Her hand instantly goes for the edge of her cloak, rubbing the material. The swagger leaves her completely. A frustrated part of her wants to bite off her tongue.

"Good evening, Wolf. Ghost." The warlock nods her head to both of them. "May I come in?"

The Ghost and the hunter both look at each other, then at the Vanguard head. Her smile is much more nervous. "S-sure, come right in, come right in. Hey do you want a drink: I don't really have much, other than-" She does a quick count of what she has left. "Hard alcohol. Everything else went bad. Wait no, you're probably going right back to work after this, you shouldn't drink. Unless you need a drink, then I can grab a-"

"Wolf." Both Ghost and Ikora say simultaneously. Ikora continues after a quick glance to Ghost. "It's only a quick visit, and knowing your history of answering calls I've taken it upon myself to see you in person."

Oh, great. "Oh." She smiles. "Great. Well, I don't get the chance to talk to you outside of Vanguard Ops, so..."

Her mind draws a blank. She's never really... talked to Ikora, before. A scant few words here and there, sure, but they were when the city was basically falling apart or some discovery of damning proportions was made, and that she herself was in the thick of it. But talking- no, chatting with Ikora? Never.

Well, there goes my social confidence, died an early death.

Thankfully, she didn't have to start up anything, as Ikora does that for her. "So I hear that you're getting an FTL drive installed on the Manus Celer Dei. Seems a little... strong, for going in between planets, does it not?"

So she was here for business. Internally, she breathes out a sigh of relief. Also internally, it gets caught in her throat. "Wait, how did you-" She pauses. "Holliday said something, didn't she?" Her shoulders sag a bit at the knowing look. "Look, I'm not leaving, alright?"

"Oh. Really?" Ikora makes a very obvious glance over in Ghost's direction, where at some point in the conversation he continued packing. "You look to be packing quite tightly for someone not leaving..." The warlock's words drift off as something catches her eyes. "Is.. is that part of a servitor?"

Looking behind her, Wolf scans over the collected items on the coffee table to- "Yup, good eye, Ikora. Hey Ghost, is the filter still-"

"All good, Wolf. Just packed it away, mind, now I'm checking that your rig still interacts well with my vault." He gives the part a wary glance. "I know it's going to work, but it doesn't look it."

Wolf scoffs. "It'll work, Ghost; stop judging a book by it's cover."

The small machine ignores her. "Seriously, it looks like an errant wind will make it just... fall apart. All that hard work, gone with the plums."

Ikora shakes her head, mouthing something suspiciously close to "Why plums?" before speaking up. "Why do you have a servitor in your den, Wolf?"

The words start spilling out of her mouth before she can register Ghost shaking his shell. "To make Ether."

The Vanguard head of Internal Affairs and Intelligence slowly blinks. "Ether." She speaks, voice guarded.

Noticing the look, Wolf shrinks ever so slightly. She hates it when people do that. The whole 'You just did something strange and I am judging you for it' look. There's probably a word for it, but she has a Warlock in front of her that looks like it wants to engage in a game of words.

She hates word games, so Wolf nods and says "Ether." She points back at the open pantry, where there's a few bottles on display. "Tastes great with a good drink. Don't have a name for it, yet."

The resulting quiet she gets from the warlock is disquieting. The hunter clears her throat. "Um, Ikora? Ma'am?"

Ikora shakes her head- and is that a ghost of a smile?- and lets out a sigh. "Let us get back to the matter at hand, shall we?"

"Right."

"I'm approving your leave."

Wolf bites back her words, ready for the complete opposite set of words. "What." She doesn't even have it in her to phrase it as a question.

The warlock Vanguard drops the more formal stance for a more personable, casual one. "You're high-strung. Anyone with any training in observation can tell that you're tense."

"Pretty sure that's a good trait for a hunter." She mutters.

"Moreso than what is healthy, Wolf. Not only is that dangerous for yourself, but it will become a danger to others." Ikora smiles. It's a small, quiet thing. "And I know you know this."

It hurt, more than anything else, to hear it from someone else. Sure it's one thing to do something that you know is the right thing to do, but it's another to spell it out to yourself. Worse if someone else has to do it. "Yeah." She looks off to the side. One of her hands returns to her cloak, rubbing the material. "But..."

She looks back up to Ikora, a sort of heat stirring in her chest. "I'm not going to abandon you guys. I'm not turning my back on the city and making a run for it, I just need a..." She waves her free hand in the air. "I don't know, some time? Something to keep me busy? I would say 'maintenance' but last time I said that with an exo around they gave me the stink eye, so that's off the list." She shakes her head. "Look, I appreciate you coming in, and thank you for approving, but I really need to finish up before... certain individuals know that I'm leaving."

Funny, seeing how Ikora was one of those people on that list. It's not like she can hide something like this from that woman, especially since she had an argument with Amanda in the middle of the hanger. Not the best way to make a stealthy escape, she'd admit.

Ikora doesn't say anything else on the matter, just schools her features, stands all mysterious-like that would make Osiris proud, and give a farewell as she leaves.

Ghost pipes up from the coffee table. "Well, that went better than I thought."

Wolf groans, head finding the nearest wall to lightly slam against. "This is what I get for not talking for five years. Complicated social interactions." She looks back to Ghost from the closed front door. "You're lucky I love you, or I would return to being the mute hunter that's way cooler back before she talked."

Her other half just chuckles quietly to himself. She doesn't miss how much he perked up at the 'love you', or how that pit of shame within her tightens ever so slightly at it ever being a problem.

She really, really needs this vacation.