"Challenge every reality. There is always another way."
-Ded Alia III
The harried trek back to the residence sector proved more jarring than Meren expected.
Retracing her steps back through the Prison, her journey started off uneventfully enough. The corridors and accesses were just as desolate as the evening prior. Yet, as she went, something about it felt different. Colder, perhaps, or darker. If it was possible, quieter. Maybe it was just her imagination or maybe anxiety taking its toll. Still, with every step she took, Meren began to feel more and more like a trespasser. An unwelcome guest, driven from a place where she'd never belonged in the first place.
Emerging from the Prison's labyrinth into the outside world of the Reef made things no better. In fact, in anything, they were markedly worse. Unlike the solitude of those soundless, winding passages, now there were people. Mostly Awoken, watchful Corsairs and civilians, toting goods and wares as they went about their daily business in and around the Reef's transport hubs. Mixed in lingered an errant Guardian or two, mingling casually with the Awoken merchants, trying to secure last-minute Reef souvenirs before their mandatory departure. At least in the Prison, there hadn't been anyone watching her directly. Now, adrift in that sea of bustle, every head seemed to turn as she passed, every eye locked on her as if she were entirely out of place.
With her hair tousled and unruly, Meren was fully aware that she probably looked a mess. Her cloak, too, wrinkled and rumpled from its hours-long stay on Variks' floor, did nothing to help matters. It was no small wonder her presence began to turn heads and draw stares.
Despite it all, Meren trekked on, her head down, fist bunched at the clasp of her cloak, keeping it pulled tight. Her resolve kept her focused, her only goal to reach the safety of her quarters. She couldn't have cared less what they thought of her.
Before long, though, the weight of those stares began taking their toll. They burrowed their way into the back of her head, worming their way deeper and deeper with each step. All the while, her mind ran on unchecked, conjuring flashes of what she and Variks had done down in the dark. Vivid, searing images of how his teeth and claws had marked her, leaving behind trails of stinging scratches. The indelible evidence of her own depravity was there, even now, branded on her body.
Over and over, she tried to remind herself that no one could see the shameful truth etched there across her shoulders, hips, and arms. Her cloak covered her far too well. Still, the lingering gaze of each passerby felt like a judgmental stare. One that pierced through the sanctuary of her cloak, grazing over her bare flesh, eyeing the spectacle of her sins.
They know, her mind cried, they know!
Still, if they did, not one of them said a word.
A bit of relief came shortly before the Hygiean checkpoint, where the crowds finally began to thin - a welcome change from the steady stream of foot traffic on the main thoroughfares. Even better, the next transport shuttle between hubs proved less busy still. Though it shouldn't have come as much surprise, seeing as the majority of the passengers she'd seen on her daily commute had been Guardians, using the transports to ferry themselves between the Prison and Vestian Outpost. Now, apart from one or two stragglers, it seemed the Guardians' exodus from the Reef was all but complete.
Which didn't bode well for her chances of securing a last-minute lift home.
Full reprieve finally came upon reaching the shuttle's last stop. From there, it was a straight shot to the residence sector on foot, and pedestrian traffic there always tended to be sparse.
Relief was in sight.
In a little over seven minutes at a brisk walk, give or take, she'd reach the sanctuary of her room, provided she didn't have to stop to talk to anyone along the way. Hand still clutched tight to her cloak, but in slightly better spirits, Meren kept her fingers crossed, and the gods saw fit to smile down on her for once.
Somehow, despite that seven-minute standard, Meren managed to reach her quarters, unaccosted, in four - a new record time.
After taking a few minutes to spruce up in front of a mirror and grab her two bags, the final leg of Meren's journey commenced. It wasn't much of a walk from her door to final destination, and soon, her trek of shame had brought her full circle. Back to the Vestian Outpost, where the whole journey had begun. Maybe a little worse for the wear than when she'd first arrived, but she'd made it, nevertheless.
In her mind's eye, she could still picture the hollowed-out Ketch as it had been on that day. The whole hangar had been abuzz with activity. Awoken dock workers had bustled back and forth, ferrying crates and supplies from jumpship to loading platform, shouting orders. Guardians had mingled amongst them, attending to their ships. On the Outpost's main concourse, there had been still more Lightbearers intermingling with Awoken Corsairs, the burble of their conversation rising in sporadic crescendos over the incessant chorus of bots yammering on about requisitions and parcels. The hubbub of it all had been deafening.
Only now, a few short months later, that bustling scene was no more.
Now, the Ketch's hull stood silent and still. The dockworkers were all gone, of course. As were the Guardians and Corsairs. The vendors that had once lined the concourse had long since packed up, too, leaving empty stalls in their stead. Even the bots' idle conversation was nowhere to be heard, the only remaining Frames a skeletal workforce of silent sentinels, relegated to tidying up.
Otherwise, it was just her. Alone within that husk of the Ketch, standing there staring, feeling so very small and more than a little foolish.
The same scene repeated itself as she wandered from the Outpost's main concourse to its adjoining hangar. Empty dock stations, vacant loading platforms, abandoned repair bays. The slips where dozens of ships had once been docked were now mostly deserted, save for a Vanguard-issue jumpship or two hanging unattended, their requisite Guardians nowhere in sight. In the distance beyond, an occasional Galliot made a sporadic appearance, laden with cargo bound for the Reef's core settlements. They paid Meren no mind as they passed, their piloting crew oblivious to the solitary figure wandering the deserted docking bay.
The eerie tranquility of it all gave her pause. She'd known the Outpost would be less hectic by the time she arrived, of course. Yet it wasn't until the stark reality of the scene unfolded before her that it truly sank in.
She'd really missed her ride, hadn't she? How was she going to explain this to Commander Zavala?
As she wandered down the hangar's main promenade, searching in vain for any sign of another soul, all she could picture in her mind's eye were the disappointed faces of the Vanguard commanders. Ikora Rey's look of stern disapproval and Commander Zavala's steely gaze. She could almost hear his chastisement, reminding her of her failure to adhere to protocol and blatant disregard for chain of command, all the while methodically revoking her credentials and privileges, one by one, until she was nothing more than an ordinary civilian again, ostracized and shunned from any and all Vanguard business.
In desperation, Meren quickened her pace, passing through the barren hangar, eyes darting from one alcove to the next. She'd come too far to give up now. There had to be someone left, anyone, who could give her a lift back home.
Bay after vacant bay, Meren searched, her progress increasingly hampered by the blossoming pain in her shoulder. The bite there had begun to ache faintly, and the shallow claw marks on her hips and sides were starting to sting as well. Another reminder of her own indiscretion - one she didn't need. It would be just her luck, too, if infection had already set in.
Just then, when all hope seemed lost, a familiar voice rang out from the bay just opposite her.
"Hey! Hey, buddy!" the voice called. "Hey, Meren! Meren, c'mere!"
It was Cayde.
At the far end of the last bay, he was posted up beside the Queen of Hearts, her aft cargo hold wide open. The ship's engines thrummed softly, idling at half power.
"Cayde," Meren breathed. Never in her life had she been so happy to see that loudmouthed, screw-loose Exo, and for the first time in ages, she broke into a trot. "Cayde!"
He acknowledged her with a half-salute, half-wave as she rushed toward him.
"Well, well, well," he began once she was within proper earshot, his voice now at a more indoor-appropriate volume. "Look who decided to finally show up! 'Bout time."
His reaction all but confirmed it: Cayde was her intended rendezvous. And as luck would have it, he was running behind schedule.
"Sorry I'm late," Meren replied, her breath catching up with her as she skidded to a stop a few yards shy of the ship. "It's been...a day."
"Ain't it always?" Cayde countered, waving off the apology. "But hey, don't sweat it. We're not due back at the Tower for another- let's see here…" Cayde held up his arm and pantomimed checking a nonexistent wristwatch. "Negative six hours. So, your timing's pretty much right on the Glimmer, far as I'm concerned."
Meren winced. Cayde was being extremely generous, considering how miserably tardy she was.
"Right," she said. "Does Commander Zalava know you're-"
"Relaax," Cayde said, brushing her off mid-sentence. "Big Blue's used to it at this point. Now, if I was early, then he'd be worried." He turned to lean casually against the lip of the Queen's open cargo hold, crossing his arms loosely across his chest.
"If you say so," Meren conceded.
Cayde scrutinized her for a second, his optics narrowed. "Trust me," he said, sounding a bit less flippant. "Everything'll be fine."
Meren didn't quite share his confidence but didn't argue. Instead, she lowered her bags to the floor, letting her arms drop limply at her sides. The moment of respite was a relief.
"So," she began, "should I go ahead and-"
"Nah," Cayde said, pushing off from the ship's hull and stepping forward. "I got it."
With that, he stooped to pick up her bags, one in each hand, and sauntered back toward the ship. Meren trailed behind him, watching as he hoisted the first bag onto his shoulder, then tossed it casually into the Queen's waiting hold. It landed with a dull thump, but Cayde made no further move to pick up the second bag. Instead, he glanced over his shoulder at her, looking her up and down.
"Soo," he said, his optics narrowing once again, "wanna talk about where ya been?"
Meren blinked.
"Just…sleeping," she replied. A poor lie, even by her standards. "I, uh, fell asleep..."
Cayde's angular mechanical features regarded her for a moment, appraising. "Huh. That why you didn't answer your door when I knocked?"
His audacity staggered her, and Meren couldn't keep her expression from twisting in displeasure.
"Do boundaries mean anything to you?" she blurted out.
"Hey, woah!" Cayde's hands shot up defensively. "Just checking up on you. Jeez. Someone's gotta." His demeanor eased, his hands lowering along with his voice. "...I did knock pretty loud, though."
The look Meren shot him could have melted spinmetal. "It was a deep sleep."
"Hey," he replied with a nonchalant shrug. "Like I always say, don't let my pounding on your door keep you from a turbocharged six-hour power nap."
Never in the history of Sol had that been something Cayde had said, and the two stared at each other for a moment, locked in a standoff of mutually assured silence. Then, abruptly, Cayde grabbed the second bag, hefting it onto his shoulder.
"How'd you get my room number in the first place, anyway?" Meren asked as Cayde deposited the bag in the hold alongside the first.
"Petra," he answered simply. "Speaking of…" He straightened, and Meren followed his gaze down the length of the bay.
Sure enough, rounding the corner at the far end, Petra Venj was striding towards them, flanked by a small retinue of Corsairs.
Great, Meren thought. Of all the people to show up now, why did it have to be Petra?
"Right on time," Cayde remarked, giving Meren a hearty slap on the shoulder.
The contact sent a blazing spike of pain lancing down her arm, and it took everything in her not to yelp. Instead, she gritted her teeth and forced her lips into a pained smile, hoping he wouldn't notice.
Thankfully, he didn't seem to and instead moved past her, striding toward the approaching contingent. Meren followed suit, keeping a few paces behind.
"Petra Venj," Cayde called, right back to his usual jovial self.
Petra stopped a few feet away from him, and her retinue did the same, fanning out into a protective formation behind her.
"Cayde," she replied, sounding neither pleased nor displeased to see him.
"Good to see you too, Petra," Cayde replied.
Petra didn't say anything in response. Instead, she turned her attention to Meren, who'd taken a position behind and to the side of Cayde.
"Professor Hale," she said, giving Meren a nod.
Meren nodded politely in return, her hand unconsciously reaching for the clasp of her cloak, tugging the fabric a little tighter around herself. "Petra."
"So," Cayde cut in, "to what do we owe the pleasure? Here to see us off?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes," Petra replied. "I'll keep this brief. The Queen wished for me to convey her regards and thanks once again-"
"Aw," Cayde interrupted. "That's sweet. Tell-"
Petra ignored the interruption and continued. "-to Professor Hale." Her eyes flicked to Cayde for an instant to make a point before looking back to Meren. "Your service to the Reef will not soon be forgotten."
Meren shifted her weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. This was precisely the sort of interaction she'd hoped to avoid, especially considering the present company.
Before she could find the words to reply, Petra's hand was there, extended to her. After a moment's hesitation, Meren accepted it.
"You have all our gratitude, mine included," Petra added. Her grip was strong, and she gave Meren's hand a firm shake before releasing it. "Should you ever find yourself in need of assistance, know that you have friends here, among the Awoken."
"Uhh," Cayde interjected, raising his hand like a schoolboy requesting permission to speak. "Am I invited to this party, or-"
Petra ignored him, and a few of the Corsairs stepped forward. Velia and Amrita were among them, and the others Meren recognized as part of the contingent that had accompanied Petra to the Tangled Shore. They moved past Petra and Cayde, one by one, each stopping in front of Meren, offering a few parting words and a handshake.
The next few moments were spent pumping hands and exchanging pleasantries, all while Cayde watched the proceedings in uncharacteristic silence, his arms crossed and optics darting between the Corsairs as they paid their respects.
Finally, the last Corsair stepped up, and as her hand slid into Meren's, Petra's voice rose above the din.
"Where's Variks?" she asked, her gaze sweeping back across the empty bay. "He was supposed to be here. This isn't like him."
Meren's stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. The thought of having to confront Variks so soon after her shameful, wordless exit, and in present company, was enough to make her want to steal Cayde's ship right then and there and pilot it straight into the sun.
"Yeah," Cayde chimed in, a note of curiosity creeping into his tone. "Where is that old bug?"
The instant Petra reached for her communicator, Meren knew she had to act.
"Oh, uh, no. That's all right, Petra," she interjected, taking a step forward. "He's probably-" The word 'asleep' very nearly came out of her mouth, but she caught herself. "-busy. No need to interrupt him. Besides, he and I already shared some parting words, ah, yesterday."
Petra looked a little puzzled but didn't question the assertion.
"Very well," she replied. "In that case, we won't keep you any longer." She turned her attention to Cayde, giving him a nod. "Safe travels to the both of you."
With that, Petra's entourage began to file away, the Corsairs turning back the way they'd come.
"Well, it's been fun," Cayde called after them. "Any more Wolf problems crop up, just give me a call, and I'll send in the cavalry! And by cavalry, I mean me."
Petra turned her head, sparing him a backward glance. "Thank you," she replied, though whether or not she was genuinely grateful, Meren couldn't tell. "We'll...keep that in mind. Take care of yourselves."
"Will do," Cayde said, giving a little wave. "Catch you on the flip side, Petra."
At that, Petra turned back to face front and strode away, the others falling in behind her.
As soon as the entourage was out of sight, Cayde rounded on Meren. "Sooo," he began, the curiosity in his voice undisguised. "What's the deal with the handshakes and-"
"It's Reef confidential," Meren replied quickly before he could finish the question. "Sorry, Cayde."
"Aw, c'mon. Not even a hint?"
Meren had already turned and was making her way back to his ship. "It's classified."
"Does it have something to do with an ancient, hidden Reef treasure?" Cayde pressed, trailing behind her.
"Classified."
"I bet it involves a secret Awoken super-weapon."
"Classified."
"It's a space laser, isn't it? Please, tell me it's a giant laser."
Meren didn't deign to reply and instead kept walking. Thankfully, by the time they reached the ship, Cayde had given up his inane line of questioning, and together they boarded in peace.
In minutes, Cayde had prepped the ship for takeoff, and then they were airborne, the hangar bay's wide doors yawning open before them. The ship banked easily to the left, and the dizzying panorama of the Reef's vast expanse filled the cockpit's viewport.
Meren's breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she simply sat there, spellbound, watching the endless vista unfold. The glittering debris, the innumerable asteroids, the faint wisps of iridescent, light-strewn clouds - she'd never tire of seeing it.
Yet all too soon, it was gone, and the ship was slipping through the inky blackness of deep space, leaving her pressed to the viewport, looking back, clinging to that final glimpse she'd ever get of the Reef.
The sun had already set over the Last City by the time they entered Vanguard airspace.
Below, the City's sprawl lay cloaked in darkness, punctuated by pinpricks of light from buildings, xenon signs, and the constant gridlock of transports in the air traffic lanes. Further off, the Tower was lit up as well, its spire bathed in a warm golden glow, standing out amongst the myriad skyscrapers like a beacon in the night. Beyond it, the wildlands stretched out into the distant haze, the mountains' jagged peaks and craggy foothills standing in stark relief against the horizon.
And, of course, hanging over the center of it all was the Traveler, suspended against the night sky, its surface bathed in the pale, cool light of the moon.
The sight stirred a mix of bittersweet emotions within Meren. It felt good to be back. Yet, at the same time, the memories of what had transpired in that Tower court were still fresh in her mind. The cruelty, the senseless slaughter, and her own helplessness in the face of it. Just the thought of the whole ordeal filled her with disgust.
As if sensing her disquiet, Cayde glanced over, breaking the miraculous silence that had persisted between them for the better part of half an hour.
"Home sweet home," he said, his voice pitched just loud enough to be heard above the engine noise.
"Yeah," Meren murmured back.
Cayde didn't seem to notice her lack of enthusiasm and instead leaned forward in his seat, disengaging the autopilot. The Queen's controls came to life under his touch, and the ship banked gently, angling toward the Tower in the distance.
They rode the rest of the way with Cayde holding a one-sided conversation, Meren gazing out at the City below, her thoughts elsewhere.
All too soon, the Queen was touching down in the Tower's hangar, and before Meren knew it, they were disembarking. Cayde went first, and she trailed behind, clambering out of the cockpit onto the hard metal plating of the hangar floor.
Considering the hour, the space was fairly busy, with ships coming and going, the drone of engines echoing throughout the bays. It was nothing like the activity she'd witnessed during the daytime hours when the place was practically swarming with Guardians. However, the current bustle was still enough to provide a bit of cover.
Or it would have, had she not been in the conspicuous company of Cayde-6.
After grabbing her and Cayde's bags from the cargo hold, Meren was forced to endure no less than seventeen minutes of Cayde greeting every single Guardian and member of Tower support staff they passed. Even bots received a 'How ya doin'?', and the whole procession ground to a halt whenever a new arrival came within earshot.
Meren bore the whole ordeal patiently, or at least as patiently as possible while burdened with an excess of luggage and an aching shoulder, while Cayde prattled on with everyone and their Ghost, seemingly oblivious to her silent suffering.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, their procession reached the end of the hangar, and relief was in sight. Just one more staircase and a couple of corridors stood between them and the central plaza.
Meren was nearly there when one last voice called out after them.
"I hope the Vanguard has done nothing to offend you, Guardian," a bot chirped, all cheery and light.
Meren stiffened mid-step, glancing over into the alcove alongside them. Sure enough, there was a bot - the Vanguard Quartermaster - standing behind a table strewn with an assortment of weapons, armor pieces, and mods.
"I'm not-" Meren began.
"She says that to everyone," Cayde interjected before she could correct the bot's assumption. "Just keep moving."
Despite that, Cayde barely kept moving himself. Instead, the second they'd passed the Quartermaster's alcove, he whipped around and called after the bot.
"Oh, hey, Roni. You catch wind of whoever stole my Sparrow yet?"
The Quartermaster turned to regard him, her optical receptor flickering as she processed the question.
"My apologies, Master Cayde," she replied, her cheery demeanor undiminished. "There have been no developments in the search since your last inquiry seventy-one days, nine hours, and twenty-two minutes ago."
"Blast it!" Cayde grumbled to himself. "When I catch them, so help me…"
His threat dissolved into muttering, and without further ado, Cayde spun back around and started away.
Left behind, Roni seemed unfazed, calling after them with a genial, "Take care, Guardians."
No one else accosted them on the stairs after that, and in short order, the two emerged from the hangar into the Tower's central plaza.
Predictably, the plaza was teeming with activity, though like the hangar, it was a more subdued affair than during the day. Still, there were plenty of Guardians and others milling about. Meren could feel their curious stares following her and Cayde as they made their way to the Hall of Guardians, no doubt wondering what the infamous Hunter Vanguard was doing, wandering the plaza at this hour with a bedraggled-looking civilian in tow.
For once, Cayde wasn't hindered by the onlookers' presence, though, and instead strode right past the crowd. He even managed to keep a brisk pace, which was nothing short of another miracle.
The Hall wasn't far, and soon, they were passing through the main doors and into the heart of Vanguard operations. Immediately, the din of the plaza faded away, and Cayde finally slowed, his gait relaxing as they descended the staircase. With each step, the air grew a little warmer, the space a bit quieter, and the tension a little more palpable.
Meren's stomach felt like a lead weight by the time they'd reached the bottom of the stairs. The Command Room lay just ahead, and the entrance stood wide open, revealing a slice of the room beyond. Even at a distance, she could make out the unmistakable glow of a holoprojection over the war table. She'd participated in enough briefings and meetings over the past year to recognize it instantly.
Sure enough, as they approached, the sounds of voices drifted out from within, muted yet familiar. Meren could pick out Zavala's baritone, Ikora's low, measured responses, and an occasional interjection from a third participant.
Meren knew both Ikora and Zavala on a professional basis, but that was it. There was no personal connection. She'd always found them to be polite and accommodating, and certainly competent at their jobs. However, there was no denying the fact that both were a little intimidating to deal with, Zavala especially.
Ikora's sensibilities had been easier for her to manage, at least. They shared a love of knowledge, albeit with a marked difference in their respective areas of expertise, and Meren had often enjoyed her discussions with the Warlock Vanguard. Zavala, on the other hand, was a different story. He was a soldier, and it showed. While Meren respected his experience and had nothing but the highest regard for his service to the City, the man was so stiff and formal she could barely find a point of commonality with him.
Not that it mattered, she reminded herself. After tonight, she'd likely never see the pair again.
Just before the threshold, Meren hesitated, but Cayde was undeterred. Without breaking stride, he breezed past her and waltzed right into the Command Room like he owned the place. She had no choice but to follow, dropping her bags at the entrance.
The moment the two of them crossed the threshold, the conversation inside broke off. Ikora looked up from an assortment of documents strewn across the massive table, her expression betraying neither surprise nor displeasure. Meren noted she looked a bit groggy, though she hid it well.
"Welcome back, Professor Hale," Ikora greeted warmly before turning her sights on the Hunter Vanguard with slightly less enthusiasm. "Cayde."
Meren tried to shoot a faint smile at Ikora, but Cayde was already pushing past her, descending the steps.
"Hey, Ikora." With no more than a glance the Warlock's direction, Cayde strode nonchalantly to the war table and dropped his bag atop the holoprojector, cutting out the image of the Sol system. "Hey, Zavala…hey, Eris."
Meren was only mildly surprised to see the hooded figure there. She stood back from the table, half-shrouded by shadow, a few meters behind Ikora and Zavala. The few times she had met Eris Morn, Meren had been left with the distinct impression the woman disliked her, and her current demeanor did little to dispel that notion. Though, if Meren was honest with herself, her feelings toward Eris and her blatant Hive fanaticism weren't much different.
In return, Eris offered Cayde no greeting, and Zavala had yet to acknowledge his presence. His gaze was still fixed on the papers and datapads scattered across the table, his brow creased but the rest of his expression unreadable.
When no one immediately responded, Cayde continued, his tone deceptively light.
"What's with all the grim faces? Feels like a funeral in here, sheesh."
Only then did Zavala look up. His steely eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly, betraying a hint of annoyance.
"You're late," he said.
"Zavala-" Ikora gently tried to intervene.
"Again."
Cayde was unmoved. "Hey, the consistency's gotta count for something, am I right?"
A muscle twitched in Zavala's jaw, and for a moment, Meren was convinced he was about to lose his composure. Then, the moment passed, and the Titan Vanguard let out a slow breath.
"Your orders conveyed via VanNet had you due back by oh thirteen hundred hours," Zavala said, his tone level. "And yet, here you stand, nine hours and forty-two minutes late."
"Yeah, well, tell that to the Awoken and their departure clearance protocols," Cayde replied. "Have you seen the amount of paperwork they make you fill out?"
"The Awoken made you fill out nine hours worth of paperwork?" Ikora asked. Her tone was still amicable but not without an edge of skepticism.
"Yes!" Cayde shot back. "Well, no, but…listen, it was a lot of pages, okay?" A pause. "Aaand then something mighta come up and we had to make a quick pit stop on the way back…"
Ikora's composure didn't so much as waver. "A pit stop," she repeated.
"Yeah, Ikora. A pit stop," Cayde went on, a little more defensive. "But hear me out, cuz you see, what happened was me and Meren had got to talking, as you do when all cooped up with someone in a cockpit. Well, halfway to Mars, Meren turns to me and says, 'Cayde, ol' buddy, ol' pal, I betcha didn't know there's Glimmer in the sand outside Freehold'. And me, well, you'd better believe I'd remember if Mars had piles of Glimmer just laying around, so I look Meren here straight in the eye, and I say, 'prove it'. And Meren tells me-"
Across the table, Zavala's face was practically in his hands. "The point, Cayde."
"Okay, okay," Cayde conceded. "Long story short…Meren was right! We stopped off at Freehold, collected a few samples out in the dunes, ran them through the Queen's onboard mass spec, and guess what? Glimmer! Turns out it's microscopic, but hey. Who knew?"
"Professor Hale, by the sound of it," Ikora replied dryly.
Meren couldn't help but smile faintly, but Zavala was less impressed by their impromptu side trip.
"The next time a situation arises that deviates from the itinerary," he began, "I expect proper notification protocol to be followed. Is that clear?"
Cayde raised a hand and fired a finger gun at him. "You got it."
Zavala stared back, his expression a mixture of incredulity and exhaustion, but ultimately didn't respond. Instead, he looked back down and returned his attention to the scattered assortment of documents and datapads on the table.
Meren seized on the silence, slinking the rest of the way down the stairs and positioning herself to Cayde's side. She kept her voice low, but it still carried across the quiet of the room.
"Was that all you needed us for?"
Zavala glanced back up as if he'd forgotten she was even there.
"Ah, Professor Hale," he said. "Yes, there is one item of business left to attend to. As a reminder, I expect a full situation report on my desk by the beginning of next week. A debrief will be scheduled shortly thereafter. Until then, you are dismissed." He'd barely finished the words before his eyes were returning to the table, his attention back on the array of documents.
Meren didn't move an inch. "With all due respect, sir," she began slowly, "I'd like to review additional compensation rates before committing to any sort of write-up. Or debrief, for that matter."
The words drew Zavala's gaze back up, his expression sharp, as if she'd just accused him of something.
"Additional Compensation?" he echoed in disbelief before his voice took on a stern edge of command. "Professor Hale, this is not a bargaining table. The stipulations of your contract mandate that any Vanguard-sanctioned excursion may be debriefed in conjunction with a full situation report, furnished by said excursion's primary participant. Which, in this case, would be you."
Meren balked under his sudden scrutiny, but the words only gave her more reason to hesitate. Clearly, she'd overlooked something.
Zavala didn't give her the chance to say otherwise. "Furthermore," he went on, "per standard protocol, addendum 3-8, section four of your amended contract mandates that the Vanguard is required to provide notification prior to the request of any situation report or debrief. A notification which, as I recall, was forwarded last week for your review."
Lost for words, all Meren could do was stand there like a Dreg caught in a Sparrow's headlamp, desperately racking her brain for any recollection of the notice.
A vague memory resurfaced. Sometime the week prior, a message had arrived from the Vanguard. To her recollection, it had been marked Urgent, but the subject line had been something unassuming like, 'Notification: Standard Operating Procedure.' Foolishly, she'd dismissed it without reading the contents, choosing instead to wander off and spend the day in Variks' company.
Not that she would ever admit as much, of course.
"My apologies, Commander," she tried, keeping her tone level, "but I don't seem to recall putting my signature on any amendment."
Zavala's brows were drawn, his eyes fixed on her. "For the sake of transparency, may I remind you that amendments to your contract may be made at the Vanguard's discretion and are binding without prior approval." His voice was hard, but his gaze remained steady. "Your written consent, or lack thereof, is not a necessary precondition. Perhaps it would be beneficial if you took a moment to review the fine print."
Even though she knew every word he said was true, Meren forced a smile and looked the Vanguard Commander straight in the eye. "If there's a copy on hand-"
Zavala's eyes had narrowed a fraction, but before she could finish the thought, Cayde was there, stepping between her and the war table, his voice loud enough to drown her out.
"Reef Brain!" he blurted, arms flung wide.
A dead silence instantly fell over the room, and everyone slowly turned their eyes to stare at the Exo, Zavala included.
"Excuse me?" the Vanguard Commander deadpanned.
"Reef Brain," Cayde repeated. When he was met with nothing but blank stares, Cayde threw his hands up emphatically. "Oh, come on! Don't tell me none of you has ever heard of it!"
The look on Commander Zavala's face was priceless. His lips had parted slightly, and his brow was knit in the middle. A perfect, if not somewhat surly, picture of consternation.
"...Reef. Brain?" he repeated.
"Yep, Reef brain. It's a thing…a, uh, condition. Medical condition. Very real." Somehow, Cayde now had everyone's rapt attention, and he took full advantage, beginning to pace before the war table in short, even strides as he set off into a nonchalant explanation. "Not too much known about it, if I recall. There's some medical jargon about homeostatic equilibrium or what have you. Point is, it has something to do with too much time spent in the Reef - no sunlight, no sense of time. Not so great for humans. Brain gets all fuzzy after a few weeks. Happens with my Hunters all the time." A wistful grin crept into his voice. "You should see some of those Bladedancers right after they get back."
Commander Zavala looked too dumbfounded to speak, but Ikora raised one of her perfectly manicured brows.
"So this...affliction," she said slowly. "What you're trying to say is that Professor Hale is-"
"-down with a bad case of the ol' Reef Brain?" Cayde finished. "Well, I'm no doctor, but all the signs are there…Glazed-over eyes, disheveled appearance, delayed logic and reasoning. Yep, looks like a classic case of Reef Brain if I've ever seen one."
For a long moment, no one seemed quite like they knew what to do with the newfound information. Everyone just stood there, staring at each other, as if waiting for someone else to make the first move.
Then, from the shadowed corner of the war room, the last member in attendance spoke.
"There is no Reef Brain," came the foreboding voice of Eris Morn. "What you see before you in Meren Hale is but a manifestation of wicked Hive magic. Their dire machinations cloud her senses. Twist her will."
The ominous statement hung in the air uncontested for a beat. Then, Eris' eyes flicked toward Meren, and she raised a single finger.
"Tell me," she croaked, "do you feel fingertips on the surface of your mind? Whispers in the dark? An endless gnawing hunger, sated only by a chorus of screams?"
"Uhh…"
Despite Meren's non-answer, Eris went on, her voice growing stronger, more assured.
"I have seen this before. A curse, tied to a ritual. But it is one that can be severed. It must be. If we do not act, she will succumb to Darkness. Even now, I fear it may already be too late."
Silence.
Cayde broke it.
"Yeah, okay. Sure, Eris," he said without so much as batting an eye. He turned to the rest of the group. "Anyway..."
From behind Cayde, Meren raised a hand and tentatively cleared her throat.
"I'd like the ritual severed if it's all the same to you," she piped up wryly.
Suddenly, Cayde's hands were on her shoulders, steering her back towards the steps.
"Zip ittt," he hissed. Then louder, "Reef Brain! See? What did I tell you? Delusions. Classic symptom!"
Meren had just enough time to catch Zavala and Ikora exchanging an unreadable glance before Cayde was pushing her along, up the stairs, and toward the exit.
"Let's get you home so you can get some rest, Professor," Cayde continued a little too loud, as if determined to drown out any protest she might have. "Fastest way to clear up a bad case of the old Reef Brain is bed rest. You hear that, Eris? Bed rest!"
Meren could still make out Eris' voice, muttering something dark and indiscernible. It wasn't until Cayde had nearly shoved her out of the door that Zavala's voice cut through, his tone exasperated but resigned.
"Professor Hale," he said, stopping them both in their tracks. "I trust I will find your situation report, in full, on my desk by Monday. No later."
Cayde eased up, and she glanced over her shoulder. Zavala was still looking at her, and though his expression had softened from earlier, there was no denying the severity in his eyes.
"Yes, sir."
Zavala gave the barest hint of a nod. "Very good. That will be all."
That was Cayde's cue. With a final nudge, he propelled her out of the door, and they both spilled out into the hallway. In a scramble, Meren grabbed her bags and rushed after Cayde, who had already passed her by and was making his way back toward the main entrance.
"Let's go," he urged, his voice barely above a whisper.
Meren didn't need to be told twice.
By the time she caught up to him, they were already ascending the stairs to the central plaza, and Meren was almost breathless.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" she hissed once she finally drew alongside him.
"Me?" Cayde shot back. "What's wrong with you ? You had a get-out-of-jail-free card, and you almost blew it! If it weren't for yours truly, you'd have argued your way straight into Tower detention. You're welcome, by the way."
Meren huffed. "Please. All you did was make me look incompetent. Reef Brain? Seriously?"
Cayde waved the words away with a flourish of his hand and a smile in his voice. "I know, genius, right?"
"You said I had glazed-over eyes and that I was…disheveled!"
"Have you looked at yourself? That nap really did a number on you."
They both came to a stop at the top of the stairs, and Meren set her jaw and turned toward him. She was exhausted, her shoulder was throbbing, and, yes, her hair was probably a mess. Still, she managed a look of indignation.
"Thank you, Cayde," she said, her tone anything but thankful.
Cayde's head tilted to the side, and he studied her for a long moment. Then, in a surprising move, he reached for the hood on her cloak and tugged it over her head. Meren was grateful for it, too. The less he scrutinized her current appearance, the better.
"No problem, kid," he said, the words a little softer than she expected. "Now, why don't you head on home. Get some sleep, huh? You look like hell."
She didn't have it in her to argue, and as much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She needed sleep, a hot shower, and definitely a wardrobe change.
"See you around," she replied, and the words were more sincere this time.
"Yeah, yeah," Cayde said. He had already turned his back to her, but he raised a hand, offering a backward wave in goodbye. "See ya, Reef Brain."
With that, Cayde strolled off toward Tower North, whistling as he went.
Meren lingered there a moment, watching him go. When he'd vanished around the corner and out of sight, she sighed and made her way to the nearest bank of elevators.
By the time she reached the ground level, a light rain had begun to fall. She hardly noticed, though. As she descended the Tower's sweeping front steps and made her way in the direction of the nearest transport depot, her mind was anywhere but there.
All she wanted was to be home.
AN: Thanks to Keltoi for once again proofreading and editing!
