"My life has always been about absolutes.
There is Light and there is dark.
And I made my purpose to defend against the whispered corruption of the shadow's calling.
I've seen no middle ground, though maybe I've always known it exists.
To me, there was only ever white and black—good and evil.
In you, I see blinding Light. I see a hero among heroes. I see the hope you inspire shining through.
But I also see, for the first time—a little bit of grey."
—The Man with the Golden Gun
"How you doin', chestnut?"
Alina took deep breaths.
"I'm fine."
It was over. For now at least.
Though she was more capable than before, still she felt once again, her fate was spared by someone else.
The Drifter dusted off his purple-stained hands. Taking over the Skiff was more messy work than he would've preferred, but it finished the job quicker.
"Hell of a show you put down there." He acknowledged.
She took a quick glance around. Nothing remained standing, save for the burning remains, half-collapsed cabins and one relatively unharmed steel container. How much of it was actually her own doing?
What an act. He probably could've handled all of this by himself, she thought. Not that she wasn't thankful for his creative and loud solution.
"I guess I could say the same to you."
The Drifter let out a snicker. "Alright hero, we got some people to rescue." He said, his thumb pointing to the detached metallic container.
Alina questioned no further. She stood back up and slowly marched, her strength finally regaining itself.
As they reached the container, she saw, with a swift motion, the Drifter opening the electronic lock holding the container shut. With a loud bang.
One spent bullet later, and they were both greeted by the haunting eyes of tens of terrified captive civilians. Unaware of the identities of the two strangers before them, rightfully, they remained alert.
Alina stepped forward. "Don't worry. You're safe now."
In an instant, the atmosphere changed. Despair replaced with confusion replaced with hope.
And she felt the undying gratitude of dozens of Infected who owed her their very lives.
A middle-aged woman rushed to greet her with a bow.
"Thank you... thank you so... much..."
And before Alina could tell the woman to stop, she was assaulted by a barrage of questions.
"How did you find us?"
"What were those things!?"
"What is that big ship?"
"Who are you people?"
She lifted her palms to slow them down. Eventually, silence returned.
She could finally speak again. "We're..."
Stopping herself, she noticed her Ghost had already vanished into thin air, and the Drifter was already back on his usual routine of lifting off anything valuable from the intact corpses. They didn't care for the spotlight.
She gave a weak smile to the Infected she rescued. "My name's Alina. I'm… a Guardian."
For the first time, she felt deserving of that title. To call herself what her Ghost always claimed her to be.
Faster than she could react, the woman stood up and reached out to hug her. "We can't thank you enough for our lives. For saving us from... from those..."
Alina slowly returned the woman's hug. "You're safe for now. But you all need to go back home."
The old woman suddenly let go, with the smile on her face wiped away. She noticed the same for everyone else before her. She must have misspoke.
One of the Infected stepped up. "Go back where? There's nothing to go back to."
Melancholy filled the cold air, as the sudden realization hit her.
It was too late to bring back everything that was lost. Everything the raiders and the Fallen had taken from them. Even with her Light, she knew she couldn't try to fix everything. The only option left for them, would be to find something new to call their own.
"Then we'll have to find you a new home. Somewhere far from here. Somewhere safer."
But where could that be? It wasn't like she knew the snow-capped mountains and forests like the back of her hand.
Besides, how would they even get there? She knew the Drifter would absolutely not let anymore people step foot on his ship. And even if she could beg him to, there's not enough space for everyone.
One thing caught the corner of her eye. One of the large trucks remained intact, parked just far enough from most of the carnage.
"Is there anyone who knows how to drive a vehicle?" She questioned. Several hesitant hands stretched upwards.
"Okay, that's good... do you people know where to go?"
Confused eyes began meeting one another back and forth among the crowd. "We don't even know where we are now."
Neither did she. She really needs to start learning more about the world around her. Perhaps getting a map would be a good start.
Emerging from behind her, the Drifter laid a hand on Alina's shoulder. Knowing he would be more familiar with directions than herself, she quietly stepped aside.
"Rusalka is that way, about 100 miles." The Drifter spoke up, with a raised hand pointing eastward. "You might find an Infected shelter that'll be willin' to take you in. Or maybe you'll find another town that's still intact. Depends on how lady luck's feelin'."
Somehow, he had soured the mood among the Infected crowd. His tone wasn't the most reassuring. "That's easier said than done. We don't go to live in the cities for a reason." Said a young man with crystallized horns.
The Drifter shrugged. "I get it, but you don't got much of a choice now. You're still breathin', right? Better than freezin' to death out here."
His words weren't wrong, but it was unashamedly brash. But he couldn't care less about what others would think of him. Paying no mind to the multitude of glares he was getting, he promptly turned around to head for the Fallen ship. Leaving Alina alone to deal with the situation.
She faced the crowd with an embarrassed face. "He... means well. Trust me."
Maybe. She can't read minds, after all. Especially not his.
The old woman from before waved it off. "Don't worry about it, young lady. There should be a couple other towns not far from Rusalka that would welcome us, and we'll find our way there. We're used to much worse."
Her heart sank further.
"Much... worse?"
The woman continued. "Of course. Us Infected have never been treated like humans, even by our own people. It wasn't like we chose to have this happen to us. And even the nobles ruling over our nation haven't done anything to make it better..."
Of course, the problem had always stemmed deeper than she thought. Just like what Josef had said. Ostracized from normal society due to their conditions, they would have no choice but to build their own homes anywhere they could, even in the midst of the harshest winters. And if the Infected were not given the same rights as regular people, who would miss a few villages disappearing in the middle of nowhere?
In the midst of her thoughts, the old woman suddenly coughed, blood stained on the back of her hand.
"Excuse me... my lungs have been hurting for days..." She uttered.
Whether a side effect of the current infection, or a different type of disease, Alina knew she couldn't simply let it slide.
Surely she was strong enough now to do it, right?
"Maybe... I can do something about it."
An unfamiliar sight to the Infected civilians, she held out her palm, Light manifesting in droves within her cusp.
She emitted a wave of warm, mending Light and let it envelop the old woman before her for a few moments. Around them, the civilians stood agape, marveling at her display of, what they assumed to be, Arts.
The Light dissipated. Confusion washed over Alina. Something's wrong.
The black crystals on her skin hasn't gone away.
The woman held a palm to her own chest, astonished. "I... feel better. You healed me with your Arts."
She didn't respond, her eyes still anchored to the same crystals still visible on the old woman's arm.
It was the same thing with Andrei. Her Light wasn't doing anything.
Was it simply not enough? Why couldn't she heal their infection? She could control the elements, escape death itself... and yet when it comes to this, she's powerless.
'Why can't I heal it?'
Still lost in her own mind, she made no movement as the old woman hugged her once more. "I couldn't thank you enough... we owe you everything, truly..."
A hopeful shine returned to the faces of most of the Infected, some of which stepped forward, eager to have the Lightbearer before them also treat them of their lesser ills.
"She's a healer!"
"Can you treat my daughter's arm? Please..."
"I have a cut, up here..."
"Please heal our injuries, if you can..."
She slowly swept her eyes across the crowd. She wasn't going to reject their pleas.
One by one, she lent a bit of her Light, just enough to mend the cuts and bruises and to cure the pain. But her smile hasn't returned.
Though she could relieve them of some of their milder ailments, there was nothing she could do to rid them of the very disease that led their fates down this depressing path.
Even with all her power, she was powerless.
Alina returned a shaky hand wave from a child, with antlers just like hers. He was among the last to board the second truck.
She kept looking ahead as both of the trucks drove across the snowy forest, until they disappeared into the horizon. The uncertainty of their future still lingers.
"You look a little pale."
The Drifter's words weren't wrong. She was unsurprisingly exhausted, vividly recalling everything that happened today.
"We're in the snow." A weak excuse. She shouldn't have even bothered.
"So? Feelin' good yet?" He mused.
"I didn't do this out of pride." She bit back, tired of his constant cynicism.
The Drifter turned around, never meeting her gaze. "Never said it was anythin' about pride."
Then what? Guilt? He didn't have to remind her of that.
A tug on her sleeve reminded her of the other person in her care.
Andrei reassured her. "It's okay. You saved all those people. You should feel great."
Of course it wasn't just her, but she deeply appreciated the child's sincerity. It was certainly a breath of fresh air. "Thank you, Andrei."
The Drifter took a glance at the Infected boy beside her. "What's the kid still doin' here anyway?"
She drew her eyes towards the former, than back at Andrei. "I went back and told Andrei he could leave with the rest of them but…"
She saw the hesitation in his eyes, before he had even thought of stepping foot onto one of those trucks. He told her how before how he had never ventured far beyond his own village, only a few times outside the edge of their valley in his late mother's company.
And as she could assume, his lack of experience of the world outside was something only one other person among them could relate to.
"He changed his mind. I guess he feels safer staying with me. For now at least."
The Drifter sighed and kept walking towards the smoldering wreckages, hoping to salvage anything. "Should've let him go with the rest."
Alina looked back on his words in uncertainty. Was he right? Perhaps. But knowing what the old lady had said, would it truly have been better for the boy? So much, she still doesn't know.
She noticed Andrei shuddering from the freezing wind which was blowing a little stronger. She turned to face him, and covered him with her cloak. "Here you go."
The boy blinked, concerned. "What about you?"
"Don't worry about me. I'm feeling great." She smiled, ignoring the obvious biting cold. Though it was nothing a little Light couldn't remedy.
She brought Andrei back to the Drifter's ship, just in time for dusk to arrive. But their business here was not done.
Returning to the site of what remained of the outpost, she noticed the snow tracks leading into the Fallen ship. She could only fathom what other business the Drifter might have to go back in there.
In the midst of her walk following said trail, her Ghost began to notice her silence, and her somber look.
"Something on your mind, Alina?" Asked the Ghost, the only other voice of sincerity she could speak to.
"It was the same thing with Andrei. Why can't I heal their infection?" She mentally cursed herself, whether it was her insufficient strength, or ignorance that might have caused it.
"Oripathy."
She stopped in her tracks, listening to what her Ghost had to say.
"I heard that's what the villagers called it. I also managed to scan some journals belonging to the raiders. They originated from something that looks similar to those crystals on their skin, called Originium. Whether it's curable or not, I… don't know yet."
Her Light was not enough. The otherworldly force capable of bringing her even back even from the realm of the dead… and it wasn't enough. What other solutions could there be? Would she count on her own luck that perhaps someone out there has already started to look for answers?
"There must be something more to this."
Her Ghost continued. "The Infected that we've rescued, they're not all from the same place. They're going after multiple different villages, most of them too small to fight back. Gathering them all together for… whatever sinister plans they may have. And right now, it seems like we're the only ones who can do something about it."
"I know."
If they can't find out the root of these attacks, everything they had done here, would be for naught.
Alina carefully placed her steps between the assortment of broken metal plates and exposed wires, making her way into a room with alien machinery covering almost every inch of the walls.
There, she saw the Drifter, with another company.
Immediately, her eyes became glued to a Fallen laying against the wall. With a large foreign blade, covered in dark purple liquid mirroring bloodstains, embedded in its abdomen.
"Oh good, you know where the hatch is." He said with a calm voice. She said nothing in return, her eyes still focused on the Fallen.
Her Ghost materialized beside her, confirming what she was thinking. "That Fallen Vandal is still alive."
She stared back at the Drifter, her eyes telling him everything. "… Should I ask?"
He shrugged. "Can't talk to a corpse now, can I?"
The Fallen spat an intelligible string of sounds that she couldn't understand. Judging from its tone, probably a bunch of profanity.
"Seems like our friend here's a little stubborn. Give me a minute." Said the Drifter, kneeling down in front of the mortally wounded alien before them. Alina didn't question any further, simply watching from afar with a morbid curiosity.
And to her surprise, the Drifter began to speak to the Fallen, with its own language she could not hope to understand.
"Vel." ('Hey.')
The Fallen didn't respond.
"Yus go nar?" ('Name of your house?')
It finally looked up to slowly meet his eyes.
"Dos kapsok kler... kirdra?" ('Why do you care... weakling?')
It spat back, finally acknowledging him. The Drifter continued.
"Sok zhu kler." ('You should care.')
The Vandal's breaths became more uneven.
"Nar? Dre nar? Dra er zes dre..." ('House? What house? We answer to no one...')
Squelch
"AAAAGH!"
He stomped on the blade's handle, emitting a painful cry from the injured Fallen. As he spoke again, his tone became harsher.
"Sok er ne. Zer ne, lut sok er?" ('Now you answer to me. Tell me, where are your friends?')
The Vandal, still acting defiant, simply let out a painful chuckle.
"Tar ne dras? Sok... aps kler dres." ('Think I'm a coward? You... will get nothing.')
It then turned away to glare at Alina, with blood-filled gurgles of laughter. She froze as still as ice.
"Ma kapsok... aps dis, slot." ('And you... will die, little prey.')
She didn't understand a single word. Yet still, she felt its intent.
The injured Fallen continued to try its hardest to curse at the Drifter, despite its growing pain.
"Ma sok zhu dis, lirsovek-"
"Shhh…." The Drifter decided he has heard enough. "A corpse is talkin'."
Bang
Alina flinched as the bullet from his gun probed the side of the Fallen's skull. She didn't look away.
The Drifter holstered his revolver as quickly as it appeared, turning to the young Lightbearer beside him. Only to come across her bewildered expression. "It had to be done."
Her head shook slightly, washing the burned mental image away. "You... never told me you speak their language."
He shrugged again. "A little."
He turned his head towards the ship's helm, though for a brief moment, he felt the need to do a double take at the young Lightbearer.
Something about her was slightly different. Perhaps it was the fact that she didn't seem all too bothered at the prospect of him turning the injured Fallen into a corpse. Instead, she was more curious at his previously undisclosed multilingualism.
Alina barraged the Drifter with questions. "What did you ask them? Did they tell you why they're doing this?"
"Doesn't matter. He's got nothin'." He swiped his palm across the various foreign panels and monitors of the helm. "But, at least the ship's ours now. Been a while since I last drove one of these birds."
"You seemed to be doing fine earlier." She remarked. The memories of their brave assault on this outpost were still fresh on her mind.
"Well, shootin' and flyin' are two different things." Drifter shrugged again. As he continued, a flash of light enveloped his right forearm, materializing a strange gauntlet seemingly from thin air.
She kept quiet and watched for several long minutes as the Drifter continued to fiddle with the gauntlet, seemingly doing something to the ship's systems that she simply couldn't fathom yet.
"Four-eyes here seems to have set up a good firewall. But it's nothin' I can't crack."
He gestured his palms, and from thin air, a holographic image illuminated above the ship's monitors. The image showcased a three-dimensional display of the surrounding environment, including a miniature model of the ship they were currently onboard, and several flashing horizontal lines drawn above the landscape.
Though it was her first time interacting with a form of technology on this level before, Alina was able to decipher what little she could from the holographic display. A record of the ship's previous flight paths. But what use would all of this information have?
"You're going back straight to where these Fallen came from?" She surmised.
"Yep. Good guess." Said the Drifter, with a surprisingly calm tone that alarmed her more than anything else.
She walked up to him with worry in her eyes. "We don't know what we'd be dealing with."
The Drifter corrected her. "Wrong. You don't. But don't worry kid, I've got a fine plan."
And there it was again. Not a single ounce of concern, not from the fact that they might be going into a suicide mission blind. And she could arguably guess that whatever plan he claimed to have, would involve using her as a "bait" again.
She didn't doubt the Drifter would know far more about the Fallen than she herself, but still she couldn't share his same level of confidence. Despite her being the one who can come back from the dead.
Or… perhaps not? There is a thousand unknown things about the man she was still oblivious to. She had only assumed that he's mortal.
But… if he was truly in similar circumstances to her, there would be no reason for him to hide it, right?
"What? Don't tell me you're gettin' cold feet now. We're not even in the snow." The Drifter mocked, after noticing her abrupt silence.
Of course, she agreed to this beforehand. But she had personally seen the devastation that a foreign, otherworldly technology was capable of, with her own eyes. All from a single Fallen craft. What if they were to go up against an entire fleet? How would just the two of them be enough to fare against all of that?
"Drifter... why exactly are you doing all of this?"
She waited for another sarcastic quip in return, but was met with silence.
And that was all there is between them, outside of the rhythmic blips and constant humming of the ship's helm, silence for what felt like ages.
Still not willing to open up, she guessed. And he might never will, not until it'd be time for them to find their separate ways.
"Huh, that's odd." The Drifter finally spoke up, something else having caught his attention.
Alina motioned to his side. "What is?"
"Just got an encrypted message, must've been sent from their base of operations. Can't trace it back though. But it's somethin' about… a shipment that's gone off the grid, somewhere 100 miles west."
An intercepted message? So the other Fallen are not yet aware of what had happened to one of their own, it seemed.
"That's quite a distance away." She noted.
The Drifter responded with a knock on the ship's metallic helm. "Not if you got rides like this one. Must be valuable enough for 'em to try and get it back."
She hoped that whatever importance it holds, it wouldn't involve more innocent lives. But the Drifter might not care for that as much. So what else could it be to gain his interest?
She has a feeling she already knows the answer. Yet still, she was inclined to ask.
"You're thinking of taking a detour, aren't you?"
"Good guess again."
The endless plains of white contrasted the darkening sky, illuminated only by the stars and twin moons. Slowly, the snow was replaced with the glooming visage of leafless trees.
It always reminded him of the outskirts of the Cosmodrome during the heaviest nights of winter, Faris thought. Though with a noticeably less signs of centuries-old abandoned rubble and machines.
Currently he had agreed to accompany the Rhodes Island field operators on their way back to Shiraziberg, where they could schedule a flight back to their "landship". Upon their arrival, he could offer more advice on tackling their current unseen enemy, and hopefully be able to rescue the employees whom are still missing.
He had heard of such terms before. The same technology that powers the cities of this world, to move across the very earth itself as gigantic land vehicles capable of transporting a population of thousands to millions.
It was an engineering marvel never before seen back home, but it was one born out of necessity, not ambition. He wondered if the Traveler, were it to be awake today, would be able to deter the multitude of disasters that plague this world.
Perhaps wishful thinking. There are already enough problems to deal with back home even the Light couldn't easily rid of.
He glanced at his company to his left, the eyepatch-wearing Lupo also staring off towards the pale horizon behind the gradually thickening mass of trees.
He was sure that there was enough empty space in the other passenger trucks. There was no need for Quartz to be stuck here with him in his own vehicle for almost an entire day.
He decided to let her know as such. "Not that I'm against your company, but there was no need for you to be in here with me for almost an entire day."
She returned his glance. "You're a valuable asset to us now, so until we get to the city, you'll need some protection. There's no telling how safe the routes here actually are, after everything that's happened."
She decided to take a good look at the faceless doctor beside her. He certainly didn't seem like any ordinary doctor.
"You do need protection... right?" She asked Faris.
He gave what she could only presume to be a blank stare. His emotionless helmet didn't give her much to work with.
"I am perfectly capable in self-defense, but I appreciate your concern." He answered.
The line about his aforementioned "self-defense" capabilities drew some interest from her. Compared to what she's heard of him, her first impressions were not at all similar.
From his looks to his mannerisms, for her, it all felt… disguised. His attire, too concealing. His movements, too methodical. Others may not see it, but it gave her the impression of someone merely pretending to be normal, and yet was quietly acute to his surroundings and prepared to respond to even the slightest possible threat.
The same way a trained killer in hiding would.
But it was just a hunch. And so she tried to hide the thought away.
She usually welcomes the quiet, but now it feels different. It feels awkward. Though it's only a one-day journey to the city up north along the road, a quiet trek through the harsh winter would still feel like a long time.
What would be the natural thing to do at this point? Some small talk, of course.
"So... the Stoic? How'd you get that kind of title?"
Faris gave her another blank stare. Him not answering immediately was actually raising her concern.
Eventually, he replied. "It's what some of the patients I've met have picked for me. I suppose I do come off as quite impassive sometimes. To the extent that some have even questioned if I have emotions."
Quartz raised her eyebrows, as a short moment of silence followed.
"To clarify, I do." He spoke again.
"Ah." She slightly nodded.
She paused again, thinking of something else to say. Minutes of silence went by.
"Are you really a doctor?"
This time, she could feel the doctor's stare burrowing deeper into her own.
"Well, I don't collect medicine simply as a hobby. So yes, I am." He answered.
"And you run a mobile clinic, as you call it." Quartz mused as she looked around the interior, lightly banging on the metallic window frame.
"It makes it easier for me to get around and treat those everywhere who might need me." A partial truth, though the rest he thought, should be reserved for himself.
She was now more curious than ever. "How long have you been doing this?"
He took a moment to recall the extent of his memories. "I have only started this practice as a traveling physician around five years ago. But I'm more experienced in this field than you might think."
Quartz had another question left in her mind. Though she slightly hesitated to ask it at first.
"Do you treat Infected?"
Faris mused. "Infected with what? Flu? I have prescriptions for those, but I would still need the details for specific variants."
Not the answer she was hoping for. Was he avoiding it?
"I mean Infected. You should know exactly what I mean." She pressed.
The faceless doctor paused before his answer, for far longer than she was expecting.
"Are you asking if I discriminate against my own patients?"
Was she sounding too accusatory? Perhaps it wasn't the right tone. It was too early to judge his character, after all.
"Sorry, that sounded a bit harsh. I didn't mean-"
"Don't worry. I understand."
She felt slightly relieved to hear his reassurance. It wouldn't be smart of her to alienate one of their allies this early.
Somehow noticing her concern, the doctor took his turn to ask. "Are you asking because you're worried I would treat you differently than everyone else?"
"It's not about me."
He took note of her intriguing answer. "Then, is it about someone you care about?"
Quartz looked down upon both her hands, curled up. Memories rushing back in her mind. "Maybe."
She knew of a certain someone, living amongst their kind in a small static settlement in this part of the country, one she recalled visiting before prior to her days in Rhodes Island.
The dangers of living somewhere far from the main cities were clear to them, but it was a region with little risk of natural disasters, and relatively absent of Ursus' own unquestionable watch. For some, it was good enough. It was peaceful.
She wondered if she could see that person again, or if she would still be remembered by them.
Faris noticed the troubled look of the Lupo beside him. He was always aware of the plight of the Infected, a victim of acute Originium poisoning, or in their words, Oripathy. And of course, he was also aware of their unfortunate discrimination and persecution.
It was a terrible irony. The very thing that gave rise to the civilization of this world, is also the thing that is tearing it apart.
Fear of the incomprehensible leading to violence and ruin. He was no stranger to these things. He had lived through the days before the City after all.
And it was an enigma even for him, for even his Light could not mend the illnesses caused by the black crystals.
"I try to help everyone I can who's willing to accept it, Ms. Quartz. Especially those who needs it. And I do mean everyone."
Quartz returned her glance to the helmeted doctor. A light smile on her face. "Thanks."
He wondered. "For what?"
"For being one of the better ones."
There was a sudden jolt propelling her slightly forward. She quickly noticed the cause. The mobile clinic has come to a halt.
"What's wrong?" She asked.
Faris kept his hands on the steering wheel, unfazed. He stared forward, not once returning her gaze.
"The vehicle in front of us. They've stopped."
They were still miles away from Shiraziberg. Something was halting their convoy. She was quick to reach for her transceiver.
"What's going on out there? Anybody copy?" She spoke to the other line.
The transceiver flared up with static before becoming clear. "Ambriel here. I think we've got company." The voice paused for a moment before continuing. "It's Ursus."
An Ursus patrol? That wasn't part of their plan.
"Stay here." She motioned to the doctor beside her, whom has not made any visible reaction thus far. But he couldn't be too calm about this, she thought. There was a real chance this holdup might not go over well.
Exiting the vehicle, she walked towards the front of their convoy, joined by her other fellow Operators already waiting with bated breath. The road ahead has been blocked by three large trucks with some parts seemingly replaced or repaired. But on the front and sides of the driver's cabin, was the unmistakable insignia of Ursus.
And emerging from behind one of the trucks, were a few crossbowmen and spearmen bearing the distinguished attires of the Imperial Army.
She caught the sight of the one leading them, an armor-clad captain of the Ursus Imperial Army. On his right hand, he brandished a sword, which… doesn't seem to be of a familiar design.
Ambriel stood to her side, her expression remaining neutral yet her hand visibly itching to immediately get hold of her rifle. Vulcan was right behind her, aware that the Ursus Infected Patrol Units do not take kindly to the sight of Infected. Yet she wasn't the least bit afraid. Meanwhile, Provence had opted to stay inside to prevent her tail from freezing again, but her eyes and ears were on high alert.
Steadfast, Quartz stepped forward and explained themselves to the opposite party. "We're from Rhodes Island Pharmaceuticals. We have the right to pass through this territory for a business-"
"Turn back now." The officer gave her no chance to finish her sentence. "There has been a spike in unknown attacks lately targeted towards static settlements in southeast Ursus. The Emperor has ordered a deployment of the Fourth Army to investigate. This road and all others are no longer safe for civilian travel."
Vulcan began clenching her fists, frustrated.
'Since when did Ursus suddenly care so much about the livelihood of people outside the cities?' The Forte thought. She mentally held back the powerful urge to throw mockery at the officer. No need for an escalation. Not yet, at least.
"What do you mean by unknown attacks?" She asked.
The officer continued, though his tone was noticeably more assertive. "You don't have the authority to know more about that. Turn back the way you come. Trust us, it's for your own sake."
None of the operators trusted the words coming out of his mouth, not even one bit. For their sake?
They turned towards each other to think of their next step, while making sure the Ursus patrols couldn't hear anything.
Ambriel whispered to the rest. "I don't like these guys, but I'm not sure if starting a fight with them right now is a good idea."
Vulcan held a look of gloom in her eyes. "So, are we supposed to just go back? It may take us an extra week to return to the landship."
Quartz rejected that idea. "That would take too long. We still have some of our own to save, remember?"
'If they're still alive, somehow.' Her optimism has its limits. They still have no tangible proof of the possible survival of the remaining missing R.I. field personnel, and their only lead is a traveling doctor whose past is as much of a mystery as the unseen enemy they're trying to track down.
In the midst of their conversation, Vulcan's transceiver received a voiced signal from Provence.
"Hey, just want to let you guys know… that weird doctor's coming your way-"
"Is there a problem?"
"Huh!?" Quartz turned around, so did her teammates.
The doctor was already right behind them. With a large-caliber scoped riflein hand.
Is he a Sankta? She never noticed any wings or a halo, but how else could he possibly wield such a weapon? And she did not even hear his footsteps. How could she have not noticed? No… there were no footprints in the snow behind him. That should be impossible. Did he simply materialize behind her?
'No, that's irrelevant right now.' She mentally shook her head. The questions could wait.
"We're… trying to negotiate with the patrols to give us a passage." She hesitantly explained.
"Hopelessly, might I add." Vulcan chimed in, though her eyes were still glued to the peculiar gold-engraved rifle in the stoic doctor's hands. Only in Laterano would she ever expect seeing such craftsmanship at display.
Faris nodded, ignoring the Sankta's stare. "Then, let me assist you."
"Huh, you got an idea?" Ambriel mused.
He went ahead to face the Ursus patrols, rifle still in hand. Though what it is he could possibly do to sway the argument in their favor, she couldn't imagine.
"… Seems like the doctor's got an idea." The Sankta muttered with her eyebrow raised. Vulcan joined her as well.
Quartz called him out as she followed him. "Mr. Faris, wait-"
"Who are you supposed to be?" Demanded the captain, as he held up the blade on his right hand. The tensions were unquestionably higher than ever now with the sudden presence of a masked man wielding a brilliantly-forged rifle asking for their attention.
Quartz prepared herself for the possible worst, her hand inches away from the hilt of her sword. Her peers followed suit, bracing themselves for what might come. Yet, the doctor beside her remained stoic.
"Please, calm down." Faris pleaded to the captain, one hand raised open, with the other still holding the grip of his gun. He would prefer not to use his sniper rifle right now, but precaution was also necessary.
"You can call me Mr. Faris. May I ask the reasoning behind this particular delay?"
The captain narrowed his yellow eyes, his blade unmoving. "Haven't you already known? We're currently investigating the recent attacks on Ursus civilians by unknown hostiles. Any external party not affiliated with Ursus should leave this side of the country."
Faris continued. "Have you encountered these unknown hostiles yourself?"
The captain felt the urge to sidestep the answer. "What makes you say that?"
The faceless doctor began to raise his right hand, with his finger pointed at the captain's raised arm.
"That blade is not yours."
The three from Rhodes Island mentally gulped, as they suddenly felt an irrevocable rising tension. The look on the patrol captain's eyes said it all. He was not prepared, nor entertained, by the stoic doctor's answer.
Said doctor was unbothered, however. "The men who are with you were attacked, am I correct?"
The captain tightened his grip on the unfamiliar sword. "How did… do you know something that we don't, stranger?"
Faris continued with further questions. "Am I to correct to presume those who attacked you may be the same ones responsible for all the attacks on the previous towns?"
"You're making a lot of presumptions that we can't answer." The captain stated.
"Is it because you don't know the answer yourself?" Faris surmised. Not that he needed the captain's response.
"Why? Do you?"
The stoic doctor lowered his rifle, and in a flash of light, it dematerialized into thin air, much to the operators' surprise.
"I'm offering you a chance of cooperation. If there is a chance for a mutual understanding, then perhaps I can lend you my assistance. I'm sure my acquaintances would be willing to oblige."
The trio, upon hearing his proposal, was shocked almost beyond belief.
That couldn't be his idea, right? Rhodes Island, and the Ursus Patrol Unit, working together? They could not be further apart from one another in terms of their beliefs.
Quartz turned towards him with a concerned look. "What are you doing? Do you have any idea who they are?"
Faris reassured her. "Yes, I am aware, and I know what they're capable of doing and has done before. But we should not risk making unnecessary enemies, or wasting more time. Whether we wanted it or not, we are at war with the same threat. Cooperation with the patrol units would be our best course of action."
For once, she was the one between the two of them to struggle coming up with her next words.
Her other two peers walked up to them after overhearing their short discourse. "Damn... he's got a point." Ambriel mused.
"Are we sure that nothing could go wrong from this?" Vulcan questioned.
"I cannot guarantee they will fully cooperate." The stoic doctor claimed with honesty. "But, that doesn't mean we should not try anyway. Also, I believe that the Ursus patrols would have it in their best interest to not start an unnecessary fight as well."
The Forte blacksmith took another glance at the Ursus Patrol Unit convoy. On a closer inspection, the trucks were not in the best shape, far from it in fact. She could see several newly welded steel panels covering sections of the passenger cabins, as if the damages sustained were recent. And then of course, the fact that the patrol unit they've encountered seemed a little short in numbers. Did they have several casualties as well?
Maybe the Stoic was right after all.
The Ursus captain asked him once again. "If you truly think that you can help, then tell us… how much do you know?"
To truly confirm his suspicions, the doctor would need to only ask them one more thing that they surely could not have missed.
"Your attackers... did they have four eyes and four arms?"
The Ursus patrolmen began glancing and murmuring at one another. And it was then the captain did the most unexpected thing, almost unbefitting for an Ursus officer in the middle of duty. He sheathed his blade.
"So, you know what we're dealing with."
Faris nodded as the RI operators blinked with bewilderment. They'll have to inquire more from him later.
"Your people are not the only victims of these unknown perpetrators. Rhodes Island have also suffered unfortunate casualties. And possibly many more innocents living on the outskirts of Ursus. I believe it's in our best interests to set aside differences. We are both on the same side here, trying to track down the same enemy."
Perhaps cooperation was possible after all, even in the unlikeliest of circumstances. The old adage still holds true.
What an unlikely circumstance she has found herself in, Quartz thought. It was almost unfathomable.
Working together with one of the most notorious branches of the Ursus military. All without anyone trying to swing a sword at one another, yet.
The Rhodes Island staff mostly stuck to each other, just like the Ursus patrols. Still, it was a miracle that everyone is still trying to accept the presence of the other side, personal and professional differences aside. Though, she knew it was fragile. Even the slightest wrong move could easily break apart the superfluous peace between them.
"You never told me you were quite the negotiator." She said to the Stoic.
Of course, he never told her much of anything about himself. But his bartering skills were still unexpectedly invaluable.
"I never thought I was. People have told me I'm not the best at conversations." He replied.
"I'm sure they're exaggerating." She was unwilling to admit that he does speak like a robot at times.
Breaking their quiet talk, was the captain, confronting the doctor.
"The Stoic, I presume?"
"I prefer simply using my name, it's Faris." He replied.
"I need your insight." Said the captain, gesturing Faris to follow him.
Quartz decided not to leave the doctor alone and followed suit. She didn't trust the captain one bit. And she knew the feeling would be mutual, but these are desperate times.
As they walked to the back of the patrols' convoy, the captain continued. "Our squad was on our way back to Chernobog when we came across... something."
Walking past the patrols, Quartz noted the injured looks on some of them. They were recent, she thought. But her glances stopped when she noticed them staring back.
The captain explained their situation further. "The 'Fallen', as you call them, we believe they previously attacked a roaming Patrol Unit and held some of them captive. We don't know their plans, but when we found them... they fought with ferocity and strange technology we've never seen before. We fought them well, but not without cost."
Reaching the final vehicle, the three of them stopped to look upon a large, mysterious veiled cargo towed behind.
Quartz was perplexed, not by the sheer size of the cargo itself, but by the wheels, or lack thereof, transporting said cargo. The entire thing was hovering a feet abovethe ground, somehow.
"These are the bulk of what they were carrying in their vehicles." The captain stated, as he moved to pull away the opaque sheets, revealing what was underneath.
"Maybe you could shed some light about what we currently hold?"
Faris froze himself in place, more so than usual. He recognized the makeup of the Fallen Hauler. And the steel barrels hitched atop it.
He took a light step, and hovered slightly towards the top of the Hauler, eliciting curious looks from both parties below.
He was aware of the mechanisms behind each barrel, a container whose latches could be sequentially unlocked to be opened on the side. As one of the barrels were opened, he took a peek inside, and carefully grabbed one of its contents.
A metallic triangular container, and in its grasp, a pale blue cylinder. Despite the freezing temperature, its surface maintained a constant warmth.
He dropped back down, with the foreign object in hand.
"Ether seeds."
Neither the captain nor the RI operator recognized the thing he held in his grip, or what he said.
"This is what they need to survive. And with this amount... this supply could only be one of many."
The captain widened his eyes, his voice shaken. "So you're saying, there could be many more?"
The doctor nodded in response.
"Shit." He cursed under his breath. "What is going on in this country?"
Quartz looked on in concern. The patrols have intercepted a supply run from this so-called Fallen, as it seemed. Which means that there was a destination for these supplies to be sent to. A base of operations? What could that possibly entail? And of they could find it, would all their questions be answered?
As Faris kept examining the Hauler, a synthesized voice was heard in his helmet, a transmission only he could hear. It was his Ghost.
"Faris… I detected something underneath the hauler. It's transmitting some kind of signal."
"Underneath?" He looked down, crouching to take a glance at the underside of the Hauler.
There was a peculiar rod sticking out horizontally, attached to the surface. He reached out to grab it.
A sharp pull detached the rod off of its foundation.
There was no doubt about its nature from the design. It was a locator beacon.
And judging from the barely noticeable hum emitting from its metal, it's still functional. And active.
Faris looked upwards, his gaze scanning across the darkening sky. Nothing of significance yet.
That calmness would not last long.
"They're coming back."
Lost Light
0 - 6
Author's Note
So… it's been a while. More than a while.
I didn't plan to have a hiatus this long. Other things got in the way, and then I stopped playing Destiny 2 for a while. Only came back for the final expansion (and it was great), and then I took a break again. But oh well. At least I had time to practice my art in the meantime. And initially this was meant to be two separate chapters, but I decided to just post one big chapter instead. Should probably trim things down next time.
Of course I still plan to continue this for as long as I'm still passionate about it. My ideas for this multiverse are numerous, but actually getting there might take ages. I'm hoping I could update the story a bit faster from now on. Gotta have to put on my lucky pair of pants and hope it works.
Addendum: I will not pretend to be the resident Eliksni linguistics expert here. Any sections involving Eliksni language in this story is mostly improvised and based on various online research posts made by others in the Destiny community, as there aren't enough official translations for it to be a fully-developed language like say, Klingon. Unless we get new lore about Eliksni languages in the future, don't expect accuracy.
Extra addendum: This story is also available in another website (Spacebattles), and other than having some additional stuff (like artworks because you can't upload images here or I don't know how yet), it's an easier place for me to view and reply to comments. Any feedback is welcome.
Thank you and until next time.