Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I see the ship again. I can’t see well enough in the darkness, but I know precisely where I am. The scent of viscera is in the air; there’s a taste of metal in my mouth. I can’t escape its halls, yet I’m still trying to. The uneven footsteps, my panting breaths, it all seems to continue for an age. Until there is just blackness and ragged breathing. The relief is temporary, painfully so. I know I’m not far enough away from my pursuer. The dreadful silence only makes my fearful gasps that much more deafening as my pulse pounds in my ears. I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was out in the darkness, still coming this way. Likely gripping that metal railing. I had escaped with a broken leg once. I knew I wouldn’t be so lucky again. I had re-lived this moment hundreds of times, trapped in this nightmare day-after-day. I knew what would come and how it would end. He would find me, he always did. I knew where in the blackness he would emerge, and when I’d find myself painfully gasping for breath just for it to begin again.

 But this time, the cycle was broken.  I could hear something, but I did not know what. A murmur just on the cusp of understanding. It was quiet at first, as if whispered right over my shoulder. I froze in panic, but of course I found nothing in the depths of the room. Someone called to me in the darkness. Someone that wasn’t Him. On the other side of the toppled table against my back I could hear the crunch of broken glass. The scent of blood was stronger now. He was bleeding profusely, after all. The crunch normally brought such terror and anxious breath, but for some reason, I was calm. I wanted to hear that voice again. My respite did not last. It never lasted.

I felt a jagged pain as my broken leg was grabbed as he tugged me from my hiding place. He was panting, and I could hear blood dripping on the floor as He raised the length of metal over his head. He gripped it with both hands and my arms were splayed trying to protect myself. His eyes were the worst of all. Wild, gleaming, and holding nothing. And as I cried out, the voice I heard before came from his mouth, stronger this time. 

    “ Wake up. ” He swung down at me, and I screamed in terror. The beast tore through his body, shaking him side to side and splattering his blood across the walls. My screams were replaced with a pneumatic hiss, quickly choked out by the sound of rushing water.

Waking Up Without Her

    My senses were dulled, but I was jolted awake as icy water rushed into my metal bed. I lashed out in surprise trying to instinctively swim toward air, triggered by some survival instinct within me. I recalled quickly there was never a need to do so. I couldn’t breathe, after all. My senses finally returned as I looked at my surroundings. The water was nearly to my chest now, pouring in from a crack somewhere beside me. My pod was likely damaged, causing the automatic failsafe to wake me. Far from unheard of. I turned around the tight quarters, moving my limbs and getting a feel for motion again. My movements were heavily restricted, and by then the water had reached my neck. I leaned forward to press a hand against the glass.

  Fractured.

    Something had happened, something strong enough to fracture the rubedo-infused glass had awoken me. I pulled my arm back, and tentatively thrust it forward in a half-hearted attempt. The weak thud of metal on metal was silenced entirely by the rushing water. But there was enough room. I gave a tired, but no less determined punch to further fracture my cryopod. My first attempt met with no results, the pod only giving yet another dull thud. My motions were further dampened by the water pouring in, now entirely filling my former bed. My strength had not yet returned, made only stiffly more difficult by the icy water that chilled me to the core. If the chamber was waking me up it was no longer functional, and I needed to get free.

Doesn’t matter . I thought to myself as the water entirely swamped the pod in one horrible, freezing rush. My mind reeled, a searing pain across my temples as I gripped the sides of the dream-inducing coffin. I steadied myself, gathered my strength and tried once more. With another powerful strike the metal frame gave in a haphazard and awkward manner as it was forced outward in a way it was never supposed to be opened. Bubbles were sent fleeing to the surface as I stepped free of the metal coffin. My strength was intact, but still nowhere near what I had once been. My memory was hazy, and the sharp bite of cold was too pressing, I forgot what I had dreamt. 

How long was I asleep?

 A flash of fear, a flash of darkness. It was a terrifying feeling that demanded I thrash and escape. The thought faded as quickly as it appeared and I found myself still silently laying underwater. I lay there for some time, watching the small bubblettes of air climb their way higher and higher. I pondered the blanks I found in my memory. There were holes, missing pieces. I was not quite complete, and I did not know why. It was as if a part of me had disconnected.

Strange. I carefully stepped from the pod, and attempted to orient myself. Water was not my strong suit, as I could not swim, but any fear I felt was quelled when I saw I was only a few feet below the surface. A thin light flitted through the water around me, sending a few streaks haphazardly past me. I had to climb up the rocks, slowly climbing from the watery grave. More than once I slipped. Being as heavy as I was and as tired was a bad combination on the slick stone. At last I broke the surface, dredging myself from the pool as I looked around. This was not a place I was familiar with. I seemed to have landed amid a mountain range of sorts. The darkened sky above was cloudy with massive, billowing plumes and the ground below was coated with valleys of ice and water. A bizarre sight, even compared to the great vistas and views I had already seen in my life.

I examined my body for damages, but the sleek metal of my limbs was still as pristine as when I was laid to rest. Things were as I remembered them, and it seemed that my body was unaffected from the long sleep, but I did not know much else about my current situation. Where was I last? Where was I now? Why was I put to sleep? These questions barraged me. Doubts and worries were gathering. To stave it off, I listed what I knew: 

I was on some stable, icy planetoid that I did not know how I arrived on,

I did not know if I was still within the Origin system,

The planet was likely far from its sun, due to the ice storm,

My ship would most likely not be here,

My cryopod was damaged by an unknown force, possibly nearby,

A greater threat could be present,

I knew nothing of the local flora or fauna,

And all I had was my fists, and Baruuk.

No , I corrected myself. I am a Baruuk. I was… I am a warrior. A warrior who needs...

Weapons . I whirled around. Of course I had no weapons. No one goes into cryosleep with a firearm. My movements had brought me to the edge of the pool, slowly climbing higher as I mulled over my situation. I was nearly upon the icy rocks as I heard a shuffling, scuttling noise approaching. Caution was paramount, so I quickly took to hiding myself within an icy fissure of the nearby cliff face. I did not delve much past the entrance so that I could observe what was approaching. 

A mid-sized, mechanical-looking quadruped was scuttling along the snow and ice toward the pool I had emerged from. A scanner of some sort hummed, trained steadily on the water I had awoken in not moments ago. This was not the technology of the Orokin or my fellow Tenno. It was something foreign. A word bored its way through my subconscious and stuck in the forefront of my mind. Sentient ?

The word seemed familiar, but I could not determine how. My mind was still hazy, and any sense of understanding would likely come after I recovered from my deep slumber. However, my worries were only multiplied by a group of bipeds appearing behind the machine. The many-legged drone crawled into the small pond of water as the others gathered around. After a moment, the robot emerged hoisting my cryopod from the depths. It was flashing and making audible noises that meant nothing to me. The others gathered, and collectively tugged the pod to the surface with the aid of the quadruped. One of the newcomers in a colored suit that stood out among the rest made some gestures before the machine. It spoke in a loud language I had no recollection of. The speech patterns were unfamiliar to me. 

Undoubtedly, their discussion was in response to my absence. Wherever I was, it had become quickly apparent that my pod did not land in friendly territory. Perhaps this was the research base of some Orokin noble? If so, I would likely be detained, or more likely, questioned intensively for hours on end. Crossing the Orokin, even small time Lords and Ladies, could mean imprisonment, torture, or more. There are fates worse than death in the depths of Orokin depravity.

In my crevice, I found much of my awareness of self was still recuperating, and would probably take some time to adjust. More importantly, my personal shields were unresponsive. Perhaps my systems were not fully functional? No one had told me how cryosleep would affect me, and I was forced to simply ponder what to do next. The small, cavern-like ravine I was hiding in was close enough to the strange beings to examine them closely. Any group attempting a rescue would likely not be armed to the teeth, of this I was certain. These were machines here to contain or destroy: Guards or militants. I desperately tried to hatch a plan from my icy perch.

If they were indeed machines, as I expected, then destroying one may alert the rest. But destroying them was out of the question. I had no access to weapons of any kind, not even a stone or a stick. To properly defend myself I needed a gun. A master of gun and blade cannot function without either, though my kin often proved otherwise. With what sliver of strength I had, and no functional systems or support, I would go down in a firefight without question. It was best to withdraw and keep hidden for now. I was unable to discern the language of the individuals here. This communication gap would also hinder my ability to contact and convince any friendly individuals for assistance, if indeed they existed.

I turned from the search party and began making my way quickly through the frozen passage, hoping it was not a dead end. I noticed something odd as I walked. The walls were dripping with water that seemed far more dense than the standard mixture of oxygen and hydrogen should have been. This was viscous and thick. Some extra additive, or strange chemical was keeping the watery substance semi-solid. The liquid sloshed and squelched beneath my step. The slick path I tread was nearly as watery as the pool I had awoken in. My pace slowed when I realized I was splashing loudly and without caution.

The ravine eventually narrowed after several minutes. I quickly found myself at an impasse: A great wall of frozen liquid pouring in from a crevice high above. The walls were close enough that, with a little effort and care, perhaps they could be scaled. I found this a much better option than returning to the waiting arms of those unknown entities. My training was not something I could forget. Without hesitation, I attempted to scale the ice. My hands clung, digging weakly into the soft, icy substance. One over the other as I pulled myself up. However, only four meters up, I slipped from the surface, falling backward to crush ice and rock beneath me. The impact let a resounding noise of crunching rock and ice echo through the cave. I had been careless. If the sound carried, I would likely have little time before they were upon me. 

I regained my footing and steadied myself. I needed more strength. I placed myself in a meditative stance, kneeling on the cracked ice to gather myself. The cold was seeping into my bones now, I needed energy to stave it off. 

How would I have done it back in the training grounds? I pondered as I tried to channel my energy. I could feel it there, deep in my core. There, the force I needed was welling within me. I guided it from my core and out, into my limbs. It was formless, nameless strength, far too raw to be useful to me. Magnetic force would not assist me with the strange coolant, I would need to convert this energy into something different.

Small fragments of ice lying around me were shuddering as I focused. Gravitational energy should work. The force was coiling and changing, spiraling out to my limbs and weighing them down. Moving my hand over ground as several small shards shifted beneath my outstretched hand. This amount would have to do. I did not have the time for more. 

I stood and propelled myself up the face, my grip now crushing the ice beneath as I moved. I was leaving a noticeable trail, but the raw energy and force exerted from my body was exhilarating to feel again. It was a proper stretch after a long rest. It took nearly a full minute to reach the top of the frozen ice of the cavern. Each pull higher was weakening me. My fingers were thrust forcefully into the ice for grip, my climb assisted by the gravitational forces I had created.

For several, uncertain moments near the top my leg slipped as the ice beneath my hand crumbled, letting my heavy metal body slide down the falls. My fingers, frozen from the falls, created long lines in the ice as I slipped, knocking chunks and segments free to clatter far below me.  I gripped tighter, praying I would not fall once more. I slowed, stopped, and eventually found my footing again. I proceeded much more carefully upward. A few more pulls up the ice and I scrambled to the top. Finally, I emerged from the fissure of rock and ice that would surely have been my prison. Or my tomb.

Surely such a feat would have exhausted most creatures, but I was a Tenno. At the top I felt a great ease come over me, but it would not last. I was much higher than before, nearly at the top of one of the mountains now on this strange cliff face. I gazed out across the foreign land that I could now see in full. The view did far more bad than good. My heart sank as I examined the terrain. What met my gaze were great towers of Orokin design looming in the distance. Each was long-since coated in ice and overgrown with a titan fungus. Smaller buildings of a different design surrounded the landscape in a series of outposts and stations of unknown purpose. 

Wherever I stood was, at one time, part of the Orokin empire. But now it seemed that it had been overtaken. By what laws and order these strange beings operated by could be nothing more than speculation to me. I could observe great ships moving in the clouds above, occasionally drifting past plumes of cloud and snow, while some smaller transports broke through the cloud cover. Perhaps, some several miles above that was the dying light of day. Down below it seemed to grow dimmer by the minute. Some of the lights around the structures flickered to life in response to the fading luminescence. I paused on that twilit bluff to contemplate my fate: 

The enemy force here would be problematic, but perhaps I could find a way onto one of the ships I saw above. That is, assuming I would want to leave the planet. If I was no longer within the Origin System then the unknown would be far more dangerous to traverse than living in hiding wherever I was. It appeared to be a stable planetoid, more or less. The best route for now would be to gather information, anything I can glean. But even if I could survive, I was isolated. Utterly and entirely alone here.

Several low-flying transports were heading in my direction. I took it as a sign that it was time to move. I quickly decided I would focus my efforts on infiltration. If there was information to gain it would most likely be within the enemy base. Specifically, the central tower of the valley. That tower seemed to be the central hub of activity. My path took me away from my destination, heading in another direction first. I needed to give a wide berth between me and my cryopod. They would likely be scouring the area, hoping I was not strong enough to make it very far.

I was quiet, but not the stealthiest Tenno, to say the least. I was not revered for my ability to burst through enemy lines, or assassinate targets from miles away like my brothers and sisters could. My strengths were in patience, and outside of combat. I loathed to fight when resolution could be reached through other means. But here, my options were as limited as my paths. As I made my way closer to the tower I inwardly grimaced at my situation. It seemed my only choice.

I would survive. I had to.

Chapter Text

    Wind clawed at my limbs and threatened to tear me from the foreign tower as I scaled it. I had only just begun, and was nearing my first lip of purchase. The building itself was designed in geometric patterns of practicality, far removed from the gilded excess that the Orokin held dear. I pressed on, continuing the climb using the same force as before to scale the vertical surface.

Earlier, after short deliberation, I had come to the conclusion that wandering an unknown landscape with unknown dangers was a poor option. Was climbing nearly a mile into the air up an unknown structure a great alternative? Likely not. In my current situation, some may have felt great fear in falling from the height I had reached, but I feared discovery far more. In fact, I had leapt from heights even greater before my sleep. My metal body was more than capable of withstanding the shock and impact that most organic lifeforms could not. Thus, leaping from a mile high building - minus the time it takes to fall - is little more than taking a step down a stair. Heights did nothing to sway my resolve. I was designed this way, after all. It was in the schools that I… 

That I... what?...  

I could not recall.

 The long sleep had riddled my memory with holes. However, the negative thoughts were still clear to me. I could still recall the laws of my Golden Lord. His domain was to be silent always. He crafted a perfect palace for himself, far out in the depths of the Origin System. A palace of silent footfalls, forests where birds would not sing, chambers where echoes were killed. But the great Golden Lord demanded more than the erasure of sound. His word was law, and I his silent messenger. Servants were flogged for squeaks, whipped for whispering, slain for coughing. And as the Lord’s messenger, I was the deliverer of the Lord’s wrath. The innocent and guilty alike were put to death at the whims of the Orokin Lord, and my hand. 

But for myself, my Lord had another rule for me. I was to never hold a weapon. He refused me the smallest instruments, nary a needle was I allowed. During that time, I stood as a silent enforcer of peace in his domain. More accurately, a destroyer of it. The master scorned me, the servants loathed me, and they all feared me. Especially the damnable dogs that served that monster with their bodies and minds…

I shook my head and tried to let the memory go on the wintry wind. I had been sitting still upon a stable part of the tower for some time in my reflection. Snow had begun to gather in my lap. I often found myself distracted like that, when given too much time to think. Inwardly I scolded myself, daydreaming now of all times. I took a moment more to observe my surroundings from my vantage point. Turning my attention outward, rather than upward, I could see the landscape a little better from this height. 

The terrain was wild, sporadic even. Even amidst the storm I could see some life in the frozen landscape. There was a good deal of low-lying vegetation of some sort curling the base of some small mountain ranges, but what was far more fascinating was the large fungal growth that perpetuated even higher up into the mountains. Large caps of mushrooms in every corner consumed the mountains and valleys alike. They watched over ponds and lakes of varied scale, some much more solid looking than others. At one point I swore I saw a glimpse of some distant, flying creature off in the haze. My only fear remained with my possible detection, I had no time to lose. I was exposed with my systems offline.

By this point, my perch was perhaps a hundred meters up the mountainside complex, and the view far below was nearly obscured by the blowing snow and clouds.  The foreign architecture beneath my palms had a smooth surface that was stark and utilitarian in comparison to the elaborate design of Orokin architecture. The Golden Lords entwined gilded frills and unnecessarily beautiful flourishes into the most basic of items. Excessive greed was a key component of all Orokin legacy.

It was here that I let my gaze linger on the old Orokin structure I saw off in the storm. The tip of the fanciful towers, once sickeningly beautiful fortresses of elaborate care, now eroded by time and the cutting wind. This region had been abandoned long ago. One of the primary objectives of the tower’s neural sentries was to keep everything in pristine condition.  It did so in making sure to not allow outside contaminants or a severe overgrowth to take place while the tower was functional. Monitor temperatures, patrol the halls, maintain vital systems, tend to unkept growth, the sentry did it all. And while this tower in the ice storm appeared to be partly online, the lack of upkeep was deeply troubling.

What happened after that day of judgment? What has become of our world? I pondered. 

By now there surely must be new masters of these lands . There must be. How else to explain the unknown language, the strange machines, or the foreign designs?  I can’t recall how long I sat on that ledge examining the world as the wind attempted to toss me from the perch with every gust, but I paid it no heed. I was steady and resolute. I meditated, taking my time in thinking through my predicament in what I hoped would be a safe place for now. Were I to fully scale the tower, I would have access to some of the nearby transports that I had seen coming and going above me.  I considered this as I stared at the sky. Waiting was something I had done plenty of in my life. What would a few more hours be?

I could wait an age if I must. Sit by and let my body rust and my heart stop. I went over my plan again, nearly the sixth time during my climb. My line of thought followed thusly: If one transport landed at the docking area the likelihood of being spotted on the climb up was lesser. However, if they were operated by individual worker drones then the chance of being discovered would be drastically higher. Until I was able to find a weapon, pacifism was my only option. My strength was far from returned, and in my current state I would be far too easy to capture and detain. My resolution was beginning to falter, and I was starting to worry about the great number of possibilities I would face.

Perhaps if it was automated and there are cameras I would be spotted regardless, or another transport will already be on its way as soon as the docked one leaves, or they already knew I was scaling the tower and as a result were waiting for me with armed forces on the docking area already, or… These thoughts were swirling like the furious wind before me. My frustration was building quickly now, a bad habit developed over years of self-doubt and bitter grudges. It was hard to keep up any Restraint when things got particularly bad. Usually my only method of release was to break something, or someone. I tried my hardest to clear my head, attempting to let the anger off into the fury of the gale. I needed to focus. I needed to think.

I had considered the same course of action nearly ten different ways as the sounds of an approaching ship cut through the wind, breaking my self-inflicted panic. I had to go now. Inaction and further anxiety would do nothing for me. I needed all the focus I could muster. From my perch I gathered myself once more.

I stood, turned and felt the jolt of energy through my limbs. My personal shields were still inactive, but my energy still persisted. The magnetic strength returned, assisting me in what would otherwise be an impossible task. I began to scale the tower again. Above me was perhaps another hundred yards to the edge of what appeared to be the top: hopefully an outdoor loading bay. With one hand over the next, I made my way slowly upward, feeling the energy in my limbs begin to waver. The charge broke for a moment as I began slipping down the tower. 

I slid, hearing and feeling metal grind on metal as the magnetic force caught once more. For a few tense moments I stayed still, praying the wind did not decide to tug me free from the side of the tower. When I decided it was safe, I made my way up to the ledge above. I grabbed hold, and could have gasped in relief.. As silently as a kavat, I swung from the ledge and flipped myself up to the platform above. As I tumbled to the platform floor I looked up, hoping to get my bearings. I was surprised to see that I knelt directly in front of a very startled individual, dressed almost identically to the crew that was at my cryopod. 

We froze as we saw each other. I quickly took stock of my opponent: I could see the cubical, well-polished metal of this stranger up close. I could not discern where its eyes were, though it likely could not either. The stranger frantically reached for what appeared to be their helmet. They barked a quick and stern call in that foreign language I could not understand:

“Jatttasey!” Surely a call of alarm. Fury bellowed in my chest, and raising myself up, I struck out at the fellow, furious at my misfortune. My strikes were perhaps two meters from the patrolling figure, but that did not mean it was safe. The blows were weak, but even without the Desert Wind behind them, my strikes crushed the lower segment of the helmet. The force of the punch sent it across the platform, the bipedal drone sailing through the air to land with a crunch of metal and viscera. I hurried forward to examine its form, trying to learn as much as I could about my enemy. At first I thought the machine was leaking oil, but the growing puddle around the biped was crimson red. What I mistook for an android was actually a suit of some sort! I had to know more.

Up close, I could glean a little bit more. The covering of this suit appeared to be primarily metal reinforced silicone of some sort. It was not until I plucked the helmet off, that I saw beneath was the still-surprised visage of what I could only describe to be a distant cousin to the Orokin I once served. What was before me was a being of toil and labor. The Orokin had hardly lifted a finger through their pampered lives. This one wore the marks of stress and age upon his face.

I had to be quick, but this was important. I began to theorize. Their technology seemed primitive in comparison to the Orokin. Rather than frayed circuits and wires of misplaced and haphazard craftsmanship, I was starting to see the purposeful choice of sleek silver and polymer, an embedding of electrical circuits and energy processors that appeared to keep the suit functional. What surprised me most, however, was the fact I could recognize the design of the paired shield units which were hidden stealthily within the shoulder pieces. The design appeared to be a direct copy of an older unit that was used for operatives during the early stages of the Old War. Before they became obsolete, that is.

  How long was my sleep? The question returned while I knelt down to place my hand on the device. 

As a sharp, crisp alarm siren ripped me from my thoughts. The sound was booming, artificial, and quite obviously an alarm. My eyes fell to weapons.

 I needed something, anything to defend myself. It was after a few panic-stricken moments that I noticed a length of metal strapped to the psudo-Orokin’s hip. I snatched it without much thought. The metal was bound together in a fairly crude fashion for a purpose I was not entirely certain of. Unbalanced, but at the very least , I thought, hefting the length, perhaps it would be a good weight to strike with . 

I swung it to test the weight, but to my surprise I found it crackling with energy. An electrical charge was now running through the rod as it jolted me, forcing the rod from my grip. I had grabbed hold of the charged end, a prompt and painful reminder to be more careful with strange technology. Taking hold of the tool’s proper end, I readied myself as the bay doors to the building interior opened as more bipeds entered. Fast bipeds, with turrets mounted on their backs. They quickly marched into the bay as what appeared to be a commander followed much slower with weapons ready. As expected, some sort of security team.

Instinct drove me forward, the urge of battle ripping at my chest and demanding a fight. The storm in my soul wanted to crush something, or someone. Yet experience pulled me from my growing fury. I turned away from the marching machines to see the ship that had arrived. It appeared to have unloaded its materials, and the engines were already powering. A decision had to be made. I could risk fighting the security team and stay here to await another transport, or leave now. My instinct screamed against a fight. They outnumbered me, outgunned me, and while weakened they outpowered me. A loss here would lead to at worst capture, at best, death. I stalled, glancing once more toward the security team. 

And I let the wind take me.

While the fury within me ached to be channeled, I leapt up to chase the ship. The security force all began firing the moment they had visual contact, unworried about collateral damage. Their shots landed so close around me that I felt the searing heat from the passing slugs. My steps drew me close to the ship and I flung my only means of defense back at the assailants, not bothering to see if it had any effect. I could not take it with me. I would need all my strength to stay on the vessel. 

The ship had reached nearly two meters off the ground as I leapt from the platform to cling to an outer ridge of the machine’s wing. What little strength remained after the climb was poured into my grip. Shots splattered the hull, centimeters away from where I clung. I worried for a moment, as the ship turned slowly around, that perhaps it was shutting down. Fortunately, the engines turned over with a loud roar and we were off.

As my transport took me away from the immediate threat, the wind tore far harder at me. The storm only worsened as the ship took us higher. It took a slow ascent out into the cloudy skies. I assumed it was automated, or I was unnoticed, as the ship never attempted to toss me from it. I adjusted my grip, trying to hold on tight. The wind was picking up as my misfortune struck again. The ship was now ascending faster and faster! I had not expected it to be leaving the planet. I had not even begun to breach it. My grip was slipping as the ship went nearly vertical. I desperately willed whatever force still remained in my limbs to last. Ahead, the thick clouds of the atmospheric storm were waiting. We closed the distance in no time,as the metal beneath my palms creaked and groaned in agony. The force of the storm ripped at me with more and more ferocious gusts. 

For a moment, I thought I felt the storm lighten up. The wind had lessened, and the roar of the ship's engines were gone. But I was no longer going higher. My arms were still outreached, magnetized to a chunk of the ship’s wing as I plummeted. I was flung from my hold. 

Looking back, I may have seen a very similar scene not mere hours before as my cryo pod fell from the sky. Air whirled around me, roaring and lashing in every direction as I fell. I let the metal go, dashed away quickly by the skittering gusts of the wind. I fell. I waited. And I listened to the storm around.

The wind’s roar was calming in some ways. The anger I felt within me was still there, still roiling and waiting, condensing under the pressure. But as I fell through the deafening, buffering winds there was a sense of ease that could overtake me. It took me back. Back to the halls of my Golden Lord. 

Back when the sounds of silence could no longer hold back fury. 

Back when the roaring winds of the Desert Storm tore through his carefully crafted silence. 

And his carefully crafted form.

My body crushed rock and ice as I bounced off the cliffside with a forceful Crack! that rumbled the mountain. The world blurred together as my limp form whirled about. Mountains stretched to gray-white blurs as I spun, tumbling further from the heavens with another massive crunch of ice and earth below. The sound was like a ceremonial cannon shot, echoing through the valleys in every direction. And there I lay, faceup within a seeping pool of the same fluid I had awoken in. Ice, debris, and shards of glittering powder rained down onto me while I watched the storm above, now far, far away from my terrestrial bed.

The storm was captivating, from this distance as well as within. The clouds above coiled and curled in patterns of turbulence that stretched and twisted into ever changing forms. I'm not certain how long I lay there, taking in the scene, or simply lying in shock. Snow fell softly around me. It was so quiet and calm now, on the ground and in my soul. The silence eased me, but an ache had begun to spread through my form. I tried to move, wincing painfully as I felt a far more acute, sharp pain in my left shoulder. With the impact, I had not noticed it, but now that my senses were returning I could see a large length of a jagged stalagmite piercing my chassis. It had shed a soft splatter of red across my robe and the ice alike. The stalagmite was already melting from my warmth.

    The sharp sensation of pain pricked and ached with every small motion I made. Taking hold of my shoulder, I rolled out with a painful jerking motion. I paused, unable to let out any sound of distress, but feeling every bit of it. My hands dug into the earth, cracking stone and rock as my hands squeezed, trying to share my pain with the earth below me. After a moment of shock, I managed to my knees, still clinging to the wound. I could fix myself easily. In fact, this process took very little time. A puncture, even as large as this, was repairable in minutes of focused meditation. I knelt down, my focus entirely on the ground before me. I could feel and visualize the energy flow through my body once more as I tapped into that deep well of life. I willed as much as I could to the wound, feeling the cool, soft brush of the Void stitch my steel-flesh together, inch by agonizing inch.

This strange nothing had been the greatest discovery by the Orokin. The Void itself allowed us to travel distances unfathomable, and create things that ought not exist. As I let myself recuperate, I made certain my energy was not entirely spent. Using every ounce of strength would leave me defenseless. I would be a captive before the day broke if I used it all. At last the pale glow faded and I moved my shoulder around to readjust my healed form. Sure enough, my body was repaired in full, but by now much of my energy was exhausted. I doubted I could get far, but I could at the very least stand.

A quiet whisper reached me from my position, and I brought my focus back in a mere moment. I had not noticed during my meditation I was being observed. Not simply observed, but surrounded too. Before me stood a well-armed platoon of robotics. My rest had left me immobilized directly in the crash site of my fall, and I did not have the consciousness to sense anything around me. Unarmed, and now spent from my endeavors, I stay still, allowing them to approach first. I could muster no more offense. I would counter and elude now. One of their number stepped forward and I tensed myself. I urged what little spark of defiance I had left to stay alit. I could immobilize it, if not destroy it. One strike would be enough, as before.

It may be the only strike I can make before I’m overwhelmed, but I won’t go quietly...  

Coming closer…

Closer…

...Where is its weapon?

    “A Tenno.” Not whispered in the harsh language I had heard earlier, but in Common Orokin!

So there are survivors. I relaxed. Whatever was before me now was not the enemy I had faced prior. I was ready to wait, and learn more. The one approaching me spoke:

    “Do you understand us, Tenno? Are you hurt, do you need any aid?” I saw many different styles and robotic parts among the figures before me. They were not uniform, nor organized. Only a few carried weapons. And, what’s more, they knew what I was by name. They knew I was a Tenno. They knew I was a servant to the masters of old. They knew what I was capable of, and what I had done.

And they did not flee.

Did they not scorn my existence? Did they not know my presence was death? Did they not know what we had done to their masters?

    “... a Tenno doing out here?”

    “... have active operatives…?”

    “No… shouldn’t be…”

“Anyone?...”

    Several of the machines were conversing, nervously. They were scared and confused. I stood, and many of them gasped. Some froze in fear, while some clutched their weapons. Others whispered something quietly, awed at my presence. I watched them all for a moment while the approaching one stopped. They stood before me, and I examined the mix-style augmentation on their forms. These people were not like those before them. Reinforced metals on some aspects of them. Some sported organic limbs, thick from regular labor. Most donned thick coats to insulate from the cold.

These were alterations of necessity. Of workers, for workers.

None seemed hostile. So to ease them, I took up a relaxed pose. In turn, they did too. These beings did seem to know what a Tenno could do.

    “It’s alright now, Tenno. My crew has secured the immediate area. I’m Rho Ulova, the commander of this squadron. Solaris United operatives, at your service.”

Chapter Text

    I had begun to piece together the events since my slumber. After the Tenno struck down the Orokin, they were put to sleep. All of us, called by a force unknown, were drawn to Her. And She put us to sleep.

But my memory was faulty. Who was She ?

As I slept, the Orokin empire crumbled. Survivors scattered and were hunted. The slaughter of the council was our signal. An event so sudden and violent that nothing would survive as we culled the Golden Lords. Something so impactful it would be impossible to ignore.

And it was. Nobles and exploiters alike scrambled from their repercussions as the freed scrambled to rebuild their lives. They could not go back to what once was. But they could move forward and start anew, freed from their bondage.

    I watched the people before me and saw them now for what they were. The unfortunate descendants of those who did not scramble fast enough beneath the tread of the powerful. Shoddy cloth, makeshift weapons, rusted gears, worn out parts. These were far from the Golden Lords of old, and I felt for them in a way I had never for the Orokin before me. I felt sympathy.

Not moments after our standoff, the commander of this “United” group handed me a weapon. They wasted no time in assisting me, and quickly outfitted me with the simple sidearm. Assuming I could understand them, the leader continued to inform me on the current situation I had landed in.

Ignoring the more specific aspects: the squadron was in the middle of enemy territory, moving operatives to a secure location. The threat these people were escaping was vague. I did not understand precisely what these ‘Corpus’ were, but I could draw the conclusions necessary.  It appeared most of the crowd were indeed not soldiers, but refugees. Of the score of augmented people before me, only half carried guns. 

And half of the guns look like they can fire.

I showed them my understanding as best I could with my motions. No easy task. Communicating with outsiders has always been difficult for us Tenno. We have no voice with which to speak. That was tasked to interpreters, cephalons, and the Golden Lords.

    “If the Taxmen find us out here we are done for.” Rho said loud enough for the crowd around them to hear. “They won’t hesitate to gun us down. The heartless muckers find it easier to sort out who’s who after they’ve already scrapped any resistance.” Concerns were voiced nearby:

“Then we need to run!” One person yelled in fear. 

    “Hell no! We have a Tenno with us now, do you realize how much that puts in our favor?” Another began. “We may as well have an army standing before us!” At this, Rho stepped forward.

    “No, the Tenno is not joining us on this mission.” This statement was firm and resolute, immediately silencing the voices around the valley. “We cannot stand and fight. Not against the Corpus, and especially not here. The Taxmen have forces across the valley waiting for an excuse to stretch their trigger-fingers, and automated patrols are already circling. There will be time for rest once we are safe, and only then. We need to continue moving, and not get overconfident, even if we do indeed have a myth among us.” A rallying murmur went through the group as Rho pointed up toward the mountain pass ahead. “Now let's get going. Our visitor will join us for a stretch, so make the Tenno feel welcome. The midway team is waiting for us, so put some spark in your step and make use of your legs for once!” As Rho moved forward, the rest did the same.

    It was quite the sight: bipedal androids and cyborgs trudging through the mountainous terrain. The crunch of snow and spore from under each foot gave its own cacophony of noise. The Solaris moved without purpose or order. Some held their weapons like they feared it may go off at any given moment. The group themselves had spirit, but morale was not high. Many of them had an uneven mix of organic, humanoid limbs in tandem with their augments. I wondered how many of the replacements were of necessity. As we walked, I continued to examine the landscape. It was strange, I knew I had never been here, but time shapes mountains, rivers, and valleys. Perhaps this was some half-finished moon in the Tau system, far far away from all that I knew. I could only theorize and consider. It wasn’t like I could ask. 

    About a kilometer up the mountain, one of the operatives began to walk beside me. Their movements were not steady, but uneasy and erratic. For a time, it felt like they were walking beside me just waiting to begin a conversation. I could hear other members behind us, some murmuring under their breath, some in awe, some in fear. The one that walked beside me was fairly close. I realized they were trying to get a better look at me.

“You know,” The operative began, a thin voice projected from its chassis that was vastly different from the leader’s. “I’ve only heard the stories of Tenno warriors. Legends of your fights across the system. You really are a rare sight, especially around here. You are the first Tenno I’ve gotten to see! Hell, you might be the only one I ever see.” They continued in awe. “Some people said that the Tenno were myths, that they never existed. But there are too many stories. Too many legends. Even Solaris United has been helped by the Tenno. You give us the will to fight back against the Corpus.” The operative was ecstatic as they prattled on, but after their outburst of praise they shifted their weapon, uncomfortably awaiting my reply that would never come. The communication barrier was obviously bothering them as I simply nodded in response. “You’re a... warrior of few words, I suppose.” They were obviously downtrodden, but to this I also nodded. The speaker was obviously distraught, and I made no attempt to further acknowledge them. Their leader seemed to have an ability to sense low spirits, as they slowed their pace to intervene.

    “You know they can’t talk, right? The Tenno are mute, Kota.” The leader spoke, trying to alleviate some of the misunderstanding.

    “Oh! My mistake. I had thought… nevermind.” Kota said as they reached up, an augmented forearm rubbing the back of their metallic neck. I cannot imagine many nerve receptors being placed on the artificial replacements, especially on the more worn models. I could only assume this was a nervous habit from before his augmentation.

    “It’s ‘right, mate. Most of us never met a Tenno before, myself included. I only know from the informants who work with them.” The commander of this makeshift brigade was also heavily augmented, though it seemed they were better off than most. Rho, stood only a small bit taller than the rest. As the young operative was patted on the back they quickly returned to the larger group behind us. Rho then turned to me and, shouldering their gun, held out their remaining real hand.

    “We arrived in such a hurry I could not properly greet you, Tenno. I am Rho Ulova, the field commander for Solaris United operatives in the western sector of Venus. That was some fall, are you sure you’re alright?” The voice that greeted me was pleasant, and somewhat soothing (which I hoped was not another artificial lie-made-truth). I took their hand and shook it, unsure if I was more satisfied to have a name for the planet or surprised at their statement. Rho continued: 

“We saw something fall from the clouds above, a shining glimmer! Some of the crew were gawkin as you came down. You fell right into Nunanrun Canyon! The crack echoed for miles.” Rho whispered, awed at the feat. “We thought we were heading for some salvage, and walked into what looked like a slaughterhouse! You were surrounded by blood when we found you.” The commander voiced his surprise as he recalled my descent, but my gaze wandered to the landscape around us.

Corpus, Foe. A ruthless, cutting wind.

Solaris, Friend. The unrelenting earth.

But Venus? The second planet was so close to Sol. Had it been moved from its prior orbit to find it now covered in ice? Rho must have deciphered my confusion as my focus wandered from the conversation. They pulled themselves together quickly:

    “It is quite cold for Venus, isn’t it? It’s because of those towers.” Rho pointed to one of the tall, Orokin structures that stood in the center of the storm around us. “They were put here by the Orokin, long before any of us, in an attempt to make Venus hospitable. The ice storm is manufactured and managed by those structures, and were you to step out of the gale you would find the remainder of Venus significantly warmer the further you travel from any of these sites. A miracle that they are still active after all this time, still making a blizzard in a firestorm.”

    They describe the Orokin as legends. “long before” “all this time” How many centuries have I slept? 

“I could prattle on forever if you let me, but we have to get a move on. If we are to get you out of Corpus sight then we need to get somewhere underground. We have contacted some local factions and spread word of a stranded Tenno, we will have to see what comes of it. 

“In the meantime, please come with us. We would hide you within a worker outpost for the time being, but we need to make sure you are not whisked away by any roving Taxmen. I have received word that more are converging in this sector. So chop-chop, let’s leg it!” This they yelled to the larger crowd of Solaris. “Get some gears in motion, yeah?” Their leader picked up the pace considerably. I followed after.

A strange crew. I thought to myself. Rho continued talking, but my focus fell to the few operatives that trudged on beside me, as most hung back to chatter idly through the march. My companions, almost all of them, were poorly outfitted for the frigid environment. 

Metal and sheer will was not a great insulator in the cold. Yet, many of them were augmented so much that organic limbs appeared to be the rarer sight. I then observed the more mechanized soldiers: 

Few wore any kind of environmental protection. Any mechanical limbs required no additional casing, and the chestplate shared by most of them appeared to be a simple alloy case. I could only assume the low temperature was held at bay by the lack of flesh on the bodies of these people. I began to wonder how many of the proxies I had seen before had once been people, and how much still remained of them. 

“Look ahead, there Tenno,” Rho broke my pensive reflection with their call, “Just a bit further passed here we will be in the clear.  Rho’s voice called back to me. Their pace had taken them further in front of me. “Do you still see Him?”

My attention had slipped, something was coiling nearby. I sensed it. In moments something wicked had wormed its way into our midst. My blood ran cold, something that even the ice of Venus could not accomplish. My hand gripped my weapon tightly as I nearly had to jog to catch up with the Solaris leader, trying to close the distance calmly. The sensation was vile, like rubbing up against something decaying. I heard a small murmur behind me as my stride stopped dead.

My head seared with pain when Rho looked back at me. My sight was failing me… or was it? Rho no longer had a head of metal and circuits. In its place was a face of Orokin ancestry. Long lines of raised black markings ran across the temples and down, crossing over the cheeks as this thing that was not Rho looked to me. The eyes were piercing, malicious, and brought back feelings of utter, abysmal panic. Familiarity froze me to the spot as I smelled his blood and heard His horrible laugh.

I know you...

 I raised the weapon and held it pointed at what was once Rho. My weapon bobbed slightly as I held it there, my arms quivering ever so slightly. I was poised and ready to fire when Rho’s true voice broke the illusion that bound me. 

“Tenno?! What’s wrong?” The leader turned behind them and pulled out their own weapon, prepared and ready for something unseen. The crew behind us did too, some worriedly eyeing my movements. I stood, stock-still, recovering from the shock of it all. 

Confused.

Uncertain.

What had I just seen?  

One of the operatives shouted from behind us.

“Raknoids! On the cliffside!” The scrape and screech of metallic limbs on rock was amplified as proxies fell from the cliff face above our path through the ravine. Almost exactly above where I was facing a terrified Solaris commander. Among the falling arachnoid robots were larger models, easily descending the sheer cliff as limbs skittered across rock, knocking small boulders free falling. Scores seemed to be making their way down upon us. 

I heard a hollow crunch of bone and metal somewhere behind me. 

“He sure sees you.” My motions were lagging, my head cloudy. I drifted, as if faint.

“Form up!” Rho shouted at the others, gathering their force by me. United members shouted, guns began firing, and the majority of the Solaris went running for cover in the canyon before us. 

The battlefield’s orchestra fully forced me from my stupor. A need to fight surged as adrenaline and energy chased the dread from my veins. My body felt strange, as if a static charge had been run through me. Movement returned to basic instinct and disciplined training.  My actions, not entirely my own, turned me to pace backward slowly as my borrowed weapon fired round after round of sizzling slugs at the drones. 

My first shots went incredibly high. I could still hardly think, let alone aim. The travel time on each round was far slower than I expected, and my compensation was made larger.

I led my first target, a sizable, crimson colored machine, by a significant margin. I heard only a few muffled yells and orders, while I fired and took slow, steady paces backward to give the runners as much time while the gears of my mind still spun.

The time for reflection will follow. The time to survive is now.  

I threw myself wholeheartedly into the fight, my grip tightened as the spinning chamber of my gun whined from use. My first target was riddled, and tumbled lifelessly down the steep incline, taking out several smaller drones in the process. With most of the Solaris out of immediate danger, a new firing line was formed. Rho continued barking orders as we retreated steadily. I let off another burst of suppressing fire on the smaller, faster foes as several tried to leap off the cliffside down on the group. The closest proxies were gunned down, and the immediate threat to our advance was neutralized. 

Yet more were coming in force.  

Reinforcements mounted the upper segments of the cliff face above us. Those that took the high ground kept it, firing and splattering some inorganic, pearlescent substance onto the gunners. Calls went up, and some screams of fear as one operative was coated, knocking him forcefully to the ground. In moments, the thick substance had bubbled, sizzled, and hardened as the operative beneath went still.

My aim turned to those larger units on the top, the wide spray of bullets finding several targets but stopping few. The high pitched whine reached its peak as the chamber spun, clicking uselessly as the gun whirred angrily in my grasp. I heard the chaos of war clearly around me as my gun went silent. Yelling, crashing, gunfire. Destruction all around me.

I felt for a latch, looking at some way to reload when the firearm hissed and popped open. The side chamber of the gun pumped rapidly as it exhaled heat and a great deal of steam escaped. I feared that I had broken the weapon, but after the release the chamber clicked neatly back into place. The sidearm had cooled rapidly in moments! A triumphant noise announced the gun’s charge was back. I heard the same noise all around me as operatives recharged their weapons to hold the line. The pistol seemed to be producing its own projectiles, or taking something from the air around it. It did not matter much.

As long as it works.

Another splattering of unknown substance trapped another United member beside me. My assumption was that perhaps the adhesive was to capture these runaways. But a burning, acrid scent that filled the air told me otherwise. As the operative struggled to escape the amorphous projectile I watched the metallic limb bend, warp, and sizzle as the adhesive frothed angrily.

“Move! Move!” Rho barked at their operatives, “Leave any limbs you don’t need and run!”  Some of those that had been caught in the adhesive were indeed leaving entire segments and parts behind in the mess to hobble toward their goal. Even haphazard and disjointed, I saw the spark of life all around me. These rebels would not be put down so easily. They knew of the struggle ahead and the challenge they faced. They were dead set on achieving their goals by any means necessary.

I followed with haste behind them, avoiding the pools of adhesive to the best of my ability. I passed more guns and prosthetics in the mire, already blackened and eaten by the horrific glue-acid. The machines were still congregating above us, three appearing for every one we shot down. Some breaking off to scuttle back over the cliff face. Others paused to clear an area. They were waiting for something, and it did not take long to appear.

Some kind of large, floating monitor appeared hovering atop the hillside. The great visage nearly dwarfed even the large spider-like proxies beside it. The monitor carried the face of a well-augmented individual. A terrible attempt to mimic the look of regal Orokin authority. Were it not for the markings across his face, I would say he reminded me of an elite I had once seen in passing. The voice gloated loudly over the wind and echoed through the valley towards us.

“Oh, Solaris. You are once again sticking your lowly circuits where they don’t belong. That one is my property, brought to me through the Void’s will. I plan to have it back.” The arrogant, pompous announcement was so assured of his imminent success. “Surrender the Tenno and I shall see that your families receive only half the fine for your misdeeds. Fools who gamble on the edge of the Void must eventually pay the price!” 

The grinning fool that appeared on the ridge laughed, his mirth bouncing off the canyon walls as he looked down on us like trapped pests. The escaping Solaris were not a concern of his. They were an obstacle. He was not chasing these people, the Orokin imposter was here to hunt me.

Something grabbed my shoulder and I spun around quickly to face the Solaris commander. Their robotic features revealed nothing, but their voice told plenty.

“It’s time to go, Tenno. Quickly now.” Rho was oddly calm as we retreated to the entrance of the canyon. The peals of laughter and skittering robotics faded until the sound of crunching footfalls echoing off cave walls quickly silenced them entirely.

Chapter Text

The advancing force was biding its time. 

Nef’s crew were likely scouting the nearby area before following us in. They needed to verify we were trapped, and more than likely will try to cut us off at another exit. They did not send any forces in after us.

Yet .

We continued into the crevice as it eventually opened up to a proper cave system. Perhaps less than a hundred meters past the entrance the Solaris were scattered throughout the tunnel before me. Those who could continue on did so, but those that could not had congregated here in a small antechamber. All around me was the wreckage of war and the wounded. 

“My leg isn't functional, you go on ahead, I’ll catch up.” I heard someone behind me say. Some soldiers were giving halfhearted pep talks to those hanging by a thread. I saw some embracing each other, terrified of what was to come. At least one operative had gone dark right there on the floor, and was being pulled deeper in by another Solaris. Our situation was grim, made worse as I sought Rho’s commanding group. What few remained were surrounding their leader, quickly taking stock and worriedly reloading magazines.

“... rigging what we have, but we lost Jal... second supply bag...”

“... enough to collapse the southern entrance?” I could discern the voice of their leader as I drew close.

“Yes, but we lost the timers. The charges will have to be set off manually.” Another concern echoed in the cavern. Some of the operatives were chattering quietly, but a solemn silence overcame them as I approached. Some moved aside for me, others made a small motion with their hand.

“Rho?” They were asking for direction. I sat on the ground at the edge of the circle, waiting for the commander’s lead. Though, the Solaris leader did not face us at first. They seemed to contemplate, looking down into a bag they held for a long time. I simply sat at the circle edge, and listened. “What do we do?” The panicked Solaris continued. Rho stood, pulling some cords and casings from a satchel held by an operative. After which, the Solaris member quickly hurried to join those retreating. Walking to the center, the commander serenely instructed the remaining Solaris. 

“Place them spread further into the tunnel system then, deeper than first planned.” Rho’s instructions were calm and carefully worded. “As long as Nef doesn’t stumble across one of the other tunnels, we can force him to dig for us. By which point we will be long gone.” Some Solaris murmured in approval. One did not seem to take this decision well:

“If you would allow me, commander. I would happily accept the honors.” Their voice was unsteady, possibly even angry. Rho did not acknowledge them directly as they gave their command.

“I’m ordering no one to their tomb here today. I will stay behind.” Rho looked directly at their operatives. “Now, set the charges.” Several Solaris silently saluted their commander, grabbing their things and setting out with the bombs. The Solaris who volunteered stormed away. They did not get far. They collapsed, weeping onto the cavern floor. As the demolition crew moved to prepare their explosives, Rho walked to comfort the fallen Solaris. 

A high pitched noise started from somewhere further in, a soft droning noise that was growing rapidly. It built quickly to a crescendo as a blast rocked dust and spores from the cavern ceiling.

Operatives were moving with purpose now. Sentries came through nearby tunnels, reporting that one of their entrances was discovered. It was detonated, but Nef’s crew were already hard at work digging through. The eastern tunnels were lost, leaving only two exits: one for the refugees, and one path for us. Medics moved the wounded further in, and the soldiers placed charges throughout our entrance tunnel in the dim light. Rho had sent the weeping soldier on, and then went to assist themselves. I stood then, turning to face the entrance. I observed the movements and the struggles of the Solaris. My focus turned to their bombs.

    The explosive was crude: an electrical device of some sort rigged into a cylindrical battery. I heard its whir pick up as they primed it. The blue and silver battery let off a small sonic hum, not unlike an insect at the edge of one’s hearing. A score of them covered the cave ceiling, the noise steadily growing to a grating, electric droning.

    “These batteries have a major electrical feedback flaw.” Rho was setting up the wiring beside me as they talked. “In these models, if you pump enough juice into them the extra charge builds and builds. With nowhere to direct the energy, it explodes quite spectacularly. We can thank Nef’s budget cuts for them.” Rho was addressing me directly, so I listened. The other Solaris had continued further in, leaving just us now. I turned to look at Rho, giving them my full attention. The Solaris thrived with Rho’s command, this much I could see. The soldiers were faithful, and worked well together. Not because Rho’s word was law, but because they trusted the commander. Trust is not born from Authority, it must be earned. 

Why is it you who must stay behind? I awaited the answer to my silent question.

The commander continued their explanation:

    “What was once a floor hazard that could take out a score of workers is now one of our best makeshift bombs. Nef’s greed funds our uprising again and again.” Rho said this cautiously. It was not a thankful thought. It was laden with grief. “I lost my son to one, the batteries that is. Nef wouldn’t even let me bury him. Claimed his parts as “Incident evidence”. After that, I joined Solaris United. I even gathered these faulty batteries myself. The least I can do is make Nef’s poor business decisions blow up in his face, again and again.

“It is… fortunate, at times. The well oiled machine of Corpus rule has many flaws. We take what falls through the cracks, and make what we can’t. This should give my people as much time as they need to escape the taxmen. Our timers were with my second in command, lost during the ambush. So I will detonate the bombs manually when Nef tries to make his advance. Don’t pity me, it’s how it should be. We Solaris work on borrowed time, and borrowed limbs.” Rho turned to face me directly. “I requested your recovery in the next valley over. The caves will lead you right to it. Go with the advancing force, Tenno. Thank you for your help.”

It was not a request that Rho delivered to me in that rocky passage. It was an order. The whine of the battery bombs was bouncing across the rock, the hum of a coming swarm. Rho Ulova, field commander of the Solaris United, held the charge in their hand as they spoke to me for the last time. 

“That pompous clown out there knows my debt by name. Even plans to collect on every last bill. But after me?” This, Rho yelled out the cave entrance. “There’s no one left! What do you think of that ya mucker!? My family escaped last cycle while you were snoring!” The commander laughed loudly and proudly at the empty cave tunnel. Then, as if suddenly tired, they sat down on the cave floor. “I stayed behind. I told them I would help the United front just once more. Guess I was more right than I knew.” Rho turned to look directly at me as they finished their goodbye. “We Solaris aren’t strong, we can’t fight our oppressors on even terms. We settle on tearing things apart from the inside. It's slow, grueling work, and often costs us everything, but we can do it.” Rho gripped the detonator tightly, clutching it like a precious gift. “I can do it.”

*     *     *

I left Rho behind. For what else could I have done? 

The winding corridors of rock stretched another mile until I came to a large cavern. Before me was the main chamber of the cave system. It was far larger than I had expected. Liquid was slowly making its way down the rock face, seeping from somewhere far above and audibly bubbling. A pale, towering growth of fungus sprouted from a rocky island where several of the wounded Solaris were resting. By that point, most of the refugees had escaped. The stragglers were directed down the escape tunnel by one of the remaining operatives still holding a weapon. 

A sliver of light streaked down from the stone ceiling above. There were flurries of snow falling down the crevice above to dust the fungal overgrowth in the heart of the cave. In the stale cave air motes floated lazily, distrubed only by the passing Solaris. The spores raced along after the metal soldiers, a visual indicator of the chaos of the crew. The injured were being moved as quickly as possible, but not all were fast enough. Not all had made it. Some of the Solaris lay on the cavern floor, refusing to move even when shaken.

 The dampened echo of concern ran rampant in the place. With the commander in the passage behind us, authority was absent in this cavern. The remaining Solaris force was perhaps eight strong, lingering in the passageway on my left, visibly uncertain about what to do. Not one of them was attempting to quell the panic, not that much would. They were downtrodden, but not beaten. In that small gathering of soldiers they were readying weapons, stocking supplies. The worst was yet to come.

Those still willing to fight for the resistance were grouping there, so I found my way to them beside the shallow pool around the fungus. A prismatic oil-slick on the pool gave the soft glow of the room a beautiful glimmer of motion. I thought of the gloss of the materials used on our foes in comparison to the Solaris before me. Nef held new models. Fresh paint, new circuits, top of the line robotics. These people were suffering rust, wear and more. They were running for their very lives on borrowed limbs. 

Those without will suffer. A horrible law of an imperfect world. Nothing had changed since we culled the Orokin. The greedy still took power, the unfortunate still toiled away for the former. The Solaris around me were indeed suffering. Grief was in the air, and the loss of the operatives had left a crippling blow to the mood of the refugees. What good will remained was concentrated with the remaining fighters, a last glow of the burning embers of defiance.

The young Solaris (Was it Kota?) who spoke to me earlier was among them. They did not question me this time as I joined. No one spoke a word. They stood unmoving, and distraught. I thought they were watching me, but I soon realized the truth. Their focus was behind me, back into the tunnels. I did not know what we were waiting for. Each grimly prepared their packs, their guns, and their limbs. As the room was nearly empty, only a few of the Solaris from before remained, patiently waiting for something.

We did not have to wait for long.

A series of low frequency pulses shuddered through the cave. A string of noise set off a mile behind us rattling rock and bone. The cavern rumbled and quaked, knocking shale and spores loose above us. I feared for a moment that the quake may destabilize our own mountain cave. But the charges seemed planned, and us far, far away. With a burst of dust and a sudden cessation of the cool breeze, the passage we had traveled was silent. Small chunks of the rock crumbled and caved at the entrance, accomplishing little. It was the real blast nearly a mile behind us that had blocked our pursuer’s path with the cave-in. For the short time the quake was alive it roared its fury loud enough to crack the earth, but the saboteur's last act finally faded as the stone settled.

The remaining soldiers stood, looking back at the way they came in silence. No words were spoken as we watched and waited as the dust softly reached the ground. The loss was palpable in the silence of the cave. The momentary silence was a grim reminder of the cost of their mission. One soldier began to hum softly. It was a slow, sad tune I did not recognize. They quietly hummed, until another soldier picked up the tune. Then another, and another. Finally, one nearby raised their voice to slowly sing along:

“In toil, turmoil, we gather round.

This day we lay our loved to the ground.

We few that remain through cold, bitter frost,

Know our family found is lost.

So be still my friend, your journey now ends,

We all march on to make your amends.

Beyond the veil, as you travel death’s swell

We sing: ‘Farewell, my friend, farewell.’

As we sing: ‘Farewell… farewell…”

One by one, the Solaris picked up the melody, humming sadly to themselves as they turned to the exit to continue their march. The song was slow and mournful. Its disjointed sound stretched through the cavern. The Venusian rock echoed the mourning song as the eight remaining Solaris lifted their weapons. Placing them on their shoulders, they saluted, and one by one turned to continue their task. The verses had stopped, but the soldiers continued to hum their sorrows aloud as we carried on. 

The mission was not yet finished.

Chapter Text

V - Reconnect

Our destination was close now. The valley, according to my guides, was only a few hundred meters further. With Nef so hot upon us, it was going to be a risky extraction. Once the ship was here, it wouldn't wait long. The remaining Solaris planned to escort me as far as they could before they returned to running. Many of the soldiers who trudged beside me were preparing themselves for the possibility they would not return. One joked, uselessly trying to lighten the mood with some gallows humor. The others stayed silent, keeping close to their chest.

I would board the ship, any ship, that would take me away from the immediate danger of capture. The longer I remained on the Vallis without weapons or strength to defend myself the less likely I was to ever leave. The Solaris were valiant for helping me as much as they had. I didn't even have a way to repay them.

A thought that crossed me as we walked beneath the Venusian rock was thus: Who was aiding the Tenno? Obviously groups we have aided will offer assistance, but there was something more to it. Someone had been coordinating efforts while we slept. Someone had taken the initiative. And if I was not the first to wake, how many of my siblings were out there? Had they truly been arbiters of peace and justice? Or are these rumors and myth, like the Orokin before us? My ponderings were not given much time to settle within me.

“Light!” The lead Solaris called, and sure enough the tunnel was beginning to brighten at last. After several miles beneath the snow and rock, it was a blessing to see even the dimmest flicker of hope. The reflected glow was bouncing across the ice, lighting deep into the cave entrance as we came closer to daylight. “Remember our job. We are to secure extraction for the Tenno. Keep your circuits overclocked, and Sed, prep the beacon.” Lights were dimmed, and weapons freed from holsters. The instructions were clear, though they lacked a hearty delivery. The impact of losing Rho still weighed on the group. We were all in dire straits, and downtrodden moods. 

At the mouth of the cavern we sat, preparing for the final step. Though pickup was waiting on standby, it would be some time before they could get to us. A communication beacon would give us away to Corpus forces, but with our lack of resources the only other method available was firing a flare. Either way, it would be a tense wait until extraction could arrive. After confirming the location’s security, the Solaris soldiers began plotting at the entrance. Half were leaving what extra ammo and supplies they had to go back and help the refugees. I was glad to see the friendly Solaris, Kota, among the group that would be returning. The remaining soldiers began setting up the field satellite, not bothering with encryption. No one was entirely optimistic, not with an army of robots looming somewhere above us.

I had mulled it over, and had enough sense to know I may not cross paths with Kota again. So as they wished one another good luck and farewell, I approached that young soldier.  The group had unloaded most of their gear and was preparing to retreat, but Kota paused. He turned toward me as I came close. The others watched me cautiously as I did. I had a debt owed, and nothing to give. So I settled on action. I held a hand to my chest, and bowed my thanks to him. The kinship these soldiers shared was pure. Each of them struggled daily for survival, yet they stopped to aid me. The respect I owed Rho, would now be for the Solaris. My actions spoke thus: I would remember what their people had done for me.

It is strange how a small gesture can mean so much to someone still spry with youth. Kota saluted back, puffing his chest and marching proudly as he went on his way. The retreating Solaris saluted too, and held their heads high. Everyone needs a good bit of encouragement. While their footsteps faded, I heard the voices of the Solaris follow suit. Moods had improved. From the tunnel I even heard an echoing laugh. It was a sound I had not yet heard since Rho sealed the entrance. Among their provisions was Hope, and they needed it in plentiful supply. For them, the struggle was only beginning.

The remaining Solaris appeared to be familiar with one another; perhaps they had been long-time comrades. As they prepared, they joked about returning to their home:

“Ugh, a whole cycle long march! Talk about bad on your joints. If I wasn't already so deep in the hole I’d get a tune up when I get back to base.” One started, leaning back against the rocky walls of the entrance. “Speaking of, who’s buying when we get back? Let’s decide now.” 

“I’m good for it if no one else can.”

“Muck no, you paid last week. I’ll cover it. First round on me, on the condition you stay around for cards after.” Sed said deviously. 

“You’re about right when you say you’re going to cover it, bolts-for-brains! You put the casing on wrong-side up!” Another crewmate jeered.

“It will still work! Just pull the wiring out and around, yew tin dullard!” Sed retorted.

“What if it won’t reach?”

“Well that means you haven't tried yet, now have ya!?” A couple of laughs were finally heard.

The clouds were billowing overhead as the storm outside kicked up. The howling wind was rough and angry, much like my fall through the sky. Perhaps we were near the edge of the livable globe created by the Orokin Venus towers. Or, like us, perhaps even the planet itself was tense with anticipation.

*     *     *

    What felt like nearly an hour after, the field satellite was ready. Once active, the distress signal would likely also be picked up by Corpus forces. From there it was going to be a close race. I hoped whatever friends we had waiting in orbit were faster. The Solaris Sed held a device of some sort in their hand, interacting with the satellite through an interface that was alien to me. Everything appeared set, and we were ready to deploy. It was here I offered my services to the crew. I gestured to the device. After a moment the lead Solaris got the picture, and nodded to me.

    “It’s all set, just gotta drop this out on the Vallis floor and we are green.” I nodded and offered out my hand. Sed looked to their commander who nodded back. Sed then handed me the deployable satellite. For a machine built nearly from scratch it was well crafted and hefty. The weight it held was significant, and I adjusted my grip as I made my way to the entrance of the ice tunnel. I turned the device over in my palms, examining its technology closely. It was primitive compared to the Orokin. Wires, batteries, and radio signals were old-world tech, but they worked.

The biting wind was howling and lashing at the mouth of the cave. I could feel the air here. It was a strange mix of frigid wind and warming sun that met me at the entrance. There I stood, contemplating my return to the Venusian surface for a moment. I was met with a beautiful sight at the cave mouth. Over the mountain valley, snow and precipitation billowed and flowed from the rocky peaks to spill out over the great nothing between them. The mountains themselves were overgrown with the massive fungi, completely devouring the peak to the right of our cave. The ridge on our left was roughly half the size, and much less steep than the others surrounding us. Following the valley slope down, I saw why this was ideal for my pickup: The clearing was large and remote, stretching down the entire length of the mountain without a single mark of civilization in sight.

I heard the Solaris behind me, some whispered to one another in disbelief that I had been trusted the device, but the commander was beside them and their words silenced the chatter: 

“If you still doubt the Tenno, just watch and see what one can do.”

Time to go . I started to run. Picking up pace as I neared the drop off, I clutched the beacon and leapt. I sent myself hurtling through the air, flying several meters out before plummeting down the mountainside at breakneck pace. Landing heavily in the snow, I slid, leaving a deep trough in my wake. The lengthy mark on the perfect snow pack led down nearly to the heart of the valley. With my speed, I likely would have missed my ideal dropzone. I dug my heel and arm into the snow and skidded to a stop in what I deemed close enough to the valley’s naval. There, out in the open, I planted the signal firmly in the pack. I would rather guarantee we get a message to friend and foe alike than risk only contacting the latter. 

    After setting the device, I began to make my way back uphill. Unsurprisingly, the several hundred meter dash in snow would not be easy. My metal form was sinking into the deep slush, making movement fairly useless. A long trudge back could take perhaps ten minutes if I was slow, and the more energy spent working my way back the less I’d have to fight. I would be exposed for far too long.

I do not have time to dawdle. If my limbs were too heavy, I would change that. I began to focus on the wind about me. How it flowed to and fro. My mind went to the drafts, feeling them rise and fall, and the invisible force behind it all. Being balanced was not enough. I could not change my reality through my reality. The storm was strong but it could only do so much.

Through the Void I could remedy this. Dreamers have many tricks, after all. I could see lines and wires all around me. Threads dangling in the air above me, not bothered or moved by the storm or the wind. Threads I knew no other soul could see. These lines had no place in our world, and I knew none other that could see them. They reached down, slowly heeding my call. The wires coiled around my limbs tightly. The phantom tug of force raised me up, lifting the weight of my heavy metal body from the rock below. I willed myself lighter, and surely enough my step no longer sunk into the snow. My footfalls made hardly a mark upon the surface of the frozen powder.

Now, I can move, light as the wind.  

I made quick work of the mountain face, clambering up the snowy terrain at full speed. In mere moments I had scaled what I had previously slid. My steps did not waver as I leapt up to swing from a fungal overgrowth just beside the mouth and propel myself up the short drop to the cave entrance. My landing was light, and right where the excited Solaris were waiting.

    “That shouldn't be possible…” A Solaris muttered.

“How the hell are you that fast?” One exclaimed.

    “You sure we shouldn’t have kept it closer?” Another asked.

    “No,” Sed assured them, “It may have issues broadcasting too close to the mountain.  We need the best sky exposure possible.” We all watched with bated breath at Sed’s device. The comms began to sync. The moment the signal was active, the tension became palpable. The machine my ally held was transmitting data now. If our extraction was not quick, we likely would not be escaping this valley. And, by now, we knew there was little chance back through the tunnels.

    “Please mucking work.” Sed whispered to the console, his hands clasped to his chest. The thick Venusian storms were working against us. The atmosphere and thick cloud cover was likely eating some of our distress signal, bouncing it all around the Vallis. The Corpus would pick up on the new signal before too long, and they were likely expecting it. I heard another Solaris swear.

Seconds ticked by. Then minutes. With each passing moment we were losing precious time. But there was little more for us to do, save watch and wait. It was faint, at first, nearly indiscernible from the wind as our machine crackled to life. A small sequence of tones emanating from our communication array. Sed interacted on their end, pressing the screen quickly. The tones repeated again. Something was establishing contact. The receiver stabilized, and the tones repeated a third time as a new voice announced its presence:

    //Communications established\\  

//Cephalon Dovas at your service

Sectarus class-3 Research Coordinator//

\\Descending to your current coordinates

Approximately ~ 3 ~ minutes out\\

A cheer went up from the Solaris, but the message was not finished.

//Corpus forces en route to intercept

Further report upon arrival//

 The lead Solaris swore.

“Get ready.” They instructed us somberly. The scout stationed at the entrance yelled back to us. Vehicles were arriving on the ridge above us, right on cue. Drawn to the signal like insects. The dim glow behind the clouds illuminated the distant scene on the slope. A large force had gathered above us. Much larger than the group previously pursuing. Robotics of various sizes and heavy weaponry glinted, reflecting the light from their position on the valley apex. They were preparing their advance. 

“Overtime pay for a year to the operative that brings me that Tenno!” Even over the bitter wind Nef’s augmented vocals were easily recognizable. He sounded desperate and angry. His voice boomed over the hills as cheers of Corpus forces followed. A frenzy of activity pouring down on the valley. Foot soldiers began jogging through the snow. The large vehicles were making their way toward us: at least a squadron of vehicles, a group of large quadruped robots, and a full platoon of infantry. My four allies would not hold out here alone. Even with our advantageous position, I could see we would be quickly overwhelmed.

The Solaris moved quickly, all of them hopping free of the cave mouth to settle nearby. We needed some cover, and our natural grown cave fungus would do nicely. We were tucked beneath the fungal growth that sprouted from the cavern below, taking shelter in its roots. The Solaris were ready, screaming a cry of rebellion up and into the robotic onslaught. The shouts of defiance were then followed with the well aimed burst fire of the Solaris. They flipped off their safeties and did as much as four determined soldiers could. My aim joined theirs, attempting to pick off some of the closer targets. The Corpus began returning fire, but their guns were inaccurate from this distance. Robot proxies were the bigger concern. Some were making their way down the valley as the faster units bounded over the snow with haste.

I only emptied my gun once before I stopped firing. It would not be enough. Even if every one of us landed every bullet, it would not be enough.  I let my empty weapon fall from my hands where I stood as I calmly stepped out from our cover. My gaze fixed on the advancing forces as if it were an avalanche. Most shots were missing from this distance, but that would not last. I saw now why some Solaris had split from the original eight: those remaining had come here to die. They were willing to give everything to see me safely off the planet. They were prepared, determined even, to lay down their life for a stranger. These people did not need protection, they needed hope. I decided to instill that hope.

 I needed no weapon to divert our enemies' attention. The Solaris around me gave shouts of confusion as I stepped from the safety of our cover to approach our enemy. Nef was waiting.

“Oh? Is the lecherous Tenno surrendering?” Nef asked amusedly. “Crew, hold your fire. The Void works in mysterious ways. If it surrenders it will save me at least some losses. Come back to me, Tenno. I paid quite the sum for you, after all.” The Corpus forces paused, robots standing in the snow to watch. Some of the soldiers were  looking around uncertainly, as if Nef’s orders had never before been followed. The robot army now had all eyes, and all guns, trained on me. I heard the Solaris behind me yelling in confusion now.

“Where are you going!?”

“Don’t give up! Don’t give in!”

I ignored them and continued walking up the valley slope, the slow trudge in the snow taking time and allowing me to view all of his forces for a moment. We were vastly outnumbered, but I did not worry, nor fret. My steady pace across the valley lightened as I used the same trick as before to lift me up, atop the snow as I ghosted toward the arrogant Orokin imposter. I walked far enough from my allies that they would no longer be in any danger, and planted myself directly between my allies and my foes. Nef’s grin fell from his face as he watched me pause. Here, I was directly between my companions and the advancing force. And here, I took my stance. 

I placed a hand before me, feeling my weight shift as I leaned back slightly. I stood in place, and simply waited. Nef sighed as he saw me stand still. “Stubborn through and through. Long range units, dispatch the Tenno.” The Corpus aim I had seen was atrocious, but at this order, a plasma slug ripped through my chest. Then two more in my stomach. A cry of concern came from the Solaris soldiers behind me, but as several more shots found their mark along my limbs, my side, and my throat they saw me immovable before Nef Anyo. The searing hot plasma threatened to melt my circuits and self, but I did not waver.

 The concern of the Solaris melted to awe as they watched. The pain and the heat left as quickly as it had appeared. My wounds ceased to exist as void energy rippled through the space around me, warping and shifting my form. I will admit, I did not believe my strength would allow me to Evade them, but there I stood. I was immovable, and I was ready. I began moving toward the Corpus. Nef’s turn to panic as he called to his soldiers.

“Bring down that Tenno! Don’t let it get close!” With the full force of Nef’s army now firing, more munitions found their mark on my form. Each blazing pain stoked the embers of fury in my soul. As my steps took me closer to the attackers, more shots began sizzling through me, and the roaring fire only grew stronger and more defiant. Just as before, however, the searing pain was gone like a bad memory and I was left untouched after each and every shot that passed through me. But the pain was real.

One minute. I can hold out for one minute. The sensation was intense: hot fire sizzling through my core again and again like bolts of ceaseless lightning. But there was no pain I could not endure. I had come too far to be stopped here. Some of the Corpus froze in confusion at what they saw. More and more units began aiming directly at me as the superhot wave of energy slugs rained down on me. I stood stock still, unphased, letting their wasted ammo uselessly warm the frozen land behind me, and the fire within me. I endured each shot as the void rewound and restitched every wound made. Each searing pain added another coal to the roaring fire of my soul.

In this trance, I found myself no longer on the Vallis snowscape. In the burning heat and sizzling fire I was transported back to the first moment I observed my master’s great brazier. The fiery ichor that spilled from it was in most ways beautiful. The bubbling rubedo stirred and sifted, molten and unrefined. But I was not before the brazier to observe. As I held my palms out to let the molten metal pour down over my limbs, searing me. That falling liquid fire was poured directly into my soul. Anger that would never abate had stitched itself deep within me. A fury that would never forgive. And I waited there beside the brazier. I burned and I waited. Sometimes for days. Until I was commanded to stop. My palms turned up to feel the cool, frigid air of the Venusian wind cut through me, hardly noticing the flickers of pain across my body. Amidst the burning plasma shower, the fury of the storm was stirring.

I’m ready.

A plasma slug tore through my face covering, clean through my head. More noise of distress from the Corpus. It was no wonder, either: they were watching their weapons empty round after round to achieve no effect. My motions betrayed nothing, save a flinch. The frail silk fabric that hung before my face stitched and mended along with the wound. My stance refused to budge. Their onslaught stopped as noticeable concern began to rise among the Corpus. 

“Fire concussion volley!” Nef ordered. Several robotics and vehicles near the ridge peak fired upwards into the air, a streaking volley of blasts that slowed near their peak. A moment later they burst, each sending rockets directly down onto the valley. The concussive blasts rained down, rumbling the mountains themselves. The torrent of concussive blasts came rushing toward me as the valley was carpeted by them. Of course, these served little more purpose than noisemakers. The rushing bursts of energy ran down toward me and landed all about, blasting snow into the air in powdery bursts to achieve nothing. Even those landing directly on me did not cause me to falter, even as they powerfully battered my form. The snow began to settle, flakes and smoke finding their respective places as the scene cleared and I still stood. 

The Corpus continued to panic in their strange, harsh language. Commanders were barking out orders and unknown words.

“ Jkap pke… ”

“ Teruite taykuk !” Their exclamations of surprise were amusing to the Solaris, who spent this time firing on the distracted foe. Some shots found their mark on the Corpus, but two of the larger, crimson raknoids were approaching now. Rapid, angry whirrs of the arachnoid robots voiced their spite. The large mass of the metal monster skidded on the snowscape toward me, the snow barely able to hold the weight of the synthetic. It towered above me, nearly ten times my size. The screech of fury was piercing, and the machine lifted a leg to crush me. With the raknoid making its move, Corpus suppressing fire had let up. My stance shifted, my hands moved, ready for offense.

Get away.  

I struck the closest raknoid as its leg reached for me. With the force of howling wind guiding my motions, the raknoid sprayed sparks and circuits in every direction, the adhesive it carried spurted backward, spilling across the frozen landscape behind the robot. As the first grew dark and fell, the second reeled in surprise. It quickly crawled toward me, hoping to close the gap faster than its kin, but I was not finished. My next strike shattered the metal of the still moving enemy without even touching it. From the wind alone its limb fractured and sheared in every direction. Weak alloy. I took note. I had blasted the raknoid’s limb in a frozen splinter storm of shrapnel that rained back onto the Corpus force, several cries going up from the organics among them. My blow caused this second proxy to falter where it stood, struggling to support its own weight on the three remaining limbs. 

Just a little more.  

I struck at this one again, and again. The first few blows immobilized the raknoid entirely, smashing its limbs as the machine screeched in dismay. My rapid strikes were stirring the tempest around me, howling winds and swirling clouds converging on the valley to circle my position. Shrapnel and metal splinters were stirring, lifting from the valley floor to be pushed back uphill. My strikes the limbs sent them forcibly tumbling among the enemy. My minute was about up.

//Tenno, your extraction has arrived//

Dovas was finally here, and it was time for me to go. As the rushing wind gathered around me, I lifted the dense machine with ease into the air. My strength was forced out with the bellows of the wind of rage. I focused and channeled all I could into one final burst: a roaring strike that knocked the battered ball of metal back nearly a hundred yards onto the Corpus platoon. Screams were shortly heard and quickly silenced as the dead weight of the metal husk rolled over the front line. And with that, I bolted away from the Corpus forces, getting distance between me and the enemy in an exhausted run. A cheer of success called from the Solaris behind me as they watched me go.

“Unpaid leave! S-suspended pensions! Get me back that Tenno or you won’t see a credit for the next internment cycle!” Nef’s panicked voice yelped at his incompitent lot as I heard the soft thrum of engines growing steadily. A ship had burst through the upper atmosphere! With its announced arrival I looked up. The ship itself was not anything akin to the Corpus tech. It was much more familiar, of Orokin design. Just above the unsteady gunfire was the roar of engines. Positioning itself above the beacon, the sleek, pointed ship arced down into the valley and slowed to a hover. The Corpus were already preparing their weaponry and reforming their lines. 

The Solaris retreated back to the safety of the caves as I fled to the safety of space. Shots of plasma chased hot on my heels as I stumbled through the snow downhill, heavy footfalls sticking and tripping me as I went. There was no weightless running now, it was a desperate trudge for survival to the ship. My body was feeling heavier, as if my efforts had been undone and gravity was growing stronger around me. My movements were slowing, and I was nearly out of energy.

The destruction of the front line helped to lessen Corpus fire, but it was not enough. A stray shot caught my arm, using up even more precious energy to repair it as I ran. On the far ridge more Corpus reinforcements were arriving. It was extraction or capture now. The ship engines blew waves of snow and ice across the valley back at my pursuers, stopping most organized gunfire. Nef yelling uselessly somewhere behind me, ordering more barrages and weaponry. The ship was hovering only a few yards further.  

//Approach quickly

Probability of escape is falling//

Cephalon Dovas spoke with purpose, and I attempted to heed his warning. But as I neared the ship my movements only slowed further. Eventually, I sank into the snow beside the beacon. My resources, my energy, and all my tricks were spent, but I had made it. A soft thrum from somewhere above me was soothing to hear. A magnetic field was spilled down from the craft, and I felt the tug of the ship pulling me into its gravity, lifting me from the valley floor.

Safe, for now.

The sleek vehicle shifted direction. It drifted slowly upward and away from the Corpus as more dropships arrived. Corpus weapon fire on both the ship and myself was worsening by the moment. I wondered if I would even make it inside as I was taken into the cradle of the listet. Its doors swung closed to drop me in safely. But there was little time for relief. The ship rocked as a concussive mortar found its mark. The pulse of engines blasted me to my knees, and I desperately clutched whatever I could in the airlock as we took off. The force pushed me to the floor, and there I stayed. From my collapsed position on the ship I could do little more than look around. My strength was spent. My shaky hands weakly clawed at the ground beside me for stability.

But then, a whisper. Faint, somewhere from the darkness.

...safe?

I could feel it, like icy tendrils creeping into the room. The ship stabilized, and I tried to get my bearings. Up, near the top of the ramp, I saw something shadowy and sinister floating about. Like the haze of blurred vision and coiling fog, but not comforting to view. It reminded me of dark storm clouds on a distant horizon. Some presence was here, on the ship with me. It looked directly into my being as its form curled like tendrils of smoke.

This ship swims with something malicious…

Exhaustion took me to the floor with a hard, metal clang.

Chapter Text

VI- Void

I was immobilized in the darkness. I was suspended, lightly floating in place. I had no energy to give, and no will to spend. My limbs would not obey me; my body was not my own. There was a low murmur all around me. The soft babble of... water? Some great current stirred around me, ebbing and flowing in response to an unseen force. I found myself unable to open my eyes, though I didn’t need them. I knew where I was.

I must be dreaming. I could sense myself between the barrier of the conscious and subconscious: I lay atop the surface of the Sea of Sleep. This un-place that did not truly exist. A place where Dreamers found themselves when wandering too far, or expending too much. A place we could sometimes reach in these exhaustive states, or unstable moods. But while there we must tread carefully. The Sea is not an easy place to arrive in, and not an easy place to leave. We had lost many peers to The Sea. Though we were given great power, while we dreamt we were still mortal. To us, dreams were as dangerous as the waking world. Like drifting in any ocean, there were things below the waves of consciousness, unknown monsters in the deep. We must be careful not to splash about- lest we attract unwanted attention.

As I floated on the surface of the great Sea between, I chose to rest, rather than fight a losing battle against my exhaustion. I would dive until I could recover my strength. So, I let myself be pulled deeper by the current. I needed rest, and The Sea would provide. My descent was slow, a gentle tug to help me drift away from the cares of the waking world. Once I plunged deep enough I could open my eyes, though I knew what I would see was a lie. All around me were pale, translucent eddies, currents of thought, and great glowing coils of energy tinged by the touch of the void.

Thoughts bubbled freely from my head as I descended. Some popped, releasing strange, fleeting creatures that dissolved in the sea moments later; others were growing and expanding, gathering weight and mass. I could see one dream gathering above me: vast, mountainous landscapes spiraled by flying predators I had no name for. The Sea of Sleep was a repository: emotions, consciousness, wishes, and especially hopes and dreams could find their way here. The darker waters forced a shudder of unease through me. The sheer impossibility of this place was revolting to my sanity. In the depths of sleep, dreams would become reality. We channel thought and energy how we choose, altering and transitioning it to our needs. The dreams here served as stores of energy, and to the Dreamers, revitalization came in absorbing it. We released our old thoughts and memories into the Sea to exchange, to create something new. 

But, this came at a cost. We are all susceptible to what we invite into ourselves. The memories of strangers would become my own: their emotions, their feelings, their sensations, everything would be mine. This included the negatives, such as pain. And loss. Some Dreamers could drown themselves if they took in too much. A wayward Dreamer could lose their identity, forgetting who they truly were, or even develop alternate personalities. I had seen it happen before. It was the knowledge of these fates that kept us Dreamers sharp, and why we were so cautious.

But there, in the deep of the intangible sea, a beautiful melody called to me. The noise chased off my fear, and pulled stronger than natural current here. It lured me further, farther down. Some strange siren song slowly singing, reeling me deeper into the realm of rest and recollection. Thoughts shifted the waters about me, creating pockets and eddies of energy. Dream worlds were created around me and destroyed moments later by the current of the Sea. Each was its own encapsulated dream, fragile to being dashed by even the slightest stirring of the waters. These waves of energy rippled and warped as I drifted past. Some piqued my interest, but my focus was on the strange call that beckoned me deeper. Though I could not see it, and could not know it, there was something below on the bottom of the murky sea that I needed to reach. I floated past darker thoughts, and colder memories as I descended further and further from the bright surface. Old and vile alike swam around me as I finally touched down in the depths. 

At last, I had reached the bottom of the dark Sea. My feet softly landed on the sandy bottom, kicking up silt all around me. The ocean floor was near-barren at this depth, save a dark dream or two, and the few memories I would rather let waste away down here: Recollections I keep locked away, and wounds that had yet to heal. Amidst the tendrils of dying thought weakly reaching from the sea floor something was buried. I would keep my distance from the various dreams and energies as I wandered, seeking something I couldn’t comprehend. The song was louder at this depth, deafening with no other noise in my head. It sounded like the calm hum of a song as it guided my limbs along the ocean floor.

I wandered for a long time in the depths, fighting back uncertainty as I followed this energy in the dark. I don’t recall how long I wandered, but eventually the song went silent. I stood alone at the bottom of the Sea of Sleep. I looked around me in confusion, but I could see clearly that my subconscious was hiding something. There was a glow on the ocean bed, mere meters from my feet. My slow, steady pace across the sandy bottom kicked up plume after plume of silt around me. I was breaking a very important rule for Dreamers. I glanced up, peering into the miles of darkness looming above my head.

...Did something just stir the waters?

I ignored it, hoping it was merely my imagination, for at last I had reached my destination. Far deeper than I hoped to ever tread, but what risk isn’t worth taking? The light was dim, pouring through the sands, buried just below the surface. I fell slowly to my knees, the impact kicking up one last burst of loosened sand as my hands dug deep. The gritty silt filtering slowly through the dreamscape slowly revealed the strange artifact in my hands. In the depths of my subconscious, I had found a shard of thought that did not belong to me. It emanated light bright enough to see well off in any direction as I pulled it free: a pale orange glow that lit up the seafloor as if it were day. I felt uneasy this deep in the Sea, but I was entranced by my find. The object was foreign, something I had never seen before… Or maybe I had?

I held the jagged, glowing shard. It had no discernable markings. It was curved like a headpiece or a tiara. The edges appeared broken, with thin tendrils of some sort floating free from where it had snapped. They were reaching, as if they were grasping for the missing pieces. Be it a gem or a fragment, I could not determine. However, I am loath to believe the shard itself held much importance. The curved, dark amber crystal thrummed with energy, glowing brighter as my hands lifted it free of the murky bottom. As it sat in my palms, it sparked to life! Energy pulsed from the artifact into the darkness, glowing brighter and brighter. Waves of energy redirected all around me and I dropped it in surprise. Whatever I had found was softly floating downward in the water, falling apart. The artifact had decayed rapidly at the Void’s touch, crumbling as it dissolved entirely. And as quickly as the light broke free, it dimmed to nothing. 

The treasure went dark, and I was plunged into the murky blackness. The alluring song had faded entirely, but there, in the darkness, I could now sense a presence with me. One that was not there before. I went rigid with fear, worrying something had snuck up on me while I was not paying attention. I turned slowly, expecting to see some summoned monstrosity of the Void or some amalgam of fearful thought. Mercifully, the presence I found beside me was nothing more than a Dream pool. The grotto before me appeared fresh, untouched by void signatures or the Dreamers’ influence. The strange shard had concealed this concentrated consciousness from me!

I was curious, danger be damned. I needed to know what it was that I had found and why it was here. I reached forward to touch the surface of the bubble of thought. My hand was dissolving, drawing my energy into itself. I let it pull me from the endless Sea. The sensation of moving dreams was always a strange one. Like being tugged from your body by a magnet, slowly moving you from one mind to attach to another. Sometimes, if I really opened my senses, I could feel both at once. My hand pressed deeper into the viscous vision as it engulfed my consciousness entirely. 

I was ripped from the ocean floor, sent coiling through the Void as the dream welcomed me in. But the welcoming sensation of a gathering dream was not the only sensation. I could sense something lurking nearby as the dream took shape. Like a soft, unnatural noise in the night, I was on edge as my mind began to focus. There was a sound of some monotonous drone. The volume grew steadily: a murmur of some sort, coming closer. Dreams often were confusing, strange, or meaningless, but this energy was different from my dreams. The voices were a familiar collection of tones that made me feel at ease and at home.

“My warframe is strong...

My warframe is strong...

My warframe is strong…”

...Where am I now? Where is this?

“My warframe is strong…

My warframe is strong…” The voices continued as the scene began to form. And as it did, my heart skipped a beat in a sudden spike of fear. I had appeared in a dim room full of dark figures. I was surrounded by them, each murmuring in unison the same droning statement in the dim light. My heart’s pace doubled. I was rigid with panic, and considered abandoning the dream at that moment. My eyes darted about the room desperately to make sense of this place, worried what I may experience if I did not withdraw soon.

On the walls I could see a collection of posters and figures of which seemed to dance in the low light. There were some lights in the room, most of which had been put out. The room was tidy, even in the darkness this was noticeable. A figure was standing in the front, waiting for something. They were larger than the rest of the shapes, looming silently and ominously. It was a strange place, but the realization was slowly creeping up on me. The sense of fear began to melt away; I recognized these things!

A dawning realization struck me. I knew exactly what this was. This was not a dream I found myself in, it was a memory! The dark figures were taking shape and sharpening. I had not recognized my peers, each encased in their full-body suits. They were each sitting down beside me at their desks. They were not looking at me, but to the front of the room, observing our Mother teach. I was back in my classroom. Not the childhood classroom of the Zariman ; this room was where the Tenno were trained, long after we had become the demons of the void. 

How many years ago was this? I cannot recall what we studied here. The memory was strange. Nearly every aspect of the memory was off in some regard. It had been hidden by some bizarre artifact in my deep subconscious, it was deteriorating quite rapidly, and it was a memory I had no recollection of. Things were hazy in this place, and the dream was obviously not stable. The edges of my vision were being tugged at, slowly beginning the process of erasure. What was missing my mind pieced together, trying desperately to force the energy in place. I looked to the front of the room. In this dream Mother was… Mother was not... That couldn’t be Mother...

 I do not know what I saw standing before the classroom, but it was not the woman I knew. Something else stood before us in that dim room. That something that was neither human, nor Orokin. It had a soft, (dare I say?) inviting face, but every other inch of its body revealed the truth. Some monster of metal waited patiently before us, glowing with the same light as the sunken treasure I had held in my hand. The dream told me I was seeing Mother, my mind insisted I was. But I knew otherwise. The truth was I had been deceived that day. All of the Tenno had been deceived. Through this memory my eyes could see past the distortion. Distortion, I must assume, that this creature caused. This memory revealed the truth to me.

What stood before us here was not our dear Mother. Something else stood in her stead the day she said her farewells. We believed it was a miracle that Mother had appeared to us. She had been taken away long ago by the Orokin, and we were told she would not be returning. But we were her children. We were patiently awaiting her return regardless. Surely she would come back to us, and that day she did. We were young and excited, blindly following this machine without considering ‘how’ for even a moment. That day she told us to wait. She came to us and commanded us, her children, to be patient, and be ready. We were to be prepared. We had to be prepared.

For the day we would destroy the empire.

I knew this place, these people. How had I forgotten it all? This memory had been concealed here, by this entity that was not Mother. I held my hand up, examining the uniform I wore from head to toe. The suits were designed with synthetic and biological material carefully crafted for assisting our growth physically and psychologically. The material would grow with us throughout our lives, a perfect custom fit, and our uniform appearance kept us without identity. These were crafted specifically for the Tenno. No expense was spared when it came to the Orokin. They constructed anything that we needed. After all, we had quickly become their most valued weapons.

The students around me began to repeated the first verse of our pledge, this time in full:

“My warframe is strong: For Masters we kill,

My warframe the hand, and I am the will.“

It was hollow, dull, and lifeless. Not at all the classroom I had visualized in my memory. The droning pledge was delivered again and again by my peers. Here we were, sitting before an imposter pledging to destroy the Orokin. Not for our Mother, but for this foreign creature made to mimic her. It lied right to our faces. As my eyes gazed at her, I felt a prick of an electrical sensation. It was as if she were slowly changing in my mind just by being in her presence; slowly perfecting the image of what it wanted me to see. I did not look at her any longer. I turned to the room instead. 

I could see the desks where I knew my friends had once sat. Although, it was impossible to tell if they were the ones seated there now. Our suits kept us indiscernible from one another. The smooth uniform kept us formless, faceless, and disposable. To the Orokin, the Tenno were simply the battery for a metal husk, nothing more. We were to take hold of this hardened warrior and serve our golden lords. 

But learning is a strange thing. Some curious souls are not sated after the teacher has stopped speaking. Some of us began to study more than just Transference, and far more than the Orokin would have wanted. The Void’s touch had left marks on our souls. That horrifying place that drove our families mad had left a gift for us survivors. The greatest dreamers among us could use the gift to shape our reality as they would a dream. 

    My memory shifted slightly, affected by my reminiscing. I had fallen into a daydream, losing myself in the scene as I reminisced about my peers and our strengths. It was not the age-old Orokin, but us that were the first to discover our uniqueness. Loai, a young Tenno I had only spoken to in passing, showed me we were different. What few Tenno knew me did know two things: I was reserved, and afraid of the dark. She approached me late one evening, right as we were being sent to our quarters. She caught me by the door, holding her arm out to stop me. 

Confused, but compliant, I followed her to speak in private. Our path took us to a storage room, out of sight of the neural scanners of the ship, though they would know where we had been by our locators (if they remembered to check). The lights were dimmed for the evening, preparing us for the late night hours in the ship. She quickly invited me in, but I refused to enter the dark storage bay. The lack of light petrified me, and I nearly ran from my sister in arms. But before I could, Loai calmed me.

"Wait!" Came the whisper from her lips. “I’ll show you here.” Loai opened her hands showing their emptiness. Then, she whispered something quietly into her hands at the entrance to the dark room. At that threshold she showed me her secret: A soft light was resting in her open palms! She reached out in the gloom, handing it to me. I was confused thinking she had some strange object, but as my hands passed directly through the shining beacon, I realized this was not a trick. Loai had made light from nothing! And it was still growing. I stared in confusion while Loai watched in wonderment.

“What is it?” I felt small, even insignificant. I was seeing something that was changing my understanding of the world. Or, rather, I was seeing something that shook my understanding of myself.

“When I need light, sometimes I can see it. Sometimes I can make it appear.” She said to me, moving the glow around the room to orbit us. “Light is everywhere around us, and in everyone. Like a coiled up sunbeam of colors unique to us all. Do you see it too?” I didn’t see what Loai saw in people. Her thoughts were of light. When we saw her dreams made reality, there was a great discovery among the survivors. It was then the Tenno began to realize what had happened, much sooner than our Orokin masters. We held some strange spark, some flame of change. Something inside us was awakened, not damaged after the incident. Dreams and reality are often blurred, and to the Void there is no difference. The Void saw every possibility and every reality all at once. And it saw nothing at all. 

Loai imagined light. She described brilliant rays of every hue, and showed me just as many. I tried and tried for many nights to copy her, to have her light spring from my palms like Loai. But it was in vain. I did not see the world as she did. In a mirror once, I tried to see the colors Loai described inside me. She said there was black and grey wrapped around a shining white fire. I didn't know what her description meant. And while she told me I was monochromatic, she often described vivid colors when looking at our peers. I found myself wondering if I was missing something inside myself. Loai would sometimes describe other Tenno with a mix of five or even ten colors. Was I not complete? She had tapped into that latent power and awoke something impossible. Her talents inspired others to try experimenting with their strengths, but we did not find others who could create light like her. 

Each of us had become a Dreamer. Our dreams and our wishes could become reality now.  I learned this soon after our self-discovery: no one person was shaped quite the same by the Void. Many of us were unique. A few students saw their power as fire: a burning warmth that vented their anger, and warmed them in bitter cold. Some envisioned lightning, arcs of electricity that kept the world powered. Others saw life or water flowing through us. I saw nothing of the sort.

One strange boy had a wonderful understanding of the world, seeing a great cosmic clock wherever he was. Another would pace through his reality as he worked through a problem, wandering as he pleased, murmuring to himself as he walked straight through the walls from room to room. One girl could summon small wisps of energy to dance around us. And, of course, Loai saw energy, light, and rays in everything around her. All of us could see something new. And many more unique interactions. The Void let us shape our world as we could dreams.

My world was not beautiful and natural, as my kin saw it.  I saw things like simple strings. My world was bizarre, even to me. All around me I saw threads. Strings and wires of colors and varied hues leading to everything and everyone. I sometimes saw flickers of movement in the wires, what I presumed was the weave of the world. I saw threads that tugged us along on our path of life. I viewed lines stretching from heart to heart, an unseen connection to all but me. There were thin, wispy wires floating through the air without purpose, seemingly useless.

 And when I focused, putting all of my energy forth, I could take hold of the lines and the will of them all. I once tied a stray strand of a boy in my class to his bed. For the next week he refused to leave the personal quarters until I snipped it. I could even use them to interact with the world physically. The door of a room I was locked in refused to budge so, in a panic, I gripped a thread by the door to pull with all my might and ripped off the metal door clean off its hinges without touching it. One would think that there would be pride in being unique. Occasionally this is the case, but more often there is a sadness that follows. There is a sensation of isolation in being the only one to understand yourself. A sadness in being the only one to witness something. A sadness in being alone.

And while I was not entirely alone, none of my peers quite saw things as I did. Each of them thought their ideas were unique, and formed the groundwork of schools to train their abilities. If a Tenno trained enough, sometimes they could see someone else’s way of seeing the void, and use another Tenno’s strength. But as our abilities grew, so too did the danger. The Orokin were all too thrilled to learn of all the new and strange things we could do. Once they were involved, things began to change again.

Loai was not with us very long after. Word of her strange light had reached the Judges, and she was removed for more intensive training. The rest of us guarded our secrets closer after this, even when we were often questioned and our abilities came to light we withheld some of our true strengths. We knew better than to share secrets with anyone who served the Orokin. And more importantly: We never saw Loai again. We feared what would happen if one of us was shown as useful to the Golden Lords. We feared the Orokin, as all living things did, but we had a protector. Our benevolent Mother. She guided us and protected us, even from the Orokin. She stayed by our side and helped us see, even when she could not.

I blinked, and suddenly I was back in the classroom. Thoughts of Mother were now affecting the dream-memory. Sure enough, she was there, standing in place of the monster of metal and greeting the room in the memory. Everything felt warmer when she was around, full of life. Each of us had a thread to her, one that we felt even if we couldn't see. Memories of Mother would put us all at ease. A teacher and a protector to us all. She let us learn more than just the life of a soldier, or servant. She let us be young. Through her we saw more than combat and we learned to want for ourselves. She let us explore and dream in our own way, to figure out our world at our own pace. She became one of the only people to see us as children, rather than monsters.

And they took her away . That thought made me frown. For it was true. The Orokin did not like her methods, and when she refused them, they removed her. This stray thought was disturbing things in my dream. The dream was stable, but something was amiss.   I felt it again, but I was more aware of myself this time. I wanted to stay here, to reminisce on the things we lost to time, but something else was stirring.

Some discordance was shaking the dream as I tried to step out back to the Sea. I had hardly left the memory as the waters about me grew cold and somehow even darker. Something was moving about the waters, agitating some deep current. There was a presence in the Sea, something large that I’d rather not meet. I was run through with a cold burst of energy, frigid and malign. I fled back to the dream, diving into the memory to keep even a single barrier between me and whatever was circling on the other side of the veil. Its echoes reverberated, having a notably negative effect on the dreamscape. I could feel a disturbance echoing from it like a stone tossed clattering in a cavern, and it was growing. A ripple of something big, and dark as the light began to fade. The scene was darkening, becoming as black as the void ocean outside of the dream. I was trapped in the refuge of my dream. Anxiety ran through me as the vision rippled. I was back at my desk, but the dream had altered. Though I could no longer see it, I could sense it just behind the veil: 

It was prowling.

I felt a twinge in my leg that turned viciously to a deep, sharp stab of phantom pain. I stood from my desk as all of my peers turned their gaze to me. Something was wrong. I needed to leave. I needed to wake up. Standing there in front of everyone left me feeling exposed. I became uneasy as a weight settled on my heart. I was trying to keep myself relaxed, casual, even. I began making my way to the door, planning to leave the room and try transitioning the dream-memory. The gaze of my peers followed, each silently observing me, saying nothing. Every one of them watched. Every one of them waited. 

My pulse quickened as my steps covered little ground. My movements were slower, as if submerged in water. A force, like a bundle of sentient yarn, was worming its way around my limbs as I tried to walk. I ripped myself away, trying to pull free of the entrapment, but my movements were steadily slowing. A dark gloom was stretching forward from the edges of the dream to engulf me. Some dark force that lapped and tugged like a mire. I slowed, until I was unable to make any progress at all. My uneven breathing became louder as panic set in when I found myself immobilized.

“What’s happening?!” I yelled out, but they ignored me. They only watched on, silently, as I struggled uselessly. The ache in my leg was returning in force. Pain blossomed from my thigh, and I swear I felt a deeper ache of something sharp. I yelled out but only a gasp escaped me. The sensation of the invading presence squirmed deeper. It was burrowing, grasping for my heart. The influence forced itself past every barrier a dreamer could build, until its venomous voice could not be ignored. 

You ignore your memories. You ignore your truth.

To pretend as you are is quite uncouth.

For years you’ve run, for years you flee.  

But here I am, just a little less me. I could hear Him rhythmically chiding me. His voice was unforgettable. That whispering rasp, harsh and evil. I was frozen in place by the monstrous force that held me. I squirmed, struggled, and pulled but nothing could free me. With no other options, I turned slowly to where I knew he would be. My classmates were no longer concerned with me. They were all turned, looking at Him. He was waiting, standing at the back of the room. He was already bleeding profusely from his wounds where I hit Him.      

It’s just a dream. Just a memory. I tried to remind myself, but my panic was not abating. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He should be dead. His presence distorted my mind, and altered the memory. His influence stuck like tar.

I’m never too far, child, I don’t tell lies. 

You’ll always find me just behind your eyes.

His hoarse whispers were forced from his sagging jowls, just loud enough to make out. This was forming into a dangerous nightmare. Anything under His influence would only become more corrupted. I could not escape, not easily. He slowly started to move his face. The slack skin hanging from him tightened up, forming a half-grin of mirth.

This was my domain first, don't forget it. 

Suddenly, the room went black as the dream was extinguished entirely.

But I was not alone in the dark.

Run... Run... Run... Run... Run…! Run! RUN! He chanted softly out from the murkiness. He sounded excited. He was thrilled to have the hunt resume. I had no choice but to run with all my might toward the door. My legs finally obeyed as I gripped the doorframe, swinging around it as I fled, trying in vain to distance myself from the madman. I heard my footfalls on the metal floor of the ship. I knew where he had brought me. I knew too well what would follow. I was never fast enough.

My feet hit the ground as hard and as fast as they would take me. I ran with my heart beating fast enough to burst from my chest. Halfway down the hall he was already waiting, crouched patiently around the corner. As I ran past, I felt that unforgettable sensation, and heard that unmistakable crunch of bone. I cried out in shock and toppled to the floor, falling deeper into his nightmare.

*     *     *

 The ship’s stores were running dangerously low. Food was rationed maybe a month ago, and we were all hungry. Not a problem for the beasts of the Void, but for the survivors it was. We were adrift in a great floating coffin. Communications were destroyed by the void jump, the ship’s engines had malfunctioned from the energy pulse, and we were adrift in the Void, that Place-Between. Biotics and material processing were long since overrun. Most usable food was eaten or destroyed, and what little remained was more precious than gold. Many corridors had been blocked off, either to seal the beasts away, or due to the hull breach in the residential sector. The remaining hallways were dark and dangerous. The emergency lights had long since been smashed.

I sat up, breathing heavily. There, in the darkness, gasping for breath and grasping my broken leg I waited. He was still out there, mindlessly muttering as he searched. Whenever I thought I was safe, I never was. I crawled slowly, as quietly as I could. I needed to hide, to get somewhere safe. But nowhere was safe. Not on the ship, and especially not from Him. I heard a whisper out in the darkness. I thought I was hearing things, but I held my breath to listen. There was movement, and then silence. It was closer, much closer. It was so close to me I feared to move. I could hear the words this time, whispered again. Much. Too. Close...

I miss the light. 

    It was what Loai had whispered to me. Words no one should know but us. Words I would not hear for years after the darkness of the Ten-Zero that I found myself eternally trapped within. Loai’s illuminant bloomed in the darkness before me, revealing the bloodstained floor of the ship. The room was littered by destruction and carnage, bits of debris and pieces of people. The light that once gave me hope in the darkness instead froze me in place. I was pinned by the horrible, gurgling laugh of madness. Loai was not holding her light.

He was.

Chapter Text

VII - Update

I awoke with a start to find myself lying on the escape ship’s floor some indeterminate amount of time later. Confusion and fear lingered in my veins, taking its sweet time to slowly ebb away. I still felt the exhaustion in my bones, yet I managed to struggle up and onto my palms. My pulse was still racing from the dream that faded far too slowly from my memory, the cold laughter still ringing in my ears. Around me the ship's interior was dim, but not dark. A faint light was pouring down from the ramp before me, coming from a larger compartment of some sort. I could not find the dark murk that I envisioned before my collapse. Perhaps my senses were failing me? The ship seemed mundane, and I sensed no danger here.

Exhaustion, nothing more.

I weakly pulled myself from the airlock floor, kneeling for a moment as my head felt heavy. I had exhausted every ounce of energy in that last skirmish, and I was lucky to have gotten as far as I had. I gathered myself in the darkness there, taking the time to pause, and to simply be. I focused on centering my breathing and steadying my burning pulse. I was safe, I was stable. My meditation was interrupted by my awareness of my limbs. They were heavy, as if I was feeling the full weight of my metal form for the first time. I ignored the electrical buzz I felt at the sides of my head and stood, shambling my way into the ship proper. The airlock hissed behind me, closing and sealing properly now that I was safely inside. Dovas (or his automated system) turned up the lights slowly, revealing the ship to me in increments. A steady increase to my visibility and the luminosity let me take in the scene. As my senses adjusted, I began to see the ship in its entirety. 

Before me was a lengthy, thin interior with a handful of standard-issue Tenno support systems, each lovingly touched with a fine gold trim. My focus lingered on each as I took in the room, while I could name some, others were new to me. I was curious about their purpose. Dovas’ ship had a synthetic maintenance module along the starboard wall. The machine was not actively engaged in any tasks and the bay stood empty, like the ship. Beside it, an automated, electrical tool table that was also cold and still. Neither appeared to have been used for a long time, and fine coating of some strange mold had settled atop of the surfaces even in the controlled environment. Mirroring the systems on the port hull was a small biotics garden. There, planters, glasses, and elaborate pitchers held fluid and organics I was unfamiliar with. Some were reminiscent of Orokin crossbreeding, while others I had never laid eyes on. Tanks of several fish species were also nearby, installed near the biotics garden. Some tanks were incredibly grimy, and the creatures inside appeared sickly. Some barely moved.

\\Your consciousness returns:

This is good\\

Dovas greeted me, his voice a soothing welcome to hear after my nightmare. The cephalon spoke formally, in a way that was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt, nearly condescending in its demeanor. I was immediately set on edge by his manner of speech. I had not noticed –or perhaps did not have the time to notice– his accent: Dovas spoke like the Orokin. His voice chimed in a tinny, dull rhythm of traditional cadence as the ship’s guardian continued:

//Welcome aboard the Majin , 

Sectarus-class, Independent research vessel.//

\\It has been some time since I have had anyone aboard.\\

The ship itself did appear a touch disheveled upon closer inspection. Cover panels were askew, with wires and circuits spilling out from the openings created. A small cleaning drone scurried across the metal floor, uselessly seeking debris it had long since collected. Walls and floors were a white, smoothed stone with markings etched with Orokin script. The dead language was lavishly dusted over with gilded lettering, though this was likely long ago. What was perhaps once a work of beautiful craftsmanship was crumbling from age. The marble-like floor had nicks and cracks running through most of the materials, while rust had begun to settle on what metals were not resistant to oxidization. In spite of this, the ornate design of the craft was well-maintained. The untarnished gold that trimmed the interior was no longer well-polished, but still intact.  What light Dovas did project, I realized, was perhaps the only light on the ship’s main chamber, giving a dark shadow to every inch of Dovas’ quarters. This was a relic of a time long past, not a place anyone could ever consider home.

\\My operator: Absent.

I am assigned to you until my operator returns\\ 

Dovas reported quickly, fairly unhappy in his tone. 

Assigned by who? I wondered. The cephalon did not give much room for pause, as he continued into his report quickly hurrying along his words.

//I will update you now to the best of my ability:

Once the Fall began, the Orokin scattered across the system.//

\\The empire crumbled, and the Golden Age ended.

After fulfilling your role, your kin slumbered.\\

//You have been in cryostasis for centuries now.

Yet with the demise of the golden lords, the system was allowed to run rampant.//

\\The old servants of the Orokin were unleashed, no bonds to hold them.

Cloned laborers now control through mass produced might.\\

//Scavengers have established a cohelition in robotic prowess.

And our great gardens have spilled over, corrupting the system.//

Dovas gave a rather odd noise here. Something akin to disdain. Though, at the moment, my focus was elsewhere, his report was upsetting. I could feel the heat in my chest coiling and burning already. We had freed the system of the Orokin and the Judges, but without our continued presence, our world was recaptured, and retaken. I felt angry, (I always felt angry) but toward myself. I wondered what may have come to pass if we had not slept, or if we had killed more in our purge. I instinctively wished for a second chance I knew would never come. I was helpless to change what had occured, and likely no amount of slaughter would have prevented the power vacuum created. History was said and done, yet something else was bothering me now. 

Dovas continued to drone on, but my mind wandered. I was curious now, much more than I was grateful for his assistance. An Orokin research vessel… What kind of secrets did this ship hold? What experiments had been done here? The Majin was a relic, but it was also a library. If Dovas had destroyed evidence or experiments then perhaps there may be little to learn, however there was surely something of interest left. Dovas had begun to laugh rather disdainfully, likely at some joke or perhaps a slight at my expense the cephalon had just made.

The way Dovas spoke had given me an uncomfortable feeling at the start, but now I was beginning to loathe listening to him. The obnoxious cadence, so lovingly practiced by the eloquent speakers of old, was grinding away at my patience. He spoke as if the loss of the Orokin was a travesty, not a victory. Any while my mind wandered, so did my gaze, looking over the ship again with a prying glare. My lack of focus did not go unnoticed, and Dovas was quick to correct me with a small chime.

    //Tenno?// 

Dovas repeated himself sternly as he brought me back to the moment:

\\Protocol dictates all Cephalons: 

-Report to and collaborate with available Operatives.

-Examine Warframe systems and maintain equipment.

-Assist Operators by any additional means necessary.\\

Dovas was rudely formal now, continuing to rush through his words like there was pressing business to attend to. He appeared more interested in hurrying me through his practiced speech than fulfilling any obligation to a stranded ally.

//Interact with the Arboriform at the command console.

This will give us enough contact to fully examine your systems.//

\\Holding the arboriform will be sufficient.//

That word was familiar. Arboriform … After looking around the ship for a moment, my attention turned to the white roots that spilled from the metal panel at the front of Dovas’ ship. They glowed with an unnatural light that caused my senses to shudder. Each root was pulsing as I looked at it, the movement distorting my vision in strange ways. I slowly made my way to the plant and knelt to take it in my palms. The smoky-white tendrils were pleasant to look at, even if it was disorienting. I gripped the white roots and, to my surprise, it gripped back! The living plant-thing was alive, wrapping itself around my wrist securely in return. I felt the surge of energy that ran through them, running that energy through myself and back into the roots. Energy and information flowed through these unnatural tendrils of life. They were the living, breathing roots intertwined with the circuits of the ship. One of the many wonders of Orokin technology. 

A small ember of hate flared within me as I stood there watching the arboriform. I was not allowed to study or learn the Orokin’s technology, no matter how much I desired to. One of the many restrictions placed upon me forbade any reading or learning. What snippets I was able to understand were fairly simple: 

Arboriform plants were present in nearly all Orokin structures and designs. The roots themselves move data and information like cables, synthesize its energy as plants do, and are one of the best conduits for Void energy. I could see the energy within the pliable roots, running up from them now with a fresh stream of information, rushing up my arm and latching to my form. There was a sensation of static dancing across my body.

//A modified Baruuk, interesting.// 

Dovas began with a soft, thoughtful hum. He was likely running through a full diagnostic on my body. The cephalon would be able to see every part of me now that we were connected, and while I was not thrilled at the concept, I did need to verify that my body was intact and unharmed. I ignored the voice inside me that desired above all to tell the cephalon: ‘I’d sooner tear my limbs off’ and allowed Dovas his unobstructed scan.

//Your energy is utterly spent, but that will recover with time. 

Minor damage along your limbs: Repairable//

\\There are… odd readings in your transference signal, Tenno. 

Signs of regular distortion, maybe interference?\\

//More interesting: your systems!

Your Baruuk is overclocked for Void energy integration.//

\\For what purpose, I wonder…//

The cephalon’s words trailed off as I lost my senses. Everything around me began to distort and dissolve as Dovas finished his scan. His sentence continued, but it sounded too far away to hear. The ship blurred and morphed around me while my senses adjusted to some new sensation. The scene around me began dissolving in seconds as I was brought into the cephalon’s datascape. These beings of thought and information did not reside in our physical world, not in any way truly mattered. Rather, the datascape that the cephalons used within a void neural network allowed these supercomputers their own little world to shape and craft. His voice returned in force as the echoing hall of his datascape reverberated it back tenfold.

Dovas was nothing if not traditional. His datascape was a grand hall, perfectly picked to meet Orokin tastes– and my loathing. The floor was a polished, pale rubedo, glistening with inlaid gold and jeweled ornate designs. Far above me was the gilded form of Dovas, hanging like a chandelier by a golden chain. Even from this distance I could see the cephalon was encased in gleaming, golden trim, still pretending to be a servant to the long-dead tyrants. Twisting arcs of gilded metals met to make a shape like a cage in the shape of a bell around him, entwined with the arboriform and glowing with the same golden radiance.

The walls were tall, stretching for what seemed like an eternity upward in the narrow chamber, though it was more spacious than the little research craft the Orokin servant piloted. The datascape was held up by seven pillars, The Seven Pillars. The Seven Pillars I never thought I would lay eyes on again, each holding their own monument to an Orokin Judge. Statues of The Seven held up the chamber as they did their empire, their disgustingly perfect visage sneering at us lesser creatures. Most of the pillars had begun to crumble, ever so slightly, but Ballas’ monument had his eyes inlaid with a still-glowing rubedo.

Dovas descended toward me, letting off a tinkling noise as he did. His fine metals, clinking together like chimes. I remained still, biting back the disdain I’m sure he sensed within me. I held nothing but contempt for his datascape. Its existence was an insult. Dovas was little more than a puppet of The Seven, made clear by his chains of bondage. I watched the light of the cephalon reflect from him, making the chamber shimmer and shine. The walls seemed to quake and undulate with the motion, giving an illusion of movement from the statues in the chamber. At last, the cephalon was now before me. 

Dovas was decorated with a gilded chassis, a spiraling coil of beautiful craftsmanship within him that connected and captured the sides of the fragile Orokin servant. The cephalon’s gaudy, golden glimmer glinted in the gloom. His voice commanded respect, but not for him: for his golden bonds.

//It is proper to pay respects in this room.// 

His voice was stern, nearly foul. I wasn’t moved.

The Orokin are dead. We saw to that, cephalon. I thought aloud, my internal voice translating to the datascape. The statues around the chamber frowed and scowled. Each judge leered with disdain for the insignificant Tenno before them. They reflected what emotions the cephalon could not.

//Those words were once punishable by:

Worse things than death, Tenno.\\ 

Dovas warned. But I held no sanctity for the gilded tyrants, and let him know thus: 

Their rites and laws are as dead as they are. The cephalon let out an indignant noise, but did not correct me. The statues did not return to a peaceful visage. The Seven Judges were waiting patiently for my demise now, and the Orokin lapdog likely was too. Dovas continued: 

\\Then disregard, 

You were not invited to discuss the Orokin.\\

 With a slight twist, the reflective surface of Dovas blurred and morphed, giving a reflected view of himself from my point of view. The image began to work backwards in time, and our entire conversation began rewinding in rapid succession on the surface of the cephalon’s form. I watched with curiosity as my own memory through the past days was displayed in the rapid rewind. The cephalon was recording the Solaris/Corpus encounter right before my eyes. The strange being of energy and information was rather beautiful as I watched him, in some strange way. Ignoring the Orokin greed that seemed to emanate from every aspect of him, this cephalon was a unique antique. Even I could not argue against this fact: Dovas was impressive. Somehow, he maintained an air of responsibility about him for all these years, even though we both knew he owed no servitude. Not anymore.

I had interacted with cephalons a rare few times, but they were often too noisy for the taste of my master. Even the soothing voices of his most beloved servants would infuriate him were he in a foul mood. It was a novel experience to see a cephalon up close, even moreso to be within its datascape. Dovas decided to share some insight with me as the rewind continued:

//Nef Anyo// 

Dovas rotated slightly, still recording my memory as he presented a new side of his chassis to me. On that sliver of Dovas’ form a portrait appeared of my former pursuer. At his silent command, I moved around Dovas to better view the image.

\\Recently purchased rights to an Orokin ruin. 

Tenno intelligence wants to know why\\.

//The derelict was found hidden in the Kuiper belt//  

Dovas’ mirror now showed the outer asteroid belt. The scene was familiar. Many years of watching the rocks silently floating by from the great windows of the palace, the rare, distant shine of the sun only a glimmer this far away. A nostalgic sensation, seeing a place you have once been.

\\So you do remember.

Seven be praised\\

Dovas interrupted my thoughts, or rather, reacted to them. He seemed elated by my recollection. I did not expect him to already have connected to even my subtler thoughts and feelings. It seemed that while I was within Dovas’ datascape, even subconscious thoughts were not hidden from the cephalon. He continued without acknowledging my realization.

//There is no record of its existence.

Most assumed it: falsehood.// 

\\However, Nef’s transmissions suggested otherwise.

There were more than just rumors.\\

The well prepared cephalon’s surface shifted again, giving a visual of multiple star maps: transport routes, all leading back to a particular sector of the Kuiper Belt.

//Cryptically, he began shipping items across the system.

Some were intercepted: little importance.//

\\Then, an express delivery to his Vallis lab. 

Carrier shot down on atmospheric entry: Cargo lost.\\ 

A map of Venus replaced Nef, visualizing the planetoid for me as I gazed over the thick, murky clouds. Above which, Dovas continued his story. The rewind had reached my fall from the tower, and the billowing winds were being mirrored inside the cephalon, as if he had captured the Venusian clouds inside himself.

//Even without Corpus manifest, you were likely among ship cargo,

Since, shortly after this incident, your pod was found by the Corpus//

 I watched the caves rush past, and my memory climbed back down into the depths of the Venus pool. In a dark, bubbling water Dovas ended my memory as it began. The smear of darkness that crossed Dovas’ monitor made me uneasy to watch.

\\Records on the tower itself are sparse: nearly nonexistent.\\ 

//External imaging shows Corpus activity in the area.

No internal imaging or mapping yet available.//

The free-floating space rocks on Dovas’ primary image were flying by faster. The projected image continued its flight through the asteroids at incredible speed, heading to some point far off among the debris. I knew our destination, and precisely where in the floating space debris we would find it. That cyclopian tower that I loathed to see again. 

\\Recovered Orokin Log: ‘ Palace of Silence ’ Begin playback\\ Dovas finished just as another voice replaced his. It was faint and feminine. Not of the regal demeanor of a royal, but the shy sense of their servants.

    //-Brother was sent away today. The judge deemed his guilt like he would a rotten fruit. With disdain and disgust, all for the crime of being in the wrong room at the wrong time. The Golden Lords banished him to the Palace of Silence , a place I had never heard of before. It was common to send servants away, but a unique punishment was quite rare. To where was my brother sent? No one would give me straight answers when I asked about the place. Some did not know, claiming most offenses were punished by much more horrible means. When I asked some of the others, they hushed me like the devil himself would hear. I am… finding it difficult to believe he will return to us...//

As the recording finished, the Palace loomed lightless before me. It was floating lazily amid the rubble and debris of the stars. The scene here no longer matched my memory. The years had been harsh to the palace. Chunks of the structure were now drifting free. Without an active neural sentry there was nothing to protect the Orokin building from the bombardment of the asteroids and other debris. The ornate mechanism that once stood at the grand entrance was torn apart, hanging from its gigantic hinges. I noticed part of the interlocking gears was missing, likely lost entirely. The remainder looked as if it could fall into the void at any moment. I felt a sense of satisfaction in seeing the palace in this state. All of his work, laid to waste.

//So this was: Your home.

Do you recall anything about your post, Tenno?//

I felt a coiling fury at the use of the word home . My fist balled in rage and the arboriform squealed loudly in my grip. The sound surprised me, and I lessened my hold, being more careful. The silky smooth vine relaxed once more around my arm as I did. 

The unexpected interruption had pulled me from the gathering clouds of darker thoughts. I would not lie about that place. He would have preferred its history remain as silent as the tomb it now is. So I nodded to the cephalon, debating on where to begin. 

I do. This is indeed my former post. My former prison: Oapali’s Palace of Silence .  The cephalon chimed in excitement at my response, apparently not affected by the arboriform’s distress.

//That information is not found in my archive:

Are you quite certain of the name?//

I nodded. I am. Many memories are unclear after my slumber, but one thing rings true: This Orokin palace is indeed his. I know the great gate, I could walk you through his garden, I could show you the bloodstains where he was slain. Places like this are why those tyrants deserved their bloody end. Dovas whirred, a small noise of disdain emanating from him that bounced around the great hall. The cephalon seemed to get defensive at this comment.

\\The Golden Lords crafted our world like no other,

It was through them we leapt to the stars.\\

//We are their servants, and owe them our entire existence.

The Seven even…//

Dovas trailed off as the living circuits screamed in agony once more in a high pitched wail of distress. I gripped it unforgivingly. The arboriform flailed in my grasp, desperately attempting to escape the steady, crushing force of my grip. I did not have much strength after my endeavors, but I knew he could feel my white-hot anger through the arboriform. He could sense every dark desire burning behind that fury.

I’m not like you. I’m no servant. I was not designed to serve . I was close to crushing the Orokin loyalist between my palms. I wanted to show him what a Warframe was created to do. At that moment, I wondered what use an old dog of the Orokin even had. Perhaps if he were truly before me I would have torn him apart. I imagined Dovas in gilded fragments, scattered across his datascape in a series of blows. I wanted to see him splinter like the crimson raknoid I had crushed. I wanted him to witness firsthand what so many innocents before him had been sentenced to: demise at my hand. To ignore the cruelty of the Orokin was to be as guilty as they were. His personal chamber sickened me even more than before. I wanted to break something. Especially him. I finally relaxed my grip on the arboriform as Dovas nervously moved higher up, gaining significant distance from me.

\\Tenno! Your emotions are quite unstable!

I will spare you their golden light.\\ 

The view of the Orokin chamber faded as the datascape shifted. A new scene stretched out before me, entirely different from Dovas’ court. Sun beamed down on me, bright and warm. I was in a wide, grassy plain beneath a landscape riddled with massive, arched stones. Before me was a large piece of rock, fragile in how it stood. The structure appeared close to collapse, maybe within the year. I took this as an invitation.

With little hesitation I approached the stone, kneeling to give it a single blow: A spiraling strike that on impact with the stone sent a great crack through the rock from base to tip. The rock structure was already in the process of crumbling, the stone beginning to give and buckle beneath its own weight. I knew its hardness, and I focused now, steadying myself once more as I placed a hand to the groaning rock. I gathered myself and with one small flexing of my palm the rock shattered, yet the Desert Storm cradled the rock I had broken free, holding the structure in place in the air. Echoes of the void bounced and gathered between the rock, holding it aloft before me. Each freed splinter and pebble lazily floated through the air, suspended as it were hanging in the void of space. My winds could guide each piece back together and rebuild the arch perfectly should I have wanted. But I relaxed, and let my focus fade, the great rumble of rock now spilling over itself as it fell to the ground. The crumbling earth clattered and crashed over itself before it finally settled. The ruins were reduced to rubble before me.

But I still wanted to break something.

//Perhaps another topic? 

Information is important.//

Dovas must have assumed this was enough to sate me. The sun began to set as the shadows of the ‘scape stretched and sprawled around me. Soon I realized that the sun was not setting, the light was descending to me. Dovas himself, bright as the sun, floated down to meet me. His luminescence was dimmed as he returned to his usual glowing aura.

\\Your knowledge and cooperation

Could offer great things!//

Dovas wanted to pick my brain, it seemed. I turned from him, setting myself kneeling upon the ground to ease my mind. While I would rather ignore the bothersome cephalon, it was his datascape I was in. 

What are you looking for? Dovas gave a mechanical tick as he considered my question. 

\\This is a rare opportunity:

A Tenno holds many secrets\\

//Is there value in the Palace?//

Dovas had settled several meters above me, patient and ready. I owed this cephalon for my rescue, but I was uncertain how much I cared to share with the Orokin lapdog.

Not likely anymore. I answered shortly, but honestly. Scavengers like Nef had likely stripped what was once there. 

\\Understood. But I must ask:

As the only living resident of this structure\\

//Would you lead an expedition through its ruins?\\

This caught me off guard. I already told you. The Palace likely doesn’t have treasure. Oapali was obsessed with noise and music, not with wealth. And what’s more, I have no voice in which to speak or command.

//You have a cephalon, what other voice could you need?// 

The idea of Dovas representing me was revolting.

An unbiased translator. I reply harshly. Dovas lets off a grinding noise of displeasure, but ignores my comment entirely.

//Tenno Command is interested in Old War tech.

An exploration team is being put together.//

\\If you were to guide them, the mission would be: marginally safer.// 

Dovas reported to me. I grimaced internally, a dark splotch sneaking its way across my mood. Was he really asking me to return to that tomb? Without even considering his offer I realized that I had been giving without receiving. I had offered a great deal, and now I needed information in return.

How long has it been since the Fall? Here, Dovas hesitated a moment before answering.

//We... aren’t entirely certain. 

That knowledge was removed from the Weave entirely.//

\\Very few know the exact time it has been,

 Many generations and several centuries have passed.\\

//The Orokin are legend now, 

Our system is very different without our lost gardens of paradise.//

\\A modern tragedy of Alexandria.

But we have moved on without them.\\

I would have scoffed, had I the capacity. Of course the hound missed his cushion.

Don’t worry, you saw the Solaris. The Corpus are continuing the Orokin tradition of the merciless overseer . Nothing has changed, cephalon.  

//The Golden Lords were slain. 

The Orokin empire was destroyed.//

\\Much has changed, Tenno.\\

Dovas insisted indignantly, while I persisted hotly: 

While not consumed by immortal greed, the system remains rotten . The emperor has new clothes, nothing more. The Orokin have left echoes in their wake, unmistakable scars of misdeeds. Wounds we will never recover from. Dovas was silent at this. His golden masters would have judged my insolence were I still in his datascape. I could picture each monstrous idol glaring at me, the desire of erasure upon their features. The spite motivated me, and moved my tongue. And what about you, Orokin dog? Where do you fit in this story? What is your purpose?

//Well…// 

My question appeared to catch Dovas off guard. He paused for far too long. 

\\I serve the Tenno now.//

\\The remaining Orokin

Is where my allegiance lies.\\ 

Exactly as I feared.

So, should an Orokin of higher standing demand fealty, what will you do? My question was blunt, obviously pointed. There were better ways to word the question, but my anger rarely had any tact. Dovas hesitated, as if waiting for the counsel of each golden idol of his hall. I released the arboriform before he answered. It was a long time before he spoke again. When he did, the scene of the field had entirely faded, and I was returned to the orbiter. I knew what he would say:

//I would:

Honor my post//

*     *     *

    It was at that statement our conversation died. I had walked away from the arboriform console to wander his ship, ignoring many small attempts Dovas made to try to speak. I wasted little time on any systems of the ship, knowing full well I could not do much with them without the cephalon's assistance. Instead, I wanted to see the scale of the personal transport, a tiger pacing its cage. I had wandered to the deeper portions of the ship, leaving the main area to examine the orbiter’s additional rooms. The hall was lengthy, and after walking for what felt like a mile on my spent limbs I paused at an intersection. The ship continued only a few more yards into a maintenance hatch of some sort, splitting left and right. To my right was a sealed door powered down, and on the left was another. The door stood like any other, utterly innocuous. Yet, I approached slowly. There was a dark tendril of thought teasing doubt into my heart. The door felt foreign, strange, and horribly out of place on the ship. There was some sixth sense within me that screamed: something was terribly wrong. I debated entering. While I was supposedly stationed here, I was still a guest, and curiosity was often more dangerous than caution. I had wandered close, and without thinking my hand was mere inches from the control panel, already reaching to enter the room.

    //Tenno? What are you doing there?// 

Dovas interrupted my thoughts so abruptly my hand flew back like a child caught in the act. Of course the cephalon could see me, it did not need eyes to know where I was on his vessel at any given moment. 

    \\My Operator’s personal quarters are off limits, Tenno. 

Keep yourself to the Majin’s main decks.\\

The entrance powered down, the glow of energy leaving it as the cephalon barred my entry.  I was almost thankful as I turned to continue my walk through the orbiter. Yet no matter how far I went from the door, the sensation of dread lingered. There was something behind that door.

I had planned to ignore the cephalon for as long as I could, yet I did not get very far before he returned. Only a few minutes after his intervention at the ship door, the cephalon was already speaking again, but with dedicated purpose, rather than friendly patience.

//Tenno, in lieu of my operator I regrettably report to you.

I have received a message from a nearby transport.// 

\\Present your Warframe in the maintenance bay.

It is imperative to fix you.\\

//Normally, non-critical missions are of negligible importance,

But the message is… troubling...//

Chapter Text

VIII- Refurbish

I found myself awaiting maintenance in Dovas’ primary workbay, standing still to watch the machines groan and creak while they sprung from their concealed storage. A flash of concern reared its head as the joints of the robotic limbs cried out distressingly, obviously lacking lubricant, as they guided various tools to my wounds. The divots, dents, and scorched metals on me were explored by the prying arms of the mechanical servant. After a quick physical examination, the painful work began; the needles and tools picked and poked at my body, working with a dexterity and precision that any organic surgeon would sell their soul for.

It was an incredibly uncomfortable experience, being prodded all over by the invasive tools. Dovas seemed to hold no concern for a gentle repair order, judged since each rusted arm sped over me roughly with purpose and vigor. The various tools used electrical pulses, void energy, and simple ferrite blades to clean and repair the wounds on my body. Each one was either electrocuting my circuits, or prying into my metal flesh. One left my body charged with sharp twinges while the other created a constant, aching grind of metal on metal that I could feel at my very core. Both caused incredible discomfort in their own right. Some prods began testing my reflexes to make absolutely certain that my body was in optimal shape. I silently suffered as the twinge of energy sent sparks of pain through me, jolt after jolt. 

Compared to my former prison, this mild pain was a blessing.

After an agonizing age, the spindly limbs of Dovas’ maintenance bay finally retracted, and I was suddenly released from my restraints. I lurched forward, my legs struggling to support myself as they adjusted to my weight once more. I stretched my limbs one by one, feeling the steady ache of my body already beginning to dissipate. After a mere minute in Dovas’ maintenance bay, my body had been entirely patched up.

Perhaps the Orokin dog did have its uses.

//Further instructions await at Navigation.//

Dovas seemed to answer my thoughts with his straightforward report, and said nothing more. After the impromptu tune-up, my pace was stiff and slow, but steady. The slow hobble brought me up the ramp to the front of the ship. A few more tense movements of my limbs and I was in Navigation. His silence was likely a formality he still followed from times before the Old War, refusing to speak on matters beyond where they ought to be discussed. A practice as archaic as the cephalon. Dovas was waiting for me to enter, though rather impatiently. Evident from the moment my stride touched the floor, since Dovas did not waste a moment before he began speaking.

//The Illiad Nix : 

A New Loka transport currently in sector.//

Dovas’ report meant little to me without context. But a moment later, the cephalon relayed a visual of the ship – alongside a small summary on New Loka -- to my mind. I could gather that this was an allied group, but little more as Dovas continued,

\\The ship has declared distress.

Should we play the message?\\

I nodded, but inwardly noted Dovas continued to use terms like ‘our’ and  ‘we’. I did not feel aligned with this cephalon. To be associated with this Orokin servant was bad enough, but to believe we were a team was laughable at best, and infuriating at worst. Surely, my opinion did not matter to him. Yet, for now I would bear it. While his hot air and rude demeanor coaxed the coals of my fury, I had little choice but to aid Dovas for the time being. I still owed him for my rescue. My temper had settled, and my reasonable voice reminded me I still had questions. Both for Dovas, and whoever was trying to resurrect the Tenno centuries after the Old War. Cephalon Dovas continued at my simple acknowledgement.

    //Begin playback:\\ 

    “This is Clarity …~... Communication Director for the New Loka transport Illiad Nix. We have …~... major biological breach. The Infestation is aboard. Most crew …~... missing or dead. The bridge is overrun. Survivors, myself included, have …~... in communications. …~... anyone receiving this: destroy the Illiad Nix . We …~... relay this signal until the infested overtake Communications; which …~... only a matter of time. I repeat…” 

The distress call was audio only, relaying a fearful voice distorted by signal interference. It continued in its same, broken entirety for a second time; Dovas, however, cut the feed before its third iteration.

    //A whole transport lost: Disgraceful!

Relaying message to Tenno Command.//

Tenno Command , I realized with a lash of dissatisfaction, Why didn’t I ask about Tenno Command? I was so disquieted from Dovas’ suggestion of returning to my prison that I had forgotten to ask what had become of my kin. How many of us were left? Who was gathering us? And, to what purpose? These I kept to myself as my hands reached down, taking hold of the stark roots, speaking “aloud” to Dovas once more.

Who is Tenno command? To whom do you report? I ask, my question very mundane, my demeanor revealing as little as I forwarded my thoughts to the cephalon. Dovas was far less straightforward, however. He gave a small hum of disdain at my question.

\\Surviving Tenno are led by the Lotus.

She had assumed control by waking the Tenno.\\

//But it is the Tenno Council that decides our course of action.\\

The Lotus… The name was foreign to me, yet my mind drew me back to my dream, that premonition from before. That deviant, deceptive mother that appeared to us so many years ago. I could practically feel Dovas peering into my void-dream, though I quickly distanced his prying eye by placing my thoughts elsewhere. Do you know where they are? How can I contact them?

At this question, Dovas failed to respond. The silence spoke volumes, and told me more than he likely wanted to in his extended pause. 

//Tenno council is comprised of various agents

Each of whom are active in maintaining system peace.//

\\No single voice

 No single contact.\\

//No singular location to meet with Command.\\

The cephalon’s report was disheartening, though believable. I did not expect my kind, regardless of how powerful we may be, to merely take up a mantle or kingdom to call their own. If there was one uniting facet of the Tenno, it was our disdain of the Orokin. So of course we had split and splintered, even before we awoke this strange new world. My kin were diverse, unique, and flawed. All of us had our own thoughts, our own desires. Apparent in many of the darker Tenno. The ones that still ached for the days of the void-addled Zariman, those days that haunted me still. 

My step clacked over the floor as I stepped backward, preparing to leave until I felt the ship shift ever so slightly beneath me. We had begun to move! The sudden shift in gravity, no matter how slight, threw me off, and my motions paused at the ramp. The soft purr of the engines firing rumbled through the ship, accompanied by a new report as Dovas sent the vessel hurtling through space:

//You may meet them sooner than later.

The ship’s destination is a satellite colony, heavily populated.//

\\Tenno are one of the few immune to the infestation.

We are the closest operatives.\\

//In other words: It is up to us to solve this.

The Majin is now en route.//

\\There are supplies in the maintenance bay.

Prepare yourself knowing backup may not be coming.\\

As I listened to the cephalon dictate my task, a silent roar slowly began to gather within me. Like a solar flare, my fury was building with every word of the cephalon’s orders. It seemed that the rushed maintenance was not a careless, disrepaired cephalon, but a hurried push to get me back in action. The lowly Orokin servant was loathsome for his continued obedience to the dead, obnoxious in his mannerisms, and impossibly gaudy in appearance. These, perhaps, I could eventually forgive. However, now he decided to force me to action, and this order had an inferno writhing in my chest, clawing to tear itself free.

All my life I had been assigned tasks, both inane and monstrous, by the golden tyrants. All my life the Orokin had dictated what I should be, and what I would do. They forbade me from learning, and delegated horrific slaughters to my hand. I was nothing more than an expensive doll with the express purpose of killing. And now Dovas planned to continue this tradition. It had me quivering with murderous intent; my fists balled with such force that I felt the alloy of my fingers crack. My digits ached with the strain, yet no amount of self-destruction could hope to improve my situation.

Yet, the inferno of rage inside me drove me to action. I snapped up the root, my once gentle hand now cruelly snagging the arboriform to speak to Dovas directly. The force of my grab nearly ripped the root from its origin as the ghostly flora squashed between my digits. The living root flailed as I held it with poisonous purpose. Once I had the aboriform, I refused to release even an inch as I let my words flow hotly at the cephalon.

Who are you to tell me what to do!? I don’t follow your orders. I’m not like you, dog. Yet, there was no response. Dovas, even after hearing my words, simply ignored me. I must have sounded like a petulant child to the cephalon, for he did not reply. Until my grip tightened around the sensor with vehemence. Only then did the squeal of the distressed arboriform drive Dovas to speak.

\\Command has requested we handle this.

Consider it a test: to see how useful you are.\\

His response was entirely dismissive. And, of course, only stoked the roaring flames that began to speak louder and truer than my humble voice of reason. 

You should have left me with the servants , that’s where I’ve always belonged. You should not have come for me. In fact, I wish you hadn’t. I would have been in better hands with Nef. My grip was as heated as my words, vindictive and cruel as I held the arboriform firm. The cephalon did not reply, but I was still dissatisfied with his previous answer. I decided to show him such: A small panel on the floor beneath me was loose, and without thinking I stomped, hard . The force was more than enough to drive it into place, bending the metal downward and leaving an imprint of my sole embedded into its surface. This seemed to glean Dovas’ attention, or at least drive him to respond. 

\\Tenno! Control yourself! 

Your task is a simple one:\\

//Escort the survivors of the Illiad Nix off the ship.

Do this, and I will not ask more of you.//

My burning anger was hardly even swayed by this declaration. 

And what unbound fool would trust you, Orokin? You are as simple-minded and self-consumed as the slain lords. Those parasites left you to tidy their tombs, and you do so lovingly . My words would have scalded my tongue if they could. The disdain consuming my form was unbearable. Dovas whirred, likely able to read the loathing that my emotions directed toward the servant. My anger was venomous, raring to strike, and ready to explode. Dovas could see this, and dismissed me carelessly.

\\Do not waste your misery on me.

The enemy is at our destination.\\

//Vent your fury there.\\

Dovas’ words were meant to abate me, yet this only fueled my explosive reaction. That volcanic flare howled in my chest, and drove my hand to form another knuckle-cracking fist. Begrudgingly, I released the arboriform before my instincts would simply rip the root free. I could see that the loyalist would stay true to his choice. He had made the call, and there was no sign of Dovas backing down now. So with a firm, rapt turn, I briskly marched back down the thin ramp of the navigational array. I was half expecting my step to melt the metal I strode on; my anger continued burning white-hot with vindictiveness.

My pace brought me back into the primary chamber of the now-moving ship. I was tempted to begin breaking and destroying everything in sight. I could crush what technology and secrets remained on the ship. I could shatter the glass of the containers and tanks and let what little life yet lingers here die. I could crush circuits, metals, and more with but a strike. I could easily tear through the hull of the vessel itself. With just a stroke of my palm against any side I chose, I could vent the entire ship. I considered the cries of distress that Dovas might let out as his research vessel imploded on itself in a sudden decompression. I would likely survive, though I would be adrift in the void of space; a shell of my former consciousness, potentially lingering for eons.

As worked up as I was, this line of thought helped me begin to rationalize. Whoever Dovas reported to had asked for me to handle this mission. I would achieve nothing adrift in space, and never learn more about this strange new world I had awoken to. But, if Dovas was serving some higher power, then Dovas – as loathsome as it was to admit – was my contact to  that higher command. After all, the gilded pet was all too eager to please his master.

Therefore, I had no choice but to prepare for the task ahead. So my anger was (poorly) bottled as I knelt down to think, and to let the searing blood in my veins settle. As my focus narrowed I wrestled with my fury like a coiling snake. I mastered my fury, taking soft steps around the topic like walking on glass. A single wrong movement would have my emotions overflowing. I tried to busy my mind not with emotions, but elsewhere, attempting to recollect what I could about the Infested. Memory came slowly, but steadily back to me as I ran over the basics:

I knew of the biological superweapon, everyone did. It was infamous, after all. Only fools ignored the dangers that the Infested posed to organic life. A single spore could be enough to overtake a city, if left to grow and multiply. The viral hazard was but one of the remaining curses of the Orokin: a horrid pox devouring everything, if left unchecked. As deathly cruel and indifferent as the Orokin once were, this aberration of life cared for nothing but its own growth and survival. 

Yet why should I be tasked with this? Was it truly my duty to stop? Our late Lords demanded utter fealty, yet offered nothing but disdain in return. Just as Dovas does…  Once more I had found myself on a gilded leash, and with it, the same ember-glow of loathing that drove me to slaughter the Orokin so long ago. I could not see the gilded tether that hung from the loyalist to myself, but I could sense it. In my mind’s eye, it flickered with the glow of a soft fire. What connection had been formed between us was volatile, and unsteady. It would change, all threads did, but this particular attachment was thin, and weak. 

Dovas had reinvigorated my Orokin hate, in the worst possible way. He had dregged memories from my wounded mind, and accented this pain with his own loathsome attitude. The Orokin servant would need to tread lightly from this point on. I wondered why he, in all my luck, was the one sent to retrieve me. Was he simply the closest operative at the time, too? Dovas decided to interrupt my meditation as his name slipped across my consciousness. He was either ignorant, or uncaring to what effect his words had on me, instead continuing to brief the task ahead.

\\Note: standard munitions will likely not be enough.

Fire and chemical agents are far more effective at destroying Infested organisms.\\

//You may borrow anything you see fit for use.\\  

The ship had begun moving at the very start of our argument, meaning there was likely not much time until my task. Dovas had left his floor lighting on, leading back to the ship's arsenal. The contraption was the same standing, full-body maintenance station that I had stood in for maintenance not moments before. I looked closer at the shoddy tech: there were worn patches where metal slid over metal, some oxidation on several important looking components, and frayed electrics giving off strange whines and occasional sparks. Things I had noticed, but did not dwell on. Now, however, I saw it as indicative to the aged, and equally shoddy cephalon I found myself accompanying.

I stepped into the outfitting machine, and a small screen appeared in my vision as my warframe connected to the station. As I waited, the arsenal creaked to life, cycling through gears and robotics in the ship storage somewhere below me. The same limbs that had touched me up moments before returned to their places, giving another short electrical charge to test systems and reactivity. After the significantly brief diagnostic on me, the system was ready. I scoured through what items Dovas had available in storage.

I recalled that this was a research vessel, not a ship of war. What weapons Dovas had access to were basic, to say the least. Many of the weapons were standard issue models, with little to offer besides a semblance of safety. I fumed over the assortment of simple firearms. Many of these were constructed en-masse for Tenno soldiers. None of them would be useful against these monstrosities, but the cephalon did have more specialized tools. Several tranquilizers and non-lethal rifles were included, among technology I had no name for, or understanding of. I had no intention of attempting to learn anything new, not for this particular task. What I eventually selected from Dovas’ collection was an Ignis. A flamethrower was useful enough to fully erase any concern of a large swarm overtaking me. After scouring through the remaining options, it appeared that no other firearms would be nearly as beneficial, so I grabbed a simple Lex: a base-model sidearm with a bit of kick.

The tools unsteadily retracted, settling back into their respective locations to await the next use. As I stepped free, I finally felt the weight of the chemical burner in my palms. It was heavy, though I adjusted well to the weight. I was stubborn enough to stick with my choice, even if the firearm didn’t entirely function. I was more likely to use it as a blunt swinging weapon before discarding the flamethrower entirely.

 The cephalon caught my attention with a soft crash, akin to an ancestral gong.

\\One minute out from the Illiad Nix .

//Your first call to action has arrived, Tenno.

Let us see what you can do.//

\\Primary objective:

Locate and safely extract surviving operatives.\\

//Secondary objective:

Purge, or destroy the vessel.//

To my burning chagrin, Dovas directed these words with authority. It was not a request. His words fixed his place in my mind. He was indeed nothing more than the Orokin he once served. Dovas gave no other word, and the silence was palpable. This, all of this, was a strike against Dovas’ continued existence in my mind. The Orokin had built all they had on the backs of those on their gilded lead.

In time, the cephalon would see what would become of those with intent to control the leash.

Chapter Text

IX- Overflow

I stood, peering out the front of the ship at our destination. The transport before me was of moderate size, likely able to house a crew of several hundred aboard. Lights were still active on the Nix , and the distress signal was being broadcast in full force, now free of interference due to our current proximity. Of course, externally all seemed well, but the broadcast told us the truth: What may have once been a transport was now little more than a shell, concealing a monster within.

The vessel grew larger with each passing moment. The innocuous ship would not reveal the danger I was staring down. This would certainly be a difficult task to manage. It did not help that my preparation was meager. There was little to do but arm myself for the task ahead. I brought few supplies along, as there was little more than weapons I would need. In a rescue operation involving the Infestation, my charge was either dead or alive, with very little middle-ground between. I steeled myself, knowing full well the very subjects I was supposed to save may need to be put down by my own hand. If there was a cure for the parasitic monstrosity, it was likely in some Orokin noble’s storehouse, long since dried to dust.

I removed myself from this line of thinking and turned to face the deployment hatch. Dovas had skillfully overridden docking protocols once we were within range, bringing us into the belly of the beast with a gentle glide. We were met with silence as we floated into the internal hangar of the Nix . There were other ships in the dock, of course. The technology used here was just as archaic as the Solaris constructions. The elaborate Orokin design was long-dead. Practicality and utility were once again viewable in the design of the craft as we swung in to view a nearly untouched collection of the smaller spacecraft. Most were crafted in a mechanical, geometric style, likely produced with machine-made parts; A drab contrast to the sickeningly exquisite craft of the tyrants. The bay was surprisingly full, many of these modern ships silently waiting for evacuees that would never come.

    The ship settled with a small bump, and Dovas opened the hatch with a hiss of air. My steps brought me from the Majin and into the great docking bay. There was not a single living thing in sight. Once my steps rapped the metal floor of the offloading station, Dovas wasted no time in pulling the Majin from the Nix . He would be moving the ship to a safe location, far from the outbreak. And, of course, leaving me effectively stranded until he returned.

    \\Remember your mission:

    Secure any survivors,\\

    //Then, scuttle the Nix .\\

    //Further notes:

Infested can communicate through collective consciousness.//

\\Engaging the monstrosities will alert the others.

Destroy them quickly or they will summon aid.\\

//And for the love of The Seven: Stay quiet for as long as you can.\\

    Dovas was almost pleasing to hear through communications, his obnoxious cadence slightly more bearable when it was not the only thing to focus on. My hands tightened on the flamethrower, knowing it would be a matter of when, not if, I use it. Unfortunately, Dovas had some trouble supplying me with fuel. I had only three large canisters of the propellant, though I wondered how much of the aged fuel was even still combustible. As I clicked down the trigger to let a small torrent of flame loose, I was immediately granted a sense of ease. It would work.

As my focus continued to wander, signs of the infestation were beginning to appear. As I looked round the hangar with a more critical eye I could spot the seeds of unnatural growth already latched on the metal of some walls and floors. Clusters of spores and tendrils of organic life were beginning to form around high-oxygen areas of the ship’s vents. The organic pox moved quickly and efficiently across the transport.

I returned to my task, stepping quietly forward as I kept my senses keen for any movement in the bay. My gaze wandered the hangar as I quickly took stock of the place. There were no bio-signs here, nor any sign of struggle. It was likely that none of the crew had managed to make it this far. It appeared very few had managed to escape, meaning there was nearly a full crew of infected operatives now under the control of the parasitic corruption. 

As I turned to leave the entrance behind, a small movement off in the darkness of the bay caught my eye. It was subtle, and foreign in the well-lit hangar. A shadow, like a wisp of smoke dissipating before it could take shape. My focus began to narrow, trying to locate the anomaly I had glimpsed. I worried that there could be some Infestation lying in wait around the docking bay, but whatever was in the hangar did not move again. 

I’m tense and tired; I’m imagining things…

I began to walk. Whatever it was I had glimpsed, I put out of my mind. My senses were sharper than any organic creature alive. If something was there, I would have sensed it. I had hoped for a quiet in and out, but Dovas had other plans. Once he was free of the bay, the cephalon wasted no time in opening communications to make a declaration on open channels of the ship itself:

    //Cephalon Dovas reporting to the remaining crew of the Iliad Nix :\\

Dovas announced in a voice with so much grandeur behind it I nearly expected musical accompaniment as he spoke,

    \\A Tenno operative has arrived. 

    Identify yourself for extraction.\\

    There was disturbance within the passages of the ship. As each of the speakers came to life, there were malformed cries from somewhere deep inside. The Infested may not understand our language, but they’re intelligent and organized. They knew something was happening. In response to the auditory stimulus, they would be preparing the hivemind’s many servants to seek more potential food.

A voice answered Dovas at last, patched through to me directly by the cephalon. It was identical to the one that had sent the distress call, though it was now crisp and clear in comparison.

    “A Tenno? Thank Gaia.” They begin, the relief palpable in their unsteady tone. “This is Clarity, Communications Director, and acting Captain of the Nix . It is good you got here so quickly. We’ve barricaded ourselves in the bridge for now, but the infested have been working their way through the vents.”

    Upon receiving their current location, Dovas’ scans scoured the levels of the craft. His intel was forwarded in a holo-map of the craft’s interior that Dovas had kitted me with. I could see updates on organic lifesigns, allowing for a straightforward path through the contaminated vessel. My steps began to take me through the ship, leaving the bay to look through the door that led deeper into the main halls of the Iliad Nix . 

The door from the docking bay was already showing signs of infested growth. The corrupted flesh moved fast and unpredictably. The mire clung to everything it could as it expanded, stretching over walls and floor alike as it sought to colonize more fertile breeding grounds. The tendrils that were growing from the piles of organic matter were swaying, gathering whatever it could from the air while simple, insectoid life forms skittered along the floor in search of new resources.

A grotesque, gargling howl echoed from the inner halls. One of the crew shambled forth from a flickering passageway, the haunting noise trailing from their lips like a pant of a dying animal. Their movements were forced, jerky and irregular. What prior mind the crewmate had was likely being devoured by the infestation that devoured them from within. The skin along their arms was already warping and twisting, the cells of the organic host already being reallocated and rearranged in accordance to the parasite’s desires. The lost crew member continued to shamble onward, paying me no heed while its unsteady gait brought the abomination deeper into the heart of the Nix .

I paused to let the creature some space before I continued on. As I stalked through the halls, Dovas forwarded communications to me. A cephalon was a tactical advantage in every way, allowing reliable remote feedback throughout any situation. Dovas was even able to update multiple parties nearly instantaneously. He relayed a few more basic questions to the Director while I made my way to the marked location. I could overhear their conversation while the cephalon left our communications channel open. Basic intel was exchanged while I continued to scour the halls and walls for any sign of movement. 

\\When did the event occur, approximately?//…

//How many crew were aboard?\\...

\\Subsequently, how many crew were lost?//…

I did not hear her replies to each question, as my focus was on navigation of her ship. The sooner I could complete my task the sooner I could depart from the ignorant Cephalon I was tethered to. Dovas began updating the small map of the ship with several alterations. The map Dovas had supplied me with was likely forwarded from Clarity, but Dovas had left marks on the map, annotations and alterations I’m sure he deemed superior. My route was irregular, cutting into rooms and halls, trying to dodge the marked lifesigns. More than once a large reading in a room caused me to pause as Dovas rerouted my path. I needed to avoid possible conflicts for now, reserving my own strength for the security of the survivors. Were it not for the constant guidance of a cephalon it would be increasingly difficult to navigate this foreign ship. At one point, I thought we might actually reach the bridge, only to find an unexpected pile of Infested buildup had entrapped the passage entrance. After a short navigational debate between Dovas and Clarity, I was running back down the hall to step through a maintenance hatch.

Pools of infested mass were forming near the air vents, significantly more noticeable in the confined space of the thin passageway. The thoughtless flesh continued seeking every morsel of corruptible material it could find. At its current rate, the few survivors may already be exposed. These thoughts only weighed heavier as I heard Clarity’s volume increased. Dovas must have thought it was important enough to amplify the sound. 

“All survivors have been kitted with rebreathers to avoid contamination, though you likely will not manage to simply walk right in. Infested have centralized their forces around the bridge, trapping us inside. But…” Here, Clarity murmured in a hushed tone, as if the director had suddenly worried about being overheard, “...we have been sabotaged internally.” The director continued, their voice quiet, but as clear as if they were whispering just beside me. It seemed Dovas wanted me to pay attention, since the map I was reading suddenly shifted. There was a new beacon drawing my attention. My movements paused as Clarity continued: “An operative in containment was let loose. They were infected, and their escape certainly caused the loss of the ship. I do not know if the culprit who freed them survived… so few did... I need you to retrieve the data logs in Security to see who opened the door. We must determine who the spy is, and if they are still a threat.”

I see, Dovas is directing me to Security. I turned in the tight corridor, my ignis clinking off the inner metal wall as I began backtracking. Clarity had left much unspoken, yet I filled in the blanks: She did not trust the crew around her in some capacity, that much was evident. While she did not voice that concern outright, that silent cry for help was heard. If one of the survivors was the culprit, we would first need to identify and deal with the saboteur.

A few hundred meters back though the tight maintenance hall – only once I had jostled another hatch open – I stepped free of the engineer’s passage. Dovas continued pulling information from our ally while I trod on, not far from my new destination.

//Why were infested in containment?//

Dovas inquired. I was wondering the same. I was uncertain why they would allow such a potential disaster aboard in the first place. My step took me around a particularly dense growth, a bulbous mass that pulsed with a disgusting gurgle during the moment of radio silence. I wondered if Clarity would ever reply, but she eventually answered Dovas, her tone much more somber as she spoke.

“We had an infection break out during our last expedition. An operative of ours had returned before the onset of symptoms, and by the time we had disembarked it was already too late. The operative was quarantined before it spread, but it seems that was not enough.” 

//Jettisoning the infected could have prevented an outbreak.//

Dovas offered callously. The Director gave an indignant huff at his comment. 

“Theoreticals can do nothing for us now, Cephalon Dovas. I don’t know how your kind operates, but we try to save our own, not destroy them.” The words of the Director revealed her fresh wounds, yet the careless Cephalon bantered back with his brutal candor. Dovas apparently thought it very important to comment on the likelihood of an outbreak with and without an infected crewmate.  

Clarity continued to exchange heated words with Dovas, but I was no longer paying attention. My focus was turned elsewhere as I heard an unknown cry. Several small maggots were skittering through the halls before me. The little devils were screeching in glee as their streamline, insectoid bodies scurried quicker at the sight of potential food. The simple infested life were tasked to basic functions, and could not communicate with the larger consciousness. These were no threat to me, and I could easily crush them beneath my heel. Yet I waited, letting them get close before pulling the trigger. The burst of fire that washed across the small swarm melted each parasite away, each releasing a tiny squeal of rage in their death throes.

“Enough!” Clarity said firmly, with a harsh intensity that caught me off-guard. “It does not matter now. I merely need to verify that I can trust my remaining crew. Just get me those logs and keep your damn percentages to yourself.” I sided with the furious Director on this one. The Orokin dog was better off silent. The uncertainty of the crew's loyalty was troublesome, but there was little time to delay. The destination was not far now. Not a minute passed before my steady step slowed before the entrance to Security.

There I found my entry barred. I pressed a palm to the thick metal of the door, feeling the density of the metal frame. It was attached from above, large struts securing the sector with the strength of a vault. No matter how I approached this it was apparent force would be futile. Perhaps a stronger one of my kin could have burst through, or simply slipped right past the physical barrier, but it would have been impossible for me while the lockdown remained. I nearly turned to Dovas (of all things!) for aid until the door gave a thrum of energy and a mechanical click. The bridge controls lifted the lockdown in the sector, causing the armored door to rise from the entrance.

Easy enough.

My stride took me in, and my attention began to scour the dim sector. We had a successful infiltration so far. The last thing I wanted was to alert the Infested to my presence. A few simple emergency lights flickered to life as I drew further into Security. In truth, the sector was little more than a small room that contained many monitors and desks, all aligned to one large screen. Each workspace was empty, save some papers and belongings scattered about the place. My pulse was icey as I looked over the dark sector. The haunting shadows were stirring something wounded still within me, and drawing fear to the surface. I was so busy taking it in that I nearly missed the rasp of breath I heard in the room. 

I quickly lifted my burner and honed down my senses, trying to locate where the disturbance was coming from. The wheeze of breath was weak, but constant, and close to the floor. My step was soft, nearly silent as I stepped around a particularly messy workspace. Behind was a huddled figure, humanoid.

Dovas, scan the room. Someone is here. The cephalon did not reply, and I kept my burner pointed at the figure. Dovas -

//Biosign of surviving crew.

Genetic composition is deteriorating://

    \\They are infected.

Destroy the organism.\\

Organism . Dovas viewed life in such a disgusting way. I nearly listened, beginning to lift my ignis to bump the metal desk beside me. The figure skittered away from the noise, holding a hand up in fearful self-preservation.

“N-no! Get away!” a voice called from the gloom. The operative was still cognizant! As they scrambled for their life they painfully collided with a low hanging metal bar of the table. The figure crumpled and stayed on the floor after then, whimpering in pain. The dim light of the room helped to dampen other senses. Even in the low light, as long as it lay still, I was allowed a better look. 

The operative had discarded their headgear, and it was obvious why. Across their face was a stretch of infested growth, blinding the crewmate, and spelling certain doom for the unfortunate survivor. I set my burner down and walked forward to the blinded crew. The noise drew another fearful whimper from them, terrified at what might be coming for them. 

“Please, have mercy…” they pleaded as I approached.

Poor soul. My touch came down to rest on their hand. At first they withdrew it in shock, but as they felt the cold, smooth sensation of my palm they paused, reaching for more of me to confirm what it was they felt. Their hands blindly groped along my arm, feeling the metallic finish of my flesh. “By Gaia… a Tenno…” they whispered in disbelief. “You’re the one who came to help us, I heard your cephalon announce your arrival…” The crew gave a choking sob as they began to get emotional. “Are there survivors? Did anyone make it out?”

Their concern for their crew was admirable, though foolish. I could not answer these questions, and they would not be able to see my motions to answer them. I let the dying member of the Nix hold my arm a little longer, and listened to their sobs of relief. The shaking slowed, and eventually the crewmate gathered themself. In an unsteady voice they began to make their request. 

“Don’t let me turn. Don’t let me go like the rest of them. Please, Tenno, let me die as myself. I want to be Fir Nona when my energy returns to the earth, not one of those abominations.” Fir’s hands were unsteady as they gripped my arm, like they would slip away if they didn’t hold on. The shaking hold was likely nerve damage from the virus, a sure sign of the end. 

I would give the mercy they desired.

I stood, letting the dying crewmate’s touch slip from me as I drew strength from my essence. I imagined myself breathing deep to take in as much energy as I could. I channeled the Desert Storm, preparing myself for the role of executioner once more. The storm’s sigil flashed to life on my fist, and I wished I could give the blind survivor some final words. Yet I could say and offer nothing but a swift release from their rotting form. I’m sure Fir could sense what was coming, as they shakily stood, and cupped their hands together. Their arms wobbled, struggling to stay in what appeared to be a meditative pose.

I’m sorry.

The roar of the wind gathered, and in one firm thrust I slammed my fist against Fir’s chest. Their eyes were obscured, but I could see their grimace at the sensation. I focused, guiding the full force of assailing winds through them. I did not want to rend them, I wanted to free them. My energy bounced within Fir, shockwaves of force destroying organ and tissue down to the molecular level as the single strike echoed through the Loka operative. The bounding bursts of radiation concussed each inch of their body as the wind drained it of life and energy. Their blood thickened to sand, and any usable flesh was stripped of its nutrients by the echo of the barren wastes. The Desert Storm mummified the poor soul on the spot, leaving the infestation an unusable husk. The rune on my fist flickered and faded as Fir crumpled to the ground. They hadn’t even stopped moving before Dovas chimed in with another uncouth opinion:

\\Why bring an ignis, if not to use it?

Expending that much controlled energy is not efficient.\\

\\If you are quite done,

We have actual survivors to attend to.\\

I didn't even give Dovas the honor of a response as I watched the corrupt life covering Fir’s body twitch to a halt. Another survivor lost. I clasped my hands, offering what little respect I could give to the newly fallen. This expedition was growing more malign by the moment. Yet I finally tore my focus from the unlucky operative, returning to the task at hand.

The large, primary screen was viewing various feeds from all over the Nix . From here, I could view nearly every inch of the ship, though what I saw was not reassuring. In almost each and every viewport was some scene of carnage or destruction. Infested life gorging on remains in one, while the biomass had entirely consumed another camera.

The ship was lost, this much was easy to see. No amount of scrubbing could safely remove the biological disaster that had consumed this transport. The remaining camera feeds only further confirmed that. Which meant we would be shifting to the backup plan. The ship could not be allowed to remain intact. It would only act as a seedbed for the Orokin’s pox now. I stepped forward, trying to collect any useful intel from the monitors as I approached the command console.

There was one screen that showed a very different scene from the grisly nightmare of the Nix . A visual of the bridge and a collection of roughly a score of survivors in various states of distress. I assumed Clarity was the one standing, pointing occasionally to the others to direct them. Sure enough, each of the remaining crew had a respirator as they took to their various tasks. I could see them blocking vents to the bridge with a sealant of some sort. They would last, but likely not for much longer.

Despite this hopeful glimmer, my eyes were drawn to a small portion of the display. Not one bulging and pulsing with untamed growth or the few remaining crew, but instead a lifeless stretch of hall. The small square was lit, but lights were flickering as if they were about to lose power in that sector. There was something in the feed, a quick, thoughtless movement of something dark, and gone a moment later. A cold chill was creeping up my metal spine. I worried it could be the start of another relapse, but Dovas had no time for such trivialities.

\\Attach Parazon to ship systems.//

Dovas ordered, as if to singularly interrupt my wayward thoughts.

//Likely, the most important looking console.\\ 

As if that wasn’t enough, Dovas even marked it on the holo-map. I wasn’t about to acknowledge Dovas. The cephalon was tiring, and I was too busy trying to keep my focus on that screen. But, no matter how hard I looked, there was nothing more.

\\Tenno?//

Surely I’m seeing things. I turned, looking to the center of the room. With a slick hiss of metal on metal my Parazon slid free of my forearm. The assassin’s instrument was an essential Tenno tool, something each of us was trained to use before any other weapon. It was for killing, but served as an excellent conduit. It was an effective multitool, and the sharpened point allowed me to drive itself directly into the console I sought. As the metal blade was forced violently into the sparking system, I winced at the jolt of electrical energy that flooded my body. A necessary ache as Dovas was plugged directly into the Iliad Nix . My Parazon relayed all of the information in the console back to my cephalon of circumstance. 

//Scouring ship systems…

Running diagnostic…//

\\Locating logs…

Golden. Feed is active.\\

It took Dovas seconds to find what he was looking for, and shortly accessed the ship's video logs. The various feeds of the ship all blinked out one by one, until one cohesive screen was brought up on the large, overhead monitor. While my companion was an abominable attendant, I could not dismiss his continued usefulness.

The screen flickered to life, opening a visual record of several holding cells from a high angle. The collection of prison quarters were all visible from this angle, each one empty, save one window splattered with gore and viscera. This, of course, was the infected crew, already reduced to a biological monster. The log sped forward slightly, the playback showing the unnatural movements of the poor operative at incredible speed until something stood out in the video. Dovas stopped, rewound slightly, and started the footage again at standard speed. On the screen I could see movement in the corner of the camera before a figure stepped into view. 

It appeared to be a New Loka member that approached the containment unit, though their actions were quite irregular. The video showed their hands raised as they walked, and while their face was not viewable, they murmured something as they forced one leg slowly ahead of the other. Their whispers were subtle, just on the edge of hearing; a rasping gasp, something the audio could not gather in its entirety. The camera tracked their motion through the chamber as they produced a small, gold-trimmed dagger just before the containment unit.

A ceremonial dagger?

As we watched, the cephalon whirred thoughtfully at me, directing his commentary to me, rather than over the comms.

//A Loka subordinate with an Orokin relic?

Surely this cannot be accidental.//

\\Their motions are… strange.

Tenno, what are they doing?”\\

My attention had not left the monitor. I watched with surprised horror as the New Loka agent lifted the blade to their own body, and proceeded to slash their chest with the ornamental weapon. Each strike was deep and purposeful, cutting through suit and skin alike, leaving a red trail of blood pouring from them by the time they finished. Yet, even as they scored their own body, they were unflinching. All the while their mouth mumbled in a steady murmur all through the process. After carving their own chest, the dagger fell from the operative’s limp grip as they turned in a full circle, arms raised high as they seemed to finalize their strange ritual. What they revealed to the camera was a bloodied pattern across their entire torso. Dovas paused, momentarily freezing the figure in place to examine the design. It was rather intricate, showing long marks drooling blood from the edges. At its center was an interwoven diamond that shaped an elaborate eye with pointed fangs at either side. Dovas gave a gasp of dismay, as if caught off guard by the brutality of the scene.

//Oh, by the Seven... 

This seems: more complex than internal sabotage, Tenno.//

\\Continue the recording! If this individual survived…//

It became quickly apparent that they did not. 

After archiving the symbol, Dovas let the feed continue. The operative’s eyes were covered by their helmet, obscuring many of their features. I could see that their jaw was slack, and slow to keep up as they talked, almost slurring some of the words they murmured to the Infested. Their movements were erratic, but before any more could be gleaned they turned and placed a hand on the cell’s console. With an electronic chime, the containment unit slid open and the fate of the Nix was sealed. The blood was more than enough to entice the hungry infected into a frenzy.

The imprisoned lifeform consumed the Loka member in a flash of red and twisting limbs. By the time it was finished with its meal, spores had already begun to spill from the infected, out and into the prison block of the ship. From there, the wave of destruction was easy to track through the Nix . Feeding the beast had accelerated the process, and the infested tendrils took root quickly in the pile of viscera that was the erratic former crewmate. Once it was in the ventilation, the transport was lost. I could watch in real time the crew scrambling as the biological sensors began to blare. However, I only needed the result, not the process, so I ignored the remaining recording as my thoughts turned inward.

Why ? Was the only question that came to mind. I could glean no reason from the recording. Was it some worship of the Infested? The self-immolation seemed unnecessary for them. The symbol was shown, willingly and purposefully to the camera. There was a message there, but it was beyond my understanding.

I began to wonder then just how much trouble this mission might bring.
   

\\“Tenno, Forwarding logs to Loka survivors.

It is important this message reach Amaryn.\\

//This may be a warning: Of something to come.\\

I gave no more than a nod of acknowledgement. While the message was meaningless to me, perhaps it would mean something to its intended recipient: Whoever this Amaryn may be. 

Security offered little more for us once we had the logs. I drew my Parazon from the destroyed circuitry of the ship console while the screen left one final error message flashing on the screen. A simple, ‘SYSTEMS OFFLINE’, blinked lazily on the primary monitor of the room. Not that it would matter, soon. A lot more than just Security would be shut down before we were finished. Dovas must have already sent the recording, as Clarity’s voice broke over the comms moments later.

“Mother Gaia…” Clarity murmured with a soft disbelief creeping into her voice. “Was it truly Juniper? I spoke to her just last night. She was so… unassuming…” I thought I heard a  low groan of dismay, and possibly a sniffle before the Director pulled herself together. “Thank you for this, Tenno. Assuming she had no acting accomplice, we are prepared to leave. I can prepare the self-destruct protocol from the bridge, but you will need to finish the sequence down in the reactor. Gaia’s blessing…” And with that, the heartbroken leader signed off.

In his usual overbearing manner, Dovas voluntarily filled the silent space.

//Next up:

Escort Survivors to safety.//

\\Then: The Reactor.//

For once, I agreed with Dovas. Nearly all of the ships in the hangar were operational, so now it was only a matter of securing the Iliad Nix’s crew. Dovas had briefed the operatives on early warning signs for contamination, and, according to the Clarity, none of the survivors showed any. We would have to check again once I arrived at the bridge, for safety, and to remind the operatives there was little hope of surviving the virus once it had taken root.

My pace returned to the halls, the soft clack of my metal tread heading toward the bridge and the gathered survivors. While my luck had persisted with avoiding the monstrosities this far, I knew it could not last. I was preparing myself for the inevitable fight as the scampering of feet could be heard. Several fast-moving, infested crew that had been malformed into quadrupeds ran through the intersection ahead of me, each giving a raspy huff of breath as they hurried toward whatever destination the hive had ordained.

Just as I thought it was safe, more movement in the hall. I raised my flamethrower in preparation and held it trained at the entrance. From the same corridor entrance came an enormous Infested. It was slow, seemingly burdened by something as it painfully lumbered by. I didn't understand what I was witnessing as I looked at the burgeoning flesh of the beast.

It appeared to have been formed from multiple corpses, each twisted together and stretched to form a kind of tall midsection. The monstrosity gave odd movements, sauntering and skittering about on mismatched sets of limbs that constantly vied for control. The faltering steps only lasted a moment before the appropriated organics forced the beast into motion once more. The disgust I felt for the abomination was quickly eclipsed by dread as I spied a gleam of metal poking through the overgrown flesh-creature.

Beneath the thin veil of skin I could see a soft glow of some technological, unnatural thing within the mass of flesh and warped bone. From the top of the strange flesh formation were visible protrusions, wrapped tightly within the bulging mass of the monstrosity. Each side of the abomination seemed like it was struggling to maintain its form, constantly shifting and adjusting to keep the contents contained. Dovas, who must have been monitoring my visual feed, alerted me with a sudden cacophony of noise; a cry like windchimes clattering to the ground.

//Tenno! That organism is carrying a fuel cell!

No… multiple fuel cells!//

\\If that creature detonates, the explosion has the potential to rupture the hull!//

His warning was clear, and accented by several new markings on the map: recommended locations for detonation. The layout of the ship gave us little time. There was a few hundred meters at best before the threat would reach its likely target. The Bridge’s barricade would never hold against such an explosion, and if the Loka survivors managed to survive the blast, they would be overrun in moments if left to the quadrupeds. The virulent pox could survive even the vacuum of space, and would not hesitate to choke out any remaining resistance by venting the ship.

As the cephalon relayed his warning to the survivors, I began moving faster. My silent footfalls had given way to the swift, light clack of ferrite flesh on ship tile as I ran after the pseudo-lifeform. The passage was far too long for my liking, and by the time I rounded the corner I caught a glimpse of the bulging bomber quite some distance away, through a group of mutated crew standing idly in the hall. The group were still recognizable as New Loka operatives, some had even retained their humanoid form. Others were not so lucky.

Those that had been food before they had turned had sizable chunks missing from them, entire limbs, and distorted bodies to help their wounded movements. These creatures were between me and my objective, and there was little time to waste. I pitied the crew, and for that reason I stepped forward, ready to end their suffering.

My presence drew their attention at last, and the wobbling masses of flesh turned. For those the corruptive spores had not finished warping, I felt the ache of empathy. Their thoughtless eyes latched to me as one cried out with that horrid, haunting howl that I had heard before. Its kin let loose a choir of soft gargles as they saw me in turn. One shambled toward me, reaching forward with a slack, expressionless face. It may have looked humanoid, but it was nothing but corrupted organics now. Without hesitation, I found myself pulling the trigger to let the torrent of flame cleanse their body. The fire scoured their forms, and as they cried out in distress their arms raised to hopelessly bat at the flames, already dead before they crumpled to the ground in a smoldering heap. I could hear sinister cries echoing the ship’s halls. The hivemind knew I was here now. A burn is hard to ignore.

As I torched the infested obstacles, I saw the shambling bomber just through the flames ahead, quickening its pace. More crew were already pouring in from nearby corridors to intercept me. The infestation was reacting to the death of its kin, centralizing its forces on my location to remove the threat like an immune system. I was priority to the collective now, so every operative afflicted by the Infestation would be coming for me as the hive began to swarm.

My stride slowed. The ignis was effective, but slow. I needed more time for the infected bodies barreling toward me to burn. The undersides of my feet felt the heat still clinging to the burnt corpses beneath my tread. The flames licked at my legs, never fully dying away as I hurried over some still-thrashing forms. If I was to reach the explosives in time, I could not worry about my own well-being. More were running up from behind me, but I was faster. With the harsh clack of a full sprint on the metal floor, I closed the distance between myself and the bundled explosives. 

I focused my energy once more, centralizing my strength in preparation to immobilize the creature. Before the runners could catch up I gathered what force I could and threw down a hushed whisper to the floor beneath me. The void energy warped and twisted the whisper, spreading into a fully formed sigil that lingered in the air. A flash of void-light beneath me, and the infested around me began to slow. My Lull would bring anything around me to a halt, slowing its mind till a sleep-like state overtook the creature. Of course, this would only work on fauna and living things, but these beasts were living enough. The chargers, so quick on my tail, had slowed to a drooping gait. The panting breaths slowed, steadied, and one by one the creatures fell to the floor, twitching as they fell into a slumber. Each of them collapsed as they were Lulled into their steady sleep.

The mass of flesh that carried the cells took much longer to drop into a slumbering state. The minds of multiple operatives used to create such a nightmare each needed to be brought low by my Lull. It slowed, sluggishly shifting its weight from side to side, and finally the bundle of flesh stopped, sinking gracelessly to the floor with a disgusting squelch. Now given the moment’s respite, I could act. My burner clattered to the ground as I stepped forward.

How many cells? I asked Dovas as even the limbs of the monster ceased to twitch.

//Three\\

Dovas briskly reported without further note. Truly, I did not need any more than that. The soft hiss of my Parazon sliding against my metal wrist once more was the only movement in the hall. With a purposeful step forward, I took a great handful of Infested flesh, close to the top of my reach. I hesitated only a moment to locate where the cells were. Then, my arm began to slash deep into the Infested flesh. I cut away the outer folds with surgical speed, the Tenno blade easily carving the soft, pliable abomination. Once I had loose folds to work with, I gripped it, peeling down to tug free the first volatile fuel cell. I lobbed the canister aside, letting it fall into a small pile of infested gunk on the floor with a dull thud.

While it would buy me time, the Lull would not assist for long during this dissection. The first blade strokes had already caused enough discomfort to stir the sleeping giant. The small, skittering limbs began to move, slowly, at first, as consciousness returned. The hivemind was likely already scouring the ship for its missing members. I hurried to my work, pressing the blade deeper into the squelching flesh as I carved another cell free, tossing it not-so-gently in the same place as before, causing them to clatter together. The larger limbs stirred, and I paused to  consider torching the lower portion of the creature to keep it still.

Yet before I could take action, the creature had come-to. It began to flail wildly with a screech of distress, the pain I had inflicted had likely caught up to its senses. The creature swung at me surprisingly quick! Several of the amalgam’s limbs angrily lashed, striking me. The flailing blows caught my chest, forcing distance between us as I stumbled away. The Lull would lose effect if I used it again, giving me even less time to pull the remaining cell, yet I saw little other option. The chargers behind me were also beginning to twitch with signs of consciousness. It was now or never.

I repeated my motions from before, drawing energy from myself as I began to weave another sigil of the Lull, anything to try and stop the Infested in their tracks. I had barely completed the movement of my hand as the flesh before me violently reacted. The wounded beast’s flesh bubbled and boiled, rapidly changing shape. The muscle began condensing in on itself and letting out a soft groan of stress. What I thought was an attack from the monstrosity I soon identified as something more malicious: The beast was attempting to self-detonate in an act of martyrdom! It was attempting to destroy the remaining cell. As the strained action continued I quickly shifted to defensive measures, moving my palms and my focus to turn my Lull into defensive energy. The energy I gathered quickly reformed itself, shaping into a simple word: Evade . The thought crossed my mind as my limbs turned to follow, but far too late.

Perhaps the thought was all that managed to go through my mind as the flesh redoubled its efforts, and burst the fuel cell in a flash of heat and light. 

The sudden wave of energy blasted me off my feet, gathering in intensity as the force also caught the two cells I had cut free. A wave of fire overtook the hall, incinerating the bomber and its kin as the heat seared my sword-steel flesh. The blast spun me as it sent me flying, crushed against walls, clattering against the metal floor, I was battered by the blast down the entirety of the corridor. I felt forces slamming against all sides of my body as I tumbled through the ship’s hall. Several of the heavy hits landed on my head, and my neck.

As the world spun around me, and my vision faded as I glimpsed the void. I was not certain if I was still, or still moving. My senses had dulled, feeling those powerful, blunt impacts beginning to ache alongside the searing heat I was exposed to. I had not avoided the blast, and I worried for a moment that I had died. I could not even feel the full force of the pain my body was surely writhing in. I believed that I would be banished back to the depths of the Sea of Sleep for eternity, yet I could not feel the ship around me. My eyes had focused, and I saw I was lying still. It must have been shock that had me spiraling into the void. My tether to that un-world was stronger than my link to the living one at that moment. My senses could only draw the world in through blurs of color and a rumbling groans of droning noise. It was in this chaotic orchestra of shock that I found myself beginning to return to my senses.

Starting with a horrible ache across my head and chest. I tensed limbs, testing which parts of me were bruised or broken. I felt as if I had been trampled, beaten, and mauled at the same time. Though, above all else, the pain in my head hurt most of all. If I had ears, they’d have been ringing, but all of my senses had long since melded together as one. I began to recollect. I remembered where I was. I recalled my mission.

Not that it helped much while I lay, dazed and aching in a pile of charred organics. I do not know how long I was there in that stunned surprise. I had hardly expected the creature to implode, though the surprise was nothing compared to the impact itself. I worked each of my limbs with caution, slowly checking if I had lost any. Each was intact and responsive. The pain I could stanch with my iron will, but the disorientation I suffered was far worse. I could hardly sense a thing now, and the world was seeming to spin and shift at odd angles.

I must have suffered some cranial damage in the blast. It wouldn’t be enough to keep me down, but I struggled as my hands shakily gathered beneath me, sliding painfully toward me before I rolled myself over onto my side. Dovas was trying to speak to me, I could hear the age-old rhythm of his speech, but his voice was distant, and muddled. I could not comprehend a single word he directed at me while my head spun. My damaged systems were giving a scorched sensation across the entire right side of my body, each movement burning like fire as I lay on my side near-motionless. The blast would likely bring more Infested, even if the explosive inferno had torched anything in a fifty meter radius. My senses fixed on the soft sensation tickling across my burnt body. Something soft and subtle dancing across my form as my senses began to return. A soft, almost inaudible hiss was the first thing to return to me. I watched the infested tendrils before my face being tugged in the direction of the blast.

Suddenly I understood the sensation. It was wind! The air around me was being sucked into the vacuum of space by a breach in the hull. What lights were still functional in the hall were glaring red with a warning of ship decompression. The murmur of Dovas was ceaseless, though far less obnoxious when I couldn’t understand a word of the damned dog. My anger was, as always, my steady guide as I drew myself together. I slowly pulled my knees beneath me, feeling the force of the escaping oxygen much stronger as I knelt. The alarm was dull, but strong enough to reverberate my metal body. I could feel the alarm, but not quite hear it. 

In the dizzying silence of the ship I wobbled on all fours, burnt, exhausted, and spent. Even with my senses dulled I could feel vibrations through the ship floor. I weakly lifted my head, I could not hear the noise of the monstrosities in my condition, but I could see: The hive’s entire horde of infected was converging, and I was lying in their path.

Chapter Text

X- Kill Command

The Infestation was too quick– too fast approaching. I lay there in that nameless hall of the Nix , viewing that rush of mutated and mutilated bodies surging closer like a swarm of ravenous insects. I would not be able to heal, nor would my body stand to fight. In my current state I could hardly stabilize my body enough to sit still, let alone resist. So there, on my knees, I accepted my fate. The clatter of claws drew closer as the vibrations around me grew into a great rumble of a stampede. My will was snuffed, my mind’s eye closed. I prepared to be torn apart by the servants of the necrotic pox. I prepared for the sensation of gnashing teeth and twitching digits, prepared for the inevitable dimming of my consciousness as I would fall into the void. I prepared for death… 

Yet death passed me over on that cold ship deck.

The stampede grew until there was a cacophony of beasts roaring in my senses. The sound was loud, disorienting, disarming… yet despite being surrounded by the enemy, my body remained intact. My attention turned upward in confusion as I watched the hoard rush past. Not just some, but all of the Infested were hurrying on to some other destination, entirely unaware of my presence. I was untouched. The monstrous entities simply ignored me. Not a single biological servant stopped to examine my form. Even the slow, hobbling creatures shambled on without a second thought. I was appalled. The beasts were dim, but not blind, they should have known, even stock-still, what I was. They ought to have laid into me in hopes of devouring something their collective could use. But still, the stamping of makeshift claws and limbs began to lessen as the hoard continued through the ruptured hall, on their way to some other urge or order from the hive.

The fleshy mob left me, and I was alone. Shaken, but alive. Yet even as this painful jolt seared through my body, I could not believe my luck. And for a time, I truly didn’t.  I sat there in the hall of the Nix mired by disbelief. Everything was calm once more, and with unsteady motions I slowly began to collect my senses. 

 Dumbfounded, I looked down at my hands, expecting to see the usual glow of my palms, only to find my fingers coated with some thick, foreign material. It took my spinning mind a moment to identify what I was observing. A viscous covering of the biological junk-matter had spread over my hands, up my arms, and likely across more. Sure enough, as I looked at other parts of my form I found a great deal of my body laden with Infested biomass. I couldn’t grasp how it had gotten there. As if I had sprouted Infestation in minutes along my body. The sight made me panic, wondering if I had actually been absorbed by the monstrosities. Though as rationality returned, I began to think it over. The superhot blast had likely heated my metal skin. Then, as I was sent rolling across the Nix , I must have collided with this infested growth, adhering it to my form. It was the only likely explanation. Yet this had an incredible effect on the infestation. In this gunk I was camouflaged, and likely appeared to the infected as one of their wounded kin as they roared past.

I could hardly move after the explosion, even simple efforts set my body alight with distress. Damaged circuits were misfiring, causing a host of spasms and jerking motions as I sat huddled on the deck. Before all else I would need to use my energy to fix the broken body I found myself with. I curled what weakened limbs I could close to my chest, trying to draw myself together as much as possible. I slowed my thoughts, trying to steady the noise in my head as I allowed my senses to relax. In my crouched position I honed an image in my mind, trying to picture my body. I needed to visualize myself, and follow the sensation of pain to see what had been damaged. My method of emergency self-repair was akin to an out of body experience: I would draw my consciousness far enough out to view myself remotely, and act as my own surgeon for a time. It was disorienting, to feel your mind slipping away as the body becomes inert. Not only was it difficult, but dangerous too. 

In this misty state, the mind often strayed, and with it the threat of losing yourself grew larger. Without a vessel, I could easily be lost should I wander too far from my ‘anchor point’. Many Dreamers had walked this path, leaving their bodies behind to never return from their journey. One of the many lessons my comrades in misery and I had learned through trial and error. For now, I had a patient to attend to. I began examining my body with attentive concern as I saw the state of my poor warframe.

There was a whine – akin to damaged acoustic equipment – somewhere in my head as my senses slipped from my flesh. My form relaxed, leaning forward as a strange vision overtook me: I was standing just behind my huddled self, looking down at my battered body. I could see the wounds my form had garnered in the explosion. The metal along my head was indeed damaged. There were a multitude of rough patches across my limbs where the smooth materials had been scuffed by impact and stress. The infested matter was covering pretty much every available surface across me – that fortunate, saving grace. Several tears through my ceremonial cloth had shredded it, leaving the material to hang limply from my frame. Yet, that would be the easiest to repair. The largest offender was the jagged tear across my shoulder, up and across my neck.

I grimaced at the sight of the wound. The lengthy mar would certainly have been fatal for any organic creature. The damage was likely caused from some jagged metal, or sharp impact. Surely caused by my body striking something hard enough to tear deep into the ferrite flesh, enough that I was seeing circuits bleeding free. My hands lifted, pressing ghostly across my back as I leaned forward to begin my work. I felt the presence, as if I was wrapped around myself, both acting and being acted upon. Filaments spooled from my finger as I wove my thoughts back and forth, tugging metal together as the touch of the void began to undo the damage of time.

The Void certainly brought destruction: uncontrolled bursts erasing reality before our very eyes. The early days of the Zariman were filled with these strange moments of sudden disappearance. Though what was seen as a curse in that damnable coffin was a blessing once we were freed. Our insight into the Void grew, changing the very concepts of our reality around us. I could fix others as well. I had used this method to repair myself before, and it didn’t end with just my own body. Dedicated to this school of thought were the Vazarin: the most compassionate and empathetic of my peers. Our school of thought was a founding basis of the Tenno, proving that our newfound strength was not only for destruction. My studies served me well. While I often thought of my ability as rewinding time, or undoing what has been done, my peers often held different ideas for how our void-touch worked.

The concept of Eternalism (a theory which enthralled me at the time of my study) essentially stated that all things were true at once, and that all futures were interconnected: Every outcome was always occurring in one form or one place. And, if that were indeed true, then out there was a world and a future that I had escaped the blast. A future where my body was untouched and undamaged. And while I often pictured my body returning to some past version, my kin would claim I was bringing some alternate future to meet me, effectively linking those two realities. While this was the theory presented to us, in truth, I liked to believe whatever we dreamt became our reality. Whichever concept was right, we could never prove, but it did not change the fact that few Tenno could act as better field medics than us. And as expected, my touch began to work wonders that no medicine could hope to replicate.

Helping repair others was simple and rather cathartic, while fixing myself was another –much more strenuous– story. That steady thrum of escaping electrical energy was bright and luminescent in my mind’s eye, only making my work more difficult. The sheer amount of essence coursing through my body was blinding, and I often had to rely on my damaged instincts to help me find the tiny cracks and broken connections within my body. I felt some relief as I began, though it was but a small fraction of the damage I had endured. I could see, and indeed feel, my body returning to a stable state. Wires were rerouted, ferrite flesh surged back around the fissure in my form. It took several minutes of intense focus as I felt and guided my body back to its previous status. The efforts felt like they were drawing the air from my lungs. I could hardly focus, let alone ‘stand’ while my head spun. Once, I even felt my consciousness flicker, like a candle that had been struck by a gust of sudden wind, threatening to snuff me before I was done.

At length I finally could pause and admire my work. Sure enough, the destruction had all but disappeared, the ornate design of my textured metal arranged as it should be. Once I managed my mortal wound, my neuroptics were next. The ghostly fingers of my will stretched forward to coax the derelict parts back into line. I was slowly, but surely, able to rewire whatever had been knocked loose in my head. My balance was one of the first things to improve; the world slowly ceased to spin and shift at strange and subtle angles. Hearing was returning, though that too was taking precious time. After another minute, I finally began to make sense from the words of the Cephalon. The noise that had not stopped transmitting the entire time steadily sharpened from white noise into proper words.

//…signs coalescing … your sector

Navigate … before more appear//

\\... not engage. Do not engage

Wound the limbs and continue to flee\\

Dovas’ words made little sense to me, even as I began to understand them again. Why was he directing me? With my basic functions saved, I allowed my senses to slip back in, taking a moment to reorganize my head and readjust my limbs. Things appeared to be in order once more on the inside, though I would certainly need another visit to my captor’s chop-shop. (For no other reason than to be cleaned of the contamination.) Everything ached, as if that stampede had run directly over my body. Yet, I was alive.

Dovas? I weakly transmitted, not expecting a reply. However, the cephalon gave a startled clink, as if bumping something by moving too quickly in his chamber.

//Tenno?! You survived the blast!

Your transference signal flatlined//

\\I thought you lost

Are you intact?\\

I was caught off guard when I heard the character of surprise in Dovas, thinking emotions were long since discarded by the aged servant. I was uncertain how much I could translate to Dovas, merely nodding in response. When I heard nothing more, I realized that Dovas could not see that movement, nor my damaged state. I would have to give a report on my status.

Yes, just searing pain, nothing I can’t handle. I’m uncertain why I played down my damage. Perhaps it was pride, or simply my disdain for Dovas, but I didn’t say anything about how close I had come to my end. I was wounded, and I lost my Ignis in the explosion… I’m on my feet though. What has become of the crew? As I asked, I stumbled and needed to fall against the hull wall for support. I was struggling to keep my weight beneath me as my legs shifted to hold my mass once more.

//I am shepherding survivors to a life-pod

The crew abandoned the bridge once decompression warnings sounded//

\\Yet your assault attracted most of the infested to the blast site

I managed the doors, making it easy to seal them away\\

//Survivors have almost reached the hangar: no casualties

I had fully prepared to call this mission a failure in losing you//

\\With our objective safe, we have a new destination//

Again with the ‘we’... My current status was unimportant to the cephalon, it seemed. If I was alive, then that would be all the function he could desire. 

\\Transmitting coordinates…

Updating holomap…

//Golden: you are synced with my current scans\\ 

My map was indeed indicating several new markers and warnings in the sector I currently stood. Total decompression of the Iliad Nix was avoided primarily due to Dovas’ influence. Without airlocks and ship functions working under his command, I would have long-since found the survivors in a floating graveyard. However, I was still trapped in an environment with absolutely zero atmosphere now. The Infested may be designed to adapt to any conditions, but my Warframe would not function well when under the intense pressures and forces of the vacuum of space. I needed to return to a properly sealed portion of the ship, and soon. Those locked icons and barred exits marked on my updated navigator were teeming with infested mass. They seemed to be trying to force their way through on both ends, as organic biosigns moved on both sides, hoping to free what forces were trapped in the venting corridors of the Nix . 

//Proceed to the marked security door.\\

Dovas’ instruction was accented on the holo-map by the flash of light indicating which he meant: a distant, and low-activity area.

Inspiring. The cephalon was not one for sentiment, and obviously unaware of the current state of my situation. I considered demanding we evacuate, but I knew my task was incomplete. The cephalon would certainly dismiss my concerns, and likely disallow an early extraction. The operatives could not finish the job, but I certainly could. Even though I had been disarmed and weakened, my new camouflage would work nicely to keep the Infested off me. I could finish the assignment, and that would be all Dovas would see. Begrudgingly, I set off to my task.

I didn’t need to breathe, but something about the suffocating vacuum of space weighed on me as I began my wounded march. It made my head spin, and drained my will every second I endured it. As I moved on, my first few footfalls fell short. I nearly toppled as my gait stumbled. My motor skills floundered, and I reached out to steady myself along a wall. I was certainly worse for wear, and satisfied I did not need Dovas to know the extent of my wounds. It took some adjustments to my stride, and eventually I was able to hobble, albeit slowly, from the corridor of the blast site. My muffled senses in the spaced halls of the ship disoriented me, like forcing my legs to move through the frigid pools of Venus. More than once I had to pause and make sure the ship was not truly darkening and dimming.

At length, I hobbled around a corner to view my exit. It wasn’t far, just down at the end of the hall. It was, however, blocked by a small obstacle: a singular organism writhing, seemingly wounded. The wet, sickening cries of the monstrosity twisting on the floor grew louder as I came close. I could see that the creature had lost a hindlimb. A telltale smear of viscera along the emergency lock told me all I needed to know about the situation. On this side of the sealed door, the wounded beast sat idly, slapping its hands against the dense, metal frame, mindlessly trying to take vengeance on the mechanism that had wounded it.

The singular creature would have been enough of a threat to choose an alternate exit, should it be able to recognize me. Though now I walked right up to them. I no longer needed to worry about the Orokin pox. Carrying the infested flesh like a shawl would keep me safe from the hive’s eye. I stood there waiting, uncertain if I would be conscious for much longer when finally some movement.

The metal seals hissed and began to move as Dovas cracked the lockdown. For just a moment, the great door slid open with a grinding motion to let loose a burst of fresh air into the corridor. The wind rushed past, buffering me, and bowling over the maimed infested. The wind tunnel was strong, and I struggled to push through the ferocious torrent of air for a time. Seconds later, the entrance was sealed once more, with pounding flesh sounding shortly on the door behind me.

The stable atmosphere eased the stress I felt across my entire body, instant relief in comparison to the vast pressures of space. Though now, stronger gravitational forces were causing problems: jolts of pain were running through my legs while a stabbing sensation in my ribs told me I missed the mark. I should have thought to examine myself more closely to make sure I was ready. A particularly painful flare of distress nearly took me down several different times, but I was alive, and once my mission was done I would be free of both this tortuous task and my loathsome tagalong.

I proceeded slowly, with little other option. Running would have only caused me to stumble and fall, possibly draining even more energy. I was on borrowed time now. I would work with vigor, though not in order to hurry back to Dovas. My energy was not infinite, and my body not indestructible. I required the servant’s services, not his attention.

The halls were deathly quiet now. With most of the Infested drawn away, it was an almost enjoyable walk. Even though it felt like my calf had splintered, I was thankful to still be walking. The Iliad Nix was truly a graveyard now. With the survivors gone, the halls were hollow, like the little remaining life had been taken from them. Even the tendrils of the Infested growth pulsing and wiggling along the metal innards of the ship were slow and lethargic as I was. My own glances of my viscera-coated limbs showed me in no better shape: a shambling, purposeless abomination coated in the impure lifeblood of a Warframe. A sad state for any honorable Tenno, and sorrier still for having been disarmed and disabled.

The trip was painful, but brief. I had endured worse, and the pain, I convinced myself, would be as temporary as it always was before. I may have been on my last legs, but it was also the last task of my mission. My unsteady motions brought me down the abandoned halls, following the instructions of the cephalon until I reached a great bay door. I nearly asked Dovas for assistance as the cephalon cracked the lockdown for me once more. As the final barrier slid open, I was hit with a wave of dry heat: evidently, I had reached the reactor. 

The room itself was somewhat cramped. A low ceiling that circled the bright lights of the volatile machine. The room itself was not vast, mostly consisting of the reactor itself a small staging area for the crew and controls. It took little time to locate the most important looking console. My attention wandered, taking a look over the great machine before me. I may not have known the depths of Orokin technology, but I knew enough to see that the design of the reactor was crude. Utilizing no void tech, these engines seemed to require raw fuel combustion and fusion reactors. Fascinating to discover that while Tenno technology still existed, it –alongside the Orokin– had been all but lost to time. The machine thrummed loudly as it worked, converting matter into fuel for what was now no longer a ship, but a mobile biological weapon. A fiery cleanse was the easiest way to put an end to this infestation. 

My legs hobbled me forward, my weight leaning heavily on the console as I tried to interact with the technology manually. The metal groaned slightly beneath my weight, yet as my hands danced across the panel all my movements were met with error sign after error sign. No matter what I pressed the machine would not respond, and the terminal would not even signal it was registering. A panic began to overtake me, my senses rapidly scanning for recognition of the interface or any idea how to work it. Much to my chagrin, Dovas revealed the cause:

//I will work the system

Stop soiling the reactor console//

I’d have given the cephalon a death-glare if I could. He asked me to take on this task and yet refused to allow me the space to do so. My patience was wearing thin as the reactor lit up, several sequences initiated by ‘my’ cephalon. More importantly, if he was able to do this remotely, for what reason was I here? Did he not trust me enough for the task, or was he merely acting to hurry me along? Either option ground salt in my wounds.

Without thinking, my Parazon slid from my wrist, and I acted before I could think. With a furious jab I thrust my blade into the console, destroying the terminal in the process. The sharp spark of electrical discharge hurt physically, but relieved me mentally. There was no reason or cause, save my own fury needing some form of release. The research cephalon didn’t seem to notice, his attention elsewhere. And as much as I hate to admit it, the sight of the ruined machine brought with it a fleeting ghost of contentment. 

The reactor was spooling up as I drew my blade from the destroyed console. The heat continued to rise with the activity in the core alongside several doors to adjacent facilities. The warning siren began to sound in the room, likely the first of the overheat safeguards. This noise would likely have drawn all of the infested aboard to this location, but so many of them were trapped on the vented corridors, and therefore safely removed from the room. Some wandering infested started to come in to investigate the noise, though the few that shambled in wandered the room with no real threat. The malformed organics cried and scraped their limbs along the wall, reaching uselessly upward to try to swipe at the noisy thing high above them. 

I paid them no further heed as my hobbled limbs brought me toward the wing of the reactor, hurrying to the coolant tanks the cephalon had directed me to. Each was already free of their consoles, prepping the reactor to melt down on overdrive. I tugged the heavy container of sludge from the top, though my grip was weak, not nearly enough to hold the weight, and causing the dense tank to slip, cracking loudly off the reactor floor. My body didn’t pause to even examine the canister. I didn’t care what was damaged, not when I was about to send this entire ship to the void. I turned from the spilled mess, the scent of artificial sludge now strong in the air. My step brought me back into the main reactor where Dovas had just restarted the system.   The reactor was reaching its stride as the bright, burning core condensed, flickered, and then picked up with a ferocious intensity. It also seemed that during my absence the trashed command console had caught fire. This mattered little, as long as the central chamber’s noisy thrum was gaining traction, steadily growing into a monstrous whirr.

\\Nearly done

Time will take care of the rest\\

//To be sure:

Confirm meltdown on the Chief Engineer’s terminal//

Dovas was directing me back to the primary console, which I glanced back to moodily. The terminal in question was currently smoldering, sparking, and not very inviting. It was the very same that I had destroyed, though this I was not about to report. My begrudging mind relayed back a simple response:

Done . Was all I said, without even moving to touch the surely-inoperable machine. The cephalon either did not notice, or did not care, as there was no confirmation from him. The large centrifuge was speeding up, the whirring growing more ferocious with each passing moment. The increasing speed would melt down the protective shielding and shortly after send everything aboard to a fiery demise. Then came a small reprieve. Dovas seemed quite occupied with something else, leaving me to make my way from the engines in bittersweet silence. The quiet always gave me time to think. Far too much time to think.

I was second guessing myself, now. When all was said and done, I knew little of what I would do or where I might go. As I considered where I would request Dovas deposit me, I realized I knew next to nothing of this new world. Aside from the passage of time, I knew little of the power structure, the current state, and even where I might find allies like myself. I had awoken adrift in an unknown sea and was miraculously presented with a life raft. So sense demanded to know: for what reason would I throw myself from this shelter? Why surrender the freedom a functional ship and cephalon bring? Even if this Orokin was grating, would I truly be better off with no resources at all?

The warning lights of the hall shifted in hue, turning from cautionary yellow to a dangerous red. Alarms blared with the brightly-colored warning of the now-imminent demise of the Iliad Nix as the reaction began to reach its peak. I was shuffling steadily toward the hangar as I followed the illuminated path that encouraged immediate evacuation.

\\Tenno//

Dovas had a penchant for interrupting my brooding, it seemed. Were it not for him transmitting directly into my head, I would have struggled to hear Dovas over the cacophony of sirens and alarms.

//The escape ship has not left the hangar

Survivors are not responding//

Suddenly, he had my attention. Even in his usual all-knowing tone, Dovas sounded worried. There was something in the manner he updated me that I couldn’t quite grasp. I nearly asked him what to do, but the cephalon acted before I could vocalize the thought. Dovas’ voice boomed out over the speakers of the Nix as before, echoing through the halls as he attempted to contact the elected leader. 

//Captain Clarity, come in

Reactor meltdown in less than five minutes//

\\Depart the Iliad Nix before it’s too late//

Never a good sign. Dovas continued his attempts to contact the survivors as my tread continued down the halls. What few free infested remained were out in force now, the roar of the loathsome flesh was inescapable as they scoured the ship for their meal.

The feral fungus that gathered along my body shielded me from those hungry, prying eyes of the few necromorphs. My presence garnered no interest from those pseudo-sentient lifeforms I passed. Each of the former crew could not discern me differently from them, likely from the sheer amount of biomass clinging to my body. Of course, any organic creature would long have been devoured by the insatiable virus by trying to wear the fleshy pox, but my body was already honed by the very poison that clung to me. My Tenno form was one of the few creatures with a natural resistance to the infestation; one of the only creatures able to resist the organic corruption.

As I continued to navigate the doomed vessel, the call of the cephalon heard no response. Something had occurred in our absence; something had broken our line of communication. Perhaps our signal was merely too weak, I mused to myself, yet this was impossible. With a cephalon at the helm of our operation we should have no issues speaking from even miles apart. Little was potent enough to jam the signal of the servile supercomputer. I tried to ease myself, convinced that it was nothing pressing, but as my feet reached the bay doors of the inner hangar a knot began to form in my core: An aching fear that something had gone terribly wrong.

As before, the great bay was nearly untouched. The infestation, having found nothing here for food, had left the hangar unguarded. I could see one of the ships idling at its dock, powered, but not functioning, as if the pilot had stepped out to let the engine warm up. My footfalls were silent as I hobbled up to the escape ship, only adding to the tension that hung thick in the air. Dovas had been repeating his own distressed call to the survivors, but still nothing. As he finished repeating his call, I stepped forward to take action. There was little time to waste.

I’m opening it. I stated, reaching forward to do so. Yet a sharp bark from Dovas made me pause. 

//You are contaminated!\\ 

The cephalon seemed genuinely furious at my suggestion.

\\Infested spores currently cover your body

All survivors will be infected if you unseal their pod!\\

I was displeased, partly because Dovas spoke with reason, rather than simpleminded ritual.

What do you suggest, then? I inquired, trying to recall how much time we had remaining.

\\Let me try

Once more\\

One final time the cephalon’s voice rang out through the Nix, though a very different tone than his first announcement. 

//Captain Clarity:

Flee the Nix immediately//

\\I repeat

Fire escape pod and flee\\

Dovas did not receive a reply.

I was tensing, preparing to pry off the hatch, but with an electronic click it was Dovas who finally forced the door of the simple pod. The automatic lock flickered green as the cephalon worked his technomancy, and, a moment later, the lock of the pneumatic door popped free. With a hiss, it slid open. It was immediately apparent why communications had faltered. The sight of the ship’s interior froze even my fiery fury to the spot:

The survivors, each and every one, were laid to waste.

Each of the former crew were cut down. Ribbons of blood flecked the small interior of the ship where they had gathered. The Loka operatives sat lifeless, some still strapped in their seats. This was not the work of the infested. No mire clung to their forms, no growth sprouted from their flesh. This was the work of a bladed weapon guided by a skilled hand. With some effort, I pulled my attention from the massacre. As my gaze settled on the furrows left in the alloy of the vessel, I could almost make out the shape of the tool that tore through the survivors. Clean cuts from movements that were incredibly precise. It seemed like there was perhaps one strike for each survivor.

//W-what?!\\ 

Dovas’ uncharacteristic cry of disbelief jolted me from my contemplative state. 

\\How?! How is this possible?!

It was less than five minutes…\\

The sound of defeat in the cephalon’s voice brought me no joy to hear. I had failed in my mission alongside Dovas. The crew I had come to save were dead. I recognized the look on some of the former survivors. The same look of disbelief and surprise that comes with an unexpected end: confusion, primarily. These people had been slain in cold blood, slaughtered without hesitation or resistance. Aside from the soft, nearly inaudible drip of blood, the silence was heavy in the entryway to the escape pod.

Our shock was shared, for the discovery revealed something far more concerning. Something –or someone– was aboard the Iliad Nix with us. I considered sabotage:  Perhaps it was one of their own, I surmised as I looked about the carnage. Yet, every body was accounted for. The eight former survivors of the Iliad Nix laid before me, with nary a clue to account for their massacre. Even Clarity’s remains held fast to their datalogs, only confounding the situation further. Whoever had done this did not take what little there was for valuables. This could only be the work of a professional killer. As my hand pressed to the gouge in the metal I could feel the heat coming off. It was still hot from the cleave.

I wondered, then, why they had spared me. Surely someone skilled enough to evade my senses and Dovas’ scanners could have taken the opportunity to ambush me as they pleased, especially once I was wounded. I would have been easy prey, and likely a high priority target if they knew what I was. Yet, they had spared me, and took the lives of the crew instead. The assassin was patient, and cunning. Their action was deliberate, and was either unseen, or too fast to avoid. Even while wearing her comms, Clarity had not been able to warn us of her impending doom.

//Tenno, something on my sensors:

Unknown engine readings, fading fast//

\\Too small to be from the transport

A cloaked vessel is likely leaving the vicinity\\

Dovas gave this report with not a hint, but a warble of worry. Under any other circumstance I would have relished hearing him squirm, but I was still reeling as much as Dovas at our discovery. What could possibly have found its way through an infested ship so stealthily that the pestilence could not detect? So calmly that I nor Dovas could sense it? Truly, my mind came to only one conclusion: This could only be the work of another Tenno.

My thoughts would not be given the space they required, as the pompous cephalon’s tinny words rang out once more in my mind. But this time, he sounded panicked.

\\I am woefully sorry, Tenno.// 

Dovas began, the anxiety beneath his words seeming to boil over as he began to speak.

//If only I had picked up the readings earlier

This shame will bear with me all my service//

\\Simply state my punishment and I shall accept my fate//

Though these lines felt practiced, they were delivered in sincere anguish. The Orokin servant’s natural, collected demeanor was cracking, at last revealing the imperfect creature beneath. The insecure note that danced along his words made me oddly empathetic. I actually felt a twinge of pity when hearing his distress, if for a moment. Though my softer emotions were hard to ascribe to such a loathsome denizen. I did not have time to dawdle. If Dovas would not act, then it was up to me. I stepped forward into the carnage of the escape ship, my step squelching on viscera beneath me. My hands closed around the datamass, now the sole charge of our mission, and pulled it from the former-captain’s grasp. I gave one last farewell to Clarity, sliding my hand softly over their face to close her still-watching gaze.

These people were not my own, yet the loss was mine alone. I had failed in my mission. Regardless if I knew the threats, I knew I could have done better. To have allowed myself to be wounded as I was could only be considered unforgivable. My heart ached, the frustration that bubbled there boiling angrily as I turned that fury on myself. I had failed; I had simply failed.

I was preparing to leave, turning from the mess of blood and bodies. But I could feel a presence pooling like an oil slick in the small space. I could already hear the heady echoes of his voice before he even began to speak.

Seems you made some new friends.

A shame they couldn’t stick around.

I didn't turn. I didn’t want to see him standing there. But that lingering phantom that lived among my memories of dark halls and bloody screams seemed to be waiting for me. And against my better judgment, I turned over my shoulder to glare at him.

He stood, now shaped like a Loka survivor, with fresh slash marks crossing his chest. His neck crooked ever so slightly to accent that wide smile on his face. The echo was watching me, the eyes filled with a dark mirth that made my metal skin crawl.

Makes you wonder about the rest of you little demons, doesn’t it? 

Who do you think it was that wanted these folks dead and gone?

You’re not my father. Stop using his damned voice. 

He threw his head back to laugh, but the flesh holding up his neck gave way. I watched as the entire head slid backward, sloughing from his torso. I turned, not wanting to give him an audience as the partial skull thudded off the ship floor. The wet plop behind me was almost as bad as the specter’s laugh, haunting me each limping step of my short path back to the Majin.

  The ramp of the small ship slid down unceremoniously to greet me. There was no fanfare, not a single phrase from Dovas as I crawled up the entrance of the research ship. My movements were pained and deliberate, walking on borrowed time and spent energy as I drew myself to the arsenal. The shift in gravity told me we were moving again, but I didn’t ask Dovas for anything, I knew he would likely take care of my Warframe. I needed little else, save rest.

I felt my consciousness slipping from my body as the Void began to take me. I would not want to be awake while my Warframe was pricked and prodded by the maintenance tools, and accepted my otherworldly reprieve as I heard a soft, murmuring voice finishing up his work.

//Cephalon Dovas Mission Report:

-The Iliad Nix … destroyed//

-Survivors… slain by an unknown agent//

-Detailed report to follow//

//Closing request…\\

There was a sad tone in the cephalon’s voice, a chirp of displeasure I’d not known could exist in his range. Perhaps a minute later, just as I had slunk into the depths of consciousness, the ship was rocked, as if from turbulence: the final cry of the Iliad Nix .

Chapter Text

XI- Recover

It may have been hours, or perhaps days later that my body was cradled in the arsenal of the adopted research cephalon. It became so much harder to measure time when I’ve slipped from my physical form. I drift in my sleep, unable to truly dream. I hadn’t dreamt properly since I’d awoken to this strange new world. My ‘rest’ was little more than the instinctive, subconscious seeking the Dreamers did. My thoughts and my mind were in turmoil, struggling to grasp even the simple thoughts. There was too much to manage, it seemed. It felt impossible to see the whole forest when there were such great arbors standing in my way: important questions that neither Dovas, nor his ‘sources’ could answer. Granted, the cephalon had hardly attempted to discuss much with me. I needed to know more.

Exhaustion had returned in force after my impromptu field repairs. The effort had me spending all my energy to keep my legs moving and my body intact after my brush with demise. It had left me arguably worse than my endeavors on the Vallis. The pain, ironically enough, had become somniferous to me. After my years of servitude, I had developed a long-practiced method to maintain my composure through the trials of torture. I would retreat to the void, leaving behind the dull aches and painful stabs along my true body. Truly easier to do with Dovas’ mild maintenance, rather than the overt and tyrannical torment I was oft subject to. Still, I had adapted in turn. So as work tools ran marathons over my body, the ceaseless pain drew me into my meditative stupor. While I wandered the threads of the void, Dovas worked on my physical rehabilitation. My consciousness lingered in the void while I left my shell to Dovas. It was under these conditions that I drifted far away from the worries of the waking world.

Even my recent worries were of little importance once submerged in the endless Sea. The void took everything, and left little to ponder when the vast infinite was before us. My mind was free to wander, just as my essence did the vast space around me. Though here I often lost track of my waking woes, letting my mind peruse the strange thoughts that came to me through the ether.

I was turning back the clock, letting the worries of today slip past as I began wondering now what had happened to my kin, those unfortunate survivors like myself. The lingering souls from in the dark days following the Zariman had surely been culled by the years. I could hardly believe that many were still alive, let alone acting in force. I thought of those familiar to me, those I knew, yet their faces were nothing but a blur in my mind. Surely I had friends; surely I had those I cared for. Yet, like so much else in my hazy mind, they had been erased, turned to little more than ghosts of a potential memory. Even my parents were nothing more than a soft murmur and a sensation of warmth.

I felt myself sinking with the weight of my hefty considerations. All the dreamers wander, some willingly, some not. My idle thoughts had once more pulled me to deeper waters of the infinite abyss. As if my musings of my past had polarized my movements, I felt tugged toward something with a magnetic force I could not resist. The waters of the void-sea did not rush past, but lulled me in, delving into the clouds of forgotten possibilities. Though it was not by will that I followed a whim through the Sea. The deep dark itself seemed to lure me closer. Some inkling of a memory that brought me further and further from my waking body, pulled by tumultuous torrents. These eddies of thought tugged me down, as if guiding me to a sunken treasure in the depths.

I understood, or rather felt, what was drawing me in. It was that dark presence, the same that had been lingering in my dreams for far longer than I could remember. These dark sensations were that same creature that made my senses stir together, pooling thought and sensation all into a kaleidoscope of understanding. In the Sea, the presence of the thing that clung to me was just on the edge of visibility. The space about it was distorted, like a thick, spooling oil curling and coiling in the indeterminate space between two points. Fear was absent from me in the sullen sea, there were worse things in the waters about me. It was fascination that fixed my attention to the companion gripping me close. I found myself peering dreamily into the anomalous patch of distortion. It was curious to think how this thing followed me, pursuing me between the spaces of reality. It must have been some malignant spirit borne from nothing, some parasite of the void that refused to let me go. Even if I had the strength to resist, I likely would not have escaped. I was deep into the Sea, far from the surface of consciousness now. There would be no reprieve in these waters.

Down, down I was pulled. I thought perhaps we would be devoured by some giant of the deep void. It was in these deep recesses of the void, nearing the seabed of the deep, that I found myself guided, shepherded by the ghastly presence to the forgotten stretches of the Sea. In that bizarre gulf of reality I found something I thought I may never lay eyes on again. The eddys of the deep spiraled around some artificial creation, a distant relic lurking, looming ominously. It was battered and sunken, yet still intact after perhaps eons of rest: the haunting sight of the Zariman in the gloom.

The ship looked right at home amid the depths of the void, as if fate had destined to lay it there, on the seabed of eternity. The pull was stronger as we drew close, so much so that it felt like the tendrils of the ship’s will itself were the force lulling me closer to the broken vessel, and guiding my weakened mind to that haunted home. 

I could not resist the motions of the ocean. I floated toward the Zariman as that dark, devilish despair within me flourished in force. My heart skipped, desperately willing my body to resist with little avail. Yet I found something strange occurring at the ship as I drew alongside. Once my essence touched the barren vessel, the poisonous presence dissipated, like a demon banished by holy ground. I knew this thought to be a false belief. The entity was likely far more at home here in familiar waters. Yet, the halls were empty, and I was standing alone at the threshold of my past. 

I looked into the voidbent vessel with uncertainty. I lingered there at the precipice for some time, aware of some predatory presence stirring the Sea behind me. I had no desire to wander the Zariman, my own fears stirring as I considered the ship’s halls, but there was no turning back. Things worse than sharracs patrolled these depths. So I entered my forgotten birthplace, and left the void-sea behind as my movements settled to the hard surface below. I ceased to float, my step now treading long-forgotten pathways in our grand, forgotten coffin.

My steps were surprisingly steady as I began to explore the ship. For a time, I believed myself to be beset by another nightmare: Another return to the dark halls of my birthplace. However, it was not my usual haunt. I was seeing those blood-strewn halls of the ship fresh into its demise. I was not fleeing any pursuer, not wounded, nor limping. The Zariman was different now, changed by time and by the void. I felt more like I was seeing a ruin than I was sneaking around the hunting grounds of a predator. Yet I remained uneasy. I did not feel alone.

Many halls were in states of disarray and destruction, fragments and remnants scattered where they were dropped. The corridor was dark, tinged with nostalgia of the immaculate ship I once boarded as a passenger. The void had transformed the pristine Orokin vessel, warping it with the will of the void. The Zariman around me, the once well-maintained and opulent places was in disarray. Patches of hull were destroyed, leaving some halls flooded by the pure void around us. Objects and decor had long since been worn down by time and by corruption. Some strange, metallic ooze had settled on various surfaces, spreading aggressively at void-soaked areas in particular. The halls themself, once full of a bustling colony – then shortly after a feral frenzy– were now entirely silent. The ship on resonated with the soft echo of the void. It was haunting in its own, unique sense.

All was quiet on the Zariman, as if there had never been a living soul aboard. Though these were indeed the halls of the dark days that still left me trembling in terror. So many negative emotions curled inside me still that I walked hesitantly, as if my presence may wake some slumbering thing that now called my home their own. My legs continued to guide me forward, walking toward some goal I had little faith in, or understanding of. As I came upon a branching hall, I recognized several objects cluttered on the floor: a collection of various scrawlings on paper, scattered across the intersection that led to a larger hall. The papers were coated in various colors, dulled by time. But some pigment was lingering still after these eons past, mostly accented dark brown with the gruesome suggestion of long-dried blood.

The dull color of the void was seeping in, spiraling like debris in a current before my eyes. Most outer halls had long been spaced, and were it not for the non-existent forces of the void the ship would long ago have buckled in on itself. Horrifically beautiful as it was, it was no  masterpiece any longer. The great passages of Orokin design were warped and altered, taking new and irregular shapes. The ship had suffered the will of the void, and as my steps retraced familiar halls, I began to understand that nothing was as it was.

The reality of space and time were undone after eons adrift here. Rooms seemed to shift and alter, retracing my steps would sometimes find a room I had already passed entirely different. I would walk from a large storage room into the aggridomes, only to find another, altered image of a place I had already been. There may have been no continuity, as far as I could tell. I thought the halls may never again lead anywhere at all, looping infinitely between themselves. 

Space was broken here, so it was not surprising when I reached an impasse. Before me, the floor and walls were crumbling as the halls seemed to give way, collapsing from the expected design of the Zariman into a tunnel that appeared to lead out and into the Deep Void once more. As I stood on this precipice, there was a soft, familiar whistling audible at the edge of my senses, coming from deeper in the endless void-pool I saw before me. I felt little concern at this point, made weak by curiosity. I did what any Dreamer would, what we have from the very moment our fate was sealed aboard this hellscape: I stepped forth to greet whatever fate had waiting for me beyond this lurid entrance.

I still may have been an amateur voidwalker, but I knew where my limits were. The path ahead appeared as if I could safely dip into this tunnel, if only for a moment. I was unafraid of what I may find within, too curious to pause my exploration for even a moment.

It did not take long for me to realize my mistake: the further I walked into the depths, the more I struggled to move. The pressure of the infinite corridor was fluctuating with light and heady with maddening stresses. My limbs began to grow heavy and my senses dull as I began to sink unexpectedly. The void began to feel like quicksand suckling at my limbs, preventing my motions as it slowed me to a walk, and soon after to a near-idle crawl. Dreamers were often comfortable with these limitations. We had long since accustomed ourselves to the oppressive presence of our birthplace. The sensation was familiar, and common in the deep void, though that did not make it any less frustrating, or terrifying when entrapped. The void had ground me to a halt. I could no longer move, immobilized in the Sea of swirling null. And so I turned back, trying to locate the halls I had left behind only to find they were already gone.

I had misjudged the journey, or perhaps I had merely gotten lost. There was no turning back. Nothingness stretched out in every direction. I was once more alone in the great Sea, somehow ripped from the Zariman without even truly knowing how. Dimensions and logic do not last long in the void, meaning any doorway could walk from one end of the Zariman to the other. I could even be directly beside, or worlds away from the ship I had just been in, with no way of determining which was right. I was disoriented and distraught as the madness of timelessness spilled over me. Minutes seemed to stretch to hours. Days could pass in seconds, all of which was simply how I perceived my purgatory here. The pale Sea stretching in every direction left me floating idly again. I considered what had lured me here. Surely there was something in this deep pool of voidlight. Yet that soft, rhythmic sound had faded, leaving me alone with the distant echoes of the Orowryms wandering the endless nothing.

But then I saw him.

Not more than a few meters away he stood, looking at me with surprise in his eyes. A young boy adrift in the sea, just like me! He was dressed in our uniform, that custom-fit suit  of black that we faced our sentencing in. His hair was silvery-white, giving his features a far more mature look on the otherwise young man’s face. Across his right eye was a corruptive scar, blackened by the touch of the void.  The harrowed look on his face told me of the horrors he had witnessed. Undoubtedly a child of the Zariman. I tried to speak to him, reaching out a hand into the ether toward him. Yet my upward palms were all I could convey. I had no mouth with which to talk, and my thoughts were isolated in my body, unable to translate through the dense gulf of miasma. I believed my presence to be frightening, as he recoiled slightly at my image.  I could do little to assuage the fear he wore on his face. Despite the uncertainty the tiny Tenno wore, he spoke to me, the words crystal clear when my own failed.

“ You… are your own compass. ” He began, his voice wavering as he delivered his warning. “ Be wary of those who will use your strength… those who would steal it from you. You are already whole. Do not seek pride, nor spite… ” I tried to gesture to my brother, tried to convey my confusion and my questions, but he had already turned, stepping away as the void swallowed him like a dense fog consuming a distant traveler. “ ...or risk losing yourself to the depths. ”

* * *

A fierce, fiery burn along my neck drew my consciousness back from the deep eddies of the void, causing me to strain against my bindings. I must have jolted from my relaxed position, as the tools holding me steady clattered and clanged at my sudden movement. A flurry of worry was bouncing around my head, panic nearly forcing me to draw my strength and break free. It took me a few seconds to realize I was back in the confines of the research vessel. Being suddenly ripped from the deep void could leave us with confusion, sometimes pain, and abnormalities of thought, not unlike the bends. From this phenomena, my body was on high alert, ready to fight whatever foe was before me. The process of the superhot torch finished with my pulse racing, and my body screaming adrenaline and danger. Fortunately, I had come to as the soldering had started, a sign I was nearing the completion of repairs. The high-temperature torch continued to sear my flesh for a few minutes as the finishing touches were put into place. Only after the intense heat had my full attention did Dovas’ mechanical tools withdraw at last, and my own fear began to lessen. This was the price of an indestructible form, I suppose. 

The struts and supports that propped me up for the lengthy tune-up relaxed, lowering my legs back to the floor. I was finally finished with the cleansing and maintenance. When I stepped from the arsenal, my body was thoroughly repaired. I felt as fresh as when I first awoke. I was feeling ready to take on the world, like I was able to handle another run through Nef’s forces in the Vallis. Though this invigoration did little to dampen the pang of worry that now smoldered in me. In no mood for the pretense of compassion, I walked away from the arsenal without so much as a word of thanks to Dovas.

Nightmares and visions so rarely came through the void, and when they did, I believed they alluded to something prophetic. It was a gamble to believe this. So often were there lingering contradictions in these visions that made them difficult to parse. A bloody murder could reveal nothing more than the despair in the Dreamer’s life. A discovery of some lost treasure could be little more than recalling an old memory. Void dreams were unreliable, according to my peers, and even the greatest of the Tenno seers could only just grasp the meaning behind the visions. But I believed we saw them for a reason.  I became fixated on the figure I saw in the deep void. Why would that lost Tenno still be aboard the Zariman? Was it truly a presence that I had come across, or was it some lost memory of my own?  My confusion only worsened the longer I lingered on the idea, worse as another issue began mounting in my mind.

I began to harbor fear. I began worrying about the stranger on the Nix . I had convinced myself they would be standing before me when I stirred from my stillness. My senses swung upward, examining the room with wary caution. It was nothing more than worry, I know that, but I was unable to sense any presence aboard the transport. And if I was oblivious then, I may not know when that same assassin was coming for me. They had surely noticed me aboard that ship. I wondered if they believed me to be destroyed alongside the vessel, or if they merely bided their time to see what I might do. My fear was urging concern to paranoia. I pictured a blur of darkness standing before me, a shadow of an entity I could not see driving a blade down and across my neck. It was as if my mind believed my latest wound was caused directly by this stranger’s hand – perhaps in some ways it had been.

It was bad habits that encouraged my mind to run these darker thoughts and fantasies, bloody scenes like this –and many more like them– again and again like a broken recording. It had been one of my only forms of control I could exercise in my years of silent servitude. Time to think was something I had in surplus. So when unable to vent frustration externally, I often found myself doing so internally. Running over these hypotheticals, the vivid images of how I would lash out, and what I could do to those who had wronged me. It could be blissfully cathartic, abating my hatred at times. Yet more often than not, I spent my meditative time only feeding my anger and frustration.

The years had honed my rage into a beast. It was its own creature now, writhing beneath my breast and ready to lash out at all that it could wrap its jaws around. Wounded and untrusting, that anger only ever seemed abated by the destruction of something beautiful. The fanciful Orokin had poisoned even the wondrous things in my eyes. Something crafted for luxury was disgusting to me. Even ornate items filled me with loathing, and a desire for destruction. Slaying my former owner did not bring me closure, it merely fed the beast of fury he had crafted within me. It was a hungry, all-consuming thing now, this monster Oapali had created. It was sated – not cured – by his demise. That hunger would return, and so too would the lash of hatred that followed.

Perhaps it is unfair to blame Oapali entirely. He merely aggravated the adolescent fury, after all. And while that loathsome monster fed his pet, he believed his prisoner could never wrap its jaws around his throat.

How wrong he was .

//Perhaps I was too eager to return to action

I believe we both could have used more time//

\\Time to recover from our ordeals//

The cephalon’s words were directed to me, and seemed genuine in their delivery. However, I ignored Dovas’ semblance of an apology. It was inconceivable to believe for even a moment that this was anything more than his own pride commanding him to humble himself before his current master.

I don’t believe for a minute you have suffered any ordeal. My words were harsh, but I believed what I said. The position of a cephalon was surely an easy job. What could a loyal servant know of struggle or of pain when he sat comfortably in his gilded cage? Surely this creature could never understand me, nor my pain.

\\Perhaps I should not offer my assistance, then// 

Dovas replied. His voice seemed tilted, as if he wanted to be snippy. However, he was putting his duty before his own feelings. I could respect little about this subservient lapdog, but I did admire his dedication.

I’ll bite my tongue. What is it you know? I asked back, more curious than I was displeased. At my words, I could almost hear a smugness creeping back to the cephalon’s voice.

\\You surely recall Lua:

The moon of Earth\\

//It is where Tenno secrets lay for many years

I believe we will find something of great importance for you there//

\\When you are ready to return to action, that is//

His words surprised me. How could he be correct? Some unknown item left in my old home? Some key to power so readily available in the long-forgotten ruins of the Orokin? Surely this was too good to be true. Though, that was not what set me on edge: I was suspicious at the lack of information. Dovas had been so forward with the updates on the Nix , why was he keeping things quiet now?

And pray tell, what might that be? I wondered in Dovas’ direction, guarding my wary uncertainty as I continued to inquire about his suggestion.

\\That is what you will discover there

This is not an official assignment-\\

/Off the record-

But it is of vital importance you are at your full strength//

\\You need all of the tools of a Tenno at your disposal

And Lua holds the key\\

If you will not share this secret now, perhaps I should simply ask how long until we can begin this search? My mind was guarded. Dovas may have a connection now, but I would allow little to be shared across this link. I could trust him as little as I could the Orokin before him. Under the right circumstances, I reminded myself, he would readily betray me and bow before a golden survivor of the old empire.

\\I’m glad you asked

During maintenance I assumed you may be interested\\

//We are already in the sector\\

Now I was on high alert. I immediately began to believe this was some kind of trick. Dovas had walked me into a slaughterhouse once already, and I was starting to think whatever was on Lua was just as dangerous as the Infested. Rationale tried to speak for him, reminding me that it was Dovas who pulled me from the jaws of the Corpus. If he truly sought my destruction, surely there were better ways to achieve it. Yet, I still proceeded with caution.

I lost the flamethrower on the Nix, I’ll need a new weapon. I reminded him, turning back to the arsenal in hopes of finding something that could work well for defense. Perhaps something bladed this time? I suggested. 

//You may not be thrilled by my selection

Many of my tools are simple//

\\Or ceremonial//

This last bit he added quietly, almost trying to skim past it. I was curious as to what he meant, and so I helped myself to that inventory panel I had used before. Indeed, many of the swords were of a basic, mass-produced design, several of which I did not recognize. Worse yet, most weapons that were not standard issue appeared far too experimental to be useful. The small armory seemed primarily composed of research technology, many of the designs utilizing biotechnology or various chemical mixtures, an insightful collection to say the least. After deciding against the selection of tools that looked more akin to infested limbs, I scanned through the lower list. These ones were the weapons that Dovas was accurate in describing as ceremonial. Gilded trim and lightweight structures made many of them intimidating, but few looked particularly reliable. However, there was something promising among the Orokin relics.

As I selected my preference, I heard a small noise from Dovas.

\\Are you quite certain?

I cannot verify the shield’s integrity\\

I chose it, didn’t I? At least let me examine it myself . I demanded at the cephalon, ready to ignore just about any suggestion or advice he was to offer. The blade of choice came with a rather ornate shield, gilded spikes set along the edges of the aegis to give the dual-handed weapon a far more deadly utility than a standard shield would. The design spoke to me: it was disgustingly beautiful, but deadly. With the slightest mismanagement the shield would cause harm to attacker and defender alike. I felt drawn to such a design, feeling a kind of kinship in the weapon’s purpose. Despite his initial protest, Dovas delivered the dangerous looking sword and shield to me, the weapon rising from his lower compartments to present itself to me on a pedestal where the arms then sat.

The shield was even more strange to view in person, as the circular center was actually kept in perpetual motion, spinning slowly like a clock keeping time. The blade had its own surprise set in the hilt: a notched dial that also spun slowly from some internal mechanism. I was impressed as I watched the slow but steady movements of the kinetic weaponry. I felt like a hypocrite, admiring the beauty of the craft rather than despising its design. Still, I took the sword in my right, the shield in my left, and began to test the weight of each. They were surprisingly light, and to test the durability of the ornate edges, I bashed the sword strongly against the metal. The resonance shuddered through my arm, but left no nick on the soft gold trim. To test the blade properly, I took a swing through my own cloth, cleaving the material cleanly. Using a little void energy I stitched the material I had sundered before voicing my thoughts to Dovas.  

This one. This one is good . I said aloud, letting my assistant know I had made my choice. A small buzz of displeasure was heard as Dovas began to speak again. 

//The Sigma and Octantis

A sword and shield used in seasonal ceremonies//

\\A Tenno relic of the Neo era

What draws you to the pair?\\

//Are your fists not enough?\\

I did not believe I wanted to answer, but I felt obliged to. Surely he was right, when I had enough energy, what more could I desire than the fierce Desert Wind? The reason, I believe, was truly what I replied: They were not enough for Clarity. I spat harshly. This seemed to give Dovas some pause, and I continued to chastise him: My Parazon was not enough for the bomber. This offers both protection and offense, both I have already learned I will need in surplus. My words were bitter as I thought them, the taste of failure still weighing heavily on me. Dovas whirred a moment, giving some consideration to my words. 

//Then perhaps your admirable drive will use them well

Do you require any other assistance?//

Dovas was uncharacteristically doting. Or perhaps this was my own paranoia returning in force. He had always been subservient and ready to assist. This was nothing new. 

No. I have what I need now. I said, preparing to walk off the Majin and to whatever destination I was directed to. I paused, however. My disdain for the cephalon was indeed strong, but I could not simply take and give nothing in turn. He had pulled my body back from the brink of destruction, now more than once. To ignore this fact was to be needlessly cruel. And, Dovas? I added as my tread took me toward the offboarding ramp.

//Yes?\\

Thank you. For making sure I didn’t succumb to my injuries twice now.   It was not hard to thank a servant; it takes only a modicum of kindness and a moment of time. Setting my own feelings aside, I knew I owed Dovas for his care. He deserved at the very least the lowly honor of gratitude. Silence met my words. For a time, I worried Dovas would ignore my comment, but after a time he did answer. 

\\It is my duty as a Cephalon//

Of course he’d choose the only words to make me hesitate … 

Chapter Text

XII- Return

Lua was no more comforting than the sight of the Zariman, for this too was once my ‘home’. The once-mastered moon had fallen to ruin, like all of the Orokin’s work. The rocky satellite was one of the first heavenly bodies to be so fully-absorbed by the Orokin empire, and one of the first to fall upon its collapse. The solid sphere of rock had shattered, as if from a great cataclysm, leaving small chunks to spin and idle in the weak pull of what little gravity remained among the shattered moon.

As Dovas dropped me on the surface, I couldn’t help but glance up at the Earth. It was massive in the sky, far closer than its natural alignment should dictate. The Orokin had adjusted the placement of the celestial bodies for their own selfish desires, using their influence and designs to pull it closer to the planet it orbited. Observing the grand vistas of the planet was more important to them than the destruction it brought to those living on the surface. I saw the Earth as a historic part of my past, no longer something I could claim as a home. That had ended far before the days of the Zariman.

//Proceed to lower levels of Lua’s halls

What we seek will be concealed there//

Your concealment of our goal is what concerns me. Aren’t you making this expedition harder than it needs to be? I remarked as my steps adjusted to the lighter gravity of the moon. My usual heft and the weight of metal was lessened here, allowing me to move more freely while on Lua. I tested this difference with a small hop over some fallen moonrock. I bounded farther than I had expected, delighted at the familiar lightness of Lua’s weight on me. Would it not be simpler to just tell me what I’m looking for? I asked the question once more, trying to prompt some new thought from Dovas, but I was given nothing in turn.

\\You may likely be confused

This is normal\\

When you don’t answer basic questions, confusion is the least of your problems... I think, more to myself than my cephalon as a wisp of familiar frustration runs through me. Yet despite my displeasure, it appeared that this topic was not up for debate with Dovas.

I was met with the near-silent halls of Lua. These were one of the first things I can recall after the Zariman. It was here we were kept, broken and afraid before any of the Golden Lords had truly grasped the weight of what we had become. Lua was a prison for us in form and function: the moon had been carved, gilded and beautiful, by the eons of mastered hands. Its gleaming beauty was a constant reminder to us what wretched, broken beasts we had become by the Orokin’s own designs. I glowed with pleasure to see the crumbling remains of this honorific world. After all, this was one of the last testaments to Orokin depravity, now decayed and destitute.

The engines of Dovas’ ship became inaudible, and I began to see that the surface of the celestial body was in no stable state. I could hear a near-constant clatter and rumble of the moon settling, rock still grinding against stone from the quakes that rumbled through the mass beneath me. Like a glacier, a large rock face across the valley crumbled into a dusty avalanche, blanketing the distant vista in a dull roar of rubble that faded behind me as I entered the ruins proper.

It was a strange sensation I may never become accustomed to: seeing everything I had once known reduced to ruins. Nothing remained of the world I knew, and I was given this reminder at every turn through the collapsed lanes of Lua. Great tunnels that bored through the rock for miles were crumbled, broken, and useless. Great processions of Orokin on their thrones had once paraded from one life to the next. Now, the lines and halls that had existed only for ceremony were blotted out by the hefty rock of the unstable moon. No amount of brute force would clear the debris that had fallen, requiring me to find alternate routes as I progressed. This was for the best. This was what my kin had strived to achieve.

The decorative Orokin had spared no expense as they built this place; their lunar palace, perhaps inspired by the mythical tales of our long-lost ancestors. The walls were a polished, white facade gilded with their favored accent of gold. The careful craftsmanship that had once adorned these passages was shattered, and dust strewn, yet it remained in these fragments. Were the Seven not slain, the servants would have been put to death for the collapse of the walkways, regardless of fault. And while those innocent souls would be sentenced, several more would die to harsh labor before the damage was undone. 

Dovas worked to route and reroute my path, navigating the halls as best we could with many of the major pathways covered in rock. Even if my memory was entirely intact, I did not believe it would serve me as a guide here. Regular routes were a fleeting fantasy, requiring me to search rocky fissures and rubble for hints as to how to proceed. It did seem like some of the internal structures had held up, but the surface was scoured. I found myself wedged between gilded edifices and crumbled stone more than once as my path took me deeper. Dovas assisted where he could, trying to scan and examine the outer layers of the great labyrinth of Lua to guide me onward. My destination, I worried, was no longer among these ruins. I admit, I was a skeptic. Even if the deeper chambers did survive, how would I reach them without some great terraformer? Would this hidden prize even be worth fetching after these ages past? As if translating my deeper thoughts, Dovas reported:

//There is a large, ceremonial chamber ahead

The moon’s instability has fissured the room//

\\It should allow you to descend to the sublevel below//

And further away from the stability of the surface. I thought to myself as I followed the advice.

Sure enough, it did appear that this large amphitheater had shattered, the design and utility of the room mostly lost to a deep ravine stretching down into the darkness below. Tumbled fixtures and that ever-present gold fragments stuck out like dangerous spears from the haphazard rubble. The open space above the collapsed room gave a glance into that endless void of space. I would not be surprised if they had a ceiling of the carved rock above, now collapsed as it rejoined the stone below to leave this great gap. As before, I worried not at all about the distance of the fall, even though it was likely even further than the tower before. I merely gave a step forward, plummeting until I sent up a plume of billowing dust upon impact. 

Here, in the depths of the ravine, light was beginning to fade. The soft glow of my own mild luminescence was one of few functioning lights, with many of the others having long-since gone dark. My focus funneled in the dim depths, pouring what energy I could spare into my senses. 

What exactly am I looking for here? Traces of the void lingered everywhere I looked. It was as if the moon itself was tainted with the lingering echoes of void energy. I could make out thin lines lingering still; suggestions of expended power seeping from the moon like a vent of steam. These invigorated me as I continued my lengthy path deeper into the mountain of moonrock. I saw little hope in chasing the shadows and echoes that wandered here. My hand stretched, threads of my will flickering from my wrist as I tried to guide myself along the dilapidated energy trails that threaded and wound through this deep crevice. My tread echoed off the mute stone, giving a ghost of life to this hollow land. 

At the edge of my vision, I could glimpse specters gliding through the ruins. This place was still haunted by the energy of those long passed. I wondered how many of my kin had made this their final resting place. I could never grasp why my peers adored this place, even calling it home. This was just one of our many prisons to me, before we were sealed inside these metal bodies. 

The voidsent children of the Zariman were strange and diverse, and I truly got to know so few of them. My days here were numbered. Once the survivors began to discover their alien strength, the testing began. I recall the days of examination, held down by sedatives and restraints as our overlords began to examine us like bacteria. Theorizing, experimenting, the children of the void were only safe if they were able to lash out. It was our adopted mother who coaxed us into our metal beds, who claimed the experiments would stop if we behaved. 

They didn’t.

In truth, poor mother could never have known. She did not know the Orokin would continue to hone and refine their new weapons. She could not have seen what the ‘scientists’ were doing while she slept. The outliers and the oddities among us were the first to be taken. The only fortunate facet was that my kin never knew what they were taken for, never aware what they would be subject to. More than one child was dissected, the Orokin wondering if there were physical alterations to our bodies. Of course, this was a fruitless endeavor, though it struck the match. Mother Margulis did not take kindly to seeing her children slaughtered like rodents, so the Golden Lords slaughtered her too.

As Lua dredged these foul memories from my mind, I continued onward, walking through the darkened corridor until I reached another, untouched stretch of the Orokin halls. Dust was still strewn across the floor, but the design was intact, a small glimpse into the hideous beauty that was our former prison. The ornate hall was beginning to crack, likely the regular tremors and shuddering of the wounded moon would reclaim all of this sooner than later. My gaze wandered across what I could see, examining the scene closely as a sense of unease began to settle in my metal bones.

…Something was amiss here. 

In the middle of the room, notably out of place, stood a container of Orokin design. While the room was crumbling, falling apart and coated with dust, the tall decanter was singular. It was immaculate, untouched by the erosion of time. Seeing the object caused me to be instantly alert. If this was not the work of the void, then it certainly was some sort of trap. The Orokin’s wickedness knows no bounds, I’ve long since discovered. It would not surprise me if some machination of theirs was designed to survive the ages past. As my eyes carefully monitored the object, it seemed to shudder and shift in an unnatural way. I took a step forward, too late to realize my mistake. The strange container shimmered and began to dissolve. As if rearranging its structure and atoms, it shifted and changed until it stood taller than me, a thin, intimidating creature with curved structure that didn’t quite look natural. The lanky arms of the bone-like machine that connected to a face almost birdlike in appearance. The creature leaned forward, as if surprised at my appearance and raised its appendage to point directly at me. 

Evade . I commanded my body, just in time as a powerful ion burst shot through my chest. I was thankfully prepared, the void worked its magic across the wound, allowing the damage to disappear as soon as it had occurred. Too little too late, a warning from Dovas sounded in my ear. 

//Tenno! Enemy signs at your current location

Sentient signals//

\\Do you have visual?// 

That was my missing link: Sentients . Memories clicked together, the momentum of insight now driving my mind. This was an enemy from the Old War in the halls of my kin. For once, Dovas’ warning was actually helpful. It meant I needed to slay this thing quickly. 

It already tried to kill me. I reported, though I wasted precious time with even this comment. I stepped forward as my defensive concentration broke, forcing me to dodge the next burst of Sentient energy with swift movement. I retaliated, letting my blade sing through the air as I lashed out at the shifting form of the entity. My strike cut deep into the outstretched arm, causing the creature to cry out as a black fluid poured from the wound. That was all the feedback I needed: I could kill it.

\\More signals in the area

It is not alone\\

//Stay alert\\

With a swift motion I sheathed the blade in the shield’s housing as the Desert Wind’s sigil poured forth from my palm. I stepped forward to close the distance between us while the sentient’s second arm reached up to fire again at me. I curled my energy into the fist, knowing if I missed I could be too easy a target. Ducking the energy burst I was waiting for, I poised to strike directly at what I perceived to be the entity’s face.  The spindly body folded unevenly outward as the creation collapsed before me. The force was strong enough to shatter the ‘head’ of the creature. It did not move, and I let myself a moment’s respite while my senses scoured the room for more dangers.

What had Dovas said? Mimics? The form the creature had taken was a perfect replica of an Orokin container, but it was out of place. Surely that was my hint: looking for items that did not belong in the ruined Lua landscape. Something just a little too pristine, or a little too oddly located ought to help me identify what I was looking for. 

Dovas was right, it seemed, as my destruction of the first sentient creature had drawn the attention of its kind. Several new fighters appeared, moving silently forward over the terrain through some invisible propulsion. Each of the three were carrying staves in each arm, better equipped than their mimic companion. One flew forward with a vigor as I readied my shield, the living machine spinning to strike repeatedly against me. My arm ached as the whirling Sentient struck with accuracy and strength unmatched by even those large arachnids from the Vallis. My metal muscles strained as I absorbed the flurry of brutal attacks. I grimaced internally, taking a stronger stance as I thrust forward to push the spinning force away from me, simply to get some distance between us. My motion was not against the spin, the sharpened edge merely glancing the gyrating enemy as a staff struck me square in the chest. There was a small splash of that black fluid again, but I could hardly think as I stumbled backward, reeling from the strike that felt like it could crack rock.  If my body needed to breathe, I would have been wheezing. 

The others took the opportunity to flank me as the first slowed its spiraling motions, returning to face me as I was approached on either side, shield raised at my leftmost foe, blocking a few wide, arcing motions of its staff, while my sword moved rapidly to block and parry on my dominant side. I was outnumbered, being assaulted by a well-coordinated front. I could hardly hold my own as I waited for my opportunity. To run would put me at a disadvantage, I knew they had powerful range attacks, but I could not simply stay put. I could both evade and attack.

As the battering of my shield continues, I take the first opening that arrives: my blade has caught the arm of the sentient to my right several times in our clash, with one low slash, I stagger the foe enough to buy just a little time, letting me sheathe my sword to channel my strength, that burning fury in my chest roaring to get free.

Back off. I lift my leg high into the air, nearly vertical as I took several strikes to my head from the second enemy, but I’ve already prepared. With a firm stomp the roar of the Desert Wind surrounds me, blasting my shield-side sentient away as I turn to face the wounded one. With a punch of channeled energy I strike hard enough to fracture its frame, my off-hand following through to drive the spiked shield into its oozing form. With a shriek of distress the entity struggles to pull itself free while I lift it and send it sailing into the first I had been assaulted by. One down .

The flailing fighter tossed its lifeless companion aside as it advanced, even as its remaining ally struggled to right itself from the fallen state. I lunged forward to get the first hit, but to my surprise the creature had already folded in on itself, lifting the thin body up into a condensed form up and into the air. The airborne sentient began to spin, circling faster as radiant energy burst in beams from all directions, searing the environment around it in a blaze of light and gamma waves. I ducked beneath the sentient, avoiding the light to the best of my ability as I heard another cry of dismay, several of the rays  had struck the spinning sentient’s companion, burning right through several sections of the distraught creature’s body. All the more reason to avoid these lasers. Before the destructive burst of energy could finish, I found myself directly beneath the bundle of sentient flesh, crouching and leaping upward, driving my fist into the metal monster hard enough to have it bounce right off the rock  ceiling above us, and clattering to the floor in a puddle of ferrofluid like its first companion.

The seared sentient watched as its last ally fell, beginning to withdraw in a defensive stance toward the room it had come from. My anger was boiling, hardly done with the creature, retreating or otherwise. I stomped forward, the pain of their strikes still fresh in my blazing fury as I pursued, my run not quite enough to outpace the steady hover of the fleeing enemy. I tried to thrust forward, attempting to slow it down but it appeared my wind could not reach from this distance, only slowing my own pursuit.

As I continued after the creature in my blind fury, Dovas pulled me back from my bloodlust.

//Tenno, stop pursuit immediately

It is retreating to a veritable hive of signals//

At this warning, I did indeed slow my pursuit. The Sentient rounded a rocky pile of rubble and silently disappeared into the halls. My desire was to fight, but I had not yet found my objective. 

Tell me that isn’t the direction of my destination. I transmit to Dovas wearily. At length, the cephalon finally replies:

\\No, our goal is down the other end of the hall

However, I imagine the remaining sentients will retaliate\\

Lovely . My pace quickened, scrambling up the fallen rock after the floating apparition. The next room was a junction, Dovas insisting there were a host of enemy signals on my left, and my path forward to the right. I was dubious about being cornered, but I was certain Dovas would disallow a retreat. Something about this mission was too important to the research cephalon, and what that was I had little inkling of.

The corridors in these deeper paths were far better structurally. I had little rubble to circumvent, and the further distance I put between myself and whatever remaining forces patrolled the moon the better. My progress unimpeded, I stretched my legs and let myself run for a time. Directions were simple to follow, and after a few more turns I became acutely aware of a noise presenting itself on the edge of my senses.

A high whine of some sort was coming into focus, something small, but constant emitting a foreign noise that echoed dimly off the moon rock walls. My steps took me around another corner where a great amphitheater laid before me. The hall itself was mid-collapse, having lost the entire outer wall to the endless chasm that stretched out perhaps a mile into the barren rock. The state of the hall, however, was hardly as surprising as something within it: a kneeling suit of metallic and robotic components, nearly identical to the same I had encountered on the Vallis. 

I didn’t hesitate to spring into action, leaping onto the cracked floor as I advanced forward, pulling my blade from the shield’s sheath. The kinetic weapon was picking up speed as I approached, my target hearing me at last and turning. But this was not the Corpus I had come to know. The stranger dropped their drilling tools in surprise, hands raised as the voice echoed in common:

”By Profit!” My blade paused, perhaps an inch from the metallic suit of what I had presumed was an enemy. My entire figure stood stock still, reexamining the strange figure only because of the language they spoke. The others before had chattered in an unknown tongue when I first came across the Corpus, but this one was using the commoner’s language of the Orokin. The voice was modified by a synthesizer of some sort, giving the panicked words an almost humorous tone as the stranger spoke. The pitiful figure stood stock still themselves, their hands raised with a quiver of fear, “ A Tenno?! Please, I mean you no harm!” they pleaded, “I’m simply a scavenger, nothing more! I have no qualms with the Tenno!” The words were panicked, but they felt sincere. Dovas had been listening in and established communication, speaking aloud to the both of us as he replied.

//State your name and division

A Corpus sympathizer is far from unheard of\\

//But you may be a… liability

That’s the Corpus term for it, correct?//

I had not heard Dovas speak with such malice before, some inherent disdain or distrust for these people. Perhaps another glimpse into the cephalon’s nature that he kept so closely guarded? The foreign scavenger seemed to straighten, realizing our impression of them would determine their fate. 

“A-ah!” They began, nervously, “Nen! Nen Irra, Co-Minister of Jeopardy Analysis.” The suit replied shakily, not letting their arms waver from their raised position. I would have furrowed my brow at this if I could. Their reply sounded like nonsense, and Dovas apparently agreed.

\\Do not be deceitful

What are your duties?\\

//And why are you here, on Lua?\\

Dovas was a fine interrogator when he wanted to be. The Corpus seemed surprised when asked for this additional detail, the nervous replies coming quicker as they must have realized their first words were not sufficient.

“I’m little more than a holojockey! They seat me at a management station for my entire shift and force me to sift through files, hunting for any contracts that they could get away with liquidating. The pay is pobberscat, so I used what I made to buy my own vessel to make ends meet outside of business hours! This is one of the closest Orokin ruins not owned and patrolled by Corpus Board jurisdiction. I swear I’m out here hunting for relics and scrap! I’m no threat to you!” They insisted, hands shaking as they were held aloft. At the passionate outburst, I began to sway. I believed the story, especially as I sensed no other presence around. It was likely true, but Dovas seemed ready to continue his hunt for information.

//Tell me the Corpus tenants

And who you work under directly//

I lowered my weapon. I had already decided against cutting down this poor scavenger, shaking my head as my words echoed back to Dovas. Let them be. Unless your scans can find some hidden crew or transport we can safely believe their story. I want to know what they’ve found. The nervous crewmate had begun to rattle off further specifics of their employment when I raised my hand to silence them, shaking my head as I waited for Dovas to speak for me. After an aggravating pause, my guide begrudgingly spoke.

\\This Tenno is curious about your insignificant search

What have you found here?\\

Such a simple question was leaden with spite, I was impressed at the emotion Dovas could express when not dealing with an equal or superior. 

“Muck… you’re robbing me? Fine, just this bag so far.” They said, slowly moving one hand to reach for their bag, unclipping it deftly and tossing it to the ground to send up a small puff of dust before their hand returned to its position above their head. “Trinkets, mostly. Some gold trim and small artifacts I scavenged from some of the larger halls back a-ways.” The Corpus had obviously done this shakedown before. They stood stockstill, not moving unless told to. They must have known fighting was futile, or at least knew that they had a greater chance of survival if they complied. As I looked through the small satchel of items, Dovas appeared to read my mind as he spoke.

//Tenno, you will not find our goal among those useless objects

What we seek is not something that can be so easily pilfered//

I held the bag out to the Corpus, giving them back their finds as Dovas spoke for me once more. The confused Nen waivered a moment, uncertain if they should react, but after some deliberation they slowly and carefully took back the satchel of pilfered goods.

\\You are lucky

The Tenno has no intention of harming you\\

//However, we are seeking one of the deeper chambers

If you have come here as often as you claim//

\\Accompany the Tenno deeper

We have already come across sentient forces\\

//You may need protection\\

While I agreed with Dovas about the dangers of the moon, I was uncertain if we should involve this scavenger, especially after Dovas displayed such outward hostility. My worries were overridden as I handed back the bag to Nen, they appeared to suddenly change their tune. “No way… so like, I help you, and you’ll do me a good favor in turn, right? That’s how things work, yeah? Oh, oh wait! Contract, gimme a contract.” They insist, quickly holding out their hand. “I guide you deeper, you let me be for now? I’d like to ask for your assistance, but I feel like I’m pushing my luck already…” Nen stands before me, giving a small shake of their limb, as if encouraging me to take the gesture. As I did, the Corpus was suddenly full of vigor and motion, excitedly babbling about Lua:

“Right, right, good deal! So I’ve not found too many deeper chambers, much of what I’ve explored has been these upper levels. I don’t have the gear or faith to risk some of those steeper climbs or harsher falls. But, I know exactly where you ought to start.” Nen gestured to me, walking to the far end of the crumbling hall where another pile of stones sat idle. The Corpus tugged a few stones free, revealing a crawl space that looked incredibly risky with the veritable mountain of loose rock above.

“Here’s my secret tunnel. Found and hidden by yours truly.” The scavenger boasts, lowering themselves to all fours before scrambling fearlessly through the passage. I followed suit, uncertain if this was a wise route to take. Yet as I thought back to some of the other halls I had seen, this very well could have been the only way deeper.

Nen’s voice was weakly coming through the passage. “Just crawl through! It is a quick scramble and you’re into the next room here.” The Corpus yelled. I didn’t like to position myself in such a vulnerable manner, but I had little choice if progress was to be made. With my sword sheathed, I followed the lead of the scavenger, finding it a tight squeeze that knocked loose some stone as I came through. My metal body was distinctly harder than the crumbling moon rock, and a dusty coating covered my body by the time I had crawled free of the low passage. 

“Stellar,” The Corpus announced, seeming thrilled at the prospect of company they didn’t have before, “Don’t have much more to go now.” Nen turned, dusting their chest as they pointed to a large cliff face rising upward beyond where my vision could reach. “Up there’s where I’m parked, nice little niche in the rock face I tucked away in.” Nen’s direction then turned, attention facing forward as they led onward, ducking another low stone ceiling as a near-crawl took us to another long hallway. 

“The tunnels around here I’ve already scoured,” Nen began, “It leads pretty far, but eventually I had to turn back since there’s a big deep pit I can’t even toss a light into to see the bottom.” The corpus scuffed at the back of their mask, or whatever was on the scavenger’s head. They turned back, worriedly glancing at me as I silently trod behind them. I was certain my silence was unnerving the stranger, but thankfully we got a reprieve with Dovas’ interruption. 

//Depth is what we are seeking

We will likely depart once we arrive//

\\You are free to leave

I recommend finding a different ruin to scavenge\\

The suggestion was a wise one, as sentients were something few but the Tenno could hope to stand against. A lone scavenger was asking for trouble. However, at this Nen only waved a hand. “I’ve been at this longer than you think! Since Lua was dropped back into our endless sky, the system was buzzing with activity. A few tried to stake a claim on this bizzare monument, but any crew worth mentioning that was sent here disappeared, or worse: the ship’s automated pilot brought the vessel back alone.” The corpus wrung their hands together in a thankful gesture of sorts.

\\Sentients are diligent

Few will escape once captured\\

Dovas reports, his tone quite matter-of-fact as he continued:

//Eventually, your luck will run thin

Do not dawdle here, scavenger//

\\’Going missing’ is the kinder version of the tale//

To this warning, the Corpus gave a little shudder. “Words well-heeded, sir, but fees and fines won’t amend themselves. This is the life of the greed we lead. Born and raised in debt, we won’t ever rise above our position if we continue to squander our time on niceties. The lowly Corpus must scavenge, scour, and steal to bring ourselves up by our own hands.” With this, Nen thumped their chest, earnest and resolute in this belief. The thick-headed scrapper was watching me keenly at this point, observing as their pace slowed.

We had reached the pit the salvager had spoken of, and their description was quite accurate. In the dark of Lua’s tunnels it was impossible to tell how far it descended. My curiosity brought me close to the edge of the abyss. As my foot felt rock crumble and clatter free, I paused in my movements to listen to the pebbles softly fading from my senses as they fell.

“It makes me wonder, what do you do with your hands, Tenno?” Nen was watching me closely here. The stranger’s words had a sort of awe in them, and I was beginning to understand why these people were so wary of us. “I wonder, are you whispered in tales of horror and slaughter, or sung between honor and salvation?” Nen’s words resonated with me for a moment; I reflected on that scene of carnage in the silent halls of my predecessors, dripping blood soundlessly pooling around ornate decor.

I am not a Tenno of salvation. I answered silently to the stranger, my head shaking slightly at the question. But before I could let that thought fester, Nen continued:

“In truth, I prefer the former.” Nen began, a soft laugh registering through their mask. “It brings me some kind of ease to know there are monsters out there in the system. No matter how horrible our situation, no matter how hopeless we may feel, I know that there is something even more dangerous than The Board. Out there is something that makes those mongers of wealth shiver in the dark.” There was a slight shift in the voice of the scavenger, difficult to place. I can only surmise it was Nen smiling beneath that brutalist mask. 

\\Every tool serves its purpose//

Dovas chimed, his words a harsh reminder of a cephalon’s views of the world. I would have snarled a nasty thought at the Orokin apologist, but our Corpus companion surprised me with a sudden laugh. 

“If that’s true, your tools are the sharpest of the batch.” Nen gave a friendly gesture, then turned as they began heading back. “Best of luck down there, but when I eventually make the plunge myself, something tells me I’ll need that luck back.” A soft hum could be heard as the darkness enveloped my short-lived guide, and I prayed the Sentients would not find Nen before the Corpus could escape. I realized, far too late, that this stranger reminded me of Rho in some strange manner of association. They had even borrowed some of the brave Solaris’ adoration.

Nen disappeared into the dim passage we had just walked, and I let another slide of my step knock loose more chiseled moon rock from the hole’s edge. With my guide behind me, the only thing was to proceed. The dark ravine in the rock waited for me with its open maw. Without invitation, I stepped forward to feel my weight drag me quickly through the darkness. As I plunged, my senses caught glimpses of the shattered stone and broken passage. Perhaps this was an elevator, once?

My body came to an abrupt halt, the impact stirring a plume of dust and moon rock around me. I stood, unphased by the fall as I began to scour the dark depths. Only one passage onward, so without much hesitation I began to walk again in silence. My path was short, and Dovas seemed assured we had reached our destination.

A great hall encircled a watery pool, four regal pillars crumbling under the weight of the moon above. The ornate room seemed ceremonial, particularly the vessel that centered in the pool. The gilded pod was still humming with the remnants of Orokin energy, but my cephalon guide was not haughty in this discovery. In fact, it felt quite the opposite. 

There was no sign of life here, though judging by the state of Lua, whatever it was Dovas was seeking could not possibly be alive. I had followed his directions, blindly dogging along as I reached this sunken room, long since emptied. As I descended the ruined, rocky stairs, I could tell something was wrong. Dovas murmured to himself through our connection, something I couldn’t quite catch as I reached the bottom. His instruction had led me here, and I knew it was for a reason, even if he would not share it.

Well? I asked with wary impatience. What is it we are seeking, then? As I asked this, I felt like I already knew. My body was tense and alert, watching the all too familiar pod through the mist. I walked through the barren chamber as the words of the cephalon were beginning to transmit clearly, his mental filter slipping.

//No…no… I don’t understand

The archives- why are the archives wrong?// 

\\If the Dreamers are awake…

Then where are you?!//

His voice was accusatory, as if interrogating me to explain his confusion. My hand ran across the dilapidated pod. Lua, my first home. Mother Margulis had kept our secrets until the very end. She did not tell the Orokin what we were capable of, perhaps because she did not know what we were entirely capable of. My attention lingered over the ruined pod, falling back to the empty place where I should have been. At a length, it had occurred to me what Dovas was seeking. I did not have the heart to tell him it could not be found.

I waited a good length of time, debating if I should attempt to keep this too from Dovas. This was my secret to keep, my burden to bear… But, perhaps I grew lonely from this weary existence. Dovas knew so much of my past already, even the Palace itself. Eventually, the truth would come to light. So, against my better judgment, I spoke:

Do you truly want to know? The words lingered for a moment. They hung in the air as Dovas pondered my question that neither of us had expected to hear. There was a faintness in my chest, a sensation I struggled to place for a moment. Unease, displeasure… but most prevalent among them was fear. Without allowing him the chance, I continued speaking.

I remember my old home, here, on Lua. Those days were riddled with  anger and fear; back when we didn’t understand what we had become. Back when we grieved, and wept, and screamed for those we had lost and what we had endured. I remember much, but not all. At my words, Dovas seemed to be waiting with bated breath. He was surprisingly patient as I spoke, never quite letting my focus leave the empty place.

\\Tell me, if you would\\

Oapali. Like all Orokin, his word was law. He was growing old, so he made a deal with Ballas. I do not know what was traded, but I was Ballas’ token. I considered using my warframe to fight my way free. But where would I go? I was placed in his stronghold, banished to the ends of the Origin System. No one would be coming for me, I’m sure that was included in the deal. No one would miss me… not even Mother Margulis. 

My inability to speak was not the stubborn resistance I hoped it would be. In fact, it backfired. Oapali adored the silent service of my kin, and I was to quickly become the ideal everything in his eyes. My body healed rapidly after torture, and I never made a sound, regardless of how I was treated. And when the monster wanted – whenever he wanted – I could be ordered to kill a servant, simply for dropping the dinnerware. I realized as I finished with this tale that it was incomplete, that I had omitted something from it. I hesitated, the turmoil within me seeming to beg and plead for me not to acknowledge the truth. A crack appeared beneath my foot as my emotions ran rampant through me.

And… when the day came that Oapali was to die, I was his choice for Continuity. It made perfect sense in his mind, I suppose. What would a puppet need aside from his master? While I was within my warframe, Oapali took what was once my body. You will not find me among my kin here. The Orokin is already dead… I, too, am already dead.

As I finished speaking, I expected the usual bark of the cephalon’s love for the Orokin. I expected Dovas to tell me of my ‘just desserts’, or speak of some time-honored tradition. But this time it was different. His voice was strange, resounding with an emotion I had not heard from the servant cephalon before this.  

//Tenno… I have an important query// 

The cephalon began, his voice carrying emotion I thought impossible for Dovas. My mind was already pleading for Dovas to stop, to not ask what he was about to inquire. Some truths are better left unsaid. Yet he pressed on, ever unafraid of what was to come:

\\What is your name?\\

 It was the question I had dreaded hearing from Dovas, or anyone for that matter. It was something that I felt hollow at the mere mention of. Ache was all I felt as these words came to me. I knelt down, the cracked stone beneath me shuddering to a halt as my mind began to quell. I deliberated, uncertain if I should finally admit it, especially to the cephalon.

I…don’t know. I admitted softly, for it was true. Since I had woken, perhaps even before my slumber, I did not know my name. My history, my life, everything had returned. Yet each and every time I looked for my name, in papers, on my tongue, between my ears, there was nothing. No sound of it, no concept of it. I could not even hear the voice with which Mother called to me. Perhaps it was taken from me on the day of Continuity.

  The worry settled in my chest, stirring like a disquieted beast. For this was not the fog of uncertainty, like when I had first woken. This loss – this void – in my mind was palpable. It felt as if not a word, but an entire part of myself had been lost. In truth, it could have happened upon any visit to the Sea. The great vastness of the Void takes without ever truly sharing the knowledge of what has been lost. Yet I knew this was something more monstrous than a trade. What I felt was the result of a conquest.

//I am sorry to hear

Perhaps, if it does not overstep my bounds,//

\\I could offer a name?//

I recoiled at the thought of leaving my name to the judgment of an Orokin fanatic. The last thing I needed was the moniker of some fiendish monster hailed for his bloodlust. 

No. Just call me Baruuk if you’re going to label me anything . I demanded, my disdain obviously apparent in my manner. Dovas could likely feel the distress writhing within my chest, and seemed encouraged by my reaction.

//Ironic\\

Dovas began,

//You remind me so much of him

I had planned to suggest ‘Ruuk’//

Chapter Text

XIII- Search

It took a week to prepare the search party. In that time, Dovas had run the operation management for me and was showing a surprising amount of care in gathering contacts and organizing the expedition. I was hesitant, at first, to hear Dovas' intent on the search of the palace. I had slowly begun to develop the impression that he was not simply excited to head a mission; there was something more he was wanting. Despite this, I had little grounds to turn down the task. While I was reluctant to return to my prison -for I had little faith there would be anything of value there- Dovas was resolute. With his unknown resources, things appeared to go smoothly for his endeavors. He managed everything in his own way: cryptic and shady. He gave few updates, and talked little of his intentions. His fixation on Oapali's prison was troubling me more than I wanted to admit. Despite my reluctance, I came to an understanding on the third day of waiting: I wanted to see the palace. I still held scars from that floating tomb, but a morbid curiosity was growing within myself. What was it I had left behind in those halls that drove me so? Dovas' insistence won out in the end as he presented me with a surprisingly through plan:

Through his nameless contacts, Dovas was able to secure a deep-space vessel capable of braving the Kuiper Belt. The ship was of Corpus design, supplied by sympathizers who sided with the immense potential of profit through the Tenno. The crew was light, as we were posing our voyage as a passing transport carrier. From there, the infiltration team could delve into the palace without drawing more attention than necessary.

A silent infiltration was the best case scenario; it was optimistic at best, but it was feasible. I had no idea how much the Corpus had dredged the palace, what they had found, or what they had left behind. My mind warred with itself, struggling with doubt. How good could my memory truly be? How accurate would my guidance be in this place? It was better than wandering blind, but I could still be wrong; I was far from infallible. My companion assured me, however, that all would be well.

\\You must lead the expedition

You are the only one who knows this fortress\\

You want me to, but do they? I felt quite sure I knew that answer, rutted in my dour stubbornness as I snipped back. Have you even told them their ‘guide’ awoke only recently? That my memories are still fragmented? Have you shared the status of our previous two expeditions? My words were scathing, my mood had darkened in recent days by my recollection in the depths of Lua. We had uncovered knowledge I would have been happier without; demystified a secret into a harsh truth. Dovas, however, was even more insistent, and even more brash.

//The Nix was beyond your control

Your fate, too, regardless if you accept that//

 \\You will one day see that your pain has shaped you

Not broken you\\

So now the Orokin was a preacher of life lessons. Wonderful.

//More importantly

If you were indeed responsible, what would it change?//

\\Would you live out your days more fully by punishing yourself?

Perhaps you see the guilt as your penance?\\

//Childish\\

Either the cephalon was aiming to provoke me, or I was too sensitive, for a flash of anger overtook me. My manic fury drove me to grab a thin section of the ship’s golden trim, tugging firmly until the metal was torn free in a peculiar direction. My instincts had me pitch my small victory clattering across the ship floor before I even thought to reply. 

I didn’t ask for your opinion. Do us both a favor and shut down. My outbursts were worsening, cutting words and harsh emotions clashing both internally and directly with Dovas. There was no reason to be cruel, yet my heart was bleeding whenever I dealt with this subject. I had little control when provoked now, my anger coiling like a snake in my chest. Even as I lashed out, my companion proved he was ready to match my stubbornness with his own awnry resolve.

//You’re reverting to pouting

Something that serves no one//

\\Least of all the bearer of these emotions//

I didn’t like what I heard. I planned to give my response with silence, smoldering inside myself loudly. However a question came forth unbidden at this moment. What do you even gain from doing this? Why are you so insistent on going? You claim Tenno command is curious, yet you were the one setting all this up, aren’t you? Dovas answered in his avoidant manner, dodging the question as he answered:

\\You cannot continue to let sleeping dogs lie

Only you can complete this task\\

//I’ve asked a great deal, but I must ask for more

No one else knows these halls//

  \\I understand why you are reluctant

Yet I cannot allow you to relapse\\

\\Not when your soul is at stake//

Souls? Now the machine speaks of having a soul? Do you truly have no awareness, or are you merely murmuring platitudes? What soul could live in a metal prison? Something in my words caused the assured demeanor of Dovas to turn. 

//Coward\\

Came the bitter beginning of the cephalon’s anger.

//You think yourself special for losing your body?

The Orokin made a spectacle of torture and punishment//

\\To be sealed away is a the kinder punishment than most

The prisons of the Golden Regime would snuff out your hope\\

//You were not the first to have your flesh stolen

You were not the last//

\\If you think sorrow makes you special then you’re naive

You have much still to learn, Tenno\\

His outburst caught me off guard, and I had no opportunity to reply. Dovas withdrew, taking with him the connection link and leaving me in silence. The fire inside me was far from quelled –if anything it was worsened by these pointed phrases– yet Dovas would not allow me recourse. The cephalon retreated from me; I have no other way to describe it. It was as if the connection between us was retracted, even when I reached out to project my anger in another statement of disdain.

Only in his absence did I realize how alone I was without the cephalon. The connection had been a comforting hum, a constant presence in a sea of insecurity since I had fallen in with Dovas. I did not truly understand the relief this link had brought until I tried to scream out in defiance. My voice was blocked, trapped in the throat of my metal carapace. My connection to the outer world was severed, and I was once again isolated inside this prison of mechanical flesh. 

My legs began moving of their own accord, wandering angrily as I stomped up and down the ramp, circling the research ship as I considered what I could break. My arms flailed of their own accord, unable to restrain my emotions as I struck the air, the ground, and whatever else I could reach. I blindly felt impact with my hands and a growing weight in my legs. Only after a pause did I realize I had been furiously striking my own thighs with a flat, open palm. The ache I felt after repeated blows did little to assuage my frustrations. Dovas’ words seemed to echo, repeated as my actions compounded my anger. Childish… naive… The words stung, partly because they struck something sensitive inside me, partly from my instinctive reaction to them. I howled silently, feeling no relief from the pressure building inside me. 

My movements had brought me down into the depths of the research vessel. I stood, staring for a moment at that sealed door, the same that had barred me from further exploration. Either of these sealed locks would do. I wondered if I could break them down, batter at one until it gave way, and pester the cephalon by peering in and properly taking a look at what it was he had concealed from me. I had no outlet, and was seeking something -anything- to vent my frustration. I was considering some more violent options at that moment. It was only in some passing feeling of hesitancy that I turned from these doorways. Even in my blind fury that strange, instinctive sensation lingered in my heart, telling me I ought not to know what was beyond them.

Dovas had played a dangerous game in cutting me off, striking a chord that ran deep. It was effective, though it set old wounds ablaze. Fury and frustration were familiar friends to me. They swirled around me like lingering spirits, encouraging that glow of hate that lingered on my scorched heart. Punishment in isolation was something I had been subject to throughout my incarceration. While not a new sensation, it was one I did not handle well. There was no solace inside myself; not since the day I broke free of my master.

* * *

At last the time came to set to work. A brief interlude of preparation and we were boarding our vessel to our destination. The ship itself was compact, but lengthy, leaving little room to wander but giving plenty of space to work. The tight space was filled with Corpus workstations, mostly compressed holo-jockey seats amid functional maintenance corridors. The vessel was small by design, as any larger would need a whole new level of clearance and coordination to get as close to our destination as we were planning. To get under the radar of Nef’s patrols, we would need to board through this Corpus transport, hopefully passing as one of the crews coming and going to the palace. The Majin and the stealth-focused liset of my allied Tenno would be on standby as our contingency plan.

Our boarding of the Corpus cruiser was unworthy of remark, save one event:

I was introduced to my partners for this mission once I had come aboard. Our infiltration squad would be deployed with me as the leader. That team was composed of three operatives: myself, as our navigational guide; a Banshee who went by the name Kilun Penn, chosen for their specialities in acoustics; and a young Corpus tech called Min Laemaen, well versed in current age machinery and code. Our hope was the small group of three would be unnoticed, and able to scour the halls of the Palace without drawing attention to ourselves.

The Corpus crew that manned this vessel seemed somewhat uncertain about our presence. I understood why; after I clashed with them so violently upon my waking, I was certain many of my kin had come to war similarly with the Corpus upon their return to the system. Legend and rumor followed my kind like shadows, and experience clouded the eyes of the crew. They knew the risk they were taking against their own faction; but more so they knew the dangers that came with the Tenno. I held no contempt for their fear of me. How could I when I still feared myself?

It was soon after arriving on the ship that I was approached by the other Tenno. I had hardly boarded before I felt the presence of another rapidly approaching. It was strange, to think I might be meeting with one of my siblings again for the first time in eons. I will admit, the prospect had not dawned on me how nervous it might make me. I worried what they might think of me, as ridiculous as it sounds. I had no connection with my brothers and sisters of the Zariman, not since I was sent away. I was not just an outcast, I was an abomination. I doubted my kin might accept me as I was, though these thoughts were dampened once I saw my fellow Tenno with my own senses.

In comparison to my own gilded attire, the Banshee was customized for a simpler purpose. The modifications their warframe had received seemed basic, using a small set of string accents in their helmet and a non-standard coloring of their ferrite flesh was about the extent of the modification this soldier had seen. A thick syandana hung off of his shoulders, acting like a cloak over the Banshee’s rear profile. My own tassels and bells suddenly felt like a frilly collar in comparison. I had hardly the time to take further note before I was approached at an energetic speed. My companion seemed excited to meet me. The informal contact of our silent language was evidently not enough for them. As I said before, the children of the Zariman are varied; in comparison to my own stolid demeanor, Kilun appeared quite enthusiastic and active. 

“Damn, you are decked out!” That voice was not projected through transference, it was spoken aloud, Kilun’s voice resonating from the frame as if the Banshee could speak. The first words of the unfamiliar Tenno had caught me off guard. It was only after a moment of surprise passed that I came to understand their comment was on my attire. By the time I understood, their attention had already moved on. “Great to meet you, I’m Kilun!” He held out his hand, so of course I took it. Grasping it allowed that spark of understanding to jump the physical space between us, and I could project my own message to him.

You may call me Ruuk. It is reassuring to see another Tenno. As that handshake lingered, my voidsent eyes could see more than just the physical body of my brother in arms. As if glancing at the dark interior of a sarcophagus, I could see a figure within the frame as we touched. I could see Kilun in his chair, his eyes closed as the long black hair draped down his shoulders. It was just a fleeting image, but it was enough to glean just a touch of insight on this Tenno. As my hand left his, I wondered how he viewed me. Could he see right through me, as I could him? Could he see my being etched into this warframe? If so, he showed no sign of it. Kilun paid me no mind, and he quickly moved on to his next thought.

“So we’re going back to your old stomping grounds? You nervous? Excited?” They ask with enough energy and vigor to rival a kubrow puppy. I hadn’t the heart to share my disdain for the palace, so I simply answered in my usual method.

Neither… I say back to no one in particular, leaving an awkward silence in the air at the question. Dovas took the liberty of his typical overstepping when I refused to let my words out.

//Ruuk is nervous

He is uncertain how accurate his memory is//

\\Though even fragmented it will act as a better guide than any map//

Not if the Corpus took stock for us … I grumpily growled at my overbearing guardian. Kilun seemed a little offended that I had my cephalon speak for me, as they paused and looked at me for a time. It was a curious look, one that certainly seemed to question me more intently than he had previously. Yet Kilun seemed to brush it off, having more important things on their mind.

“Well, I’ll put my faith in you. But I still want to know more.” The Banshee’s body was facing me, but they were directing their words at my cephalon instead. “You were dodgy about our exact purpose here. What are we looking for, exactly? You mentioned scouting the ruins, Dovas, but do you truly have anything that we are aiming for? I can understand doing a little recon, but surely anything of value might have been snatched up by Nef’s forces, wouldn’t it?” 

I shared that opinion, and I’m sure Dovas knew this before his speedy reply:

//Reconnaissance is our primary goal

The ruins may hold nothing//

\\But it is better to know than to guess//

Kilun was not persuaded, pressing the matter. “Then enlighten me, what did this Orokin keep besides his personal treasures and instruments? What should we be preparing to come across?”

To this, Dovas seemed to pause a moment before slyly slipping the onus over to me.

\\As for that, I suppose we ought to ask our guide//

Attention fell back to me and I merely shook my head at first, thinking there was little for me to say until Kilun took the bait.

“Works for me. What should we expect, Ruuk?” The words were short and impatient, wanting a definitive answer as soon as possible. 

Damn you, Dovas. I grimaced at the thought of trying to explain things as best I could. Tricky… I would imagine most of the ruins offer little of interest, especially through the main halls… I began to think aloud, not realizing I was silent until Dovas began to translate those thoughts for me.

//It is likely the main halls hold little of importance…\\

I did not spend much time in places other than those, but I will be able to navigate the structure as long as it is still intact. 

\\Ruuk is certain he can guide us if everything is still composed…//

Oapali’s secrets are unknown to me, however; I was far from a confidant. If there are concealed vaults or treasures tucked away I will be none the wiser… And of course, I know nothing about what the Corpus have found.

\\He admits he knows nothing of the Orokin’s secrets

However, the possibility of vaults and treasures remain\\

//Knowing Corpus movements is pivotal in our task\\

It is possible there are leftover notes of his experiments, his studies or his journals, though I cannot say for sure what’s in them, let alone translate. I was not allowed to study the Orokin language too thoroughly. It was forbidden for servants to use it on their tongue.

A curious thing happened next: Dovas did not speak. He simply remained silent, as if he had already said all I had shared. He kept this last bit to himself, though I could not understand why. Yet there was something else bothering me in the way he ‘translated’ my lack of speech. I noticed he changed my words slightly at the end, focusing on the possibility of treasure rather than my warning against it. I would have tried to correct him, if not for the cephalon’s continued campaign:

//For this reason, I’d like to give Min our attention\\

I had nearly forgotten our tech specialist. Min, who had been standing idly nearby, seemed to perk up at the mention of their name. 

\\Corpus documentation is likely incomplete

But what manifests we have copied may prove insightful\\

The crewman nodded at this, adjusting the standard issue suit that matched his coworkers. He did not have his helmet on, and I could see his head striped with markings that meant nothing to me. I believe he had hair, though it was strapped beneath the undercowl of his uniform. He stepped forward and tried to lift his nervous voice up to be heard. 

“Quite right!” His volume was a little louder than necessary as he began, the Corpus likely unsure how to best make himself heard. “We have shipments of the usual Orokin relics and materials. It is common to strip these facilities of anything easily accessible or simple to transport. So far we have records of metallic trim, cataloged materials and resources, and a collection of auditory equipment likely recovered from the palace. It wasn’t on the manifest, but we know they at least reached a cryovault chamber if they were able to retrieve and transport Ruuk’s stasis pod. This means they’ve likely had a chance to thoroughly examine the palace.” Min’s voice grew more confident the deeper into the report he got.

“What’s more, there were requests for heavy equipment –primarily excavation tools– and it was rather recent. We managed to skim the transmission itself; it speaks of a large section of the palace they were unable to access. Those large pieces of machinery have been arriving in parts, and the final delivery is slated for arrival within the week. There's more in the palace they want to see, so we have the opportunity to slip in and get the first look. The only question would have been how to get in without their finished tools, but Dovas will be our locksmith. If there are working Orokin components we may be able to get in before the Corpus. Whatever is left in that potential treasure trove is all ours if we slip in undetected.” 

The news that the palace had been sealed in some way was expected. I had collapsed the ritual chamber before I went to sleep, hopefully rendering both scripture and any kuva that remained unusable. It wouldn't be far-fetched to think that the collapsed antechamber had crumbled and created even more of an unwelcoming stretch of rubble. It had been some time, and it was a small wonder the devastation hadn’t been further spread. The asteroid was not exactly shifting rock, but after so long out in space there was no telling what kinds of collisions and debris had come by to damage the palace.

My concerns were not voiced. Instead I was wondering. Wondering if there was anything beneath the rubble that might yet be discovered, something in that collapsed chamber in the depths of the palace that I had left still intact. I longed to see what they might uncover, but that appeared to be impossible. Instead, Dovas directed the crew to prepare and left us with one final warning.

//Communications will be kept to a minimum at first

If the tower is unguarded I will not hesitate to assist//

\\But stay on your guard

You will be blind going in\\

//Primary objective: infiltrate and scout Oapali’s Palace

Secondary objective: locate and extract any materials and research//

\\Let us see what secrets we uncover//

* * *

As the ship slowly made its way through the shattered entrance, I felt a sense of anxiety rush over me. I felt meek and small, just as I did the day I was first brought through the great gaol gate. My thoughts seemed to slow and breath froze in my throat. There were murmurs of discussion all around me, Dovas, Min, and Kilun all in deep discussion as to their plans and strategies. I, however, was in the midst of my memories, bearing the weight of recollection to experiences best left behind. Fear clung to my heart, and I paid little heed to any of the plans being played out beside me. 

I had been anticipating this moment for years. I had often gone to sleep imagining the day I would see this horrific hall ruined and crumbling. I had spent nights dreaming of the asteroid collapsing, wishing to see Oapali’s frozen corpse among the drifting debris. I wanted nothing more than to see the outside of my prison, but I found some lingering warmth in my hatred of this palace.

And yet the sight I’d dreamt of for years brought me no comfort. 

I could only think back to that day I first arrived. 

The Dax guards brought me in without even a single word. No one was telling me why I had been delivered to this isolated rock, though I’m sure the experienced soldiers likely knew. There was no talk among my escorts, many of whom seemed tight-lipped normally and even more on edge than usual. While I had never heard the rumors, it was apparent some of these Orokin servants knew what this place was by their silence. 

Oapali greeted me in his grand entrance, our steps dampened by the design of the palace itself. Even metal flesh on the smooth marble made hardly a noise despite the massive chamber around us. There was no fanfare, no sound at all as the wretched grin of that tyrant leered at me. With a long sweep of his extended limb he gestured to the disgustingly grandiose structure around him while he welcomed me; his voice was peppered with unbridled excitement that I couldn’t quite understand upon arrival. 

“Welcome, my little castaway,” The Orokin murmured, his voice the only sound as it resonated through the palace. It was powerful, despite the quiet delivery. It was a trick of the palace, one of the many I would come to learn in time. The design of his abode was to amplify the sounds he adored, or dampen those he abhorred. Of course, his voice was the former, and he had created spaces where he would be allowed to speak and have his words reach every crevice of the palace at once.

“Ruuk, is something wrong?”

Kilun snapped my attention back to the moment. We had already landed, our transport docked at the Corpus’ makeshift bay. Kilun and Min were off the ship, I hadn’t even heard the door open. I shook my head, partly ignoring the question as I stepped off, and followed my companions as we began to walk through to the entryway. 

The desolate architecture had long gone dormant. This external section of the palace was entirely destroyed by time. The regal entrance, once holding platforms and lamps to lead the way for visitors, was nearly indistinguishable from the asteroid rock it was built upon. The Corpus had not established any artificial atmosphere here, likely because there was no reason to do so. Min had already donned his helmet, making his way with a device firmly in his hands. Kilun and myself required little more than sheer will to prepare us for the vacuum of space. Our progress was slow at first, making our way over shattered floors while Min began his cursory scans. I was to take point, as I was the leader of this expedition. So I bounded ahead, both to take my place of guide and to get some distance from Kilun, who had been watching me with increasing scrutiny. They likely could tell something was wrong, though they hadn’t voiced their thoughts on me quite yet. 

Through the gateway, we made our steady progress through the entrance, passing the very spot I had been recollecting. The halls were fragmented now, passing sensations of near-recollection as I looked over them all in turn. I had little interest in sharing my memory with my companions. My job was simply to guide, nothing more. But while we walked, Min began to speak. 

“I am getting responses from my pings. Just a little further in is a sizable collection of Corpus ciphers and signals. They’ve left a large amount of gear behind. Nef’s crews have likely established some base of operations in a central chamber, but there are more return signals than I’d expected. I can’t tell if it's equipment or security devices. If you come across any Corpus consoles, I’ll try to see what I can find.” Min was absorbed in the holopad he carried, tapping vigorously at symbols and numbers I could not read. Without answering him, I continued on, while Kilun couldn’t help but comment:

“The sooner you figure it out the better. This place is certainly not welcoming to us. I keep getting shudders down my spine.” He announced, as if we needed to know. I was not shuddering, yet my chest was tight and I could feel my pulse racing. Was it excitement? Was it fear?  I couldn’t parse my own emotions, I could only look and feel the palace drawing from a wellspring of memories at every pillar and every passage. Ghosts haunted this place, and I was among them now. 

The cracked marble of the entrance led deeper, the gravity growing stronger as we continued into the palace. Be it Corpus intervention, or lingering Orokin whims, the palace still retained some function. Lamps, somehow untouched by the passage of time, glowed softly to guide us. Several standing light sources illuminated the darker corners of the hall, a technological contrast to the smooth, ornate architecture. We were obviously on the right path. 

The hall was silent, deathly so. The figures around me seemed to hold themselves differently, every movement measured and cautious. A single misstep could mean execution. My guard had reduced in number, only an unlucky two followed quietly behind me, masking their every motion and breath. They both knew well the rumors surrounding the eccentric Oapali. The Orokin master was silent, his arms folded neatly behind his back as he walked. The hall narrowed, coming closer on all sides until all at once it opened into the grand central chamber. Only here did Oapali open his arms to show the grandiose statue that showed his status as an Orokin. It would be blasphemous to the Seven to have a statue larger than theirs, and so rather than solid metals, a hanging assortment of pieces and parts formed the avant-garde outline of the Orokin lord. 

“Such beauty! Such magnificence! Such a striking sound it makes when the wind whistles through.” His voice quavered, as if struck by emotion. The Orokin raised an arm, directing it across the ceiling as his motion seemed to cue an artificial generator. Air flowed through the chamber, circling us as the statue began to shift and shimmer. It was letting off haunting hums of resonance in a choir of manufactured music. The motion of the Orokin grew faster, and the wind grew in its ferocity. The hands slowed, and the sound grew softer. Everything in the palace was at this lord’s beck and call, it seemed. As the gilded maestro waved his hands through the space about him the wind shifted and swayed, hitting new notes and patterns through his performance. Oapali couldn’t help but laugh aloud as he screamed out “Yes! Yes! More!” He was lost in the moment of grandeur. He did not hear a messenger approach. 

Perhaps it was a new servant. Perhaps they ought to have known to wait. Perhaps it was an important task. Perhaps the young man should have known better than to touch an Orokin. Perhaps it could have been avoided. For when he tapped the shoulder of the lord several things all happened at once: Oapali’s arms dropped, the wind halted, and the warden whirled around in a rage. 

In a cold and cruel voice so distant from the joyful expression he had expressed moments ago he commanded without hesitation: “Cut him down.” Despite the suddenness of the command, the guard beside me did not hesitate. One stepped forward, pulling his blade from its sheath with a sickening speed. Before I had even registered the movement, Oapali had killed his messenger. The Orokin stepped away from the pooling blood, only to avoid the red stains from settling on him. The blade had rent the messenger in two, that surprised expression still on their confused face as the eyes seemed to spin and look around a moment longer than they ought to have. Oapali came closer to me, his joyous demeanor now darkened by the inconvenience of interruption. “Let this be a learning experience for you, my tethered demon. When you hear my order, you will follow it without hesitation. If I say to slay something, you will do so. Or so help me, I will take my fury out on you instead. Have I made myself-”

“-clear?” Kilun was speaking, not the Orokin. My memories were haunting me, splitting my focus between my task and the lingering scars of my servitude. I crouched slightly, cradling my head in one hand. I felt horrid, flashes of scenes long past returning in waves. I had not caught the question, and was unsure what the Tenno was asking until Min thankfully answered:

“Yes. It seems there are a few sensors around, but nothing we’ve triggered so far. All systems are dormant.” I was grateful that conversation was not my strong suit, though I was certainly disoriented by the distractions of my mind. I had not even taken stock of the current chamber we stood.

This was that same central chamber in my memory, once disgustingly beautiful and ornate. Like all Orokin culture, it was now in ruins. The hanging sculpture, the very same that let sound resonate through the palace, had long been destroyed.  I had made sure to leave it in shattered pieces, much like I had the Orokin himself. The parts and fragments of the statue had been cleared away, though the damage they left behind on the floor and walls was apparent. Around the room several Corpus crates and materials had been left, remnants of the first expedition, I am sure. A few tech consoles sat around these collections of cargo, one of which our technician was tapping into only a few feet away.

The world outside of my memories was calm in comparison to the unnerving silence that no longer pervaded these halls as it had before. Now, the chamber was quiet rather than so unnaturally mute. A group of soft echoes lingered with each step of our tread, filling the space in a way that this palace never allowed in its prime. 

“Where to, Ruuk?” The question had a lilt, something I couldn’t truly place. I paused and considered a moment, my memory serving to guide me as I stepped forward, trying to see back into my memory. I recalled the central chamber branching out, several stretching corridors in different directions to help begin the ever-expansive web that the spider Oapali had constructed. I circled the room, walking between pillars and the outer wall, examining the arches that had been stripped of their golden filigree. Even the walls had cracked, organic ooze visibly spilling from the architecture in a way that ruined Orokin design often did. The passage beneath this rotting arch was intact, though it appeared it had collapsed at some point before it was reopened. Makeshift lights of Corpus origin stretched down the rubble-strewn passage. Were it not for the distant glow, I would not have trusted this path. Across the grand, circular chamber I could see another hall stretching deeper, but I did not want to delve too far, not yet. I instructed our group down the side hall, hoping we may discover something in the space I sealed myself away for so many years.

Getting close enough to Kilun, I brushed against their body with a palm of my hand, giving them a fleeting murmur,

This way as I led the way into the excavated stretch of the palace. The unfamiliar Corpus tech lit the narrow stretch, lights set into the wall to help visitors see. I could not recognize the hall by its current shape and form, yet I knew well what was behind this unfamiliar passage.

I had been instructed to come here once. I don’t believe I had stayed with Oapali for long before I became acquainted with this part of the palace. There were cryochambers here, but they were not intended for anything beyond storage. It was at the behest of my ‘master’ that I had come bearing the weight of his own sin. 

“The cold is refreshing, is it not?” His disgusting voice resonated here too. He wasn’t even in the room, projecting his words from elsewhere in the palace while I stood doing his dirty work. “Refreshing, but not somewhere I’d like to be. Hurry up and drop off my materials, I’ll have my anatomist look them over soon enough.” The open pod had cool fog pooling around it as I came forward, dropping the headless body unceremoniously into the cold casket. That is all we were to this Orokin: raw materials.

“Stripped clean…” Min was tapping away at his own pad again, commenting on what we found within. The cryogenic chamber was indeed ruined now, everything usable long pulled from its housing. Only the skeleton of the tower of intricate machinery remained to show us what may have stood here once; my own central pod would have been housed in this very room if it had not already been shipped far away to Venus. Any of the additional mechanisms were also laid bare, Orokin technology pulled and repurposed by the scavengers of opportunity. While several flood lights remained powered to illuminate the space, it was little more than an empty room now. It held no clues, no purpose, nothing to keep me here. And without missing a beat, I turned and my legs took me back down the hall to the central chamber. It was a dead end, after all. Nothing would be here to find if each room was like this. 

The mirroring wing was my next destination, and I led my small band there without hesitation. The palace led deeper, of course, but the servant wing was the one I was most familiar with, and one I considered with heavy debate if we ought to sweep before we got too entangled in the myriad of passageways ahead. The entrance to the servant quarters had not crumbled, likely as I had not weakened it with my will when I had wrought hell upon the palace. I wanted them to escape, I wanted a better life for them. I wanted to give them an opportunity they would never see with Oapali’s tyranny.

Yet when they saw me they were horrified. The servants cowered, many with raised arms and bowed heads, awaiting death from my hand. I did not blame them. Anyone in the palace knew to fear me. Oapali had made me his scythe, culling the unruly and the unlucky alike. I stood in that room, trying to make myself understood to the servants, each crouched in terrified silence. My hand was outstretched, trying to instruct them to leave, to run, to flee, anything to get distance between this place and themselves. Yet fear had tethered them in place, in seeing my bloodstained body, each had become too afraid to move from their spot, lest they meet their end. My very presence had made them shrink from servants to lambs waiting for slaughter. They saw me as the harbinger of the golden wrath, and after my time in the palace they hardly saw me more than an extension of the Orokin lord I served. I fear I saw myself much the same.

“Strange, there is hardly anything at all down this way. No lights, no tech, nothing of Corpus design in sight.” Min was speaking somewhere behind me in the dim light. They were correct, however. The Corpus must have realized this place was purposeless, or at least held no trinkets and treasure for them to pilfer. The passage was dark, and only in guiding myself through recollection and a sliding hand along the wall do I realize I’ve been wandering in the dark quite a bit ahead of my team. I slow myself, and turn away. It was not because I knew there was nothing to find down this way, but because I’d rather not fall into any further recollections. There was nothing of importance this way, after all, but darkened memories. I passed Kilun as I doubled back, my words simple as I passed.

Just checking…

Kilun relayed this, Min and him following in turn as we set off toward the proper path. I could feel their curiosity following me. My path was erratic and unsteady. My mind was wandering. My focus was offset by the unbidden images of a time long-lost. Min may not have picked up on it quite as quickly as my kin had. I feared they could see glimpses of this, their uncertainty becoming palpable the longer I led the expedition in such haphazard ways. My uneasy leadership was not aiding our search. Though I knew where to go, I was unable to see any little details; the reality of everything was hidden under a layer of reminiscence. We explored deeper, returning to that ruined central chamber just to duck into one last hall. It was here I began to make sense of the sensations running through me. 

I felt like I was void-walking. Like I was leaving my body once more to become lost in the silent sea. But I was not seeing visions. My presence in this place was a ghost haunting its past. I could only see what was, not what is. Even the corridor I wandered, hand sliding slowly across the wall, was roiling in my mind. The lights grew and dimmed in turn, my focus trying to remain on the present while every moment attempted to bring me back in time. My psyche was weak, my ideas fraying like my sanity. My limbs trudged on despite the thoughts in my head. Despite the warnings I heard. Despite warnings…

“Hey!” A harsh, hushed hiss chastised me as a firm grab took hold of my shoulder to furiously yank me backward. I was losing focus once more. I hadn’t realized how much I was wandering, about to step mindlessly into the next room past the entrance to the hall. Kilun was quick to list his grievances, however, as the angry words came pouring free. “Are you deaf as well as mute?!” came the furious question leading the barrage. “Min just said he picked up scanners ahead. There are automated drones left behind, you old fool. Listen with your ears, and pay attention to what we say.” He shook his head as he took the lead from me, firm hands keeping me in place as he passed, as if I might continue to push past him in my daze. Kilun peered around the entrance, senses prowling for any sign of the enemy.

“At least two drones, maybe a third” Min whispered, still steadily tapping away at his device. “They are set up to relay off-site alarms. If they go off, we have to pivot to scorched earth. And I shouldn’t have to tell you what a waste that will be for our time and credit spent to get here.” Min was tense, their voice a bundle of worry while Kilun seemed to swear something under his breath.

“Alright, daydreamer, where to?” Kilun asked, his eyes unable to discern anything of the palace walls. It was a good question. If there were drones up ahead, I assumed it was to watch the elevator shaft down. It might not be functional, but for two Tenno and a Corpus technician, the obstacle was a manageable one. The palace research center was likely the place the Corpus wanted access to most, and if they had ordered tools to dig they might not think anything more is of value here. Despite this, I wanted to check Oapali’s chambers before descending further. I began with a question.

Ask Min if we can contact Dovas safely. I insisted to my companion, my words echoing through us while our contact offered my words a conduit. The Tenno looked at me strangely once more. Each time I tried to speak with my ‘voice’ I was given that skeptical and disapproving leer. It seemed as if Kilun was silently announcing their distrust in some way. Though the look was somewhat accusatory, they relayed my question, and Min was quick to respond. 

“No! Not yet! Either disable those drones or you need to guarantee we can mask any communications from the cephalon. And personally, I don’t think it's a great idea...” On hearing this, Kilun seemed to plot.

“Well, give me a rundown: how do they work? How do they sense us?”

“Typically Corpus drones are visual only, but these ones are a newer design, set up with a few extra sensors. They likely have audio, potentially some thermal sensing. Unless you can break them both at the same time, one will relay the destruction of the other back to Corpus command. It’s a simple but effective system.” I did not have much faith in my coordination with my kin, and I was ready to offer up an alternate route suggestion before Kilun stepped forward. 

“I see exactly where they are. Their engines are small, but even the tiniest noise can’t escape me. You said two at once, right?” He asks, pulling a few throwing blades free from a pouch on his hip. He handed two back in my direction, a brief question directed to me: “You’re familiar, I take it?” I nodded, though in truth I had only tossed these kinds of blades a handful of times. I knew the basics, but I was far from mastering them. 

“Place your hand on my arm, Ruuk. I’ll show you where they are.” I followed the instruction, closing my other senses as I tried to tune into Kilun’s. Once more I was met with that striking image of the operator behind the puppet I was beside. It took a moment, but eventually that image faded, plunging me into darkness. I focused, and I waited, and as the moment stretched on I was able to see the space before us with ripples of sound echoing through the room. There was a collection of small waves centralized in two points in the large space before us. They shifted and changed slightly, each self-propelled engine making them difficult targets for anyone without precise aim and care. As the image filled my mind, I relayed my understanding. Kilun’s Banshee nodded in turn. 

“Count to ten, and toss your blades at the one on our right. I’ll take left. On my mark… One…” And with that, Kilun broke away from me, prowling forward as the muted steps of his footfalls escaped even me. I silently began to count, working slowly around the rubble that concealed us from the drone’s view. It was dark, but there was a soft glow in the distance, and that ripple of sound Kilun had revealed to me lingered to give me my mark. By the time I stepped around the debris and could see what I was aiming at, I had less than three seconds to judge distance. I was given two blades, and knowing our timing needed to be near-perfect, I planned to toss both at once. I prepared on ‘nine’, my arm pulling back and tensing. A mere moment passes as that count of ‘ten’ struck, and my arm let loose those knives into the dim air.

They soared through the space silently as our assault struck from two sides. I was thankful for my foresight to throw both, as one went far off its mark to clatter uselessly against the wall. The other, thankfully, impaled itself in my target. If I didn’t see my own knife miss, I would have thought I had struck both of the hovering drones since they went down at the nearly the same time. I breathed a sigh of relief as Kilun made his way forward, a worried question in the air as he did.

“Any signal get out?” He asked, evidently worried about our timing… or mine. They were likely one of those that didn’t do well under pressure, or at the very least liked to push their difficulties off onto others. I had grown wary of Kilun in our time together. They were skeptical of me, as was Min. Neither of them appeared to be at ease in my presence, like I was a ticking time bomb that might go off at a moment's notice.

“No, all seems silent.” Min breathed a sigh of relief as well. “By the void, I can’t imagine doing something like that with anyone but Tenno. You both are impressive.” The Corpus shook his head at the situation, seemingly without further words. After a moment our technician seemed satisfied with his device and looked to me to report. “All clear. Go ahead and contact Dovas now.

//About time\\

The cephalon apparently needed no communication, likely listening in through our connection. 

\\So far, well done

But it is only our first obstacle\\

//Kilun, take point from here out

Ruuk has been giving off strange readings//

\\I am concerned there is interference, or worse

Min, please stay close to my operator\\

//Proceed further, I see no active signal on my end\\

I considered protesting, confused why Dovas had made this call for a moment. “You heard the cephalon, let’s get going.” Kilun remarks, energetic to continue after he had been gifted both victory and leadership in one short span. The longer I sat with those words, the more I reflected on my own moments of lapse I’d experienced while. If I was to give up, I figured I would at least try to save some face.

Dovas, please relay to my team that my map ends here. I have not visited these parts of the palace. We are delving into Oapali’s personal quarters first, but there's surely something dangerous that monster has left for us below. Even after all these years, I was not about to carelessly wander where I knew I was not welcome. The Orokin were cunning and quick, but had one particular quality more dangerous than their wit: they were spiteful. I did know a little more about the palace, but I was not about to let Dovas make some remark to the others about my incompetence. 

\\Addendum per Ruuk’s request:

Proceed with caution\\

While I did not like the tone of Dovas’ words, I ignored it for now. We were proceeding into the grand banquet hall now, not nearly as sizable as the entrance, but vast and ornate nonetheless. The central stone that stood as furniture was broken, fragments of it littering the room like much of the Orokin architecture. A small passage along one of the far walls doubled back to the servant quarters, allowing them to move between entrance, kitchen, dining, and living quarters all without being seen in any of the main chambers. I had no interest in this, since the servants were little more than prisoners themselves. Their passageways were never able to do more than move from place to place. Instead, I turned my attention forward to the next room, making my way quickly past the ruined, raised platform that served as table and altar alike. 

Kilun had come close to me after Dovas spoke. His voice had concern, his words hinting at some doubt below the surface. “What is it to be wary of?” The question seemed rhetorical to me, so we walked on and I didn’t reply. This was not the response they wanted, and in turn Kilun grabbed my arm to force me to answer. The firm grip stopped me in my tracks. I did not turn to face the Banshee as I spoke my peace. 

I don’t know, but I don’t trust this place. Be on guard for now. Oapali and his kin were monsters. They are unpredictable, and this place is as eccentric as he was. The disdain in my voice must have been palpable, as Kilun seemed to scoff at this.

“Oh come on, you can’t believe some long-dead Orokin has some trick up his sleeve? I can’t believe you’re so jumpy here, it's just an empty building.” I neglected to bring up the fact Kilun had admitted to being unnerved earlier as he continued. “There’s no one in this palace but us and a couple of corpus circuits.” I didn’t pull away, my words resonating with a darker thrum as I passed them along. 

I don’t trust the Orokin, not then and not now. This place was a living hell once, I will not let my guard down until we are done . Kilun seemed to hold back a laugh at this, while Min watched on, confused by the one-sided conversation they could only glean half of. My fellow Tenno appeared to be more than aware of my lapse in focus, and seemed quite satisfied to poke fun.

“Is that so?” There was an infuriating snicker in their voice. “You’ve been daydreaming since we arrived. I don’t think you’ve heard a word from me or Min this entire time. I’m taking the lead, so stop trying to do something you can’t do. Look, whatever hang-ups you have about this place you’re going to just have to get over them. That was the past, this is the now. Just move on already.” Those callous words lit a match in my heart. Kilun had struck a nerve, and I paused, turning to face him as they held my arm. If I had a face I’d have glared at him with fire in my eyes. I’m sure my intent wasn’t lost, as it seemed they took it as a challenge to continue.

 “Personally, I just don’t get it. Serving a wealthy Orokin seems like the best outcome. You get a bit of freedom and you don’t get treated like a test subject. It certainly beats the lords looming over us on Lua. This place would have been a comfortable paradise to anyone, worker or guest alike.” I had heard enough of his yapping. I whirled fully around, a palm flatly striking their face before they had a chance to even react. Kilun stumbled back, but I didn’t let them fall. My hand darted forward and gripped the Banshee’s shoulder fiercely. My fingers squeezed until I could feel my grip warping the metal armor, eliciting a cry of pain out from my allied Tenno. The motion made Min freeze on the spot as they watched us grapple.

Watch your damnable tongue. I retorted with venom in my voice. You don’t know what it was like here, and how could you?! I may not have been able to speak properly, but I would make myself heard here and now. My fury was boiling over, and rather than lash out physically and risk breaking my ally, I decided to do so verbally.
Allow me to share a story. I began with an energy that seemed to freeze Kilun frigid in my grip. If he could not sense my emotion before, he certainly could now. It happens to be about the guests and servants of the very same Orokin we are discussing: This hall was once visited by an ‘illustrious’ couple of ill-repute. Even the indulgent elite looked down on the acts they committed with disgust. But they were social and eager to dabble their filthy fingers in every nook and corner they could reach. So when that voidsent Oapali heard them propose a game, he invited those two for a demonstration of a darker turn of a popular pastime: indulging in Blue Kuva.

The effect was instant, I saw the struggle in Kilun as they paused, then moved as if to pull away. But I was not done. I did not let go.

The couple brought servants, a large number of them. The aging pair were preparing for their Continuity, and decided they did not want a singular vessel, but one of their own making. They were sampling their servants, like one might a platter of delicacies. They took turns, forcing Kuva down the throats of their servants and showing off the bodies that they considered by taking them over temporarily. If they found something they liked, they made notes and plans. It didn’t take long before they began their ‘feast’ in earnest, ripping out and tearing off the parts they envied from the people they owned.

So that night, I stood guard and watched while they dissected their entire party of servants. The Orokin pair spent hours pulling their favorite organs from their favorite few while the lambs waited in the wings for their turn of torture. For these two were delighted to do the same to the bodies they were in, taking delight in the pain. They spent their evening taking what life they pleased, plucking eyes, sundering vital organs, spilling the blood of their followers and themselves alike as they gorged on still-breathing flesh. With their ‘treasures’ in tow, the couple left with a skilled doctor to craft them a vessel of their own design. Oapali made use of the organic leftovers as experimentation, designing prototypes of the neural sentries using the meat, nerves, and bone of their expired party favors.

Kilun’s emotionless face somehow conveyed its feelings. He looked mortified, the horror visible through the connection I forced through my touch. That night, as the silent servants scrubbed crimson stains and slick from the palace floor, I guided my ‘master’ back to his quarters as he complained of having such rowdy guests. So casually he talked of slaying all of the cleaners if he could still smell the viscera in the morning. That is the reality of this place. That is the ‘comfort’ you speak of.  I was displeased, but as my vice finally relaxed, I let them go alongside my parting words:

If you knew the depths of Orokin depravity, you’d curse their very memory too. 

Kilun looked shaken, scrambling to their feet as they huffed and gave a quiet,

“Whatever…” before hurrying on ahead. Min, in the meantime, stood dumbfounded, unaware of the exchange we had between us. Yet they looked at me with a form of terror I had unfortunately seen before. Min looked upon me much like the servants had so many years ago: terrified, like they were suddenly standing before a wild beast. All things considered, this may have been closer to the truth than they knew.

Kilun had become flustered by my outburst, and they kept their distance from me. The Banshee rushed forward ahead of us as they entered the final hall. There was only one place that corridor connected to, and I hoped my kin had some caution as he marched onward without myself and our Corpus guide. This would be a risky section of the palace. While the Corpus had likely already looked through it, I expected the palace to be holding something more in store. The hall itself was still lit with the barely-functioning light of the palace, and that lingering golden glow was off putting to me. It meant somehow, something still lingered here after all these years. I’m sure the Corpus realized this too. That is how they found me, after all. As the hall opened up into another circular chamber, I realized this was my first time walking here. I had never been allowed down this hall, and I never dared to defy this rule when the ears of Oapali were everywhere.

The private quarters of the expired Orokin lord opened around me. Of course, this was likely one of the first places pillaged, as recent tracks in the dust were frequent and the walls themselves felt bare in comparison to the remaining palace. In entering this chamber I was rocked by a wave of sensation, my body shuddering as…

I considered what I had done. I looked at my hands, each unsteady as I held them up. Blood, bright and telling, dripped from my fingers. I’d done it. At long last he was dead. It brought me no comfort. It brought me no solace. I had killed before, but this was different. I had severed something inside myself. I had taken a step that could never be recovered from. I had done something… unforgivable…

My hands were clean. My senses turn upward in slow, dawning horror. The room had been stripped almost in its entirety… almost. My tread ground to a halt, no longer focused or even concerned with Kilun at this point. To my own horrified surprise something remained in this room. something that made my limbs cold and still as I stood in the entrance. Surely, it must have been there the day of our uprising. Surely I could not have missed something so obvious. All other things faded as I was drawn back by the scars of my past once more. Covering almost the entirety of the far wall, the focus point of the room, clung a monument to my own ruin. 

It was a picture; a grand portrait, to be precise. The frame of the ornate image was intact, but so massive that it was no wonder no attempt had been made to move it. The portrait itself was worn with time, faded and lined with layers of nameless dust, yet the image was clear enough to haunt me to this day. It was not the aged, lanky appearance of Oapali, it was not a portrait of the withered face and sunken sockets of the Orokin. 

No, this portrait was of a youthful visage alight with a victorious smirk, so different from the face I saw lying before me in the pooling blood. The damage of void-exposure had been meticulously and surgically removed from the young man’s face. A child, the very same that I had seen in my void-dream aboard the Zariman. I felt a panic, the likes of which I had not felt since the lightless hunt aboard that shipwreck. A myriad of emotions washed over me, sorrow, shock, grief, despair, all in rapid succession as I looked upon the image I had forgotten. The image of a portrait that was once my own face.

Chapter Text

Shock is an emotion that is hard to describe; it is equally hard to understand. It can elicit such strange reactions from us, often acting in these moments of uncertainty, or thoughtlessness. The moment of the void jump left all aboard the Zariman in that state. Our leap was supposed to take us to a brand new world, so imagine our surprise when we suddenly found ourselves adrift in an endless sea. 

When I discovered that portrait, the long-lost image of my former flesh smirking down at me, I could describe it only as that same palpable feeling. I had never come into this chamber in my years of servitude under threat of punishment. I had no idea such a horrific portrait had been made. The sight of the ancient painting alone seemed to make me writhe in my skin. Blistering heat was welling from my heart with every passing pulse of my quickening heartbeat. It was a filthy monument of vanity. Utterly vile to me in a way I did not know I could feel toward some inanimate thing until that moment.

I had cornered the coward at last. It had been a bloody day of fighting. My body was reaching its limit. I was forced to kill every guard in the palace, all of them bound by blood to the monsters that called themselves lords. I was sure the other Dax were laid to rest, such was the price of servitude. I was tired, my energy nearly expended. I had only this one last task to complete; one last soul to slay. Yet as I looked down on him, feigning innocence in a child’s body– in my body– I could not quite bring my hand to fall. Though I felt no pity for the thief, no mercy in my heart for the cold and cruel soul that dwelled within this shell, my hand only quivered. I could not make it move to quell the conflict warring within my heart. Perhaps I had believed it was possible to return. I must have held some fragment of hope, some fleeting belief that I would not be trapped forever within my Baruuk. Yet the pleading words that came next dashed that all in moments. As soon as Oapali began to talk of returning things to normal, bargaining with the body he resided in, I knew it was nothing but a far-fetched fantasy. I understood that it was impossible. And so, no longer hesitating, my hand moved to let that fatal strike fall–

A firm shove jolted me from my haunted memory, activating my instincts in a manner that made motor controls take over automatically. My body tried to resist, my arms leaping to defend myself against the unwelcome sensation as I tried to move forward with single-minded purpose. My anger was boiling as I’m touched, distress driving me on as I struggled against the force of Kilun pressing against me.

Get off! I silently roared while I lashed out, arm trying to push back from my disadvantageous stance. I was sure he heard my voice in that moment, along with all the confusion, fear, and pain that flowed through me in a whirlwind of turmoil. I heard Dovas relaying instructions to everyone but myself.

//His transference signal is too erratic

Remove Ruuk from there, now\\

Kilun had been moving me backward with firm arms pressed to me despite my resistance. He had taken a steady position and was forcing me back toward the door despite my straining metal muscles. I broke free of those hands, quickly adjusting to press back to match that force as my feet slid to a stop. Ferrite furrowed and fury flared as my body tensed. I tried to push back against that firm physical insistence, feeling the instincts to thrash and to get Kilun off me.

I’ll break it– I’ll destroy it! I have to. I announced to no one, my words pouring from me in a moment of passion as we struggled with our bodies against one another. It was my stubborn resolve pushing me on as I tried to step forward, but found myself forced backward steadily by the Banshee before me. He was perhaps one of the few able to bar my ability to pass judgement.

\\Kilun, remove Ruuk from that room!

Min, keep your distance, he’s unstable\\

//He will destroy this entire palace if you let him\\

In my confused and addled state I couldn’t comprehend why my own kin would be holding me back. Kilun ought to have known what the Orokin could do, he ought to have understood why they were slain. He ought to have understood my fury. I could only come to one conclusion in my impassioned state: my companions were not on my side. They would simply follow orders. They couldn’t see the truth of this place. They couldn’t understand why it needed to be torn down.

No, I know why Dovas wants it protected. I began to muse darkly to myself. He wants to see the fragments of his glorified memories protected. He wants these Orokin relics to last. I stopped pushing, changing tactics suddenly as I moved to strike Kilun, to push him away and get past him. Yet the Tenno was ready, as if waiting for this moment. The Banshee sidestepped my shove, gripping my arm as he leaned forward to vault me over his thigh. 

“Apologies,” Kilun said without emotion, and in a swift, fluid motion I’m put off balance by his maneuver. I’ve hardly gone horizontal before a blast of sonic energy struck me square in the chest, rocketing me down the corridor we had just walked as I rolled and tumbled until I finally stopped sliding. It was powerful, but blunt. Little more than a dizzying burst that concussed me enough to force my body to lay still for a moment. I had been dazed by the disorienting sound that left my senses ringing. Dampening my senses only served to worsen my mental state. I began to slip as my focus faded, lingering on lost memory as I tried to pull myself from the palace floor. I was unsteady when I tried to regain my footing; the world was slanting as I watched Kilun step closer. He was ready to continue.

I did not know how long I lay there, exhausted and spent. Blood was everywhere now. I had not shown mercy, I did not want that form preserved. I was shuddering, my body voicing the emotions I could not scream out. I was quaking, sobbing without sound, crying without tears. I was howling silently, wanting nothing more than to rip my face open and let my voice tear from my sealed throat–

Another blast rocked me back to reality for a painful moment, rolling me further away from my intended goal. I swear I heard a mutter from the Banshee that lit a match inside me as I toppled back to my knees. I had been sent close to the defunct elevator shaft, precariously perched mere meters from the chasm. I righted myself, fury burning in earnest as my turmoil turned from memory to present anger. Kilun was marching right at me, and I was preparing to punch a hole straight through him, all be damned…

They could have been my allies. They were all the same as me, people forced into servitude under this monster. We were kindred in that way, all the same expendable resources under the oppression of the gilded gods. If only I could have reached him first. If only they were able to resist the command. If only I didn’t need to kill them all. If only… I recall taking a stance, ready to parry and riposte the last opponent still standing: the captain of the guard. She came closer, blade poised and ready. All I needed was to wait for the strike. Just… wait…

//Kilun, do not provoke him

In this state: he will break you//

I heard those words, but did not register them. Dovas’ warning seemed to come at just the right time, as it stopped Kilun in his tracks. The Banshee seemed reluctant, like he wanted to test that theory, or at least he seemed eager to continue this impromptu spar with me for some reason. I had come to in a battle stance, one my body had instinctively taken. My outstretched hand looked lax to invite an attack while my muscles poised to strike. Reliving my memories here was putting me into a volatile state, near murderous. I was slow, unfocused, but perhaps Kilun paused because he could sense my animosity. There was a black, burning desire to break and rend that had bubbled to the surface. It felt familiar, like that tarry, oily presence that haunted me was boiling inside my heart. I wondered if it was experience or instinct that kept Kilun alive. Be it my spite, or the cephalon’s words, Kilun was spared by keeping his distance from me. A writhing, wounded sensation was still coiling in my chest. I do not think I could have held back at that moment if my companion had come any closer.

Behind the Tenno I could see Min lurking in the hall, meekly peering out at us as he watched our sibling quarrel. His face was obscured by his mask, though his bent body and nervously steepled fingers seemed to convey his worry. He certainly seemed terrified at the prospect of being close to me after all of the outbursts.

I dropped my stance after a fleeting pause, leaving the burning embers in my heart alight while I began to walk forward. The Banshee tensed, as if waiting to meet that silent challenge I had presented, yet any attempt was stopped by that stern voice of our guide.

\\Ruuk, that’s enough

There’s nothing for you in the bedchamber\\

//There’s nothing for any of us there\\

I couldn’t accept this, I wouldn’t accept it. So my steps continued, unimpeded by something as weak as words. I didn’t look at Kilun as I passed, nor heed Min as he scrambled to get out of my way. I had to destroy the mural. It was a fragment I had left behind, something I had let slip by in my unfinished quest for vengeance. I do not know how I could live with myself knowing that such a thing existed. If I did, it would have haunted me for the rest of my days. And despite those words of protest from all around me, I honed in on old habits. I acted with anger. 

So I left my team behind as I walked down that hall once more. The steady echo of my tread pulling me down once more.

The first thing I recall was waking up in the darkness. I did not even recall when I had gone to sleep. I sat up, far from my usual chamber. For some reason I was already connected to Baruuk. I had never woken like this before, wondering if I had somehow linked to my warframe during my slumber. There were footfalls coming down the hall, a steady noise that announced Oapali himself must be near, as few others in the palace were ever permitted to make sound. A voice, so familiar, reached my senses. It didn’t sound like the aged Orokin, and it drew my full attention as I stood, ready to receive instruction. The door opened, and we both froze in a frigid panic. Oapali, seeing a servant he expected to be dead; myself, seeing someone walking in my own skin-

My chest was heaving with emotion. I had no recollection of the past few moments. My hands were trembling, aching now from some force I did not recall delivering. The portrait was no longer hanging. The golden trim of the painting had been warped and twisted, lying about the room in various parts and positions. One fragment even impaled into the wall, driven so deep it did not seem likely it could be removed again. The space the portrait once hung showed great scratches and scuffs from where the storm had torn it down. Tatters of canvas cloth now lay in odd piles around the room. There was a soft wind still roaring, the last of the energy –my energy– dissipating while I came to my senses. I do not recall sundering that horrid image, I cannot recall the way in which I caused it to fall to such pieces. Yet there was something of relief in knowing it was destroyed at last.

And while the nightmarish relic was properly eviscerated, the damage had been done to my psyche; I doubt I’d ever be able to pull that image from my mind. My own features warped by the Orokin’s influence was a nightmare I couldn’t have thought to conjure in my darkest dreams. Though now I wouldn’t have to. It would stick with me against my wishes. Somehow Oapali had managed to deliver one last wound thousands of years after his demise.

My arms finally fell to my side, easing into a state of relaxation after an untold amount of time tense activity. I felt like I needed rest, expending far more than I had intended to. My energy was quite drained from that exercise in destruction, but I felt it well-vested. At the very least, it quelled some of the aching fire in my soul. I gave one last look to the room, satisfied in seeing that nothing of Oapali now remained as I turned to leave, making my way somewhat quickly down the hall. I knew I would still have my companions waiting for me. It wasn’t until I made it back to the elevator room that I saw the state I had left my team in. 

Morale seemed low, my outbursts certainly having an effect on the others. Min was busy, attention absorbed by his holopad while Kilun had sat and strummed the strings of his helmet like a shawzin. Dovas was the first to discern my reappearance, chastising me openly as his words seemed to reach the other two.

//If you’re quite done expending energy

We have work to do//

I thought the cephalon’s words were enough, but my companions began to vilify me in turn.

“All that only served to waste your time and effort. I know why you despise that Orokin, but there’s no point in using so much for the sake of anger. We have more to do than satisfy our grudges.” Kilun insisted, certainly on guard after the breakdown I had been displaying. 

Apologies , I snipped back, mainly to Dovas, It will happen again . My mood had blackened. I had little intention of giving any consolation to any one of them. Min seemed to agree with them, speaking in a tinny voice that barely seemed to reach me.

“We don’t know what lies below… we’ve only just begun our search” He was speaking the truth, however unconfidently. Dovas chimed in again, surprisingly soft for his usual candor.

//Do not continue to linger on what has passed

You are living in the now, many years since then//

\\Whatever your history may have held

It cannot stop you from living your life\\

//Ignore your anger

As hard as that may be//

And how would you know? You couldn’t possibly understand what… I paused, my outburst slowing as I caught those words before I simply turned them loose. Dovas might be one of the only people to know my plight. Cephalons were once people, they once had lives and memories themselves. I couldn’t claim to suffer so uniquely when he had undergone quite the similar, if not worse, fate at the hands of the Orokin. My fist clenched silently, balled with enough force to make my fingers ache as I bit back my burning frustration. It’s easier said than done .

“Come on, Ruuk, let’s continue. We are not done here.” Kilun’s words may have been encouraging, but his delivery was dark, almost like a warning to keep it together. I looked at him for a moment, trying to read past the veil of the warframe between us. I could not begin to imagine what he thought of me, yet I had little interest in truly understanding that feeling either. I walked on past my team toward the gaping shaft of the elevator, listening, but not responding to the words that met me on that precipice. I was uninterested in these small consolations. I understood now that I would never feel secure or at ease in this place. It was best to simply agree and move on. I moved to the elevator’s edge, half expecting Kilun to try to knock me into it with another burst of energy. As loath as I was to admit it, they were right. We had more to do here. I was dissatisfied, and certainly disheveled, but I had no choice but to continue until our task was done. 

After only a moment’s pause, I turned to step off the shaft’s edge and into the large, empty space above the yawning pit. The fall was high, but certainly no taller than the tower I had plunged from back in the Vallis. My legs absorbed the shock and the impact, reverberating with an ache, but leaving no distinctive damage aside from that. As I stood and examined the elevator bottom, another heavy impact landed beside me, sending up a small plume of dust as Kilun hit the rubble in turn. The Banshee was looking at me carefully, now observing me like a liability to the mission. I likely seemed volatile to them all, and they were right. Returning here had been a mistake, I could not control my emotions. Worse, with every continued room we visited I felt more memories slipping back into place, blurring those fading lines between past and present.

 A soft hiss signals my last tagalong’s arrival as Min descended using the aid of a hoverpack. I doubt we would have been able to take someone as weak as our Corpus companion along if he wasn’t so resourceful. We were once again on the move, working our way through the deeper halls as I hoped our path would not dredge up more memory. I had not been down to these parts, only knowing of them through the elevator above, but that did not mean I would be safe from myself. As we found our way through another tight corridor I realized that this was perhaps not the same depth that I thought we had reached. We had entirely circumvented the gardens, though that perhaps was for the better. I hoped that the Orokin flora that had grown there had long been snuffed out, at least that was the intent I had when I left it buried in the rubble. It would be dangerous if the Corpus got ahold of any ancient species.

I had no idea what could be in the depths anymore. The only pathway I knew of had collapsed, now entirely blocked. The ritual chamber had been torn down in my exit from the palace. If the Corpus were to dig, I doubt they would find more than fragments, but I had no intention of sifting around in the debris myself. I put that chamber out of my mind, reminding myself that there is no point in dwelling on what I cannot control. If we could just verify there was nothing here we could leave. I was ready to be done with this task, ready to leave it all behind. The tower, my past, even Dovas. This expedition had only made me at odds with the cephalon and his damned insistence on this fruitless search. I resolved myself to put distance between us, to make sure I find somewhere that is not reliant on the Orokin loyalist.

As I burned with my silent anger, there was muttering behind me. Some unheard discussion between Min and Kilun I had no interest in trying to listen in on was being exchanged. I was done with this expedition, I was done with these people. My legs led me onward, moving quickly through the nearly lightless underground corridor. The hall continued down, a straight shot forward until it mirrored the chamber above, opening into a large space.

Another room I had never visited: some great, sunken amphitheater. The room seemed almost like a stage, the wide, vaulted arches rising up like the accents of one of Oapali’s acoustic rooms. It could easily have acted as a ballroom, a parlor, or even a ceremonial site. The room itself dipped into the ground, creating a steadily descending set of great circles guided by four ramps on the cardinal corners. It continued to slope inward, descending several meters down until it reached a central pillar, raised like a tall podium. There appeared rubble or some kind of waste scattered about the room. What impressed me most, however, was the figure at the far end.

As we entered the room there was something directly opposite of us, a large statue that was an amalgamation of some architecture and unknown materials. Golden accents and gilding filled the crevices of this figure, while time-worn metals and alloys seemed to make up the full armor across the statue’s form. As my step walked silently over the smooth, curved floor, I could make more of the statue’s design out. It appeared to be shaped almost like a Dax soldier, the curved helm shorter, not quite as prominent. The shape was certainly there, though the statue itself was far bigger than any Dax that ever existed. It bore no weapon and stood at attention with an arm at the ready. The armor on its chest was heavy, light on its limbs. The statue itself appeared to tower over any living thing, easily fifteen meters tall. So high the top of the statue was close to the ceiling of the grand room. My attention seemed to hold on this entity, unsure at first what I felt about its presence. It did not seem like something Oapali would keep, yet I would never claim to have understood his tastes. Even to the bitter end, I merely knew him as a monster, not a man.

There was a transmission suddenly from Dovas, his voice almost panicked as he reported to us.

//Attention scouts

I am seeing a massive biosign is in that room//

\\Visual confirmation needed:

What in the Seven is in front of you?\\

His words were hardly troubling to me, perhaps because they hadn’t settled into understanding. Yet Kilun and Min immediately froze in place at the alert while my own step kept me walking forward. I could see that massive object standing there, a sentinel of distant past. I heard Dovas’ notice, but I didn’t give any heed. My curiosity seemed to get the better of me, caution set aside as I continued to walk forward, earning a harsh hiss from Kilun.

“The hell do you think you’re doing?!” He yelled out at me, obviously distressed that I was moving toward whatever Dovas had just warned us of. Yet this seemed to be a bigger mistake than my movement. The moment that cry was let free it echoed around the chamber, caught in some sort of acoustic loop as it resonated for a moment. The reverberation had hardly died when suddenly the statue began to shift. It adjusted, slowly groaning to attention as it gave a steady, world-shaking step toward us. It was indeed active, and I heard an oath behind me as Kilun began directing Min “Stay back, don’t get too close.” At least, I assume he was directing our Corpus. Perhaps those words were intended for me, though I seemed to pay them little heed as I continued to walk forward. I was not intimidated, rather, I felt inspired.

This thing was not of Corpus design, leaving only one option: Orokin. Oapali crafted or commissioned this statue so many years ago, as he did the portrait I had sundered. Somehow, it persisted these many years. It was a little troubling that I did not see Corpus tech set up around here, though I did notice the odd items littering the scene again. Upon closer inspection, I realized they were remnants of the ‘modern’ robotics that seemed to number the Corpus ranks, scrap parts littering the sleek floor to create uneven piles of metal and matter alike. This golem was still operational, and while I thought my purpose was done, there was something yet left to rend. My attention was fully on it, watching it come to life with a myriad of emotion in my heart. That same melancholic feeling, that same loathing, that same desire to break, all tinted with something new. Excitement? Catharsis? I couldn’t quite comprehend my own reaction. Yet I hardly had time to. Once I identified the statue as a potential threat, I began to confirm information with Dovas in time with my own thoughts.

Watch through my eyes, Dovas. It's obviously an Orokin creation. Slow, bulky, and armored. You said you saw signs of life? I attempted to confirm, trying to figure out what this was through observations alone. That heavy mass of material was steadily advancing, step after step echoing through the chamber as it seemed intent on making its way to the space Kilun and Min stood, even as I circled the sunken center of the room. Where it once stood close to the ceiling, with each step forward and each step down it appeared to gain more room to move, the ceiling reaching higher until the mechanical monster was closing in on the room’s center.

//Quite right

Heat signatures and a pulse: some sort of biorhythm//

\\Whatever it is, it’s alive//

Then it can die. I stopped walking, then making a mad dash for the giant as my feet struck the floor. My approach drew the immediate attention of the construct. It turned slowly, seeming to follow me as its chestplate steadied on me like a compass. The Orokin item seemed to watch me carefully while I closed the distance between us. It raised an arm to swing down on me in a steady, predictable manner. All too easy to avoid. I paused my advance, just out of reach as the swing went short. However, the impact rumbled the floor with such power that it seemed to reverberate through the entire asteroid, causing tremors as its fist struck the ground. I lost my footing a moment, not expecting such power behind its attack. It would flatten me if I tried to take the brunt of that blow. 

It took only a moment to recover my stance, but the statue was already moving again, stepping closer with a steady thump while the other hand was raising, raring to strike again. This wasn’t something I could simply evade with power alone, my entire body couldn’t phase through something that huge. It would take too much energy to try to recover from every strike of that gargantuan fist. In truth, I wondered if I could even take a single hit. I leapt away, putting distance between myself and the monster as another world-shaking blow echoed through the floor, surprisingly without fracturing the smooth, white material of the foundation beneath us. My only conclusion was that it was reinforced to withstand the force of the goliath. The great titan continued its sluggish onslaught, slow, but no less dangerous as it continued to chase me on the retreat.

I was keenly aware of the golem coming for me, though I noticed my companions start to move. As I danced out of the monster’s reach, Min appeared to take a wide berth from the enemy to circle the outer wall while Kilun was approaching us now. He appeared intent to not be shown up by the ‘mad’ Tenno he was partnered with. Kilun was either optimistic, or testing the waters as the first attempt at damaging our opponent was a small burst of sonic energy, much like what he had used on me. While the golem had focused on me for the past few swings, the blast drew its full attention, the sensation immediately making the golem turn to Kilun as those fists no longer seemed to even notice me. Its weight shifted, and the titan began to hunt the Banshee in place of myself. It gave me time to observe.

This behemoth was dangerous, but it was slow. As long as we stayed moving and reactive I doubted it would be able to catch us. The gargantuan sentinel did not appear pristine, and I could see age peeking through the longer I circled the construct. Kilun was good at keeping the thing’s focus while my senses took careful stock of our enemy. The materials had grown discolored with time, each sound of its motion met with creaking and snapping, as if the ancient guardian was slowly crumbling as it moved. It may well have been, as dust rained down around the sway and swing of those heavy hands that sought to destroy us. Though there was more to this monstrosity than metal. When I honed my senses enough, I could feel the steady thrum of something inside the shell of Orokin creation.

Kilun was surprisingly adept at avoiding the assault. The Banshee danced around the furious falling blows, keeping just enough breadth to play it safe. Between the both of us, we tested and toyed with the entity, measuring its range, its speed, its power. I was accustomed to this tactical tail-turning, though not all Tenno were apt to choose to evade. Kilun appeared to be more akin to myself than I expected, finding power in that ability to move, dodge, and outrun rather than trying to best the behemoth in a test of strength. While we kept the Orokin guard busy, I noticed our final scout running on the other side of the room.

Min had fled, directed by something –or someone– to the space the golem had originally stood. I caught a glimpse of him slipping through that entrance and deeper into the complex while we kept the guardian at bay. I thought perhaps this may have been for safety’s sake, but I knew better than to let my mind wander in the midst of a fight. Especially here, especially now; it was a dangerous thing to stop focusing on what was in front of me. 

//Ruuk, do not waste your life here

Run if you must//

\\There is no honor in death//

Was that worry from the cephalon? Those words might have reached me, but I was not listening. This thing was more than an obstacle to me. If I could destroy it, if I could break it, then perhaps I could reclaim some of what I had lost. As foolish as that may be, that is what I believed, and that is what drove me on in that fight.

The heavy golem creaked as its hinges bulged, whatever internal mechanisms that helped it move must surely be weakened by the years. This, I thought, would be my best opportunity. So it was here I directed my energy. As Kilun drew the golem’s next swing, I took my chance and bolted for the legs. A slow, sidelong swipe at my approach was simple enough to slide beneath, and as I came up to the lower limb I crouched, spiraling to put just a little more force behind my strike as I pummelled the hinge of what appeared to be the goliath’s knee with all my strength. I felt metal crumple, something soft beneath giving way in just one hit. It was all I could manage before I needed to roll, dodge, and evade to get out from under the massive monstrosity that attempted to retaliate. 

Despite my strike, it was not enough to even slow the behemoth. Kilun was keeping pace enough to avoid the deadly but sluggish sweeps of those mechanical arms. His movements were agile, though he appeared to be uncertain how to approach such an enemy. Tenno were fast enough to take out light units with ease, but heavy armor like this typically needed a tankier ‘frame to safely manage. Neither of us had the firepower or the endurance to go head to head with this metal monster. I was merely vying for time. I doubted I had the strength to destroy something this large, but Kilun appeared to have some sort of plan. 

“Keep at it! Don’t let it get a read on us.” The voice resonates around the room as it sounds out. After I’d connected my fist with it, the golem turned to pursue me. Kilun leapt up, giving a blast of sonic energy square in the back that drew the full attention of the entity away from me once more, and offering me one more opportunity to go for its hinges. I took that opportunity, aiming for the same place I had hit once as I repeated my motions. My body was barrelling forward to use my full weight to strike at the support of the golem. Once more I felt metal bend beneath my blow, but it was not nearly enough force to rend it. I backed off, Kilun barking out to me.

“You’ll need too much energy to destroy the leg. It is weaker at the waist and neck!” My ally called to me. I was uncertain why he was so sure of this, it did not make sense that those places– much thicker in circumference than its limbs– would be weaker. I was ready to dismiss those words, ready to continue my own approach to defeating this goliath, until I understood properly what Kilun was doing.

The Banshee was playing it smart and safe, keeping his distance. It was a wise approach, coming close to give a burst of resonance before slipping away, making distance between himself and the guardian. I thought that those weak bursts would not even harm our target. It appeared quite a waste of time and energy at first, though as the process repeated for the third time, I soon started to understand. It dawned on me that Kilun was not using them for offense, but had been testing the golem, sending shockwaves through its entirety to locate those sensitive spaces. It was the same power he had shown me earlier, using sound to resonate and listen to better understand the space around us, or inside our foe. It was the perfect recon for an enemy like this, allowing a rather thorough investigation on the density and structure of our enemy in the midst of the battle. I tightened the grip of my fist as I realized we might be able to manage. But there was no safe method to reach its head. 

The waist of the construct was indeed thinner than the chest, but it was still impossibly thick looking. Surely some critical components ran through what spine the creature possessed, and I honed my attention there. As it followed Kilun, I made my approach, leaping up to plant as fierce a strike as I could to the back of its waist. The effect felt much the same, buckling metal and soft internal material beneath, but the effect was much more pronounced. This time, my blow sent something seeping from the openings in the armor, a slick fluid that dribbled from those weaker points. The disgusting squelch of liquid ichor, dark and coagulated, splattered along the smooth floor of the amphitheater as the great golem swung back to retaliate, much too slow to catch me as I skittered away. 

Given enough time, I was starting to believe we would be able to handle this monster. I wished I could call back to my ally, commune with him to better organize our assault. My voice would not reach him, not without risking safety by getting close together. I would have to simply let my actions speak for myself as I fought. The Orokin guard was steadily making its way toward me, that emotionless facade of life giving another sweep across the floor to push me back, stopping us from getting too close now. It seemed to be going on the defensive, adjusting to our hit and run approach. It almost seemed like the monstrosity was on a pivot, ready to adjust at the first sign of motion. But, perhaps that wasn’t the case. My examination began to fit all the pieces into place, steadily coming to understand with my insight the true nature of our opponent.

I couldn’t help but notice how quietly it moved. No roaring echo, no monstrous cry, only the squeak of its hinges due to the aged components. And upon recollection of my loathed master’s eccentricities, I paused stock-still before the golem. It was a risk, but I was curious, and thought that perhaps I could evade if it became a necessity. The construct had been honing closer, coming after me as it tried to handle the assault from both ends. It was here I stood, within arms length as the monstrosity adjusted and looked as if it might attempt to crush me then and there.

“What are you doing!?” Kilun belted across the hall, perhaps believing me lost in thought. But in truth, I was waiting and watching. And in waiting, I was rewarded. The titan paused, as if uninterested in my stillness. But it wasn't the movement the massive warrior was seeking. It turned, following fully after Kilun now as I made a motion, pulling my sword free as I clattered it loudly on the shield that popped open from its mount on my arm. The loud clang was enough to draw Kilun’s attention, and catch the interest of the titan in turn. For emphasis on my realization, I tried my best to convey the message to Kilun, beating the sword and board together enough until our foe turned properly to observe me. Then, before it could become engaged again, I took my arm back and flung the sword horizontal along the amphitheater floor.

It skittered and clattered in a chaotic cacophony, and it served the exact purpose I hoped it would. As it came close to the golem, the great titan raised a fist, swinging down at the sound that it saw as a threat and tried to pummel the blade into dust. The ceremonial weapon could not have hoped to survive, cratered and crushed like the Corpus proxies before it. The blade was ground into parts and pieces across the floor. But that was an acceptable loss. I had made my point, and Kilun seemed to understand at once as we watched our opponent pause, unable to detect us as we stood stock-still.

Across the hall, the Banshee’s intent was boring into me, as if seeking to convey some message. I was sure there was some desire, some plan or idea that was trying to be pieced together in that moment. Perhaps I misunderstood, though I believe I made the best of that moment regardless of original intent. Kilun drew up his arms, channeling his own energy as suddenly the sound came humming back in full. Then, all at once, a tidal wave of energy. That Banshee sent a thrum of motion and noise rolling out over the room. Kilun’s strength made the room quake, and the golem intently turned, now approaching once more as it had located its target. 

I wouldn’t let this opportunity go to waste. The moment that flood of noise and power flowed, I set off sprinting once more. My blade would have been pointless to keep, my fists the superior choice against this armored foe. I wouldn’t let the golem get to Kilun, not if I was fast enough. So as the titan stepped closer it paid me no heed, perhaps ‘blinded’ by the flood of sensation in front of it, allowing me the perfect opportunity to pursue those weaknesses and exploit that machine mind. I took my energy and thrust what I could into my hands, straightening them to makeshift daggers as I leapt up to plunge my ferrite digits into the spine of our enemy. 

My fingers met resistance, but with enough raw strength I plunged deeper, rending the metal like a blade does wood. My hands dug deep, knowing superficial damage would not be enough. I sought out something, anything that seemed useful and important. The same messy fluid began to spatter around my arms, bleeding free as the titan began to writhe, hands starting to adjust to reach toward the pain I likely caused the entity. Before I could be swat away, I gave one last push deeper still, up to my elbows in that disgustingly soft interior. I was goaded by my own drive to break. My fingers closed around something stiff and hard. So that when at last the great force of the golem’s hand slapped me away, my grip stayed tight around the object. It was the behemoth’s own force that tore free both me, and whatever I had grabbed.

I sailed through the air, my hands holding tight to my prize as I struck one of the pillars nearby. I tumbled to the ground, battered but hardly beaten. I heard the fall before I saw what had happened, looking up as the goliath had toppled, its legs strangely still as the titan fell forward onto the space my ally had stood moments before. At some point in that struggle Kilun had stopped channeling the cascade of noise, and had made fleet feet, for I could see him rushing over to me. There was a breathless excitement in his voice, an air of disbelief as he cried out to me.

“Good show! I don’t think I’ve ever felled something that size before.” He says in awe, turning to look back at the golem that was still struggling about now prone on the palace floor. Kilun looked me over, giving a small shake of his head as he continued telling me “You certainly look like you’ve been through it though.” His comment at last inspires me to look down in my hands. I’m still clinging to my prize, a thick ring of pale, osseous material that has the same feeling as the arboriform of Dovas’ ship. The fragment is coated in the ichor-oil of our foe, the same that coats almost the entirety of my front half. It still thrums with the slightest hint of resonance, some lost directive that was intended for the legs that would never again be properly delivered.

//Don’t revel yet

It isn’t over//

Those ominous words from Dovas were enough to make us pay attention. The golem had adjusted somehow. Perhaps what I had taken from it was not critical enough. The legs were dysfunctional, being dragged more than lifting, but our eyes in the skies were all too right.

 With a tremendous rumble the great golem began to move again. Debris began to fall, crumbling from the ancient entity as it tried to stand once more. Its massive hand reached up to take hold of the nearby support column. The mindless machine crushed the structure it gripped and knocked free what fancy filigree remained on the pillar as it grabbed at the stable foundation for its own support. It pulled itself as upright as it could, and some of the armored plating fell away from the behemoth to reveal more of what we suspected was beneath its armored surface: flesh. Much like the Orokin constructions after the Old War, inside the material of the golem was not metal and code, but neurons and nerves. It could not stand properly anymore, so it began to measure its functionality by opening and closing its free hand as it righted itself. That organic golem was unphased by losing that outer layer of armor and it began crawling up to its half lying, half raised position, slowly, steadily toward where it last had heard us.

It made a horrific grinding sound now as it slowly approached, those damaged limbs not allowing it the same titanic presence that it once had. Despite our struggle continuing, the mood had shifted for my ally. He seemed confident, and dangerously so. He took off in a sprint, that motion once more catching the attention of the slowed enemy. Yet the monster had one last surprise for us. It paused in its pursuit, paying us little heed as a hand reached backward to take hold of the near-useless limb I had wounded. I watched with some shock as the behemoth took hold of the armored leg and began to pull, filling the room with a horrific sound of screaming metal and squelching flesh. In one slow and steady motion, it had dismembered its leg, and quickly repeated the process with the second. 

I watched, cautiously taking in the scene as I wondered for what purpose this construct had in harming itself. Kilun, meanwhile, didn’t seem the least perturbed by the actions of our enemy. He had found himself across the room, dodging Corpus debris as he seemed to let off a steady hum of noise, purposefully drawing the attention of the golem despite its preoccupation with its own sloppy surgery. Perhaps he planned to repeat the same process as before, thinking it possible to keep the focus of the construct while I made another attempt at its vitals. I was starting my step forward, trying not to let myself get too far from our foe when the second limb was ripped free. 

In a fresh wave of fluid, the floor grew slick with the lifeblood of the golem. The smooth floor offered no absorbance, and the dark pool began to grow rapidly in every direction, waterfalling down the ledge of the tiered amphitheater wherever it reached. In just a few seconds that construct had created hazardous footing every place that oily liquid coated. I hardly have time to wonder the purpose of the machine’s own dismemberment until it becomes immediately obvious. The legs of the guardian may have been transportation, yet those heavy, useless burdens would have only slowed it down. Efficiency was priority, and as the golem began to move again I saw that it had achieved that efficiency. In place of its haphazard dragging it now moved with surprising quickness. It swung left and right on its arms, an almost humorous movement that showed it adjusting to this locomotion far easier than either of us expected. And it was fast.

Kilun panicked, as what he assumed he could outrun was now a rather stark threat bearing down on him in a destructive manner. It heard the hum, and before it would let Kilun get too much distance those arms heaved the armored torso forward, slamming the ground with another massive rumble as it flopped forward in an attempt to crush my companion. Kilun just managed to get away, suddenly cutting off the resonance feed as he attempted to conceal himself once more. Rather than allow himself to be cornered, the Banshee took a shorter path toward me, trying to gain distance between himself and the titan hunting him. He stopped circling the outer perimeter and quickly cut across, trying to outpace the guardian’s awkward efforts to bring itself back up onto those wobbling arms. It would have been almost comedic if not for another realization that struck me. Kilun had taken a path around one of the massive limbs, cutting through the middle of the room toward me. He leapt down to a lower platform, the one below the severed limb. The one pooling with the golem’s blood.

I could not call out to warn him, and like the gift of prophecy, the moment I thought about the possibility of an accident it occured. Kilun’s heel hit the dark pool, and in one fluid motion I saw his legs go out from under him, sending him sliding onto his back as he toppled to the ground. It might have been an acceptable error while the titan was crippled, but the construct was already righted, and now fast on him as it heard that clatter of the fall. A quake was felt as the titan fell back to its stump-bottom, and a hand was already swinging down to punish the invader in turn. I hardly had time to react, watching the golem practically topple itself as its reaching hand fell in a great arc to slam atop Kilun. My ally scrambled, finding his footing in the slick and making a desperate bullet jump to safety. At first, I had thought the behemoth had missed, yet there was a great howl of pain, and the Banshee did not stand up.

The construct righted itself, and my companion did not. I did not think something had happened, until the screams of pain resonated around the room. The thrashing body of the warframe was more than enough to draw the ire of the golem, and I saw the behemoth start to move to silence my companion.

Kilun wouldn’t make it.

I made a split second decision. I leapt to action. Kilun couldn’t evade this assault, but there was little hope to survive such a strike by evading, and attempting it would leave my kin to be crushed. So as my legs beat quickly across the palace floor I readied my will and my efforts. With all of my energy reserves I channelled forth what essence I could through my arms, sliding to a halt just before the broken Banshee. That great fist was falling, tons of force ready to flatten us into the palace floor. Both of my arms guided the winds of the Desert Storm to their fullest potential, my palms thrusting upward to meet the fist as a great wave of energy blasted upward to counterbalance the might of our enemy. My efforts slow, but could not stop the strike, and the golem’s great weight comes heavily down on my outstretched arms with a rumble of force that shakes my entire world in a painful shudder. As I took the brunt of the assault, and I swear I heard the concerned cry of my cephalon at that moment.

It was not the final strike it was intended to be, but the devastation was very much real. The weight was enough to drive my heels into the ground of the palace floor, cracking and crumbling the space where I stood as I sank downward nearly a foot in depth. My fingers clenched at the titan’s fist, clinging on for dear life as I felt pain radiate throughout my body. I was certain most of my bones had cracked, if not broken. Even reinforced I knew I had torn several steel ligaments. Having absorbed much of the impact, my ferrite muscles groan beneath the effort to keep it aloft. I was half surprised I was not crushed in the process as my legs were already wavering, struggling under the weight of a mountain of metal and meat.

The burden of the world appeared to be above me, hanging like a guillotine ready to fall. Each of my limbs quivered, hardly able to stay steady after the monstrous assault I had stopped. I was in danger of releasing my burden, and I will admit a dangerous thought flashed through my mind. I considered abandoning Kilun to save myself at that moment. But both will and body held firm, and reminded myself why I was fighting this goliath. This behemoth was a creation of the monster I despised more than any other. This machine was the legacy of Oapali, the last of his works still standing. I could not allow his work to outlast me. I refused to lose to the horrid figure I had stood against for so long. 

It was that anger that tapped into the last flash of my energy. I would not get another attempt, and I steeled myself for one final push. I felt the storm roiling within me, my limbs screaming out at the strain, my soul roaring out its defiance. This would not be enough to make me give in. I had survived worse. I had endured worse. I refused to let the Orokin win this struggle, not after all I had done to come out victorious. I wouldn’t be undone by some proxy of his. I needed everything, even more than the wind of the Desert Storm. And with a shudder through my entire essence, I felt the void ripple through me, my body warping as I let every ounce of my ability free.

Through my desperate effort I ignored my physical constraints, and by tapping into the void I found my last reserves of will. Threads spool across every corner of fist and arm alike, tethering the abomination until its arm could no longer move. At last the burden of Atlas is lifted from my shoulders, though I have no time to breathe a sigh of relief. My arm pulls away for a fraction of a second, and I strike forward into the fist now locked in place above me. The wind resonates with the void, rushing through my target and reaching my influence deeper into that construct as I strike again. Then again. And again. Each assault stringing my void energy into the limb, using every hit to reaffirm the energy that immobilized the golem until my arms a flurry of motion, my body retching from the sheer sensation of repeatedly striking with broken bones. Strings of un-energy fixed not just the limb in place, but the entirety of the construct by the pale wires of voidlight. I had trapped the motion of the colossus at great cost to myself. 

Yet I don’t let up. Once I’m sure my enemy is ensnared, I rally myself one last time, heaving myself up and onto the arm in one more painful leap. There’s no time to waste as the golem tries to tug and pull away from the tethers of energy. Already my weakened force begins to snap, feeling each twang of energy reverberate inside me as it begins to tear free of my influence. I can't hold it for long. And so with one last rush my feet strike the goliath’s arm, taking me closer and closer to the head as I roar out with the last dying gale of my efforts. 

I don’t bother with my fists, I can’t strike it enough to break its head. My wires snap, releasing every bond I have and suddenly surge to reform around me, encircling the neck of the golem with a thick cable of the void’s will. I plant my feet firmly on either side of the massive head, take my Tenno will in each hand, and prepare to die if I must. Once in place, my burning arms grip that voidlight, clenching hard enough to make me cry out as I steady myself, and begin to pull. I throw my whole self into this motion, battered body, wounded limbs, burning hate all coalescing into one last violent roar of defiance. I brace, uncaring if I’m pulled, or thrown, or crushed. I would suffer any fate if it meant I could destroy the last remnants of the Orokin that took my life from me. 

A moment passes in tense silence as all I can feel is the aching pulse of my body. The golem reels, arms trying to bend, trying to grab, making any motion to pull its assailant from its body. It began to fall backward, trying to crush me beneath its body. But I did not allow myself to rest, and I had too much determination to give up. I desperately pull harder, feeling the wire dig into the armor, slicing into the metal and meat alike as it cuts deeper. I’m out of time. I feel my legs shudder, ready to give way as my internal screams seem to slip free in that final wrenching motion sheared the head of the behemoth from its torso, and sent myself tumbling backward to the amphitheater floor.

There’s a sensation of motion, the world around me shaking as both myself and my enemy land with a clatter that makes my consciousness blank. And for once, for once in a long time. I feel calm. 

I feel at ease. I feel the rage within me quelled, my roaring energy abated and unwilling to answer me. My body no longer obeyed my commands. I believe I did more damage to myself in that moment than the goliath’s fist. I thought I might stand, might make my way to my ally, or move to continue the expedition. Yet nothing happened. It could not simply be the impossible ache that throbbed through me, but the lack of something that had driven me so desperately onward. I felt empty, the wondrous kind of hollow that only comes after an exertion that would move mountains. The blissful peace I had not known for eons of slumber. I believe in that moment that I was ready to simply drift away.

The serenity I felt was incomparable, and for a time I wondered if I was indeed sleeping, unaware that there was that familiar din just on the edge of my hearing. Someone reaching out to me, someone speaking to me, though I had no ability to focus. I heard words, though they held no meaning. Yet that voice seemed so insistent and sincere. 

I do not recall how long I sat on the edge of the precipice. I looked for a long time out into the empty nothing. I felt hollowed, like my efforts that day had reduced me to little more than a shell of infested ferrite. I had resigned myself to my fate, ready to give myself up to float out and off into the nothing that awaited me. I was already so broken, so purposeless. What was life to a discarded puppet? I must have stayed there for days, though it was impossible to tell the passage of time from this distance to Sol. Perhaps it was weeks, or months–

  //Can you reach him…?\\

Each moment I contemplated the same thing: what was the point? My shackles were destroyed, my ‘master’ slain, but so too was my self. What remained was hardly me. I looked out, what senses that acted as eyes seeing that faint glimmer of sun blocked by the passing debris that separated me from the light that had once been so vibrant in the sky above me. There was no way home, no way back. I knew that if I continued on my life would be little more than frustration, rage, and suffering. Yet every time I considered pushing myself off the ledge, that tiny pinprick of light came back into view–

\\Signal is plummeting…//

I was a single Tenno adrift on a prison island in the corner of habitable space. There was nothing for me here, and no home to go back to. Even if there was, how would I reach it? I so desperately wanted to rest, to sleep, despite knowing I might never be able to again. The pox that was now my flesh would never let me to rest, never let me sleep. I could not find rest if I launched myself into oblivion, but perhaps there was another way. Another out. Another method to dull my senses. I must have clambered into the cryopod, how else would I have made my way? And as I lay down to the chilling hiss of air around me, I felt something horrid creeping into my senses. From the outside of the glass, peering down at me, there he was. The bloodied face of Oapali, wearing my own sundered skin. My body that was not myself was grinning ear to ear.

You forgot something:–

//Ruuk? Are you there?\\

…Dovas? The single word was all I could manage.

//By the Seven

I thought you had gone//

His voice didn’t have the usual pomp it typically did. Rather, he sounded almost frightened as he spoke. I was confused when the voice speaking to me suddenly changed, the words picking up not from transmission, but from my own senses.

”By Sol… I can’t believe you did it.” I realized before long it was my ally speaking, though I couldn’t even raise my head to observe. Kilun groaned out somewhere near me, the pain likely starting to set in now that the adrenaline had faded. I was in much the same state, my body burning and bleeding internally. I could hardly see, my consciousness was so weakened. My metal arm screamed in defiance, something shattered aching deep inside, yet I held out a hand, knowing Kilun was still broken. I could help to fix him. 

… Crawl to me… I can’t move . I try to project, my hand reaching upward with what little energy still lingers in my broken shell. I doubt my weak voice could reach my kin, but the motion seemed to draw Kilun over, steadily sliding along the floor toward me. 

\\Do not let him touch you

He has spent too much energy\\

//Ruuk, conserve what you can

Your primary objective is now returning to the Majin //

It was unlike Dovas to be so demanding to my rest, especially after he had insisted so intently on this expedition to begin with. I might have laughed, if the motion wouldn’t have brought me pain.

We both know I can’t well walk back. Give me time, I’ll touch us both up. My message must have reached Dovas, as he redoubled his angry words.

\\You are going to expend too much

You’re going to get yourself killed\\

\\Stop flirting with the Reaper//

His words were meant to be a warning, but I only smiled inwardly at this. If that were the case, then perhaps I’d finally be able to rest.

Don’t you have your research to attend to? Go bother Min, leave us be. I let myself drift, no longer interested in tuning into Dovas’ warnings. I left that physical shell behind, sitting up just enough for my threads to reach out around me. My companion recoiled slightly, very clearly put off guard by the way my presence changed. I needed my legs working, but Kilun did too. And so I put my efforts toward him first, that void-touch stretching free to take hold of his twisted limb. 

The metal of the Banshee’s leg was warped, I was sure any true organic tissue would have been outright sundered, but the metal of our bodies held firm, clinging together despite the damage we had sustained. Kilun nearly leapt away from me as my essence shifted toward him. I doubted he expected to feel the caress of my energy, though when he understood I was fixing him, there came a moment of calm.

Or rather, a moment of clarity. It seemed to have struck all at once for him, Kilun looking at me with newfound interest. There was a soft tone in his voice that was not there before. As if he had seen me for the first time. And perhaps he did. 

“Your warframe should not be able to use void energy, not the way you do…” he began, his understanding starting to fall into place. To this, my answer was simple, my words travelling through our ethereal connection.

I am not just a warframe.

I felt no reason to elaborate.

Chapter Text

Much of my return to the Majin had been a blur, drifting in and out as my connection strength wavered. There was little I could do, let alone think, amid my stupor. However, I recall the lab clearly.

Trying to maintain awareness after our ordeal was tough. Repairing my companion’s leg had been the easy part. Though my energy had faded significantly after, and many of my senses had started to dull as my consciousness began to flicker. I knew the risks. There was a chance I could simply fade away then and there if I overexerted myself too far. I knew I might chance my life for this, but I don’t regret my choices. It is what any child of the Vazarin would have done. Or, perhaps, I simply didn’t care about risking myself. 

Once he was mobile, Kilun had little trouble offering his stability throughout our return. The Banshee had carried me more than acted as a crutch. He carried me despite every jostle and motion drawing a shudder of pain through my entire being. More than once I felt my companion tense as a rough motion made me internally scream, a noise I am certain transmitted between us. The damage done had been deep. Both Kilun and my cephalon insisted I return immediately, yet before we were to head back I needed to properly sweep the Palace of Silence. I would not be satisfied until I knew there was nothing left. My stubborn insistence won out dealing with Kilun. I believe he felt he owed me enough to defy our coordinator, even while Dovas’ words were starting to become volatile to my defiance. We passed through the once-guarded entrance, following after Min where we believed we would find him. And sure enough, after another painfully lengthy and ornate corridor, we wound up locating our Corpus companion.

Alongside a staggering amount of ancient equipment. 

I could not quite see clearly, as my senses were translating much of the sensation through static and clouds of uncertainty. What I did gather was that this was the main lab of the Orokin I despised with my entire being. Rather meticulously maintained, it appeared like much was in working order despite the time it had spent down here. Wall to wall of the obol-embroidered tiling was a collection of various devices and materials. Min was busy, snapping photos and tapping away at the holopad he held as he muttered to himself. When he saw us, his focus seemed to shift, and he shook his head at us. Min spoke directly after a time.

 “Sounded like the whole asteroid was destabilizing, and by the Void you look like you’ve been through the wringer. I gotta say, your cephalon sure is demanding–”

//Stay focused\\

Dovas interrupted, causing the Corpus to give a small start before getting right back to his furious tapping at the pad. Despite my confusion, I had an immediate response upon seeing the labs. There was a soft breeze that picked up even as my energy was spent. My weakened words reached Kilun and Dovas alike despite their fragile delivery.

Destroy it. I murmured out. I did not care what was here, I did not waste time considering the options of discovery or intelligence gathering. Whatever research had been done here was bloody and vile to me. It was partly not wanting research to fall to the Corpus, but even moreso was my desire to see the Orokin erased. I thought back to the night of Oapali’s ‘revelry’, knowing this was the final resting place for all of those people and pieces that he took away. A fleeting thought made me wonder how many of them wound up as the golem that I had slain.

\\Kilun, you were supposed to extract with your wounded ally

Why is Ruuk still in there?\\

Kilun paused for a moment, knowing there was some truth to those words. It was imperative to get me back to maintenance and recover from the damage, yet we both knew I would not have gone easily back. Not when there was more to do here. Before the Banshee could answer, I spoke up.

I won't leave this task unfinished. This is my burden to bear, you’ve made that quite clear by now. That usual silence followed my words, leaving me wondering if Dovas might respond or simply let me be. To my surprise, the cephalon began in sincerity.

//Your safety is something I cannot risk

It is in your best interest to return//

\\Your pain is unbearable, yet you continue

You will not survive if you do not ask for aid\\

That moment of concern did take me some time to process. Dovas was being unusually kind. I considered he might feel poorly about his choices after the fight, though I tried to understand why. Was there truly some shift happening in the heart of the cephalon? Yet, Min allowed one last clue in his next words that colored our interaction differently for me.

“You are good to head back. I’ve already catalogued everything for Dovas. I’m sure we could set a few charges and take out anything left, though I’d trade limbs to take a few of these treasures home…” The casual Corpus greed might have been distracting, but there was a moment in which I realized what had happened in the prior few minutes: Dovas had directed the Corpus to this place to gather him as much information as possible while we kept the guardian busy. The materials were likely indecipherable to Min, but not to the cephalon. While we had been distracted, Dovas was making his move.

My prying continued with a particularly divisive question: Dovas, did we come here for my sake, or for yours? That gave the cephalon pause. He did not answer me for a time, and the only sound was the steady noise of Min on his holopad. Our private chat was separate from the others, directed between us alone. Yet even in this secure space, I did not receive an answer for a worrying amount of time.

Dovas had something to hide.

What did you find here, Dovas? I asked with an almost angry tone to my words. It was becoming clear now why we had come here in the first place.

//Your questions will be answered

But only aboard the Majin//

\\And away from unwelcome ears

There we can discuss my findings\\

I was in no position to argue. Even with my new understanding falling into place, I could hardly string together enough of a cohesive thought to direct it to him. Perhaps I had given one last biting remark, but from there my journey back to the ship was a blur of pain and half-formed images. I do not believe we ran into further difficulty, save the long climb up the defunct elevator. That particular stretch I recall better than others, mostly from the agony of my full weight being swung so actively that I felt myself void out several times on the ascent. Perhaps I spoke with my companion. I like to believe I thanked them before their departure. I doubted I would get another opportunity.

Beyond this, I know little about how I was brought onto the Majin. I recall the focus-shattering feeling of those metallic arms working their way across me, doing their best to repair the damages I’d accrued. The pain might have caused me to drift once more, but through that wretched sensation there was a focused fire that I clung to. Despite that strenuous surgery, I began to speak once my senses had returned enough that I was no longer dancing on the brink of death. It was painful and regularly interrupted as the ache muddied my thoughts, but I made one thing clear to Dovas as I waited for my maintenance to finish.

Whatever you believe you found, I promise it isn’t what you need. Oapali only cared for himself. He would never do something that could benefit another. Dovas no doubt heard me, but perhaps he was too engrossed in his research to reply. He did relent after some time, however. Finally sharing with me the tiniest of details about the information gathered.

\\I believe your former master has coded his work

Much of this is Orokin gibberish\\

//I will need time to work on deciphering this\\

I did not reply, for I did not care enough to give my thoughts on the Orokin research. And, of course, in all his vainglory, Dovas simply had to prattle on.

//I like to imagine you gained closure from this experience\\

Do not speak for me. I began to speak before I knew what I was about to say, my fire drawn forth from that trespass of the cephalon. You hardly know the body I carry, let alone the soul within. You give a weak answer, and entirely dodge my question. Why did you want Oapali’s research? If it was for archival purposes you would have said that outright. Tell me, cephalon, what are you using me for? As my strength returned, my words grew in might too, they were pointed now. I was directing the anger and distrust to Dovas that had been lurking beneath the surface. This was a loyalist, after all. Something was amiss, and the more he hid the truth, the more I began to worry I had made a mistake by returning to the palace. I was slowly coming to a realization that I might not be able to trust my own cephalon.

Yet my insistence won out, and for the first time Dovas relented in a way I didn’t quite expect him to.

//Very well

If you truly must know//

I may not have been tied to Dovas in that moment, but I was beginning to understand the subtle hints at his mood and his intention by now. So as he spoke, I could tell he was giving me his usual guarded truths.

//Oapali had more interests than just sound

His research into neural sentries is surprisingly adept//

\\The golem was entirely created using biological material

And equipped with the armor to back up its mass\\

//Tapping it into the same neural network as the palace

He had himself a programmable sentry//

And for what reason do you find interest in this? Did you know before we set out what we might find? I try to keep my words passive and calm, but there's a harsh question in there, distrusting and uncertain. Once more, Dovas struggles to answer for a time, as if measuring his words.

\\It is in the realm of my former research

The Majin studies many strains of biological components\\

//Variants of Helminth and Origin mass alike

Several of which still linger in my ship’s containers//

\\Oapali was studying the neural connections of Infestation

It is adjacent to my own studies//

He had shared something. Somehow I never expected the words to come, but he had said it at last. An unneeded, but no less satisfying admission to hear Dovas share the slightest bit of himself, no matter how surface level. It was still a step he had not taken. Until now.

Fine, but then tell me what you hope to use this research for exactly. Seeing as it effectively belongs to me, you owe me this much. My cephalon gave a rather dissatisfied noise. I could tell he was thinking, picking his words carefully as one would a ripened fruit.

\\Ongoing projects

Some research is not quite finished\\

That is both vague and troubling. Do you truly have no better way to explain it to me?

//Not at this time, no\\

I let out an internal groan at this. Dodgy and secretive as always. I don’t know why I expected anything less of Dovas. Tell me if anything good comes of it, then. I suffered under him all those years and all I’ve to show for it is that research. I hope you use it accordingly. And if not, it will be me you answer to. It’s subtle, though there is a sincere threat in my voice. That information did not come free, blood and suffering had been used as ingredients and resources that had coalesced into something truly warped. It had potential to cure and aid, but it was equally capable of being applied to monstrous intent. If Dovas chose as the Orokin before him did, it would not be safe within his reach. Yet I had some faith that Dovas might aim for lighter goals. I don’t truly understand how I could give him the benefit of the doubt, but something in me wanted to believe that this cephalon was different. While he seems the ideal Orokin loyalist, there was something in his approach that gave me some hope. He had his faults, there were certainly some issues that arose when Dovas was left to his own devices, but beyond those I did not think Dovas was apt to misuse his knowledge.

A distant noise sounding much like a warning or alert of some sort sounded on the ship and Dovas quickly excused himself from our conversation. By that point both our conversation and my repairs had concluded. I was feeling fine then, and the arsenal began to retract those surgical spires in exchange for one last cursory scan. That exchange had actually distracted me well, and I had truly forgotten much of the pain my body was experiencing throughout that invasive procedure.

Now left to my own devices, my attention wandered the Majin while Dovas attended to whatever it was he was drawn away by. My curiosity was drawn almost immediately to the tanks of biological growth that stood around me, the same I had first seen when I pulled myself from the floor of this ship. I recognized many of them as the same fleshy substance that had been overtaking the Nix, though several were oddly colored, or seemed to grow in an unfamiliar manner. The tanks of aquatic life made much more sense to me as well, as I could see the progression of infection on several of the still-swimming creatures. And while it fascinated me, a concern began to grow in my mind.

If no one was maintaining these specimens aside from a cephalon and a few worker drones, then what was this cultivated virus used for? Was it merely a seedbed waiting to pop free of its constraints? Should it not be culled, or contained? Were those same spores now lingering on my body? Was Dovas using this material in some fashion? I could not truly begin to wrap my mind around the concept, not while there were too many holes in the information I had been given.

Perhaps there’s a reason for that. I mused to myself. There’s obviously more that has not been said, secrets and memories still locked behind distrust. Yet we all carry some hidden flame, guarding it from the careless winds of the outside world. My own burning secret was one that threatened to consume me, that still felt like it was lapping at the edges of my soul despite having abated its power by speaking it aloud. I wondered what Dovas held close to his own heart. Surely, even as a cephalon, there was something that he still guarded from all others.

Tired with the sight of the tanks, my tread took me around the ship once more. My pace was rather steady and lax, stretching those limbs that before had me screaming out in distress. It never ceased to amaze me how quickly this warframe body could be patched up without the void’s influence. It had perhaps only been hours since I had nearly been crushed to death, and yet here I was walking on bones and metal sinew that had been entirely shattered in my fight. 

As attention moved on from the tanks, my wandering took me through the interior and into the deeper sections once more. I do not believe I planned to go anywhere, simply letting my legs guide on instinct, letting them guide me where my instincts seemed to drift. My mind wandered in turn, mulling over my situation once more, as it often did, until I paused in that ominous hallway at the heart of the Majin. I believed I was considering my next moves, where I might go now that I was free, or what I might try to do with myself. These were heavy questions, ones I did not have answers to. Yet despite my busy mind, my body had stopped moving, and I wondered for a moment why that was. Until I remembered what was here. It was in this hall, this space that I had first felt that inkling of a notion, the idea that there might be something hidden here. A concealed secret of the strange cephalon.

This time, I felt much more so. Not quite an inkling, but a hunch. My senses scoured this place, though I found nothing in the hall of notable remark. I was maybe about to leave, to lead myself elsewhere to somewhere of significance when I felt something stir. 

It was strange. Much like before, I felt a compulsion –some draw– to that sealed room of the Majin. Some dark thread of fate tied me to that place, and at that moment I felt it winding, calling me in as if at last it was ready to reveal itself to me. A presence. The presence. The same I knew stalked my shadow to the ends of the universe. It was subtle, but it was here, and I waited for an appearance, waited for some snide remark or goading visage of my past. But none came.

Instead, the door before me clicked, and the light powered on. And just like that, the feeling was gone. That devilish tendril of doubt receded as quickly as it had come, leaving me– no– inviting me to face the door that had been barred by Dovas. The operator’s personal quarters.

I could not trust that entity, its malicious purpose was one that I could neither stand nor befriend. I knew it was not my place to go prying in the dark, but Dovas was distracted. Perhaps this might be my only chance to pursue this path. Another dark thought ran through me: the cephalon did not ask to delve into my darkness, so why should I extend that liberty to him in turn? I am loath to say that I did not need much consideration before I simply stepped forward, and the door hissed open for me to reveal a near-lightless room.

It was difficult to parse the shapes I saw at first, the design of the room was so unexpected. Lights had been blotted out, giving a soft glow through some material that was too dense to allow it to permeate. The floor and walls seemed to be moving in the gloom. The quarters were not large, though there was a surprising collection of containers and terrariums, each of which had begun to spill from their respective beds and grow out into the space around it. I found myself unable to identify the type of plant or the black vines that seemed to sink into even the metal of the ship walls. Though it was the contents of a larger terrarium that finally tipped me off. 

In the corner were tiny squeaks and squeals that drew my attention, and nearly caused me to recoil in surprise. In the sealed glass were a collection of infested maggots scampering and running across one another in what appeared to be a frenzy of activity. What appeared to be the growth of flora in the darkness was the growth of the Orokin pox! I could hardly believe my senses as I took in the scene. So much to see all at once, I could hardly parse it all. And while I tried, a furious sounding cephalon began assaulting in my ears.

//Tenno? What are you doing opening that room?!

That space is supposed to be sealed by my operator’s orders//

\\Remove yourself at once and– \\

Dovas suddenly went silent.

While I stood in the personal quarters, my understanding of the situation slowly began to dawn on me. I was fixated by the mess encompassing the room. Dovas must have been taking this in at the same time, of this I am sure. Though for a moment, he didn’t speak. My gaze wandered the walls which were coated in that organic, fleshy Infestation in awkward and seemingly random patches. One of the vents to the room had an incredibly large growth on it, one that seemed to sway and glisten in the dim light, choked out by the spores and the thick covering of what little light source still burned. I hadn’t even taken another step inside before the cephalon made a sudden and foreign noise.

//“Oh… What has happened to these quarters? 

Has the room truly become this bad?//

\\Maintenance… when was the last time I…?//

Dovas trailed off, though it was evident his thoughts were becoming more manic, his speech coming out in a greater frequency and otherwise far quicker in pace than he would naturally drone.

\\Well something must be done

A purge… perhaps ship systems could handle such a thing?\\

As the cephalon began to mull over his discovery, my own attention fell onto a particular space in the overgrowth. I stood rigid as I realized something was amiss here. I could see something poking out of a bed of plant-like tendrils, stalks of cells arranged as a horrific garden of Infested flesh. Within the mass of infectious pox and unmitigated growth showed something stark white, like that of the whitened coils of Orokin flora, but lacking in luminescence.

My attention locked to the spot, at first unsure of what I was witnessing beneath the mire. I heard Dovas bark something at me that I did not register, my mind fixed on parsing what I was observing. What was lying in that pile of infested growth was something I had not expected to see. I have seen the natural process of decay before. Mangled enemies and broken warframes in my time. War was not a foreign concept to a warrior. But this? A sharp grip of unease made its way around my heart, tight with a feeling I had loathed to feel as panic settled inside me. I had to be certain. I had to confirm that it was what I feared. And so I lowered myself, reaching down to touch that telltale marker of grief when a spark slid across my senses. A flash. A feeling. And a fragment.

“– surely you’re joking! You can’t be ready to give up when we’ve come this far–” An image, half formed. A voice, unfamiliar. “-- so close – a cure is possible! –proven it!” 

//– time is growing short

If I do not find an answer soon – be forced to//

\\Your efforts are kind – honorable

But there is no hope left–\\

//– just leave me to rot

–no hope//

\\No hope\\

//No hope//

\\No hope\\

//No –//

//Open your mind!

What is it you see?//

 Dovas barked again, this time anger and confusion in his voice, but again I did nothing. I thought nothing. I showed nothing. But I felt everything.

The myriad of emotions that struck me in a sudden rush was strong. Whatever dark thread of the void tied me firmly to that pile gave me a fraction of a memory, one that resonated with a forceful energy, enough that it made my stance waver. I felt as if it would knock me off my feet, and it took all my effort not to fall back into the pulsating mass of a makeshift floor in which little creatures surely crawled and gathered. I refused to believe what I saw, or, rather, perhaps my mind refused to make the connection. It was then that Dovas, having been unable to get any response from me, gave a rather loud, sharp noise.

\\Ruuk, are you listening?

Have you not heard my instructions?\\

To this I made only one motion, tentatively lifting a hand to point. I was not able to come closer, not when that remnant of energy threatened to show me those malformed glimpses once more. The sensors of Dovas must have seen my motions and settled on the same image I had been fixated on. The sight was haunting to me, but it rattled Dovas more than I could have ever expected.

  //No. No that can’t be\\

It was a sincere, soft, and frightened voice, one I had not heard from Dovas. As he observed the scene around me a change overcame him. His words sounded strange, even distant. Lights in the hall flickered as if the cephalon seemed to struggle to maintain power, focus, or both.

\\But you left

You were supposed to leave\\

//You were supposed to be gone

Why…?//

\\Why are you still here?!//

I took a step back, the true fate of Dovas’ operator was not something I was prepared for. What I could see in the darkened room was sickening, even to a callous killer’s eye. Something inside me rejected everything about this and I took yet another step backward, eyes locked on the tendril-wrapped mess of bone and decay. Dovas, however, seemed to take it far worse than I. The cephalon seemed to let his emotions run rampant as he cried out.

\\You were supposed to leave me

I told you to leave me\\

//Why didn’t you tell me you were sick…

WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST LET ME ROT?!//

The question is screamed out in a manner I didn’t think possible from a cephalon as Dovas’ voice distorted into an echo that reverberated through the ship. The Majin’s power dimmed and the lights faded. I made for the door, my pace quickened and I was almost out as the lights flickered to emergency power. Dovas had retracted, pulling his influence back as he seemed to attempt to silence his own manic outbursts. The sight of that room was nauseating, and I tried to remove myself from it as quickly as I could. My volatile emotions were all too inviting, and as I feared that turmoil invited forth that bubbling blackness I loathed more than anything else.

Though it wasn’t simply a feeling this time. No. It arrived with a noise. A distinctly audible noise. One that was indescribably horrific to listen to. It was a soft wheeze. Quiet, raspy, and wet, steadily growing in volume, and punctuated by a slick sound I could not identify.

What about this one, kid? My movements slowed, while my nervous shaking grew stronger. My arms and legs felt heavy and tense as I turned. A telltale twitch of pain starting up in my leg. It didn’t seem to be the Majin surrounding me anymore. I had somehow ended up on the Zariman once again. My throat seized as realization crept into my heart, freezing it from the inside out. This one is so much like you. It was once a new and naive traveller of the void.  A figure in the darkness was becoming more visible as something began to shamble toward me. The sounds made my skin crawl, metal scraping metal in a cacophony of horrific, brain-searing agony. It was not the man I had seen time and time again, bloodied, battered, and looming from the dark of the ship. It was not the adult figure of my father carrying that scrap weapon, but something much worse. The remains of what I could only assume once was a young Tenno were limping toward me, dragging the familiar jagged length of metal that had struck me a thousand times over in my terrors. But now it's a husk. You have so much in common…

What was once Dovas’ operator crawled steadily toward me, into the dim light of the void-spaced hall. It lurched, as if movement was as painful for it to make as it was to watch. His skull peered back at me through bloodied tendrils. A pulsating mass detached and fell from his mouth as it opened to pant wetly. The growth splattered sickeningly on the floor of the ship, a shambling step squelching it beneath the necrotic heel of the abomination. The horror raised its pipe awkwardly as if to strike, though it appeared to cause great pain to lift. It screamed out as arm bones snapped backward under the weight of the length of metal and that entire limb came free with a dull slap accented by the heavy rail bouncing loudly off the ship floor. The haggard voice that croaked from this monstrosity of flesh and rot was all too familiar. The form seemed to try and grin at me. Empty sockets filled with infested tendrils and flesh that bored through what little remained of the operator’s face. 

Don’t you want back inside? Don’t you want to feel what it's like to be alive again? It wasn’t phrased as a question. My arm quaked in fear as I held a palm outward to the abomination. Not to strike it, but as a fearful plea for mercy. A feeble attempt to ward off the horrific monster that was approaching. My fear throttled me, rooting me to the spot. I felt like some great force was clawing its way out of my chest. I felt it painful and tight, crawling slowly upward. Slowly and steadily. That bastardization of life before me made its way closer with every passing second. 

You can’t pretend forever, kid. Neither of you can. That horrible presence was welling not just before me, but within me, as if it were soon trying to make its way, thick and terrible across my tongue. A wriggling sensation in my throat choked me up as I tried to scream, forgetting I had no mouth. I tried to move, but every fiber of my being was rooted to the ground. I tried to plea, but this horrible creature cared not for mercy.

\\By the Seven… I’ve done it again//

The scene of the Zariman was gone in a moment, like being torn from a nightmare as my quickened pulse made my whirl back to verify that the rotting body was not coming closer to me after all. I only partly heard Dovas in my panic, and understood him even less.

\\I’m at fault

I should have been cleaner\\

//I could have been safer

He should have just let me be//

\\I didn’t deserve that mercy

I didn’t deserve his pity\\

I didn’t have time to pay any heed to Dovas’ troubled ramblings. There was an instinctive desire that was at the forefront of my mind: I needed to get out. I needed to get away from that morbid discovery. I needed distance or I felt like that otherworldly entity might pour free from my throat. I moved quickly across the ship, up the ramp and all the way to navigation. I simply reached out to the nearest planet, not taking any notice as to which I had chosen. My hands were tapping the console unsteadily, each wavering, unable to keep myself still from fear. Yet there wasn’t the slightest response from the ship. Systems were not functional, not while the cephalon was so absorbed. With my pulse racing in my ears I was unsure of exactly what I felt in my stunned silence, Dovas’ own response only unsettled me further as he seemed uncharacteristically affected by this discovery.

\\And yet now I know where he had gone

It has been a year since we last spoke\\

//I thought he abandoned me 

but the truth is somehow more terrible than that//

Dovas was acting strange, and my panic made me even less interested in lingering in the Majin with him here. Yet without his direction, the ship did not move. Against my better judgement, I reached down into the arboriform, exchanging my will with the Tenno technology and Dovas alike. I wanted to take control, to try to direct my will to get away from this all. Yet touching the arboriform was not cathartic. My pulse somehow quickened further as I had a terrible flash of panic, one that soured into a deep sense of sorrow as my link began exchanging those volatile emotions between myself and the cephalon. I had intended only to use my will to get the ship to move, but in my entwined position I could feel more of Dovas’ conflict warring within him.

It was an odd sensation to feel. Typically so measured and careful, Dovas was utterly unwound. Guilt was the strongest thing pouring through that neural umbilical, and I’m sure my own fear only worsened his state as I connected to him. I could catch glimpses of thought and memory, unwillingly shared as the volatile emotions weaken those mental barriers that keep these feelings focused. I felt those fragments of passing concern, and a strong emotion that I knew so well I had thought it was originating from myself, at first. 

Loathing. Destructive, self-admonishing loathing. Dovas was experiencing a plethora of dark thoughts at that very moment. That ache of pain and suffering was unexpected to me. I had harmed my companion worse than I could have anticipated with my discovery. The emotion was one that we seemed to share in such vivid detail that it drew both of us to a small pause in the turmoil. I could almost see Dovas before me, though he was not the gold-strewn machine that I knew, he was human.

No, I could see him as himself? Still an Orokin?... can that thing still be an Orokin?

That image retracted quickly, Dovas was aware of my connection as he rapidly rebuilt the defense of his inner thoughts and attempted to draw a barrier around his bleeding heart. Though that blockage would not stop me from holding onto that image, mulling that thought as I heard Dovas speak up once more.

//If you are leaving, please hurry and do so

I do not want you in my head right now//

\\I do not think it wise to discuss much at this moment

Please, give me some space\\

While I had been ready to run, to flee from that which I didn’t understand, Dovas gave me pause. Rather than insist we navigate anywhere, I let the arboriform go, the tendril slipping from my hand as I simply backed away from the console. I turned, and made my way back to a small corner of navigation, positioning myself in a kneel as I rested. I did my best to swallow my fear, that lingering echo of darkness just at the edges of my senses was still pestering me as I tried to close myself off.

Do you pity them? The devilish whisper lingered So typical. So boring. Did you forget what they did? What they would still be doing if they were not slain? My focus was maintained, balance was steadily brought back to my pulse and my mind. I could feel that unwelcome presence retracting, returning wherever it was that monstrosity resided while I tried to bring myself back to a balanced state. Back to zero. You realize it, don’t you? What he really is? Some part of you does. Some part of you knows. The harder I tried to shut it out, the more insistent my demon became. 

While I was indeed feeling it recede, that tarry influence left something behind: doubt. I had indeed begun to understand the situation of my companion. Dovas was much like me now, but once upon a time he was not a servant of the golden gods. It was much more likely he had been one of them. Perhaps for punishment, perhaps to extend his life, he had wound up a cephalon. But it was clear he was not on the same side as me now. My disdain for the Orokin was rooted within me. There would be nothing in this world that would allow me to forgive the Seven, nor the empire they had maintained. Not a soul among them seemed possible for redemption. Yet as my indefatigable purpose tried to harden, and close Dovas to my heart, I paused. In truth, not all of them were beyond redemption. A twinge of emotion struck me as I recalled our mother at that moment. One who had stood up not just against the Orokin, but one who had inspired our rebellion. She alone ignited the resistance, and it would be a disservice to her memory to forget this. 

Perhaps Dovas too could be redeemed. The only conclusion I could come to in that moment of meditation. One that I have to hold close as one last flicker of influence warps that resolution. Redeemed from what? That was a question only Dovas could answer. Despite my uncertainty, I made a resolution not to take advice from the darkness. Something that incited fear could not be a reliable guide. My doubts would be my own, and my judgement would be without the worrying uncertainty that such a presence brought with it. 

I did not want to give Dovas space. I wanted to pry, I wanted to delve into his past. Though I did not want to face my own emotions. Perhaps that is why I did not insist upon continuing our conversation. The cephalon was withdrawn, and I understood he was now mourning. Emotions, thoughts and feelings I thought impossible for programmed intelligence, yet with every day I gleaned insight. Despite his resistance, I learned more about him. And I was not satisfied with leaving things how they were. How could I? 

I knelt there once more, steadying myself as I made my emotions flat and forgivable, knowing I was asking much as I took hold of the connective root once more, clinging to the arboriform to speak directly to Dovas.

Tell me about your Tenno. 

//No\\

The answer was plain, flat, and insistent. 

I do not know anything of them, I didn’t get much time with my kin. 

\\Not now…

This is not a good time\\

I felt he was right, but there was some instinct that kept pushing.

It doesn’t have to be a happy memory. You do not need to force yourself to feel better, but I want to know them better. Please. Tell me anything, even just their name. My soft plea was genuine, something I tried my hardest to convey with my feelings open and honest in the connection between us. I could only reach out my hand, never force him to take it. And yet I somehow knew that in his pain, there was an opportunity, a chance to give hope where none existed.

There I knelt, holding out my hand, both literal and proverbial, waiting to hear his response. I did not know what to expect, that lingering silence so resonant, so complete. My arm stayed firm, waiting. I waited. I knelt, and I waited.

A minute passed.

Then five.

Then fifteen.

I was not hopeful, but like all things, I am stubborn. All I could do was wait to see if Dovas would accept my offered hand.

I lost track of time, my own muted mind patient in the semblance of serenity. Yet, as I readied to let my hand drop, I heard a soft, pained voice.

//His name was Enok\\