A/N: Enjoy the chap. Throw some DAMN REVIEWS!
-
[Mars, Meridian Bay]
Void's jumpship shot out of a hyperjump, knifing through a gap in the fabric of space.
Stars snapped back into points. Mars swelled in the viewport, a red disc with a thin smear of cloud and a harsh sun glare bleeding off its edge. For a second, it looked calm.
The next second. Heat signatures lit up on his ship's radar. Gunfire signatures. Cabal comms roaring like an engine. Light flares popping on and off like sparks in a furnace.
"Yeah," Void muttered, leaning closer to the glass. "That's not calm."
Obsidian's eye rotated. "Multiple guardian tags. Hundreds. Concentrated around a Cabal installation."
Void didn't answer. He simply keyed the transmat.
The jumpship dipped, piercing the thin Martian haze. The sand rushed up as the ship tore through the horizon and entered the lowered atmosphere. Void triggered the transmat, and the world flashed white.
Then Void was on the surface. His figure was an amalgamation of glimmer that seemed to slowly gather and become real.
The first thing he felt was the air as he heaved a breath.
"Familiar and nostalgic," Void muttered to himself. He stood in the middle of the rustic sands. Wnds kicked up the Martian dunes, gusts of sand slowly flushed around him. Void rubbed his fingers as he felt the grains of sand settle into his gear.
"Too familiar."
The memories of the Great Ahamkara Hunt flashed in his mind. A faint but wry smile curled up his lips as he recalled his own shenanigans. A desperate yet passionate struggle to make something of himself.
A moment later, the memory seemed to fade. Void sighed and turned his back to the sands.
"Obsidian, locate the New Lights." Void flicked his wrist, and a sparrow appeared beside him.
"Way ahead of you." Obsidian flittered beside him and pointed out a location in the distance. Void deftly rolled over his sparow and punched the thrusters. His figure a blur, streaking through the sands.
Then he came upon it.
A wide valley filled with wreckage and smoke. Cabal barricades planted in rows, heavy and ugly. Turrets spitting tracer fire. Dropships overhead, dumping fresh Legionaries like the planet itself was bleeding soldiers.
And in the middle of all that, the New Lights.
Hundreds of them.
Fireteams moved like a living wave. A line would hold, buckle, then surge forward again. Hunters flickered in and out of cover, golden guns snapping like bright glares against the sand. Titans threw up their walls and charged anyway. Warlocks floated above the sand and detonated violet nova bombs that seemed to rip the ground open.
Void's HUD filled with names, most of them were nonsense, but all of them he recalled.
Waffles. TheOneWhoKnocks. IEatPaint. Dumbledore. BearSpray.
Void's mouth opened on instinct.
"Holy shi…" he breathed, then caught himself and exhaled through his nose.
"They are underlevelled."
A Cabal Centurion turned toward a cluster of New Lights and fired a burst that should have shredded them.
Instead, a Titan planted a barrier and screamed something over comms, and the whole group pushed in behind it like they were storming a castle.
Void watched, still.
Not because he was shocked that they were fighting.
Because he could see why.
They weren't here to win.
They were here because it was new. Because it was hard. Because Mars was red and loud and full of things they hadn't killed yet.
Void clicked his tongue. 'These bastards are just bored. They're doing this for fun.'
Obsidian's tone stayed neutral. "Their survivability is low. But their morale appears…strangely high."
"Yeah. That's one way to explain it." Void chuckled. He hadn't taken into account that the players would jump at his mission because they had nothing else to do. Frankly, not much was going on currently. The world was just recovering from a war.
For a while, there had been nothing for the players to do.
Void's eyes narrowed.
If this kept going, the Cabal would adapt. They always did. They would bring heavier units. Sure, the players would also adapt and start fighting tooth and nail.
But the Vanguard would panic. They'd lock down patrols, pull people back, and start issuing orders.
Void didn't want that.
So he did what he always did.
He took control of the chaos.
He flicked his wrist. His HUD shifted. The system appeared, and Void scrolled to the 'events' tab.
If the players didn't want to leave because they had nothing to do. He'd just add a little, incentive.
-
Waffles' HUD blinked first.
Then everyone else.
[PUBLIC EVENT: HOLD THE LINE]
[OBJECTIVE: PREPARE FOR EXTRACTION FROM MARS]
[DEFEND THE RETREAT ROUTE]
[PROGRESS: 0%]
A marker flared on the far ridge.
An extraction zone.
A path that led away from the outpost, away from the turrets.
Void watched the guardians react in real time.
Some of them cheered like idiots.
Some of them cursed.
Most of them immediately ran toward the marker, because a new objective was a new reason to fight.
Obsidian rotated toward Void. "The Vanguard will want to receive confirmation that the situation has de-escalated."
"Send it," Void said.
Obsidian pulsed, transmitting.
Void stepped up onto a broken slab of concrete and scanned the horizon again.
The Cabal were already responding to the retreat. They had shifted formations, and their dropships had changed angle. New units were getting staged behind the main lines.
Void's gaze flicked toward a quieter patch of terrain just outside the active fighting.
A spot where the sand was undisturbed.
He pointed. "Tag that."
Obsidian's eye narrowed. "A spatial tag."
"Yeah," Void said with a nod."I want a shortcut back here."
Obsidian hovered closer. "Why would you want to return to Mars after we just diverted the Cabal's attention?"
He smiled slightly. "I've got a hunch."
Obsidian paused. "Huh"
Void didn't answer directly. "We'll need Phobos again. And if we're going to keep doing work around the Cabal, we can't treat Mars like it's forbidden ground. We need a toe in the sand."
Obsidian's tone went cautious. "The Vanguard will not approve."
Void's smile didn't move. "Good thing I didn't ask."
Obsidian sighed as only a Ghost could. Then a small marker blinked on Void's HUD.
[SPATIAL TAG ESTABLISHED]
Void nodded, satisfied.
—
[Mars, Event Zone]
The event spread across the valley like a signal flare.
Players who had been scattered in loose skirmishes snapped into purpose. They regrouped and moved toward the extraction route.
Waffles barked orders without even meaning to. "Hold left. Hold left. Don't let them flank."
IEatPaint yelled, "Why do they have shields the size of cars?"
TheOneWhoKnocks screamed back, "Just run, man."
A Cabal wave hit. It was a march.
Boots in sync. Guns up. Armour plates glinting under the harsh sun.
The ground shook.
Titans braced. Hunters darted. Warlocks detonated pockets of Light like they were throwing stars.
The progress meter climbed.
[PROGRESS: 27%]
[PROGRESS: 52%]
[PROGRESS: 76%]
Cabal dropships screamed overhead, trying to cut off the retreat route.
Waffles saw a Cabal Centurion stomp toward her and didn't even blink.
She slid under its first burst, came up on its side, and dumped everything she had into the joints of its armour. It staggered.
Then BearSpray came in as a train and thundercrashed the Centurion into the sand.
Dumbledore's Nova Bomb detonated right behind them, turning a whole cluster of Legionaries into ash and molten glass.
The event meter slammed to the top.
[PROGRESS: 100%]
[OBJECTIVE COMPLETE: EXTRACTION READY]
A bright flare ignited on the ridge.
A transmat signal blinked.
The Cabal pushed forward one, but it was already too late. As mass transmat triggered. One by one, the New Lights vanished in streaks of white.
And the valley finally went quiet, leaving only the Cabal, confused and furious, standing in dust and smoke with no prey left to crush.
Loot chimed in player inventories as they all returned to Orbit.
IEatPaint wheezed, "That was insane."
TheOneWhoKnocks just cursed, "Damn, shit loot though."
"That's just you, chief." Gandalf shook his head.
"He's still cooked." BearSpray pursed his lips.
—
[The Tower, Vanguard Command]
Ikorra's techs had screens up on every wall.
Heat maps. Guardian pings. Cabal communications. The retreat route.
A line of green confirmed it.
"New Light signatures returning to orbit," one of the Hidden reported. "No pursuit."
Ikorra exhaled, slowly. Her eyes stayed sharp.
Cayde leaned back in his chair, boots on the table like he didn't feel the tension in the room. "See. Easy. Nobody died. Mostly."
Zavala didn't move, just stared at the Martian map.
Silence hung for a few seconds, thick enough to feel.
Then Zavala spoke, voice calm and heavy.
"Whether we wanted it or not, we've stepped into a war with the Cabal on Mars."
Ikorra's eyes flicked to him, then to the screens. "You're really going to say it."
Zavala didn't blink. "We cannot ignore them now. Not after they saw Guardians on their soil. Even if we try to, would the Cabal accept our reasons?"
Ikorra bit her lips.
Cayde's mouth curved as he gestured a finger gun. "We can plan around it, though. Get their chain of command, rattle them up a bit by picking those guys out one by one. By the time we're done, the Cabal will be scrambling to regain their control, won't be much of an enemy to us. "
Ikorra nodded once. "We need their hierarchy. Their relays. Their commanders."
Zavala's gaze tightened. "And you're suggesting we go back immediately."
Cayde raised both hands, lazily. "Hey, I didn't say send the New Lights. I'm not that irresponsible."
Ikorra shot him a glance.
Cayde grinned anyway. "Void offered to clean up the mess, right? Hand him the broom. He's already there half the time."
Zavala's jaw flexed as if he'd considered the idea.
Cayde's grin softened just a hair.
Ikorra's eyes narrowed. "We need results. If Void can get us more information on the Cabal command structure without escalating this into a full invasion, anymore than it already is. We'll take that."
Zavala stared at the Mars display again, then finally nodded, slowly.
"Fine," he said. "But we do not rush. We do not overextend."
Ikorra's gaze drifted toward the comms panel.
She didn't have to say his name out loud, as the tech behind her had already prepared a message to send to his comms channel.