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originally posted in:Destiny Fiction Producers
5/25/2018 2:05:40 PM
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The Brightest and the Darkest: Chap 4: Arrival

[i]The sound of gunfire and shrieking Hive is deafening. He doesn’t lose focus, and guns down Acolyte after Thrall with his slug rifle. Dust and bones build up in front of him and at his feet. Then the sky burns green. At the back of the line of Hive stands a colossal Hive Knight. He looks like he’s just bones and green fire. In its clawed hand is a cleaver as long as a Cabal is tall. Its edge is pitted and scarred, but the sickening emerald glow it gives dashes any hopes that it is ineffective. Around him, allies scream one word: Crota. A thousand smaller Knights charge from beside Crota’s ankles, wielding smaller blades. They cut into the imperial forces like a thrusting dagger, slaying humans, Eliksni, and Cabal by the dozens. Wherever they meet stiff resistance, Crota steps in and fells whole teams with a few strokes. Unfortunately, his group does well against the onslaught. Crota’s eyes find him, and stab into his soul. For a moment, he considers giving up and dying, then and there. Then he remembers his duty. If he dies, they will have to kill him. It feels like seconds later Crota has him by the throat, disarmed and several feet off the ground. The lunar dust is covered with his fallen comrades. His universal translator crackles as Crota speaks. “What a…paltry display.” His voice is like metal on a grindstone. “You have no Light to feed on. Where are your delicious children of your Traveler? I know they are scattered through your mortal armies.” He doesn’t answer, only struggles in the Hive god’s grip. Crota’s burning face sneers as his grip tightens. “Why do you resist? You lost this battle and will lose this miserable rock. You fight a power greater than you could ever understand with toys. Why don’t you—” His translator fades for a second, but Crota still speaks. He is confused for a second, then remembers something the humans told him that his device couldn’t translate into his native Cabal. “We…have no word…for retreat,” he whispers defiantly as much to Crota as to himself. Crota snarls, and plunges his blade through his body.[/i] He gasped for air. He was under attack! A weapon. Where’s a weapon?! He grabbed something long and thin and swung it around him, using its momentum to help him stand and face the attacker. His tool struck a Psion in the face and sent it reeling to the ground. Several other beings beside it stepped back, clearly not expecting his attack. He spun around and found he was completely surrounded. The creatures varied from each other greatly, from some that were tall and wide to others that were short and thin. Some looked like they had four eyes and arms. He adjusted his footing and stepped in something squishier than expected. He looked down and saw the ground was covered in dismembered bodies that came from the species that encircled him. His improvised weapon turned out to be a severed leg. He dropped it in horror. “Easy there, big guy,” a voice chirped beside him. He turned to see a gray, star-shaped drone with a single eye hovering in field of vision. “Where am I?” The question almost came out of his mouth without him realizing it. When he grasped its meaning, he came to an even more disturbing realization. “[i]Who[/i] am I?” “This is the moon,” the little drone answered. “Specifically, this is a battlefield. You died on it.” He felt a strange sensation in his stomach, like a phantom blade goring him. “How is that possible? I stand here, breathing!” “I brought you back to life,” the device explained. “I’m a Ghost. I find deceased that are gifted with the Traveler’s Light and resurrect them. Well, [i]one[/i] in particular, which happens to be you.” He glanced at the throng around him. “Who are all of you?” “We are your fellow soldiers,” a short creature in an armored space suit answered, stepping forward. Something about its demeanor and speech made him think it was female. He couldn’t see her face well under the helmet, but her voice was strong with authority. “These are the combined forces of the humans of Earth, the Eliksni, and the Cabal,” she continued. “Don’t worry. We won’t hurt you.” Her words suddenly gave him a sense of familiarity. “Cabal…I am Cabal…” “Indeed you are,” one of his kind confirmed. He was much taller than the rest and his armor was adorned with various ornaments. Something told him that this being was the leader of the group. “What is your name, Legionnaire?” the being asked him. “I…don’t understand,” he confessed. “What did you call me?” The leader’s composure faltered slightly. “You’re…you’re an Imperial Legionnaire of the Cabal Empire.” “He doesn’t remember his rank!” the small woman chided her superior. “He won’t remember anything…except maybe his name.” She turned back to him. “Do you know who you are?” He blinked. What was his name? His brow furrowed under a helmet as he tried to remember… [i]Cerragus…[/i] Was that it? It felt familiar. It would have to do for now. “My name is Cerragus,” he answered. The woman nodded. “Welcome, Cerragus. My name is Ikora Rey. Our commanding officer is Val Aru’un.” “Oh…do I need two names?” Cerragus asked dejectedly. “No, Val is just his rank,” the small drone replied. “I have one name. I’m Slate.” Nobody around him had taken their eyes off Cerragus for a second. “Why are you all staring at me? Is it because I was dead?” “That may be a small part of it,” Ikora answered. “But more specifically, it’s because you, a [i]Cabal,[/i] were resurrected. To date, only humans – my kind – were reborn by Ghosts. I am one of them. We are called Risen.” “Am I Risen too?” Cerragus asked. Before Ikora could answer, Aru’un interjected. “That is a matter for High Command to decide. We must bring Cerragus to them to know how to proceed. Gather the shells. Everyone prepare to leave [i]immediately[/i].” The crowd broke from their trance and rushed back to several ships stationed outside the battlefield. Even then the people couldn’t help but glance back at Cerragus one last time. “Rey,” Aru’un addressed the woman, “Remain with…Cerragus…for the time being. Evaluate how much he recalls, and if there is necessary information he lacks brief him accordingly.” Ikora saluted. “Yes, sir.” As the commander walked away, Cerragus asked, “Where are we going?” “Back to home base to deliver a report,” she responded. “My homeworld, Earth.” “What is it like? Is it far?” Ikora pointed over Cerragus’ shoulder. He turned to see a blue-green sphere rising over the moon’s gray mountains. White clouds spattered and swirled over the surface, and if he watched one long enough it shifted over the landmasses below. “It’s beautiful,” he murmured. “I certainly think so,” Ikora agreed. “I admit I am surprised. I have not heard your kind show any reverence for beauty.” He looked back down at the woman. “Why not?” “We’re at war, and your people are the commanders,” Ikora replied. “Discipline must be maintained so the legions keep focus. Especially now. Morale has become unnaturally and critically low.” Cerragus looked at the bodies littering the ground. “What happened here?” Ikora sighed. “His name is Crota. He leads a race called the Hive. They’ve invaded our moon and are trying to get to Earth. To get to the Traveler.” “What’s the Traveler?” Ikora smiled under her helmet and gestured for Cerragus to follow her. “You’ll see.”

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  • Edited by Fort_Max_Station: 5/25/2018 2:07:33 PM
    The reborn Cabal fell in step behind her, but let his attention wander the battlefield around him. Everyone was collecting the little Ghosts and herding them into large cargo crates. Some called out in despair and begged not to be put back into storage. Others claimed that they had found someone to resurrect and that they needed more time. A few desperate shells attempted to escape, but were quickly caught by a Psion’s telekinetic grip. “What are they doing?” “They are sequestering the Ghosts until they are needed again,” Ikora answered disdainfully as they boarded a Harvester. “Current practice is to only release them after every battle to see if any dead warriors can be revived – like yourself. Until that happens, though, they are held for days on end, denied their ability to perform their prime directive. I hope to change this procedure.” “I’m glad someone understands,” Slate buzzed. Cerragus’ Ghost hovered around his head as they strapped in and prepared for takeoff. “You mentioned the Traveler too,” Cerragus remembered. “Something about its ‘Light’?” “The Light is everything,” Slate explained vaguely. “I was made by it, you were reborn by it, and you can use it as a powerful tool. The Risen were pre-chosen by the Traveler to wield Light as a weapon, and it created us Ghosts to activate it in you.” Speakers blared and the craft shuddered as the Harvester took off and activated its warp drive. “What can I do with it?” Cerragus asked. “That is what we hope to find out,” Ikora replied. “If you are Risen, you will be able to harness the elemental aspects of Light – Solar, Arc, and Void Light – in one of three ways. Human Risen are categorized into Light Stalkers, Light Breakers, or Light Masters. Light Masters, like myself, are scholars and use it to increase our understanding of the universe.” “Which one am I?” “We’ll have a better idea when you first use your powers. Even then, you may be entirely different as a Risen Cabal.” The ship rocked as it left warp, then shook as it entered the atmosphere. Overhead, the pilot said they were twenty minutes away from the Geode. Cerragus was about to ask what the Geode was when he saw it out of a porthole. A massive dome of geodesic lattice bubbled out of the ground. At its base was a high, thick wall, with hundreds of buildings clustered inside. Above that and just under the top of the dome was a huge sphere that shone under the sun, what wasn’t blackened and damaged. Ikora smiled at his awed expression. “[i]That[/i] is the Traveler.” [url=https://www.bungie.net/en/Groups/Post?groupId=1371758&postId=244991280&sort=0&page=0]Table of Contents[/url]

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