“Kabr! Praedyth! Pahanin!” Ikora grunted. “It’s so good to see you boys!” The big man, Kabr, finally let go of them all and replied, “It’s good to see you too, Ikora.” Praedyth, the Light Master, asked, “What are you doing here?” “She’s on official business,” Osiris answered impatiently. “And as I recall, I gave you three very specific duties as well.” “Everything’s ready, sir,” the small one, Pahanin, answered. “We’re just awaiting your order to proceed.” “Then [i]go![/i]” Osiris snapped. “Blasted Cabal protocol be damned! If you’re ready, then get your asses moving!” The men frowned a little at the dismissal, but turned to walk away. Praedyth waved to Ikora, saying, “We’ll catch up later.” She waved back, then continued to follow Osiris into a round building with an upper floor balcony that overlooked the common area. Cerragus followed them inside, catching up with Ikora. “Who were those men?” “Fellow disciples of Osiris,” she answered as they climbed the stairs to the balcony. “We all trained together under his tutelage. They decided to stay with him and work. I chose to expand my horizons.” “And how much has the lunar warfront expanded you, Ikora?” Osiris asked, clearly aware of their conversation. “I told you before, battle is not the place one goes to learn, unless you include the inadequacies of command.” “And what of your research here?” Ikora questioned. “We’ve made advances,” Osiris said, his tone losing some of its harshness. “The Archive provided a trove of useful data as some of the first things humanity did to study the Vex. We’ve now turned our attention to the structures here, and with joint operations with the Iron Legion—” “Excuse me, I’m a little lost,” Cerragus interrupted. “What are the Vex?” Osiris swung around and looked at the Cabal with a slightly confused expression. “What are—? Is this your first time on Venus, Legionnaire? Why the [i]hell[/i] haven’t you been briefed? And shouldn’t you be running around with the rest of your squad or platoon or—” “Osiris, [i]he’s[/i] the reason I came to see you and what High Command wants you for,” Ikora interjected. “He was risen on the Moon. That Ghost you see is [i]his.[/i]” Any signs of irritation melted from Osiris’ features, replaced by shock and awe. He seemed to really look at Cerragus for the first time since they arrived. The Light Master stepped up to him and paced around the Cabal, carefully scrutinizing him and Slate from every possible angle. After several seconds, he muttered to himself, “How?...How is this possible?... Clearly the memory deterioration is evident, but…” “Uh, sir?” Cerragus said uncertainly. “You, uh, you didn’t answer my question.” Osiris waved a hand. “At this moment, that topic is utterly ephemeral.” “What?” “Insignificant. Transient. Low-priority. This, however, this could redefine our understanding of the Traveler’s blessing.” “That’s what Ikora’s been saying,” Slate replied. Osiris glanced back at his former pupil, his face giving away no emotion. Finally, he turned around and walked back into the building. “Fine,” he said curtly. “You’re forgiven. I’ll see what I can do to help this one. You’re welcome to stay and observe, but do [i]not[/i] intervene. I take it your abilities haven’t manifested themselves yet?” Cerragus didn’t realize at first Osiris was talking to him until Slate replied. “No, he hasn’t. I resurrected him just a few hours ago.” “Hmm,” Osiris mused, stroking his goatee. “Then you are a clean slate. This will be a little difficult, but…” He turned to face Cerragus. “Cabal—” “Cerragus,” he clarified. “My name is Cerragus.” Osiris tilted his head as he mulled the response over. “Healthy dose of confident self-respect. Tolerable, but know this, [i]Cerragus[/i]: I am your master, your commanding officer here, if you will. You will do as I tell you exactly as I tell you without question. If you have questions, you are only to ask them [i]after[/i] the task has been done. Understand?” Cerragus instinctively saluted. “Yes, sir.” Osiris nodded in satisfaction. “Good. Then follow me.” The old Light Master turned back around and continued to walk deeper into the building, this time followed directly by Cerragus and Slate with Ikora trailing behind. They came to a large elevator, and upon entering Osiris pressed a button to take them to a floor several levels below. When it stopped an opened up, they came into a large training facility, with several bays containing mats and racks of human, Eliksni, and Cabal artillery. Along the floor were rails that led to closed compartments in the walls. Osiris walked up to a console imbedded in one of the walls and said, “Cerragus, step into one of the arenas and pick a weapon.” Cerragus nodded and walked toward a rack in the closest training bay. The human and Eliksni guns were built for creatures with much smaller hands, so he examined the Cabal slug and projection rifles. He picked up a slug rifle and was surprised to feel a sense of familiarity. His arm felt complete. “Good,” Osiris approved. “Now, I am going to activate some of the combat routines programmed. The gun is loaded, so all you have to do is shoot the targets as they appear. Ready yourself.” Cerragus felt himself go into a natural combat stance, his legs spreading out for a good footing and his hands gripping the rifle firmly. One of the wall compartments opened up, and a mannequin roughly the size and shape of a Hive Acolyte rolled along the track. Immediately Cerragus’ gun was to his shoulder, plugging rounds into the target’s center of mass. Another dummy rolled out from behind him, and he turned and— “Stop! Stop!” Osiris shouted angrily, halting the dummies. He stormed over to Cerragus. “Idiot! What do you think you’re doing?” “I-I was shooting the targets like you asked,” Cerragus stammered, very confused. Suddenly Osiris reached out and grabbed Slate out of midair. “You fool! You opened fire while your Ghost was exposed! If your Ghost is destroyed in the crossfire, then your next death will be your last.” “What am I supposed to do, then?” Slate asked. “Transmat into his armor matrix! I’m certain you’ve seen Ophiuchus and Sagira do the same.” When Osiris released him, Slate focused on Cerragus armor and felt himself dematerialize into it. In a few seconds, he could see out the helmet’s camera components, but then he felt something very weird. His form felt flattened out to a thickness of three or four inches and spread over an area of several square feet. He felt like he was being pressed and rolled in a factory, and when he tried to see where the distressing sensation was coming from he couldn’t move. The helmet continued to stare at Osiris as he walked away. Slate felt locked in place, forced to turn his head when Cerragus did, smashed around the Cabal’s body and pressed between his feet and palms… Slate reappeared seconds later outside, causing Osiris to stop. “What the [i]hell[/i] are you doing?” the old man asked. “I-I can’t do it,” Slate whispered to himself. “I-it’s too small. Too small…” “[i]What are you talking about?[/i]” Osiris cried. “That armor is large enough to encompass an eight-foot brute! Get back in there!” Slate’s shell shuddered. “No, no, please…” “Wait,” Ikora cut in, walking up to them. “Osiris, you’re aware of the current protocol for containing Ghosts, yes?” “Of course I—” Osiris answered, but cut himself off and narrowed his eyes in realization. “No. You can’t be serious.” “It fits!” Ikora pressed. “Their state of prolonged confinement could have lingering adverse effects. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen Slate transmat into Cerragus’ armor since his resurrection.” Sagira appeared beside Osiris and scanned Slate, causing the gray shell to recoil. “That felt…a little invasive,” he complained. “Sorry, little brother, I had to make sure,” she replied before swirling to Osiris. “His files do indicate self-generated subroutines that closely resemble emulation of claustrophobia.” “What?” Cerragus asked. “He’s afraid of closed, restricted confinement,” Osiris rephrased. “He’s too afraid to hide in your armor. Damn those fools in High Command!” “I have been working on trying to alleviate the Ghosts’ current conditions,” Ikora told her former instructor. “This is the first piece of evidence that shows explicit, adverse effects. If I may, could I use some of your equipment to make some transmissions?” Osiris waved his hand. “Proceed. Ghost, you better come with me. If you can’t overcome your unease, then it makes no sense to endanger you in something as trivial as a live-fire exercise.” [url=https://www.bungie.net/en/Groups/Post?groupId=1371758&postId=244991280&sort=0&page=0]Table of Contents[/url]