If you want to move to a preceding or following part, or read an actual description of the story, click [url=https://www.bungie.net/en/Clan/Post/1901902/223764924/0/0]Table of Contents[/url]. By the time they reached the outskirts of the Cosmodrome, the sun was already sinking under the horizon. The Titan took over from the autopilot and landed the craft between some hills that kept the entrance to the Cosmodrome just out of sight. As the cargo door opened, the Guardians’ Ghosts transmatted weapons into their hands before they stepped out of the ship. Morgana followed closely behind them, securing her satchel over her shoulder. The Guardians stood still for a while, surveying the area for any signs of trouble. “Ghosts,” the Titan summoned, “scout around for any signs of artifacts. If it looks important, transmat it and return here.” The Ghosts scattered. Morgana came up beside the Titan and asked, “Aren’t we going to investigate ourselves?” “I’m trying not to draw too much attention, ma’am,” he answered. “Even though the Fallen are stationed inside the Cosmodrome, they still scavenge in the immediate vicinity.” “But not everything we could gather is tangible,” Morgana protested. Looking around, she saw a dilapidated radio tower with half a rusty dish nearby. She pointed to it, saying, “See that relay station? If they have any sort of old logs or archived transmissions, I could decrypt them and download the files to my equipment.” The Titan turned to the Warlock, who shrugged and offered, “Worth a shot.” The Titan nodded and pointed at the Hunter. “Find a lookout point and let us know if anything seems to come our way. Stay out of sight. Keep track of time and watch the sun. We need to make camp somewhere before it gets dark.” “Got it,” the Hunter acknowledged before running up and over a hill and out of sight. Morgana took the lead trekking to the relay station, with the Titan and Warlock guarding her flanks like a bona fide escort. Reaching the relay station, they found one of the double doors missing, the room inside completely pitch black. The Titan turned on a small headlamp attached to his helmet and scouted the room before clearing Morgana and the Warlock to enter. The Warlock pulled a small electric lamp from his robes and turned it on, bathing the room in light. The room had obviously not been maintained, and furniture and equipment were deteriorating into disrepair. Morgana approached the command console in the center of the room while the Warlock set the lamp on it. She pulled out her tablet and began scanning the console to locate the hard drive. When she found it, she recalibrated the scanner to look through the information in it. Unfortunately, it appeared to be both externally and internally damaged because her device couldn’t connect with anything. Noticing her difficulty, the Warlock said, “Hang on, I might be able to help.” He summoned his Ghost back and told it, “See if you can get anything from the console.” The Ghost bobbed in an approximation of a nod and directed its scanner to the hard drive. “Looks pretty bad here,” it reported, “but I think they compartmentalized the files when they encrypted them. There’s some transmission logs preserved that I might be able to retrieve.” Morgana smiled graciously toward the Warlock. “Thank you, I truly appreciate the help.” “Hmph,” the ghost grunted. “It’s not like he’s doing any of the work.” “Thank you too, Ghost,” she added. “Have you found anything?” “I think I have one complete file, possibly from just before the Collapse,” the Ghost replied. “Here, let me translate and playback.” The Ghost’s voice was replaced by two distinct voices interacting with each other. “SABER GREEN this is ICE MINARET,” the first voice said. “We have your launch. Com check.” “ICE MINARET this is SABER GREEN we read you,” the second voice replied. “Lattice is tight. Com secure. Abort advisory check?” “Check is all nominal. You are now on internal power. SABER GREEN, please human-verify your payload status.” “Acknowledge human verification request. The words are RIGOR, APEX, SKY-SHOCK. I will repeat the payload status now: RIGOR, APEX, SKYSHOCK.” “Those are the words, SABER. Human crosscheck complete. Fly safe.” “Copy your last, MINARET. We are go for final count.” “We affirm, go payload, go flight, go final count.” Another voice came into the conversation, but said something indiscernible. “Yes, it's RIGOR,” the first voice replied to the new voice. “Yes, I believe that's correct. Yes, it is, uh, it is an antimatter payload, a strategic asset. Specifically? Ah, I believe it's an annihilation-pumped caedometric weapon.” The indistinct voice sounded like it asked another question. “Yes, it's covert, it's under SECURE ISIS,” the first voice answered. “We have good confidence in the vehicle. We are not scrubbing civilian launches or clearing the range. Public inferentials would catch that, it's a security risk.” “Six at a hundred. Here we go,” the second voice said. “Godspeed, SABER. You're all nominal here.” The inaudible voice made another comment. “We both know where the order came from,” the first voice replied. Morgana’s skin was tingling with excitement again. She turned to the Warlock. “Did you hear that? It mentioned an antimatter payload and an annihilation-pumped weapon. And how they were addressing each other as SABER GREEN and ICE MINARET? And the distinction from civilian operations? If this was a military operation set just before the Collapse, it might have been some attempt to counter the Darkness.” She imagined the Warlock was smiling under his helmet. “That was good intuition you had, coming here. You’re making a great cryptarch.” She blushed again. She wasn’t used to this much attention. The Ghost spoke again, but this time in the Hunter’s voice. “Sun’s getting pretty low, here. Want to head back to the ship and make camp?” “Negative,” the Titan responded. “If we’re discovered, we don’t want to risk damaging the ship. Head over to the relay station. We’ve found some good information and we can settle here for the night.” “Copy that. See you in a few.” The Titan turned to the Warlock. “Let’s move outside. I’ll gather some sheet metal while you get some firewood.” Both Guardians left Morgana with the Warlock’s Ghost. She copied the recovered files to her device and saved it to the Cryptarchy database. She returned her equipment to the satchel and walked outside, the Ghost following her. The Hunter was already there, helping the Warlock scrape out a fire pit to place some half-rotten logs and kindling. The Titan returned with three panels of steel just as night started to dark-en and Morgana began to see her breath in the cold air. He leaned the plates in a pyramid over the fuel. “Do any of you have matches?” Morgana asked. “I don’t believe I packed any before I came.” An orb of fire ignited in the palm of the Warlock’s hand. “You might want to stand back.” She backed up just as he threw the solar grenade into the fire wood, and a miniature sun set the fire pit ablaze. The metal panels blocked most of the open flames from view, keeping the light out of view while keeping the camp area warm. The Hunter sat down in front of the fire. “Oh, that feels nice. I forgot how cold this place gets.” “Did anyone bring provisions?” the Titan asked. The Warlock pulled some protein bars out of his cloak. “Do these taste good cooked over a fire?” “They can’t taste good, period,” the Hunter droned, “but it’s better than starving to death.” “What happens if you starve to death?” Morgana asked. The Hunter shrugged. “The Ghost resurrects you hungry.” Morgana dug through her satchel and pulled out the oranges. “Here, I brought these for a snack.” She offered them the fruit and the Guardians held each reverently before peeling. Soon the cool air smelled of wood smoke and citrus. “Man oh man, this tastes good,” the Hunter moaned in pleasure. “Thanks, this is a real treat,” the Titan thanked her. “Light be with you.” She smiled sheepishly. “You’re welcome, though my Light doesn’t shine as bright as any of yours.” The Warlock shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. Light’s in anything and everything. Oh hey,” he said, suddenly urgent,” what season is it here?” “I believe it’s early autumn,” his Ghost answered. “Around the month of September.” “Oh, that’s perfect,” the Warlock said, setting his orange down and getting up. He offered Morgana his hand, and she took it somewhat hesitantly. He lifted her up and pointed to the sky, slowly turning to indigo with the stars finally peeking out.