Chapter Text
"Locke, buddy, you've done it now."
"I thought you were supposed to be helpful."
"Time for helping you has passed the moment you decided to seek Spiders' help."
"It sounded good at the time!"
"That was precisely the moment my warning was supposed to sound better!"
"Well- what now?"
"Hm. We have a few options. You turn yourself in to the Vanguard. They can protect you easily, but the consequences will be rough, not to mention the impact it'll have on your reputation - why you'd care about that, Traveler only knows... Of course you could always just go and see what Spider has in store for you, which will not only probably result in someone very much punished, but inevitably draw the attention of the Vanguard in a much less charitable light. Either way, you're screwed by both sides."
Locke's head sank into his hands. Sunny, who was only trying to portray the clear picture of the future that might await them, sounded off with a comforting chirp. "Now, now, don't despair! Alternatively, and perhaps for the best - we can run."
"R-run? Run where? I don't know anyone in the City."
"Not in the City, silly. They'd find you immediately anyway."
Locke stared. "You mean..."
Sunny looked up.
"Where we started, and where we were meant to be a long time ago - to the stars."
It took mere hours for Sunny to find the most eligible ship for their next step and that in and of itself was an incredible stroke of luck. It was not easy to find transport which tried to hide from the Vanguard's radar let alone on such short notice. One of the less observed hangars on the Tower, no doubt something set up by Drifter or one of his many lackeys, occasionally brought in transfers and passenger ships from all over, and for those who had business to attend to and the glimmer to do so in secret, it was easy to evade the log. Locke didn't look for much, just someone who could get him out of here. Anything else he would figure out once he was safely off the Tower, out of the City and... away from Earth. The notion of leaving and not coming back had only just begun to sink in, and he felt an odd anxiety bubbling up inside of him as he followed Sunny into Hangar 7. The floor that housed it was smaller than most but no less lively. It would appear this space had a couple spots reserved for exactly the type of transportation Locke was currently in need of - something that, as far as official affairs went, didn't exist.
"The captain's name is Morana. If my sources are correct, she might be one of the Guardians that have been noted down as 'missing' for over a decade."
"Do I dare asking how you know that?"
"Don't worry, by the time the Vanguard catch on to my digging, we'll be long gone."
Breathing a bit easier, Locke finally asked: "What did you find out?"
"It's merely an assumption but if it's her, she disappeared on one of the unsanctioned excursions to an abandoned Cabal fleet way back when. Knowing what we know now, it might've been one of the infested ships, not that we knew anything about egregore back then. When you see her ship you'll know why I think it might be her. In fact, it should be right~ here!" Sunny stopped in front of a monstrosity of the ship, nothing like any Vanguard or Cabal vehicle he'd ever seen. It took him a little bit to realise it was a heavily modified Cabal troops transport ship, barely recognizable at this point, decked in sheets of plastic and filthy with years of dust and remnants of plant matter, decorated with one too many graffiti. It had plenty of various kinda of weaponry attached to it that without a doubt didn't belong there originally, and some of its external compartments looked like a child had plastered them on without a care. He could make out the remains of a scratched out logo on the side of the ship, now covered with a fresh one which, he imagined, must've been Morana's own doing: a ghost made out of thunders and lightning.
He approached the gangway and saw a warlock leaning against the railing without a care in the world, talking to her ghost. She wore a long black coat and leather boots that seemed to have stepped through every part of the universe. A very atypical warlock, as far as 'typical' went. The moment she noticed them, she approached. It was impossible to miss the spark in her eyes and the mischief in her grin, as if some incredibly entertaining thing was constantly on her mind. The shock of red hair did little to alleviate the suspiscion that she might be up to no good.
"Sunny, I presume?" She asked. "I'm Morana - Mora is fine - and this is Grom."
"Locke."
She squinted her emerald eyes at him. "Not the one the Spider is looking for?"
Locke shot Sunny a panicked glare, but he didn't seem alarmed. "The very one, I'm afraid." Sunny replied.
"I need to ask that guy to stop scaring people into escaping."
"You've done this before then?" Locke asked.
"Not for guardians. Surely, you're not afraid of the guy?"
"It's more of a- Let's just say we angered more than one of our friends." Sunny said.
"Say no more. No love lost between me and the Vanguard. Come on, let me show you what you'll be dealing with."
Before they took a single step onto the ship they could tell that the cargo bay was overstuffed, more so than it should be. Boxes and equipment lined the walls floor to ceiling, shaping a vague, narrow corridor that ran through the middle of the space.
"We got a few deliveries to make before we set off, as you can see. Won't take but a week, but I suppose you don't care how long it takes as long as you're off the face of the Earth. You said you wanted to work through your fee?"
"I have glimmer if you insist, but I'd prefer work."
"Me and Sunny will sort out the details later, then." She moved further in, where the rickety sign on the door marked the makeshift infirmary and climbed the loud metal stairs to the main deck, which was a wide and strange mish mash of a room, combining the main deck with a kitchen and a rec room. Couches, a massive bookshelf with plethora of board games, books and various other fun trinkets and a gaming system with a cracked screen, and a large kitchen in the other corner were only some of the things that occupied it: whoever decided on putting these things here cared more about comfort than practicality of it. An ancient radio whispered an old, foreign rock tune. A large table dominated the center of the room and seemed be used for everything, from strategic planning to filing one's nails. The decor, if one could call it that, vaguely reminded him of the mishmash of various styles and scrap-crafting usually reserved for the Eliksni. The only thing that suggested there was a Light-bearer on board was a massive gun display stretching over one of the walls, all of them ready to fire at any moment.
"Better not anger anyone in this room." Sunny teased.
"No promises."
Behind them was a wide hallway, home to a set of six rooms that lined the walls to the left and right. "These are the quarters, for the most part - I've yet to clear out the one for guests so you'll have to do it yourself. Our engine room is also all the way back there - hard to miss it - but don't go in there." She gestured to the very back of the ship, in the distance of which he saw a large metal door, slightly ajar. "Try to stay out of there; our engine man prefers the solitude."
Engine man? Locke didn't ask - he was too eager to leave and at that moment the unusual expression didn't stick with him long enough to care.
He walked into the cockpit and through it he spied the rest of the hangar, crowded and busy. Suddenly he was aware clearly of the fact he was leaving it all behind, and the expanding pit in his stomach started to feel like a home to many wriggling snakes.
"You good?" Sunny asked.
Locke didn't know how to describe it, so he simply said: "Yeah." Sunny seemed to realize the anxiety was eating away at him, though.
"Don't worry about it. Just think of it as turning over a new leaf."
"Think there are any leaves left?"
"We've got all the time in the world to find out."
He wasn't wrong.
"Remember: we can technically always come back if we change our mind."
Locke nodded.
"So, you guys in?" Mora caught up to them. Sunny nodded at him, and Locke steeled himself.
"When are we flying?"
"You eager to leave?"
He gave a curt nod, not even bothering to be subtle. Mora grinned, as if this piece of information was a good thing. "We're off in a couple hours. If there's anything you need to get done, do it fast. We won't be waiting for ya."
"Noted."
"I have some stuff to do but feel free to get comfortable. Your quarters are by the engine room but it's stuffed with, well, junk. You can make yourself useful and clean it out - be careful not to throw away anything we might need - or just crash on the couch, I don't care where you sleep. When me and the rest of the gang come back we'll do some proper introductions." She winked and patted his shoulder. "Welcome aboard, honorable guest."
She left Locke and Sunny alone on her ship.
"She is... too relaxed." Sunny noticed. "Deeply unserious, yet confident."
"Sign of a good captain, or a terrible one?"
"Time well tell. Seems to me like she knows what she's doing."
"She didn't mind leaving us here alone."
"I don't think anyone in their right mind would steal this heap of metal. Or anything on it. Red flags all over the place, and more trouble than it's worth."
Locke went to check the guest quarters. Mora wasn't joking about that couch: the room was impossible to reside in, stuffed with useless heaps of scrap metal, broken crates, discarded equipment and trashed gear, as well as a few seemingly long lost and forgotten supply crates. It was the kind of mess that didn't allow him to even sit anywhere without starting a chain reaction that would doubtlessly make an even bigger mess. Still, he didn't mind cleaning it up. He enjoyed his privacy, it gave him something to do and if there was one thing he was pretty bad at, it was sitting still and waiting. So he began the process of hauling the supplies into the cargo bay where they belonged, and throwing out the trash into the closest disposal he could find in the hangar. Much as he tried to be careful, it was impossible to do any of it quietly which was why, when a metal crate in his hands hit the railing for the third time, it resulted with a tall shadow stepping into his path on his way back. He just barely caught sight of the longest legs he'd ever seen when a bright blue eye got into his face, and a seething voice addressed him with no little amount of fury.
"You! Would you mind keeping your infernal racket to a minimum, so I could get ready to keep this light-forsaken ship in a working order?! Are you in possession of limbs you have no control of?! Do you have a death wish?!"
Not knowing which of the questions he should answer first and being all too aware of the hostile vicinity of the psion, it took Locke a moment to realise he had come face to face with the mysterious engineer. He never knew he was on the ship to begin with. It only then occurred to him just how much noise he was making, not that it excused the absolutely livid reaction in its entirety.
"My bad. I didn't know you were here." He simply said. It didn't seem to placate the psion one bit. If anything is seemed to piss him off even further as he sputtered 'my bad' over and over, as if Locke's reply was anything but reasonable. Locke waited for the inevitable shower of insults, when Mora conveniently - too conveniently - came to his rescue.
"I see you dragged our engineer out of his little lair! What fortuitous timing that I was here just as you came out to show your pretty face."
It took them very little time to connect the dots.
"Tch. I should have known you would come up with another childish scheme just to bother me."
"Needing to see you is not a childish scheme. I haven't seen you in a week."
"And wouldn't you know it: we're still flying." The psion hissed. Mora shook her head.
"Locke, this is Odan. Our oh-so-mysterious engineer."
"I am the whole reason we can fly at the speed we do in the first place."
"As modest as ever, but you have to remember it's my ship, and I'll make it fly with or without you."
Despite his hostile attitude, Odan didn't overstep his boundaries with the Captain of the ship. He said nothing further, letting the daggers in his eye speak instead. Now that he wasn't the center of Odan's attention or fury, Locke took the opportunity to take a better look at the Psion. He was taller than most psions he saw, more than a foot taller than himself, and something about his tattered clothing seemed vaguely familiar, as if he'd seen it dozens of times but in a different surrounding. A short robe, long cape and heeled boots gave off an imposing impression on his tall, slender figure. If he hadn't know Mora was the Captain, he might've suspected he was looking at one. His hands and arms were covered with strangely beautiful, tight purple gloves that stretched all the way over his elbows, stitched through with golden thread. He couldn't place the guy here nor there: everything about him seemed contradictory.
"The reason I dragged you out is him: Locke, our newest guest, customer and, for what it's worth, some extra muscle while he's with us. Figured we could use it after that last fiasco. Now that you're both here, listen up: I expect you boys to get along, or at the very least pretend to while I'm in the room. I'm not putting this up for discussion. You," she told Odan, "will get used to some company. And you," she said to Locke, "-well, you'll learn what you're dealing with soon, and it's your job to deal with it well. I don't want to be a babysitter to either of you. Are we all in agreement?"
Locke tried to catch the psions' eye so as to give him a reaffirming nod, anything that might make the rocky start of their relationship a bit less unstable and regretted it immediately - the psion was beyond furious. So instead, he saved the firm nod for the Captain and after a moment's time Odan reluctantly did the same.
"Excellent. I know you guys will be besties in no time. Now I'll go and get over the boring stuff with Sunny so in the meantime, try not to kill each other. Odan, when the rest come back to greet him, I expect you to show up on the main."
She left them alone. Both of them shot daggers at each other before turning on their heels and leaving. Not the greatest start, Locke thought, but it wasn't like the arrangement was permanent. They would manage for a while.
Cleaning up the quarters just enough to arrange a sleeping cot, he went to look for Sunny and found him and Mora in the midst of an excitable, friendly conversation. Sunny made friends exceedingly fast, which was more than he could say for himself. It was a good thing he had a ghost like that by his side, because it meant Sunny could speak on his behalf when he didn't feel like it.
"You've cleaned out the space already?"
"Some of it. It went faster once when I realized I didn't need to fear breaking anything."
He heard an abundance of footsteps in the hallway, and Mora grinned.
"And right on clock, here comes the crew. Just a word of notice, we're a very colourful group. It's no secret that none of us here are clean one way or another, which is why I'm quick to trust you won't cause any problems. While I know your business, whether you'll share it with anyone else is entirely up to you."
"I understand."
"Wonderful. Now let me introduce you."
Locke stood up as the entire crew slowly entered the lounge and for a moment was frozen, not anticipating the weird mishmash of people that boarded it.
Aside from himself and Mora, there was only one other Light-bearer, a hunter decked in snow white and wearing a strange coal-black helmet which they largely concealed with a hood, but the Hunter didn't attract as much of his attention as the Vex Hobgoblin unit, peering at him. Its eye glowed with an uncharacteristic blue glow. It gave him a wave - something that he thought might be a wave. It moves strangely, as if it forgot how to move and had to relearn. He didn't understand anything about its presence nor its behaviour but figured if everyone in the room was alright with it, so should he be.
Then there was a massive Cabal woman whose face seemed to have seen and experienced more battles than his own guns. Unlike other Cabal he had seen she wasn't decked in Imperial insignia nor armor, instead wearing a simple tank top and trousers that must've been fashioned together in the Last City. One of her tusks looked as if it was violently broken in half, and a large scar split the corner of her lips. If she was glad to have him on board, he suspected her battle worn face wasn't able to show it as easily. He heard her mumble something to Hobb, and the firmness of her voice made her seem like a confident, no-nonsense woman.
Lastly, Odan appeared in the doorway, observing them like a particularly vicious hawk. He tried not to think about what his stay will be like with him around.
"Everybody, this is Locke and his ghost, Sunny. Like most of us, he pissed off someone and will be hiding out with us for a while. Locke, this is," she introduced them in order, "Tibris; our first mate," the Cabal woman nodded curtly at him and it was a gesture he recognized and returned, feeling he might get along with her, "then you have Cosette, our walking encyclopedia, and their ghost Hobb, who is making sure the ship doesn't fall apart," the Hunter waved and let out a quiet 'hello' and Locke immediately noted the artificial sound of their voice; but what surprised him more was the fact their ghost was nowhere to be seen, not immediately - instead, the Hobgoblin raised its arm in greeting, "you've met Odan of course, our lovely, charming engineer," she gestured way to the back of the main deck, where Odan had been skulking, "my ghost Grom is our navigator and strategist, so if you don't see him a lot, that's why," Locke nodded at the luxuriously gem-studded ghost that floated by Morana's shoulder, "and last but not least there's me; Morana, the Captain of the Thunderlight and a lost Guardian for well over ten years."
Behind him Sunny whispered a triumphant 'called it.' Locke looked them all over. Six members, two of them Ghosts. They missed at least two more for the ship to be fully manned and safe but he also felt like Mora was the type of person who solved these issues in stride, which he wasn't used to, but wasn't opposed to either.
"Grom, get us in the air, and set course for Europa . We've overstayed as it is."
"Aye Aye, Cap'n." Grom playfully said, and disappeared.
"Alright everybody, first things first," Mora clapped her hands, "we have a bunch of deliveries to make around the system, and some of them are already late as it is. We'll be spending another week in Sol until we sort it all out, and then we'll see about our next course of action - I might already have some things in plan but I'll let you know when we finish up with our clients if that came to fruition or not. Until then, work well and play nice." With those words, she joined Grom in the cockpit.
Cossette approached Locke to shake his hand. He - she? They? - had a warm, firm handshake that almost wavered on careful, which was strange for a hunter.
"You'll have to excuse them, they don't talk much; we're still working on it." The hobgoblin... spoke? No, the ghost, probably settled somewhere inside, did. He didn't come out of the Vex body however, and Locke had a sneaking suspicion that maybe he couldn't.
"What the hell happened to you?" He asked before he could stop himself and Hobb laughed and shrugged, both of which was extremely strange to see a Vex unit do.
"It's a long story. But I assure you I am as much of a ghost as any other!"
"You sure sound like one." He paused. "If I'm being honest, I can't wait to hear that story."
"You just might, but not before Cosette is able and ready to tell it, of course."
"I should sell you, bat sigh choice was break in!" Cosette piped up, and Locke wondered if he was having a stroke.
"... I'm sorry, what?"
"I believe Cosette meant to say, 'I would tell you, but my voice is broken!'" Hobb explained. "Like I said, they are working on it."
As they kept chatting away, Locke telling them about his years on the Tower and reminiscing on some of the more fun operations he was part of, he noticed both Odan and Tibris were on the silent side of the conversation, but vastly different - Tibris listened to him with a polite, if slightly bored expression reserved for guests like him, while Odan did his best to stare straight at him with no curiosity, but pure malice, mever removing himself from the doorframe. It was not easy to ignore, but he head practice with troublemakers like him.
"Hey, I noticed you have a gaming system here!" Sunny said. "It's been a while since I played anything."
"You know, it's been a while since I raced someone half decent." Hobb pointed out.
"You're on!"
"I'll ready some drinks for our guest."
With that suggestion Odan immediately left. Mora and Grom rejoined them but sat aside with Tibris, quietly talking among themselves at the table. They played games and drank cheap booze well into the night and feed on nutri bars for dinner, which Locke could handle this one time - though virtually tasteless at least they were filling and besides, he really wanted that second place in the game. As he was desperately trying to beat Hobb in their fight for it, Locke reflected on everything that happened in the last twenty four hours and wondered if he was dreaming. The scent of burning debris and ether still hadn't quite faded from his mind, and yet here he was, playing video games with a bunch of oddballs he's know for a not even an hour as if they had been friends for years. It's been... so long since something like this happened. Was he lonely? Had he been this lonely for so long? It was difficult to tell. It had been an exciting, overwhelming day.
Much later, when everyone had retired and he was lying in his room on a simple cot, surrounded by nothing but a mountain of trash and a meager amount of possessions he brought along, Locke thought back yet again, back to his entire life as a Guardian that was now over. So many years spent in the Last City trying to make something out of himself for the Vanguard, never relaxing enough to do the same for himself. Only to, in the end, never be as recognized as many others in the same field, never good enough to stand out in anyone's eyes. Just your perfectly unassuming, good-enough average.
The idea should have made him feel content. It made him feel empty.
Like Sunny said, he had time to change that. Maybe, he thought as he turned his back towards the door and closed his eyes, this was only the first step towards that.