Prologue: https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/106914006/0/0   We split ways after that. Drakar said he was heading to Old Aggra, a large agricultural plantation in the old United States, but his trajectory seemed to head towards Luna. Of course, the moon was a no fly zone then in hopes the Hive would leave us alone if we did likewise. What fools we were then, to think we could live in isolation from our enemies. I didn’t say anything to Drakar though. His business was his own and my business was to deliver the scans to Dead Orbit so everyone would get paid. Drakar did send me his files on the Vex though and I spent the return trip reading fascinating accounts of world eating machines, beings outside time, and a heart so dark, it’s very existence changed the Vex paradigm.  Katerina headed off to Mars. Future War Cult had put a reward out for anyone that could break the Iron Line of the Cabal. She wasn’t about to try that but she was going to try and map some ways in and out of the first line of defense. She figured if she could get some safe houses deposited in the middle of the line, us Guardians could mount an offensive that might go somewhere. The easiest way to kill the Cabal was to put so much lead downrange, they couldn’t find a safe spot. If we had ammo caches waiting for us in Freehold and Giant’s Pass, then we shouldn’t have a problem gaining a foothold. It sounded good in theory, I thought.  I landed in the Tower, hungry, dirty, and tired. I don’t like sleeping when my ship is on auto-pilot, even though my Ghost says she’ll handle it. I dunno if she sleeps but I just feel better with my eyes open and my hands on the stick. Dead Orbit was waiting in the hanger, the Arach happy to see me. Well, as happy as a nihilistic extremist can be. He took the data stick I had transferred from my Ghost and showed me the transfer of glimmer to my account. I received an automated message from Drakar and Katerina confirming they had also gotten paid. So I left feeling good about myself, although still troubled by the empty cave.  Every Guardian has an apartment in the Tower. It’s maintained by frames from the City and paid for by the Consensus. I shared a room with my wife, another Titan named Hel, down on the third floor from the top. When numbering the floors, the tower elevators start with the ground floor as the hanger and go up as they head down. It’s confusing at first, but makes sense eventually. Or maybe I just got used to it. Either way, I was on floor three. But my wife wasn’t home when I got there. I was used to that. We were married but we rarely saw each other. She traveled a lot, doing odd jobs for factions here and there but mainly protecting Warlocks the Speaker sent out for research.  Of course, we had children too. Every citizen of the City, Guardian or not, is required to have children. With the death rate so high in the early days, the Consensus decided to make a four children law, meaning that unless health concerns stopped you, you had to have four children with at least one other person. I’m old fashioned, I think. What I mean is, I don’t remember my life before my Ghost found me, but I have inclinations and knowledge that I know I haven’t learned since. So I married to have children and then passed them along, as every Guardian does, to the City for raising. It’s too stressful for children to have Guardian parents, because we’re gone for long periods of time and sometimes don’t return. It’s also bad for the City though. If I raised my children, I would be less likely to fight and die on some foreign planet and that would hurt our defense.  Our apartment was homely. It consisted of four rooms. The front door opened on the living room, maybe ten by ten, with blue walls stretching all the way to the back sliding doors. It had a low blue couch and two white armchairs facing a mock fireplace that could heat in times of need. The wall above the fireplace contained a recessed screen, trimmed in silver. There was a small coffee table in the middle although I don’t think I ever had coffee on it. Then that room flowed into the kitchen, full of state of the art appliances, black faux-marble counter-tops, dark cherry cabinets with silver accents, and white tile floors. Although one of the appliances was a full-cuisine meal maker, I liked to cook my own food. It usually tasted better that way, especially if I went to the Tower market and picked up fresh ingredients.  The kitchen turned into the dining room at the back with a small light grained faux-wood table and chairs to match. The carpet there, like the living room, was light beige that’s practically stain-proof. I spilt red wine on it once and the next day, the frames had cleaned it out. The dining room had two French doors at the end that let in all the light. They opened up on the balcony, overlooking the City. At night, I used to stand out there, fifty stories above the city and feel the fierce winds tug at my body. It’s like the City itself was reaching up, begging me to fall into the small, crowded streets and become more human than I ever was.  But before all that, I had to shower. I walked into the bedroom, off the dining room. It was sparsely decorated, this room more utilitarian than the rest. There was a king size bed in the center with a dark metal frame. The furniture was also metal, with the look of antique iron. We had a dresser, two nightstands and a floor length mirror. The walls were white, making the room seem lighter in the daytime, when the large, ceiling to floor window on the right flooded the room with the sun’s rays reflecting off the Traveler. Our personal frame stood in the corner, quietly awaiting my commands. To the left of the doorway was the bathroom, my ultimate goal. The glass shower was my place of solitude while the jet bath was my wife’s. The floor was made of heated tiles, something I thought was a little extravagant, but I wouldn’t complain openly about it. The Tower sure knew how to relax a Guardian.  “Good evening sir,” my personal frame greeted me. “May I prepare a meal for you?”  “No thank you,” I sighed. “I’m going to shower first. Just clean my armor.”  “As you wish,” the frame responded. It moved away from the wall and stood in front of me, arms outstretched awaiting my bulky armor. As light as the frame was, it could easily hold my armor and I’d actually seen a frame pick up a downed Titan before and carry him to safety. A frame was a magnificent piece of engineering. I arduously removed my armor and handed it to my personal frame. My armor was whole again, being so close to the Traveler and it’s Light but it could still use some buffing and a new paint job. I could put on a full suit of armor in five minutes, but once the armor was on, the automated systems inside tightened and molded the armor to my body. As of then, there were no armors that reversed the process and peeling the heavy plate off took time and effort. I removed my undergarments, a small loincloth and some fingerless gloves. I’d tried wearing my armor with more than that on before and while it seems benign, when your clothing starts to chafe in battle and you can’t fix it, it’s perhaps the worst annoyance in the solar system. I quickly deposited my clothes in the automated hamper in our bedroom and headed for the shower. I turned the hot water on and it immediately became scalding, just the way I liked it. I stepped underneath the burning rain, closed the shower door, and stood there, head bowed, eyes closed, muscles loose, just relaxing. The steam quickly clouded the air and I took deep breaths through my open mouth, the skein of water running over my lips undulating in and out. As I meditated, thinking about the mission I just completed, the image of terror on a Fallen Captain’s face flashed into my mind. He looked at me, eyes wide, mouth open, fear and judgment swirling in his pupils. In that moment, he and I both knew the truth. He was dead and I was alive. But it was more than that. I had killed him, quickly, efficiently, without higher thought. Everything that he could have been was done. In a matter of seconds, I had destroyed a possible future and all its subsequent pathways. I clenched my right fist and punched the shower wall, shaking the glass door. Outside the shower, I heard movement. “I’m fine,” I told the frame. “Just clean my armor please.” “I don’t clean your armor,” I heard a beautiful female voice say. “And you’re not fine.” I half-smiled at that and my fists relaxed. My wife opened the shower door and stepped inside. She slid behind me and wrapped her arms around me, pressing up against my back with her palms on my chest. She leaned her head next to mine. “I’ve missed you, love of my life,” Hel whispered. “Tell me what’s bothering you.” “Nothing,” I said. “Just another stressful mission…” “Tsk, tsk,” she said. I felt her head shake. “Just because I’m a Titan, doesn’t mean I’m oblivious. Tell me what’s wrong before I have to beat it out of you.” I sighed and turned around, lowering her arms to my hips and placing my arms around her. Hel smiled at me, a sad smile of understanding and concern. That was why I married her. Because she was beautiful, smart, funny, and knew me better than I knew myself. Her blue eyes searched my face, glancing back and forth for some sign of what was wrong. The scalding water ran down my back, relieving more knotted muscles. I crinkled my forehead and looked her in the eyes. “Have you ever killed an enemy before and he stares at you with real pain? Pain you know is the same pain you feel when you get hurt and you die? The same pain a human feels when he dies? Have you ever felt sorry for some alien you killed?” “Of course my love,” she whispered. Hel reached up and cupped my jaw with her right hand. “I think we all have.”