Delta raised his Mida and immediately double tapped two infantry frames, both of which promptly crumpled to the floor. Lassiter whistled at the exo’s marksmanship before jumping back into the firefight with him against the other tankbuster. While the skirmish ensued and bullets flew, Sayyed just sighed and fell back into one of the chairs, facing the conflict. She simply crossed her legs and frowned at the spectacle. Oscar, on the other hand, took cover behind a few of his frames. He reached around to fire his sidearm at Adriar, who had just reclaimed his Thunderlord. He began to squeeze the trigger when a bullet tore through the head of a frame and lodged itself in his sidearm, knocking it out of his hand. Oscar grimaced at the shock that shot up his arm from the shot. He looked up to see Delta rushing towards him, Mida at the ready. The white exo swore at his brother and turned to retreat to one of the back rooms, which were much more ideal for making a defensive stand. He was nearly there when one of the overhead vents suddenly burst open. From the air ducts dropped a female Hunter, landing gracefully in front of Oscar. She quickly flipped back her navy blue cloak and whipped out a black hand cannon, pointing it directly at the exo’s head. “Be a dear and stay where you are,” Dakota ordered politely. Oscar just grunted in defeat and slowly put his hands in the air. Across the room, Ross unloaded his pulse rifle into the last of the infantry while the rest of the guardians demolished the remaining tankbuster. The fight was over in seconds. While Dakota ushered Oscar back to the circle of chairs in the center of the room, Delta evaluated the aftermath. Frame bodies littered the floor, some smoking, some turned to ash. “Another swift victory for Fireteam Shiloh!” Solomon beamed. He turned to his Sunsinger companion. “See Lassy? You didn’t die this time!” Lassiter just crossed his arms and shook his head, but there was no denying the smile on his face. “This would make a great story for old Rangor,” Dakota pointed out, shoving Oscar into one of the other chairs. The white exo glared at her with a deepening rage. “Aye!” Solomon agreed. “The old geezer would get a real kick outta that.” “This isn’t over yet,” Delta interrupted solemnly. He pointed out the window at the Cabal fleet that was now quickly diving through Earth’s atmosphere. “Bloody hell…” Lassiter whispered. Adriar gripped his Thunderlord anxiously. “The City will fall! What are we going to do?” Delta instinctively turned to look at Sayyed. She just sat in her chair silently, watching him, her face devoid of emotion. What was wrong with her? She seemed so drastically different from the last time they had met. All she did was stare. It made him angry. The exo marched right up to her and aimed his rifle at her head. “Do you have any idea what you have done?!” “I have finished the work of my ancestors,” she replied simply. “It’s funny. I spent years trying to find a way to remove that confounded alien sphere from the picture. I blackmailed powerful people, raided long forgotten vaults, tried to tap into Warmind orbital weapons, conspired with terrifyingly dark forces… but in the end, a simple arrangement with the Red Legion was all I needed. I’ve won.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, but her eyes reflected something else. Delta’s optics refocused as he found in her brown eyes something he did not expect. Regret. “Was it worth it?” he asked her, a new level of calm in his voice. This caught Sayyed off guard. Finally, her face began to show hints of emotional distress. She looked all around her at the space station, built by her bloodline centuries ago, repurposed for her uses. It all seemed so meaningless now. The scientist’s eyes began to tear up as she whispered a single word. “No.” Oscar, who was watching from his own chair, just rolled his glowing purple eyes. “I’ve been telling you since the beginning, Yara. It is pointless. With the resources at our disposable, there are much better things we could have done with all the time we wasted on the Traveler.” Yara Sayyed gave the white exo an angry death stare, but deep down, she knew he was right. She evaluated the six guardians that now stood around her. They all had a purpose. Even Delta, the treasured creation of Yazan himself, had found meaning outside of the defense. She could see it in his optics. A blue flame of determination and leadership. Both Yara and Delta locked eyes, both trying to understand the other. At last Delta spoke. “I want to know why.” Yara was confused. “Excuse me?” The Warlock tightened the grip on his Mida. “I want to know. Why did you do it? Why do you hate the Traveler so much?” Yara lightly massaged her injured arm, careful not to move the sling too much, and winced as painful memories resurfaced. “I suppose,” she said softly, “I just wanted to matter.” The guardians glanced at each other, except for Delta. He continued to stare at Yara, unmoving. The scientist rested her back against the chair and looked down, avoiding eye contact. “I was abused,” she began. She couldn’t stop the tear that finally escaped her eye and cascaded down her cheek. She took a deep breath. She was not prepared to tell her story, but for some reason, she couldn’t stop herself. Why couldn’t she stop herself? “My father was a drunk,” she explained. “I grew up useless and helpless. It wasn’t until after my father’s untimely death that I discovered his secret in the form of a document, hidden beneath his bed. The family legacy. The Defense.” Yara began to fidget with her beloved lab coat. The one she had used for years. “I thought… maybe my life could finally mean something. I found a vast collection of hidden knowledge in a Defense bunker. I studied and studied, entranced by the work my family had perfected. I adopted their lifestyle. Their beliefs.” At last, she looked back up into Delta’s eyes. “I thought that maybe, somewhere out there, my ancestors smiled down on what I was trying to achieve. I thought perhaps… my father would finally be proud of his daughter.” She exhaled heavily, and strangely, felt a smile cross her face. She had never told that to anyone. It was as if an enormous weight were lifted off of her soldiers. “I realize now that was foolish. The Traveler is dormant anyway, and my life was wasted.” The sadness returned with a vengeance. “Turns out I really was useless after all. No. I’m worse. I’m a monster.” Slowly, Yara leaned forward, pressing her forehead against the barrel of Delta’s rifle. “I killed a lot of innocent people. Friends of yours. I know I hurt you, Delta, in so many ways. I deserve death. Pull the trigger and render your justice.” “Yes!” Oscar pressed from behind them. “She never realized the true potential of this organization! Take charge!” Dakota hit the white exo upside the head with her hand cannon. “Shut up.” Delta felt his hands tremble at the weight of his weapon. He closed his eyes. He found himself in an infinite expanse of white light. Two figures stood before him. The Speaker stood tall and resolute. [i]Now is the time to choose.[/i] Alex smiled lovingly. [i]Remember who you are.[/i] Delta opened his eyes again, his Mida still touching Sayyed’s head. “Do it,” she said. “Just get it overwith.” The Warlock remained still for a moment more. The other guardians watched silently, waiting to see what he would do. Delta let out a long sigh, then slowly lowered his weapon. “No.” [url=https://www.bungie.net/en/Groups/Post?groupId=1371758&postId=243203669&sort=0&page=0]Part 8[/url] [url=https://www.bungie.net/en/Forums/Post/224417569?page=0&sort=0&showBanned=0&path=1]The Hub[/url]