The name is Forrestal... Javier Forrestal. Why am I a Titan? I've asked that question myself. Hell, I know my superiors have asked it more times than I can count. The simple answer is that my father was a Titan, & his father before him, and so on, all the way back to the days when the Wall was first built. All of them, Titans. All of them defended the Wall. All of them are buried in the Memorial Vaults beneath it. That's the simple answer... Of course, it's never that simple, is it? Even as a kid at the tender age of 9, I'd be out on the quad, going through my close quarters drills before breakfast, but my mind would be far beyond the Wall, scouring the deserted landscapes of Abandoned Earth, or hurtling through the Black, toward Venus, Mars or the Asteroid Belt, or making my way across the shattered landscape of the Ocean of Storms... Hmmph.. You know, the week after he died, I found an old book among my dad's personal effects that had a picture of the Moon in it. I hardly recognized it in that picture... It wasn't until I turned the picture on its side that it began to look familiar. Even then, it looked so pristine, marred only by craters... It took me a while to translate the names, but I did it. One name in particular spoke to me: Mare Tranquillitatis... The Sea of Tranquility... Legend has it, this was where Mankind first set foot on the Moon... Even today, its featureless landscape calls to me: It's a place of no strategic significance to any, thus overlooked by all... A place that promises a peace I will never know... A place where I could simply stand in silence and solitude, gazing up at an empty sky, and imagine a universe where we are truly alone and not surrounded by enemies on all sides ready to wipe the last of us from existence... It is a place that truly lives up to its name. Far to the left of the Tranquil Sea, I saw another another name, marking a region of which I and the rest of Humanity are all too aware: Oceanus Procellarum... The Ocean of Storms... Back then it was named for all of the craters that covered its black basaltic expanse. It's current shattered appearance, was not evident in the picture, taken long before the Hive hit it hard enough to knock the Moon off its axis. No evidence of the gaping, ugly scars of the Hellmouths that now dot its surface, breathing their contagion into space, taunting us, daring us to wipe them off the face of the Moon. Now that I think about it, it was that picture that first sent my mind wandering beyond the Wall as a young child, beyond the confines of the City, far from the shadow of the Traveler. It was that picture which first fired my imagination; made me wonder if it were actually possible to see the Moon like that again... Now, twenty years later, here I am, standing once again in front of my CO... Waiting to be dressed down once more for "agitating" my fellow Titans with my talk of what lies beyond the Wall. I prepare to let his lecture wash over me as I keep my expression impassive & my eyes glued to the nameplate on the wall behind his head. Sometimes it's hard to remember that he actually has a name... As long as anyone can recall, we've all referred to him simply as "the Old Man"... I wait in silence, having heard the speech so many times that I know it as well as he does: My talk of "abandoning our endless and pointless defensive posturing", of "taking the fight to our enemies", of "taking back that which was ours & sending those genocidal alien bastards screaming back into the darkness" smacks of incitement to desert our long-held bastion, leaving the people of the City defenseless against the horrors that dwell beyond the safety of the Wall. It's all -BLAM!- of course... I'm a Titan, like my father and his father, and all of their fathers before them. My ancestors helped build the damned Wall & I'll die on it before I abandon my post, same as the others in my squad; same as every other firstborn son in my family. I know it, the Old Man knows it & the brass know it... You don't walk away from that kind of legacy, and you don't drop the hammer on someone who comes from it simply because they're giving voice to the same frustrations felt by everyone else who's lost a loved one defending the City. So I'll take my lumps, return to my post and keep my mouth shut again for a time, while I gaze up at the sky and wonder "what if...". This time, however, the Old Man keeps up the silent treatment for an uncomfortably long while... "Looks like you may finally get your wish, son." he finally says, sliding a folder across his desk toward me. My brow furrows as my eyes track downward to the plain white cover with my name on it. Taking it, I open it up and read, making note of his humorless grin out of the corner of my eye. "God help you, kid." The Old Man says as I finish reading and look up at him. A raised eyebrow is the only hint of confusion evident in my expression. "The Vanguard?" I ask. The name echoes in my mind, carried along with visions of those brave men and women who had been chosen to head out into the frontier, scouting throughout the solar system to bring back precious information on our lost territories and enemies' positions, often at grave risk to life and limb. My heart rate climbs as I ponder the implications, but I let none of it show on my face. Beyond the Wall, eagerness will take years off of your life, and the Vanguard are rumored to venture far beyond the reach of any form of support on a regular basis. Judging by the way the Old Man's eyes are boring into mine, he's testing me; probing for any sign that I'm not right for this assignment. God knows I'm responsible for more than a few of the white hairs on his grizzled head. "Second thoughts?" he asks, confirming my suspicions. "None, sir." I say simply, "An assignment's an assignment." "Stow the bullshit, son. You know damn well this is no simple assignment! The Vanguard operate well beyond the reach of relief, resupply or reinforcement. You will be on your own with no one but yourself or, if you're lucky, your fireteam to back you up. -Blam!- this up & you're gazpacho! This assignment comes from the highest, the highest, levels..." the floodgates open as the Old Man finally lets loose. At the mention of how high up these orders were issued, his voice again fades into the background as my mind's eye recalls an image of long, white, flowing robes, an inscrutable ornate mask, and a soft yet powerful voice, heavy with the weight of years and responsibility. That voice... It spoke, at my father's funeral, of his sacrifice to the City and to Humanity. I remember that voice, as old and smooth as the polished surface of the mask that covered the face of its speaker... I remember gazing up at that mask as he laid a gentle hand on my shoulder and spoke of the regret and gratitude of the City and a debt that could never be repaid... The memory fades back into the recesses of my mind, leaving me with no doubt as to the hand that signed these orders... The Old Man's tirade finally seems to be winding down as I come back to the here and now. "...you take this assignment, you leave now. No transfer paperwork, no saying your goodbyes... You will depart immediately after leaving this office. Your gear will be sent along later. Are your ready for this?" A smile slowly crosses my face, but stops before it reaches my eyes. It's the smile of a man who, after a lifetime of fighting a useless holding action on the Wall, has finally found his purpose. "You know I am, sir." The Old Man's brief nod and smile, as humorless as my own, tells me that this was the correct response. "Sorry to see you go, son." A part of me thinks this is a lie, but something in his eyes makes me wonder... A touch of regret, perhaps, at having passed up such an opportunity of his own, so long ago? Or, perhaps, a similar scene played itself out in this very office with another young Titan, clad in the armor I wear now & whose features somewhat resembled my own? Come to think of it, that would explain a great many things... The Old Man's voice jars me back to the present once more. "You're dismissed..." he says, standing and offering his hand. I shake it, taken somewhat aback by this sudden uncharacteristic display of warmth. As I let go, he salutes and says "Welcome to the Vanguard", I swear his voice catches for the briefest of moments, "...Titan Forrestal... Godspeed." As I return the salute and turn to leave, I'm struck by an unshakable feeling of deja-vu... I know now that he said those same words to my father, some twenty years ago in this same office. It's as if those words hung suspended in time and space until this moment, and now the circle is complete... My father's story is now my own and, where his ended after leaving this office, mine is just beginning. As I emerge from the Old Man's office, I realize now that I am also emerging from my father's shadow to forge my own Destiny.