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Destiny

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10/11/2016 9:42:40 PM
24

Part 10 of RIP the Dream

Here's Part 10! Sorry for the delay! I can post these directly to the forums if they're short enough, so I intend to do that for ease of access. As always, you can find the Master Post here: [url]https://www.bungie.net/en/Forums/Post/214044178[/url] Enjoy! Ikora Rey gently blew the steam from her mug of mint tea. The vapor scattered and then coalesced once more into a smooth rising cloud. Her Ghost lay dormant on her desk, doing its best imitation of sleep. Ikora’s study wrapped itself around her. This was her home. In the days of her youth, she never imagined that she would… settle. But that word no longer disgusted her. Now, it was all she looked forward to at the end of the day. Books and matter engrams were piled about in an uncharacteristically messy fashion. The feeling, though, was undeniably comfortable. Looking around the room was like looking into Ikora’s mind. But it was only she and her Ghost who had ever seen it. Her quarters, like the mind they imitated, were hidden. Protected. Eyes glazed over, Ikora sat in meditation as her hot tea cooled on the desk before her. She was old now. She felt it in her bones. There was a weariness there that had previously gone unnoticed. But even this was familiar, in its own way. That feeling was a reminder of the years she had existed. Decades, even centuries had passed since the day her Ghost found her. Ikora’s tired bones were a testament to her strength. Though weary, they were full of Light. Light that had been honed and tested through the years. Her legendary weapon, Invective, rested at her side. Too much time had passed since its trigger was last pulled, since it spoke in the eloquent fashion only a shotgun could. Countless Guardians had met one of their many deaths at the muzzle of Invective, and many more pawns of the Darkness had met their final death from the same. In her trance, Ikora reflected upon bygone days. It was a routine now, set in her habits like the power set in her bones. Much could be gleaned from this reflection. Ikora owned lifetimes worth of memories in her mind. That was the paradox of Ikora’s situation. She was infused with the wisdom and power of the past, and yet the present still bore challenges for which she lacked the knowledge to overcome. She thought of all the Guardians lost on Luna, high above her head. She had not been equipped with the knowledge needed to overcome the wretched Hive God, Crota, and she had refused the help of the one man capable of aiding their endeavor. And now he was dead, too. Had she been younger, Ikora might have felt tears slip down her strong cheekbones. Tears were a resource, and through the ages she had depleted her reservoir. Mistakes in her past could not be changed, but they could be used to overcome obstacles in the future. At that precise moment, she raised the mug to her lips and felt the perfectly warm liquid roll over her lips and slide crisply across her tongue. The cool mint flavor contrasted perfectly with the temperature of the tea. She took pleasure in the sensation. In her age, she found that it was the smallest details that kept her going. Immortality had its own unique burdens. Ikora allowed her mind to wander. It came to pass that her attention focused on the fireteam of young Guardians she had sent to Venus. A feeling mixed between pity and sorrow twisted her face into a grimace. Eyes shut tight, she wondered how it was that the best she could spare were three Guardians who had barely been alive for two weeks. If they perished she would be to blame. Two weeks were a grain of sand in the beach of Ikora’s experience. The Guardians were so young… They were powerful, to be sure, but they were a spark compared to the inferno that was Ikora. Sometimes she sympathized with Cayde’s longing for the field. If Fireteam Scarab located the Foundation, she would update their objectives. Ikora had good reason to keep their true mission secret until the Foundation’s existence was confirmed. The Speaker would not approve of her designs. Recently, increased Vex activity on Venus and Mars had been reported by Cayde’s scouts and confirmed by Ikora’s Hidden. Ikora feared that the Darkness was preparing to mount an offensive from two directions: Luna and Venus. The combined efforts of the Vex and Hive would no doubt obliterate the Last City. Advance reports based on partially decoded Golden Age transcripts showed that the Davenpool Foundation had been premiere in Vex research, possibly more so than the Ishtar Academy. If the transcripts were interpreted correctly, then the Davenpool Foundation had discovered a way to disrupt and even destroy Vex networks. They supposedly had the power to halt Vex activity in wide swaths of space. It seemed too good to be true, but the City needed any edge it could get. But given both the House of Winter’s presence and the Vex’s relentless onslaught, the Speaker refused to clear most fireteams for an expedition to uncharted Venusian ruins. Ikora, however, knew that there were acceptable risks. Ikora’s Ghost stirred on her desk and rose sleepily into the air. “Zavala is calling. Should I put him through?” Ikora sighed wearily and nodded. “Is this a good time, Ikora?” the stalwart Titan Vanguard asked. “I have new matters that must be discussed.” Ikora closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, collecting herself. “Yes,” she replied. “What is it you have learned?” “A new Guardian was resurrected in the Cosmodrome yesterday,” Zavala said. Ikora could detect barely contained excitement in her old friend’s voice. Though new Guardians were becoming more infrequent, a recent rebirth did not exactly constitute pressing matters. “I assume there is a point to this,” Ikora said dryly. “That Guardian killed an Archon today.” Ikora sat back in her chair put a hand to her temple. “This Guardian… born yesterday, killed an Archon?” The House of Devils would no doubt be in shock. Now is the time to strike. “Do they know the importance of this deed? The statement they have made?” “I would hardly think so,” Zavala said. Yes, there were definitely undertones of excitement. “There’s something special about this one,” he continued. “I would keep watch if I were you.” “Yes,” Ikora agreed. “This is… impressive. Thank you Zavala. Are there any other topics you wish to examine?” “No, thank you, Ikora. Nothing that can’t wait for tomorrow.” He paused. “Sleep well, friend.” Ikora smiled faintly. “You as well, Zavi,” she teased. “Why must you insist on using that blasted monicker?,” Zavala complained lightheartedly. “See you tomorrow,” she said. The transmission cut out. Sighing, Ikora leaned back in her chair and fell back into her meditative trance. Outside, rain lashed at the Tower’s walls. Ikora felt the storm rage in the sky above. And in its midst, the Traveller hung. Silent. Looming. Ikora was aware of the great fog of sleep that began to roll in, and painfully so when it was sharply cleared by her Ghost’s voice. “I’m sorry, Ikora, but it’s important.” Ikora clenched her jaw and inhaled deeply through her nostrils. “It had better be,” she growled through gritted teeth. “It’s Cassandra Vasquez. She says it’s urgent.”

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