[b]Mare Imbrium, less than an hour later[/b] Nineteen. Nineteen full-fledged battles ending in failure. He looked over the battlefield. The entire Cabal, Eliksni, and human force assembled was now strewn across the ground, their blood, ether, and gel oozing into the mounds of Hive dust. Many of them were cut in half or dismembered. Was it bad that he was growing numb to the sight? Not the death. He’d seen enough battles to know he was already numb to that. But the scene before him reminded him of every other force that engaged a Hive swarm led directly by Crota. Every tactic had been used against the Hive god, from direct assault, air raids, traps, and more. Every time, Crota survived and slayed the armies facing him. He seemed invulnerable to damage. Legionnaires had been drawn to Crota suddenly taking a knee in apparent exhaustion only to be cut down by his accursed blade. The Hive used no other weapon, and left behind devastation only a legion of Risen could produce. Risen...even those Light-gifted undead fell like grain to a scythe against Crota. Reserve troops, hardened veterans, gung-ho rookies, nothing stood before him. His original contingent of Cabal – plus the entire Eliksni House of Devils – had sustained losses nearing fifty percent. Losses unheard of in the history of Cabal conquest. The drain on resources and manpower that this war on the Moon was costing earned his forces a whispered name among Cabal Command: [i]The Broken Legion.[/i] The minimal air shook with the approach of the Scarred Legion’s Ketch and Skiffs. They were too late, of course. [i]No,[/i] Val Aru’un corrected himself, thinking back on the previous eighteen battles. [i]They arrived just in time to survive.[/i] A Skiff broke off from the fleet and landed next to Aru’un’s temporary outpost. Taniks stepped out of the craft, followed by Cayde and Andal. The Eliksni signaled for his boys to assist the other Cabal while he walked over to Aru’un. Taniks saluted. “Val Aru’un.” The Cabal returned the salute. “Val Taniks.” The Scarred Legion commander lowered his arms and looked out onto the battlefield with Aru’un. “Light be with us. He did all this.” “Not this time. He marched at the head of a thousand Knights, all bearing swords like him. If video feed reports are reliable, he is personally responsible for a third.” Taniks shook his head. “How long has it been?” “Three months,” Aru’un replied. He could almost remember the day the Cabal tried to set up a relay station and resupply outpost on the Moon. There were even hopes this would restart the lunar recolonization. These dreams were quickly snuffed out by the Hive. “Where did you just come from?” the Cabal asked, pushing the dark memories back. “Southern hemisphere. Helped one of your battalions secure a crater. Even defeated a Reborn Ogre in the process.” “At least we have some good news to report to home base,” Aru’un sighed. Aside from random victories on the surface, the only success they had against the Hive was preventing their Seeders from landing on Earth. Any invasion force was immediately shot out of space by a constantly manned fleet stationed between the two heavenly bodies. He spotted Cayde and Andal helping several Cabal move bulky crates. “Do those two cause you much trouble?” “Who, the Light Stalkers?” Taniks asked. “They’re great. I couldn’t have asked for better. You want them to make a run to Earth?” Aru’un shook his head. “No, I’m just curious. I’m overdue for a personal report to the Geode, but I appreciate the offer.” Taniks shrugged. “Anything else?” “You can help secure the area for post-battle protocol.” “Very well.” Taniks glanced back over the battlefield. “You know what bothers me the most? He doesn’t even leave any Hive behind like he’s trying to take back the Moon. It’s like…he’s just fighting us to [i]kill [/i]us, you know?” [i]It certainly feels that way,[/i] Aru’un thought, looking back over the carnage. Taniks saluted. “Fight well, Val.” “Fight well, Val,” Aru’un replied. He turned from the receding Eliksni and searched his forces for a specific human. She wasn’t hard to find, standing out easily amidst a crowd of Psions busy examining one of the crates. “Light Master!” he called out to her. The Risen acknowledged his hail and approached briskly. Her dark skin was hard to see while she wore her armored space suit. The armband on her sleeve shone with a holographic, jagged teal trapezoid, the symbol that denoted her as a Light Master. Risen were identified into three different types: Light Masters, stealthy Light Stalkers, and powerful Light Breakers. She slauted and answered confidently, “You called, sir?” “Are the shells ready?” he said, gesturing to the crates. “I would say they are positively eager to proceed, my Val, after being confined so long,” she replied, her voice edged with disdain. Aru’un didn’t let her see his eyes roll. He really didn’t want to deal with her crap right now, but discipline had to be maintained. “Mind your tone, Rey,” he rumbled. Ikora Rey cleared her throat before continuing, “Apologies, sir. I’m sure you’ve had time to look over my recommendations on our…post-engagement protocols.” “I have indeed,” the Cabal responded, “but it is not my place to evaluate the necessity or cost of such changes, let alone implement them above the authority of High Command. Your notes will be processed in accordance with the chain of command.” She didn’t take his reply well. “I know I included the urgency of the matter in my report, Val. The conditions they are held in are deplorable. Their directives are effectively being put on standby, and several accounts indicate they are losing a sense of purpose. Getting new measures through High Command takes more time—” “Your concerns are noted, but redundant seeing as they are already in writing,” Aru’un interrupted. “It may please you to know that within the next 24 hours I am to make a personal report [i]with[/i] your recommendations as a topic I shall present. For now, we will proceed with current protocol.” “Of course, sir.” He could tell she wasn’t satisfied, but she was assuaged for now. “Confirm the perimeter is secure,” he continued. “Also, get in touch with the army that recently succeeded in the southern hemisphere. They shall be rewarded with a brief shore leave on Earth.” Ikora cocked her head in surprise. “That’s impromptu. Surely there’s a regulation on that?” “Measures to ensure legion morale are at the discretion of the [i]commanding[/i] officer,” Aru’un grunted. “Enough of your insubordinate cheek. Proceed with the reaping.” The “reaping” was a special procedure concocted by high-ranking Imperial officers during the first years of occupation. They recognized the potential Risen warriors had in turning the tide of a battle, but disliked the random nature and imprecise means at which the Traveler’s Ghosts conducted their search. Therefore, a solution came to locate and seize every Ghost on Earth and contain them until the Cabal could organize mass scannings. Many of these scannings involved releasing the Ghosts onto recent battlefields and search the dead. One shortcoming of the practice was that those fallen were recent dead versus ancient dead, like most Risen. However, skeptics were promptly overlooked after about a handful of Risen had been reborn following battles where they had died as soon and several hours prior. Now every Cabal legion had several crates of Ghosts held in secure cargo holds, waiting to scan masses of dead soldiers. Aru’un’s men unlocked the containers and opened them, releasing dozens of Ghosts of various colors and shapes out into the warzone. Psions walked among the bodies and kept close psychic track of several shells, making sure none of them tried to escape. One of these Ghosts was a simple gray one named Slate. He’d been present at over half of Crota’s massacres. The first couple of times he found it absolutely repulsive to search thousands whose blood had barely dried. Now, he was just thankful enough to escape confinement and fulfill his prime directive. “Please be here, please be here,” he muttered to himself. Word of potential resurrection had not been lost to the Ghosts, and several of the floating shells searched for candidates desperately. Anything to not get put back into storage. He almost missed it. He hadn’t turned off his scanners since he got out of the crate, and after Slate had finished scanning a particularly large mound of bodies he was about to move off when the edge of his beam barely caught a reading. He swiveled back immediately and focused on the pile. There was definitely [i]something[/i] in there. In the back of his processor, he remembered rumors of Ghosts that developed glitches and false readings. The rest of him was too desperate to care. He thoughtlessly transmatted chunks of corpses off the pile to find the source of the reading. Eventually, Slate uncovered enough to confirm— It felt like his heart stopped. Was he actually cracking up? The source of his reading was a dead Cabal. [url=https://www.bungie.net/en/Groups/Post?groupId=1371758&postId=244991280&sort=0&page=0]Table of Contents[/url]