Crucible Shock

“Morning, fresh meat!”

Great Dane had a smug grin on his bearded face even before the transport cabin door had finished opening. He stood in knee-high snow drifts, long camouflaged cloak flapping in the wind of the spooling down engines. He held his helm against his hip in a relaxed stance, utterly in his element, the very picture of Hunter ease.

Quarrel threw him a wave and hopped out of the transport ship as soon as the ramp touched the ground. Zinnia shuffled down behind her. She stifled a yawn with her fist and shot Dane a suspicious look. The Hunter Polaris followed her, shouldering his pulse rifle and stretching his arms over his head. Zinnia had been very happy to find out that Polaris was going to be the sixth for today’s skirmish. They knew each other through Tory, yet that didn’t seem to detract his standing in Zinnia’s eyes. Polaris reminded Quarrel a lot of Tory — very sociable and laid back, with deep eyes that held an enigmatic smile — but with a certain amount of quiet refinement that the other Hunter lacked. He was lean and lithe, with skin nearly as dark as her own and his head half-shaved. The rest of his black hair was done up in a multitude of tiny braids which he had tied back before they landed.

“So you decided to come after all?” Dane grinned.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Quarrel said.

His brown eyes sparkled in the morning sun.

“Good!”

Dane turned to Zinnia, taking in her rumpled vestments.

“And you got little Zinnia out here too!” he gasped. “It’s been too long!”

“What are you so happy about this early?” Zinnia grumbled.

“I get to skirmish with my favorite Warlock!” Dane laughed. He turned to Polaris and nodded. “Speaking of, I can’t remember the last time we went toe to toe.”

“Really?” Polaris said, returning Dane’s cocky grin. “I remember it very well.”

Zinnia snorted and pretended it was a sneeze. Quarrel couldn’t hide a small smile of her own. At Zinnia’s urging, Polaris had regaled them during the flight from the Tower with stories of previous matches against Dane. Most of which Polaris had won. Dane and his fireteam were still not to be underestimated, but knowing he wasn’t invincible was a great boost to their confidence.

“Oof!” Dane winced. “Let’s hope I’m paired up with you and not against, eh?”

“It’s up to Shaxx,” Polaris said.

“That would just be unfair!” Zinnia said. “Us three on the same team against Quarrel?”

Dane’s smile just grew more smug.

“Where’s the hounds?” Polaris asked, looking around the rocky bluff they stood upon. The transport had taken them to the mountains just north of the City, the legendary pass of Twilight Gap. It was not too far from where she had patrolled with Dane.

“Gelert’s messing with her gear back on the ship,” Dane gestured over his shoulder, looking to the distance where another light City transport was settled on the ground. “Guinny’s getting the lay of the land. It’s been a while since he’s been to the Gap.”

Zinnia scrunched up her face in displeasure.

“It figures I’d be the only Warlock.”

“’Fraid so, ZeeZee,” Polaris said. “That’s all right. Two Warlocks is two too many.”

Zinnia stuck her tongue out at him. Then she grinned slyly at Quarrel.

“Maybe she will decide to become a Warlock! Didn’t you hear?” she spoke casually to Dane, clearly bolstered by the presence of her friends. “She’s already channeled her Light to the Golden Gun!”

Quarrel shook her head. Not this again! She should have taken bets about how long before Zinnia brought up her Light.

“So I’ve heard,” Dane said. “And you think that would make her a Warlock?”

“You Hunters don’t own that!” Zinnia scoffed.

“But we’re the best at it.” Dane winked at Quarrel. She wondered if Dane was capable of such a feat too. The thought gave her a small thrill. She did not relish being on the receiving end of such power.

“Enough talking,” Polaris said. “Shaxx should be arriving any time now, so we’d better not be caught unprepared. You know how he gets.” Dane nodded sagely. Zinnia’s bright eyes went wide.

“He’s coming here?” she squeaked. “Today?!”

“What’s the matter?” Dane asked. “You don’t want your boyfriend to watch?”

Zinnia flushed and stoically ignored his jab, though she did pat at her bun, trying to push stray hairs behind her ears.

“Shaxx agreed to referee in person so he could see firsthand what fresh meat here can do.” Dane said, nodding in approval at the idea.

Great. That was no pressure, then. No pressure at all.

Gelert dismounted the transport, geared up in her armor. A worn sniper rifle hung on her back, nearly as long as she was tall. Quarrel recognized the deadly weapon from the match she saw on interlink, as well as from their patrol. Her cloak was short, thick cloth today, a tough weave of ice blue and white. She had no smile or greeting for them. Her only change in expression was a slight narrowing of her violet eyes when she saw Polaris.

“You should take a look around while we’ve still got time,” Polaris told Quarrel.

“I’ll go too!” Zinnia said, latching to her side. Quarrel set off toward the ridge, Zinnia hot on her heels.

The view from the mountainside was breathtaking. The Traveler hung pale lilac and pink in the distance, swollen and silent over the City whose lights were gradually winking out with the strengthening daylight. She breathed deep of pine and earth and biting snow that chilled her lungs. Crows called in the treetops, echoing over the valley below. They stood in the midst of an old gondola station, overlooking the City like a rusty sentinel, quietly waiting for the battle to start.

Zinnia grumbled about the cold and the wind, but Quarrel could not be happier. It was a fine morning to be out. She nearly wanted to forget the match altogether and just disappear into the thick woods. Polaris joined them on the ridge, his long black cloak rippling at his heels. Its only adornment was two blue stars in shining thread. He looked out over the mountainside with quiet appreciation.

“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” he asked. Zinnia was squatting on her heels examining a twisted lump of metal rusted off from the station.

“It is,” Quarrel agreed.

“This station was once a frontline for the Battle of Twilight Gap,” Polaris explained. “It was long before my time, but Cryptarch records can tell you all about it.” He pointed to the valley floor, a broad stretch of snowy plain that was visible from the Vanguard Hall in the Tower. “Down there is where the final stand took place. Twilight Gap started well beyond this station and eventually came knocking at the City gates. Stories say the pass was an abattoir. The grass was stained red where it wasn’t scorched clean by Warlock fire and ketch cannons. Crows and Dregs picked through the dead, fighting over anything they could scavenge. Many Guardians were buried where they fell, once it was all over.”

They were quiet for a time, watching the last tendrils of fog drifting in the crevasses below.

“In the spring the fields will be full of flowers,” Polaris said. “The civilians will pick them and make wreaths for the Gap Festival.” He grinned at her suddenly, the somber cast lifting from his features. “Then we’ll drink and share stories until even our Ghosts can’t see straight.”

Incoming transport, Ghost clicked. Looks like Shaxx is on his way!

They all looked up as a loud whoom sounded overhead. A jumpship was breaking the clouds, descending low over the tree line.

“Come on. Let’s circle up.” Polaris led her back to the transports. Zinnia hopped up and tossed aside the hunk of metal, jogging after them.

“Get Guinefort over here,” Dane told Gelert, watching the ship descend. Gelert turned toward the north side of the station. She raised two fingers to her mouth and let out a piercing whistle that carried on the cold air. A few moments later Guinefort appeared in the station doorway. He loped over to the group. Quarrel saw him tuck his small notebook into a sturdy leg pocket just over his tall boots. His cloak was a narrow black strip that hung straight down his back, an unknown sigil etched on a knot at the neck.

“Better get your gear on, folks,” Polaris advised them all. “Let’s not waste the Crucible Handler’s time!”

They unslung weapons and checked buckles, snaps, and straps. Perdita appeared beside Zinnia and the two began to argue about the best setup for her armor. At least it wasn’t hard for Quarrel to decide with her limited supply.

“What do you think, Ghost?” she asked. “Should I stick with the sniper, or take the shotgun?” Both of the weapons were loaners courtesy of Dane, as well as the persnickety old had cannon she was still using.

Hmm…let’s see…Gelert is a renowned sniper, and Dane likes close-quarters combat. Polaris seems to favor pulse rifles to good effect. Guinefort is split pretty even with most ranged weapons. And Zinnia likes to lob grenades. So all in all, you’ve got a pretty balanced team whichever matchup you get. I’d say it’s your call.

She glanced over the group. Guinefort was adjusting his helm, Dane fixing his cloak over his golden epaulets, and Polaris was flexing his fingers in their thin, skin-tight gauntlets. The knuckles shone with tiny joint guards, sharp-edged to make an uncomfortable punch should his blade miss its mark. Gelert inspected the length of her sniper. Did she dare take on the Awoken’s deadly aim? She hesitated, then decided she would not hold back.

“Let’s take the sniper. Keep the shotgun on backup transmat.”

Got it!

She inspected her hand cannon and checked the holster’s attachment to her belt. Ghost transmatted the long sniper from the transport ship into her waiting hands. Dane’s eyebrows raised. He said something to Gelert, too quiet for Quarrel to hear. Gelert glanced her way and then back to her own sniper, her expression never changing. The woman had opened up a little during their time on patrol, but now she was all business again.

Shaxx’s ship was making a long arcing descent. It came to rest between their transports. He had arrived in his personal craft, a sleek sharp-winged beauty that bore the Crucible’s sigil of two crossed swords across its nose. The man himself appeared as the ramp came down. He was fully armored in thick Titan plates, a broken-horned helm on his head and a bear pelt slung over his massive shoulders.

Zinnia squeaked and dove behind Quarrel.

“He never arrives undressed,” Dane smirked, speaking quietly. “Thinks it gives him a persona.”

“Doesn’t it?” Polaris asked, no hint of derision in his voice.

Dane laughed, but it was strained. Even the cocky Hunter couldn’t deny the Crucible Handler was just plain intimidating. Shaxx was easily taller than any of them, even Great Dane, and at least twice their width. He made Zavala look almost average.

Shaxx wasted no time. He strode up to them, heavy boots crunching through the snow. The amulet on his chest clinked against his armor, and the entire set gleamed to a high polish. They hastened to secure straps and buckles, double-checked weaponry and helm systems.

“Guardians,” Shaxx greeted them. His voice rang out through his comms, and was no less diminished for it. “Good morning. I hope the Light finds you well.” Coming from him, the greeting sounded like a call to arms. They stood at attention, awaiting his orders. All except Zinnia, who was arguing in a whisper with Perdita.

“Put that away! I want the nice one! No, the gold one!”

Perdita transmatted her a smooth, finely chiseled helm, clicking in annoyance. Zinnia ignored her Ghost and sent a beaming smile to Shaxx, straightening up and pushing stray hairs out of her eyes. The Titan’s own eyes were obscured behind his impressive helm, but all of them could feel the weight of his stare.

“It’s to be skirmish, is it?” he asked, holding out a massive hand. His Ghost appeared. Its shell was larger and tougher looking than Ghost’s, bearing spines reminiscent of Ushabti’s sleek appendages.

“Yes, sir!” Dane called out.

“Very good. And we have new talent?” Shaxx’s helm glinted as he turned his head to Quarrel.

“Sir!” she answered.

He stepped up to her, one of the few who actually stood taller than she did. It was like the mountain itself coming to stand by her side. She thought that she could actually feel his Light emanating from him, as warm as sunlight and as solid as a brick wall.

“Very good indeed,” he said quietly. “I’ve heard about you. Untested here, but not in the field. Haven’t chosen an Order, have you?”

“No, sir.”

Shaxx nodded.

“There’s time yet. You can fight all the same.”

He considered all of them before turning to his Ghost. Quarrel glanced at Polaris, who was watching the Crucible Handler with a gaze that could only be described as respectful — and even a little awed. If Polaris gave a quiet strength, Shaxx shouted it. It was good, solid, dependable strength. Perhaps she ought to consider the Titans more seriously. Gelert and Guinefort wore much the same look as Polaris. Dane stood as attentive as the others, though his lips still curled in his cheeky half-smile.

Shaxx conferred quietly with his Ghost. Nobody seemed to even want to speak now that he was near. Zinnia gazed rapturously while she twisted her free hand in her unbound sleeve. At last Shaxx addressed them.

“Let’s get teams sorted. Polaris, Gelert, Zinnia: You’re Bravo team. Guinefort, Dane…and you, Guardian,” he looked right at Quarrel, “You’re Alpha.”

Zinnia gave her a disconsolate look. Dane slung an arm around Quarrel’s shoulders.

“All right! Team fresh meat!”

“Bravo starts on the east side,” Shaxx intoned. “Alpha starts here, on the west. A quick primer for the uninitiated. The Crucible is live fire. That includes all utilization of Light or hand-to-hand combat. No holding back. That said, Ghosts are strictly off limits. If I catch anyone so much as pointing a finger at one, I’ll be the last thing they ever see. Understood?”

Quarrel nodded, trying not to think about a fist the size of Shaxx’s coming at her skull.

“Yes, sir!” they all barked.

“Good. Standard gear telemetry is in bounds, as well as limited Ghost feeds for proximity radar and the like. Enemy signature scans and long-range sensors are forbidden. Believe me, I will know if you cheat.”

She nodded again. The Light help anyone who even entertained the notion of unfair play with Shaxx around! Just his lecture made her sweat. How had Dane ever had the courage to stream his match? He wasn’t going to broadcast this one, was he?

Shaxx continued with the rules.

“In skirmish, Revives are as follows: a Ghost remains with their Guardian in stasis hold until joined by a teammate. Only then is the Revive authorized. No jumping the gun, Guardians. If your teammate isn’t around, then you aren’t getting up. Personally, I find stasis a good time for Ghost lectures on what you could have done better.”

She sincerely hoped Ghost wouldn’t take that advice to heart.

“You will wait in your starting positions until you hear my call. Combat remains in effect until your entire team is down with all the opposing teammates Revived, or the time limit is reached. Once the skirmish is declared through, it’s weapons down. No exceptions.” He put his hands on his hips and stared them all down. “You stand on sacred ground this morning. I expect a good, clean fight. One worthy of the honor of the Gap!”

“Sir!” Polaris called. They all echoed him.

Shaxx nodded.

“Dismissed.”

He strode back to his jumpship.

Zinnia let out a breath. The poor thing was beside herself. Her sad eyes went to Polaris, who clapped her on the shoulder.

“Suit up, Warlock. Let’s get to our starting point!” He set his helm on his head and loped off the hillside down toward the central part of the station. Gelert positioned her sniper on her back, checked the fastening on her helm, and set off after him at a jog.

“Good luck!” Zinnia called to Quarrel.

“You too. Do me a favor and shoot me rather than burn me alive, okay?”

Zinnia grinned and slipped her helm over her messy bun. She touched the hand cannon at her thigh, sent one more glance in Shaxx’s direction, and then took off running after Polaris and Gelert.

Guinefort slung his shotgun on his back and balanced a scout rifle against his shoulder. He looked to Dane, who was just pulling the hood of his cloak up over his helm. His armor was a motley assortment of sapphire wire wraps and light plasteel plates, colored deep blue and ivory and very faded from use. His gauntlets reminded her of Polaris’, with spiny protrusions on his elbows and close-fitting leather for the gloves.

Dane turned to her. His helm’s reflective visor showed Quarrel her own simple armor and the scarf wrapped securely around her neck. The sniper peeked over her shoulder. Well, at least she looked battle ready. She still didn’t know how she felt about using live ammunition against her friends. No, she knew how she felt — terrified.

“Gonna give Gelert a run for her glimmer?” Dane asked, pointing at her sniper. Even through the comms she could sense his smirk.

“Hope so.”

“Better watch our backs, fresh meat,” Guinefort said, the blank mask of his tinted visor somehow conveying his lack of enthusiasm.

“Let’s get on our starting point,” Dane said. They began to move toward the transports, heading to the top of the slope. Shaxx’s jumpship spooled up with a whine. The Titan was watching them out the entryway.

“Hey! Guardian!” he called out to her.

She turned to face him, wondering if she had done something wrong already.

“Sir?”

“Give ‘em hell.”

She grinned under her helm and saluted, fist to her chest. The ramp closed and the ship began to rise, coming to a stop over the station.

“He’ll oversee the match from there,” Dane said. “His Ghost interlinks with ours so Shaxx sees what they do, as well as getting the bird’s-eye view. Better be on your game!”

Her heart pounded with anticipation. If she could use that sniper right, perhaps nobody could even get close enough to her for Ghost to have to test his Revival. If they got any closer…well, she was getting pretty solid with that hand cannon, at least on the gun range targets. And she still had the shock dagger tucked into her belt. She’d been practicing with that too. Her heart also pounded for Zinnia. The Light send she didn’t have to be the one to put a bullet to her.

Dane and Guinefort began to talk strategy.

“We can count on Gelert sniping while Polaris goes to stealth and flanks,” Dane said. “Watch for shimmers in the air, fresh meat. That camouflage can be mighty hard to see even when you’re expecting it.” Guinefort nodded in agreement.

“If that’s the tactic they use, then I’d expect Zinnia to work the middle range, or stick near Polaris,” he added.

“My thoughts exactly,” Dane said, checking over his own hand cannon. He had a myriad of knives at his waist, and a couple strapped to his boots. She was sure he had others hidden elsewhere. “More likely she’ll be glued to his side and wreck his cloaking.”

“Maybe he’ll tie her up as bait,” Guinefort chuckled.

“I wouldn’t underestimate her,” Quarrel cautioned. “I know she was practicing at the range early this morning with Banshee.”

“Yeah. Practicing.” Dane snickered.

“She’ll fire some shots in your general direction,” Guinefort said. “All of them off the mark unless she happens to be standing on your toes. You can maybe start to worry when she starts hurling sun at you.”

“I’ll try and get her out into the open, fresh meat,” Dane said. “Give you some sniper practice. She’ll be a real easy target. That helm she’s wearing looks pretty weak, so one shot should pop her head like a grape. Then we’ll have the real trouble to worry about.”

Quarrel felt cold listening to him talk about finishing Zinnia so casually. She felt the sudden urge to back out. The Light send it didn’t come down to that. If Zinnia had to go, she hoped it would be by anyone but her.

“Any questions?” Dane asked, hands on his hips.

She had to swallow to get the moisture back in her mouth.

“Yeah. Where should I start?”

“Up there.” Guinefort pointed toward a catwalk terminus down the slope and just to their right. It overlooked the central gondola dock and gave a long sightline to the east.

“I don’t know that she can beat Gelert to position,” Dane said, shaking his head. “You might want to start off on the upper dock by those containers.” He pointed to a more central location between the two team starting points.

“Gelert might go there,” Guinefort said. “She can handle the short range stuff real well without changing scopes.”

“Maybe,” Dane conceded. “She can also run quick with that sniper. You any good at sniping on the run?” he asked Quarrel.

She was astonished. Who could wield such a cumbersome rifle on the run and still expect to get any shots?

“I’ve never tried,” she said.

“Well then, don’t. You’ll just trip over your gun, and then we’ll have to make fun of you.”

“Hang back here and we’ll go scout ahead,” Guinefort offered. “Once we get an idea where Gelert wants to set up shop, we’ll let you know where to go.”

“Sounds good,” Quarrel said. She marveled at how confident she sounded. Inside, she was quaking, the adrenaline starting to take hold.

“Be ready to move,” Dane warned her. “When we say go, you’d better hustle. Just listen to us and you’ll be fine. If you get in over your head, run away. Tag our Revives and leave the shooting to us.”

Our uplinks have just been tested by Shaxx’s Ghost, Ghost said from Rest. We should be starting shortly.

“Mack just got the ping,” Dane said at the same time.

Guinefort hefted his scout rifle. Dane checked the bullets in his hand cannon’s chamber. Quarrel scanned the horizon, looking to the Traveler and the City below, wondering if it was too late to change her mind. Wondering if she would dare back out among the graves of fallen heroes. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled.

“If I were a betting Exo,” Guinefort said, “I’d say Gelert is gonna start directly across from our nest.”

“What, like in those trees?” Dane scoffed.

“Stranger things have happened. Didn’t you see her hanging upside down and target shooting at camp?”

“She’s Dark-blind crazy.”

“That she is,” Guinefort said. His voice was unmistakably fond. Both of them spoke so casually, as though they didn’t realize they were the targets of Gelert’s intent. Quarrel had seen that particular stunt. It still left her in disbelief.

“Fifty glimmer she knocks you down first,” Dane bet.

Guinefort chuckled.

“She does like to take down the biggest threat right away.”

“More like separate the wheat from the chaff.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

Their conversation was cut short by a tone in their helms, followed by Shaxx’s commanding voice.

“Stick together, Guardians. The match has begun!”

“Match is a go,” Dane’s voice followed Shaxx’s in her helm. “Let’s get to work, Guinny!”

“Ten-four,” Guinefort acknowledged.

“Got your back,” Quarrel chimed in.

The two Hunters ran together down the slope.

“I’m going bottom, see if I can keep them on their side,” Guinefort called.

“I’ll take top route,” Dane answered. He split off toward the station doorway that Guinefort had come through earlier.

And now we wait, Ghost sighed.

Wait. Yes. That was all she needed to do. Just listen for Guinefort or Dane to call out Gelert’s position. Until then, she should just do as she was told and stay put.

She hated it.

Just standing there, listening to the faint roar of Shaxx’s jumpship and the wind in the trees, was maddening. What was happening? Where was everyone? She glanced toward the east into the waving pine boughs. An image of Gelert hanging from one of those branches with her sniper entered her mind. She decided she had better get low. She crouched to the side of a modest rock outcropping, where she hoped she was well out of scope sight. Was she really supposed to just hang back here? Part of her was immensely relieved. Part of her wanted to run into the fray, to find the others before they found her. To start the chase — and end it, quickly.

“Nothing moving above,” Guinefort called out. “Haven’t seen any activity in the docks. Can’t see Gelert.”

“Why don’t you stand on something real tall and look?” Dane suggested. “Maybe wave your arms a little bit?”

“Yeah, you’d like that. So would she. I learned my lesson last time.”

Dane chuckled.

Guinefort could be as prideful as Dane, but he also seemed unable to resist a joke at his own expense. A lot of Hunter humor seemed that way. She wondered if Titans were much the same. They seemed like a cheerful lot, if Boone and Maya were anything to go by. Warlocks…well, what did Warlocks joke about?

The seconds crawled by. She shifted on her heels, licked her dry lips.

“Slow start,” Dane grunted. “It’s gonna be one of those games.”

“Should I pitch a grenade?” Guinefort asked. “Maybe I can flush Zinnia out. She panics easy.”

Unfortunately, Quarrel could imagine that.

“Nah, not yet,” Dane said. “I’m north side right now. Let me get a little closer to the middle, then you can jump up and we can pinch ‘em.”

A shot rang out, echoing along the ridgeline.

“That’ll be Gelly!” Guinefort called.

“You got eyes on her?”

“She’s crouched on the crates! I swear she wasn’t there a second ago! Just about took my damn head off when I left cover. How in the hell does she drag that sniper up so fast?”

“That’s your cue, fresh meat!” Dane said. “Get up to that nest! Go, go, go!”

The words acted like a spur on her already frayed nerves. She scrambled to her feet and took off running.

“Keep your head down!” Guinefort warned.

Quarrel dropped into a crouch, scrambling up the catwalk stairs and throwing herself onto her stomach. Her hands were slick with sweat in her gauntlets. With every minuscule movement she felt like she was being watched and kept imagining the sensation of her head being blown apart by a sniper bullet. How badly would it hurt? Would she truly die before Ghost Revived her?

She pulled the sniper from her back with all the care she could. Now she needed to get to a point where she could actually see anything more than the railing.

“I’m gonna try to get Gelly out,” Guinefort said. “Fresh meat, you better take control of that nest. Don’t let anyone near me!”

“Got it!” she said, her voice strained.

“Don’t give your position away!” Dane added. “Get low behind that pillar if you have to. Take no shots until you have a decent chance of making it. Damn newbies are always wasting ammo — agh!”

Dane cursed, followed by a thump from his comms.

Guardian down!

The Ghost’s voice was unfamiliar to her.

“Woo!” Dane cheered. “That’s how it’s done! Chew on that lead a while! Yeah!”

Who was already down?

“And he lives!” Guinefort laughed. “First blood against Polaris!”

Polaris had been defeated? It had happened so fast!

“All right, fresh meat!” Guinefort called to her. “Get ready!”

A percussive blast echoed around the central dock. Guinefort had sent a Light above his head.

“Now! Now!” Guinefort yelled. “Gelly’s moving! Cover me!”

Quarrel lurched above the railing, the heavy sniper threatening to topple her balance. She was beginning to sorely regret her choice. A crackle of flame vanished on the upper dock. Guinefort was leaping up with his Light to gain the higher ground. She caught a flash of movement heading inside the station — an ice blue cloak. She brought her scope up far too late. Gelert vanished around the corner. Guinefort skidded to a halt at the dock’s station entrance, unwilling to follow.

“Where you at, Dane?” he called. “Gelly’s moving inside to the east.”

“Still below, watching starlight’s Ghost. Hey, cutie! Long time no see!”

Ghost clicked in annoyance. Could he gloat any harder?

Quarrel brought her scope back up.

“I need intel, Ghost,” she whispered, fearing her voice would carry.

I can interface some of my telemetry directly to your helm. Hold on…there. How’s that? Her visor began feeding a confusing array of information, practically blocking out her vision. Was this what he was processing every second?

“Whoa! Too much!”

Whoops! Here. How about radar, distance, and windspeed for starters? Much of the cacophony disappeared.

“Much better,” she sighed.

She wondered if he was itching to tell her everything. Just because he wasn’t allowed to share that data didn’t mean he wasn’t sampling it.

She peered through the scope, first toward the east and then sweeping back toward the center of the station. No movement, no signs of any other Guardians besides Guinefort. She raised her head a tiny bit to watch the doorway that Guinefort was covering. Her heart thudded against her ribs. Shaxx had to be crazy to have ever thought up this kind of combat between Guardians.

“Any sign of Zinnia?” Guinefort grunted.

“I haven’t seen her,” Quarrel answered.

“Ha! I bet they told her to hang back too.”

“One of them is going to try and tag Polaris’ Revival,” Dane said.

Guinefort was sidestepping quietly around stacks of shipping containers, peering to the ground below him. Where had Gelert gone?

“Gelly’s in here somewhere,” Guinefort grunted. “My radar is going nuts.”

A distant explosion sounded from the north side of the station. She flinched.

“Found Zinnia!” Dane cried. “She’s got Sol grenades!”

“Keep her busy!”

“Oh really, Guinny? Is that what I’m supposed to do?” Dane chuckled. His mirth didn’t last long. “Damn! She’s pushing the Revive! I can’t get —”

Quarrel heard gunshots, the bark of handcannons.

Guardian down! Perdita cried.

Quarrel’s heart skipped a beat.

“Got her!” Dane exulted. “Just got to — dammit! Gelert!”

Two shotgun blasts.

Guardian down!

“Aw, hell!” Guinefort groaned. “Come on, Dane! Fresh meat, get down here! We’re going for the Revive!”

Quarrel stowed her sniper rifle on her back and dashed off the nest for the central dock. One burst of Light took her up top. Guinefort careened beside her.

“Gelert’s gonna try to get Zinnia and Polaris back up. Head into the station. There’s a dropdown dead ahead. Get some coverage down there. I’m going to push from the side!” He broke off, running to the east end of the dock.

“Ghost, can you show me friendly signatures?” she asked. Two blue dots jumped onto her radar while she dashed inside. Those would be Guinefort, whose dot was quickly heading out of range, and Dane’s Ghost, static just below her. She entered the cavernous cargo bay and slid to a stop. An old elevator shaft must have been the dropdown point Guinefort was talking about. That, or the empty overlook next to it. She crept forward. She would try the overlook first…

A heavy scout report broke the tense silence. A thick slug smashed into her shoulder. Quarrel reeled. She crawled to the wall away from the overlook. One glance at her arm showed a stream of blood quickly pooling on the floor. She was relieved to see she still had an arm left, though it hung useless now.

I’ve got you! Ghost cried. She grit her teeth, eyes watering, until the healing wave took the pain away. Her flesh simply spat the bullet out.

The proximity radar flashed bright red. Gelert was moving in below. Quarrel freed her hand cannon and flung herself at the ledge. Down the sights she could see Dane’s Ghost directly below. Perdita hovered practically right next to the heavy-shelled Ghost, and Polaris’ Ghost practically on top of her. All had their fins stretched out from their casings, oscillating wildly around gathered Light. She swallowed hard at the sight of the bodies lying motionless on the ground. A red pool was spreading beneath them all. The Ghosts had their eyes trained on each other. Gelert had to be down there, somewhere.

She dropped down to the floor below. Her heart hammered in her throat.

“How do I tag?” she whispered to Ghost.

Get close for three seconds!

Dane’s Ghost turned to her. She fell into a defensive crouch, teeth clenched and stomach churning. Her hands shivered on the hand cannon grip, ready to fire at the slightest movement. Ghost began to count.

Three…two…one!

Everything happened at once. The gathered Light shot into Dane’s body. His Ghost disappeared to Rest. Gelert came charging around the corner, sliding under Polaris’ Ghost. Quarrel fired at the Awoken’s feet, desperate. The Light shot into Polaris. Dane leaped up from the ground, sailing over to Gelert. Polaris threw himself at Perdita. Light shot into Zinnia. Gelert rolled and sprang up in front of Quarrel. Quarrel lashed out with the butt of her hand cannon, unsheathing her dagger with her other hand. Gelert’s scout bullet ricocheted off the concrete wall, followed by the sound of shotgun blasts from Dane and Polaris as they ducked and dodged around each other. Zinnia sailed into the air, her Warlock float carrying her far overhead.

Guinefort leaped into the fray, ablaze with Light. He had become something else, a thunderbolt, liquid deadliness that left ozone smell in Quarrel’s helm. Gelert began firing at Guinefort, and then she too exploded in a spray of Light and arcing electricity. She held a surging blade of Light, as long as her forearm and crackling with heat.

Guinefort skimmed through the air, impossibly sinuous, and skewered Gelert’s stomach with his own crackling blade. Gelert had no time to even cry out. She was simply consumed in a wave of Light — but not before her blade freed Guinefort’s head from his shoulders. Their Ghosts hung over the ashes that remained.

Guardian down! They cried as one.

Quarrel felt a jolt. Not because she’d been touched by the electricity, but as if her Light were trying to follow the two Hunters. She recognized that tugging. It was just like —

The Golden Gun erupted. Fire burst through her skin. She spun to Polaris. Polaris saw her, leaped again, and simply vanished. Her first bullet passed harmlessly through the air where he’d just been. Zinnia was floating down toward the ground, firing wildly at Dane. The Hunter dove aside.

Quarrel turned, desperate to keep an eye on Polaris. She caught a glimpse of him before he vanished again. Her next bullet singed the floor an angry red.

A cold knife went straight into her side, sliding between her ribs with shocking ease. Her Light winked out. She twisted away, knowing she was done for, knowing Polaris had caught her. He raised his shotgun —

And slumped forward, his gun and knife falling out of his hands and his lifeless body on top of them. She was left staring at his Ghost blinking back at her. Beyond the Ghost was Dane, his hand cannon smoking. She barely felt Ghost’s healing through the adrenaline.

Zinnia darted forward. The Warlock shot a palm out. A fiery burst caught Dane’s cloak alight. He cursed and rolled backwards. Zinnia stumbled, surprised by her success. Quarrel rolled aside.

She came to her feet with her hand cannon leveled, staring down the barrel straight into Zinnia’s weapon. For one horrible moment they stood there, both of them shocked that it had come down to this. She had impossibly long seconds to see everything happening. The little Warlock had forgotten Banshee’s advice: her shoulders were too high and too tight.

“I’m sorry,” Zinnia said.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Zinnia shuddered, Dane’s bullets punching through her thick vestments into her back. She jerked forward, gasping.

Crack!

Quarrel watched herself send a bullet through Zinnia’s stomach, nerveless fingers squeezing the trigger. Zinnia collapsed, hitting the ground hard right at her feet.

Guardian down! Perdita cried.

Quarrel staggered back from Zinnia’s corpse, tripped over her own feet, and hit the floor beneath Guinefort’s Ghost. She clawed at her helmet buckles, feeling an all-too-familiar sickness rising in her throat. She coughed bile onto the inside of her visor.

Three…two…one! Ghost called.

Guinefort appeared in a burst of Light.

“That’s the match!” Shaxx’s voice boomed through her comms. “Weapons down, Guardians!”

Dane laughed and laughed.

***

Quarrel sat against the wall where she’d fallen, scrubbing her scarf over her face and drinking deep of the cold air. Polaris leaned over her, his hand on her shoulder.

“That’s it. Nice, deep breaths. Let the adrenaline pass.”

She tried to pace her shaking breath. In and out. Nothing else to think about. The fight was over. She still couldn’t help flinching whenever Polaris moved.

“Sorry,” she panted. “I’m just…it’s just…”

“No need to explain,” Polaris chuckled. We’ve all been there. You’ve just run around shooting your friends in the face. That’s enough to rattle anyone’s nerves. We call that Crucible shock.”

Shock was a bit of an understatement.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he said. “Honestly, I’d be worried if you weren’t a little rattled. It’s one thing to fight the Fallen. It’s another to turn on fellow Guardians. Plus, I’d like to think I’m a little more formidable than a Dreg —  oh, you missed a spot.” He grinned and pointed at her cheek. She scrubbed her face again. The scarf and the inside of her helm would need a good cleaning.

“A little more formidable,” Zinnia sighed. The Warlock was sitting cross-legged on the ground just beside Quarrel, alive and well. She had her helm off too and was combing her fingers through her loose red curls.

Dane was busy with Gelert and Guinefort, laughing and slapping them on the shoulders. Dane and Gelert’s breath smoked in the air, and steam rose in little plumes from Guinefort’s plates. Dane’s cloak was quite singed at the ends, courtesy of Zinnia. Quarrel spat on the concrete. She could still taste bile, but at least it wasn’t all over her face anymore.

Dane broke away from his crew to come to her side.

“Nice job, fresh meat,” he said, holding out a hand. She was pleased that this time she didn’t flinch.

“Thanks. You too.”

That earned a chuckle from Dane, as though it had gone without saying.

“It was a good game all around,” Polaris said.

Gelert nodded at Polaris with perhaps the most approving look Quarrel had ever seen her give.

“Yeah, good game!” Guinefort agreed.

“Pretty short as these things go,” Dane said. “Maybe we should have a second round?”

“I don’t know about these two,” Polaris said, gesturing at Quarrel and Zinnia, “but I’ve got to head off.”

Quarrel was infinitely grateful for that. She didn’t want to admit that she didn’t think she could go through something like that again so soon. She kept glancing over at Zinnia, expecting the Warlock to round on her at any moment. She had shot her!

Dane shrugged, his grin now satisfied on top of smug.

“Let’s check in with Shaxx to get the official ruling.” By his happy tone, he couldn’t wait to hear the Crucible Handler declare Alpha’s victory.

Polaris offered a hand to Quarrel, helping her to her feet. Zinnia sprang up from the ground, smoothing her vestments, apparently unconcerned about the enormous bloodstains covering her front. They began the trek through the complex to the ships. Polaris led the way as Dane dropped back to walk with Quarrel. The Hunter had something to say. She could feel it.

“You handled yourself well for your first time,” he said. “Most greenhorns choke in a big way.” He glanced at Zinnia, who was still fussing with her vestments. “Why don’t you run with us again soon? You could be top of the leaderboards.”

“Sounds like a big time commitment,” she said. It was hard to concentrate on much right now.

Zinnia was trying to watch them from the corner of her eye while pretending not to care.

“It is,” Dane said, “but it’s worth it. These skills translate directly to battle. In fact, I think you’d find most engagements to be pretty yawn-worthy after a lot of Crucible training.”

She could imagine there was at least a small measure of truth to this. After all, their simple games of hide and go seek had prepared her in some ways for today.

“What do you say?” Dane asked. “You aren’t going to get a lot of offers, I can tell you that. Most Guardians aren’t willing to work with the newly Reborn. But I think you’ve got promise. They’ll be sorry they didn’t come clamoring for your training.”

“What are you proposing exactly? More matches?”

Zinnia was now no longer even trying to hide her stare. She glanced between her and Dane with open curiosity.

“More matches. More patrols with Guinny and Gelert. Whatever we feel is necessary.”

They were approaching the slope where the transports were waiting. Shaxx’s personal craft was already on the ground, the Titan standing on the ramp, watching them come in. They lined up before him.

“Congratulations, Alpha team,” he said. “Your teamwork has carried you through to victory. I witnessed some distinguished performances — as well as some decidedly messy strategies.”

Zinnia fidgeted in line.

“Learn from today. Do not put this battle from your mind as inconsequential. Every fight has a lesson. This match is in history now. Go forth, and prepare for the fight to come.”

Polaris led a salute. Shaxx pressed a fist to his chestplate in answer and strode into the jumpship cabin. Apparently, they were dismissed.

“Hey, fresh meat!” Dane called to her while they trudged to the ships. “Ride with us! I want to talk some more.”

She hesitated. Zinnia was frowning at Dane, fingers twisting in her sleeves.

“Do you mind?” she asked Zinnia, keeping her voice low.

“Go ahead,” Zinnia answered. Her smile was a little too stiff.

“I’ll see you back at the Tower,” she told the Warlock. Zinnia waved and followed Polaris back to the transport. Quarrel joined the Hunters at their ramp.

“We’re gonna head to the Lounge,” Dane said, entering the cabin. “I’ll buy you a drink and we can talk shop.”

She had the distinct feeling it meant more badgering to join his crew, but she supposed she could at least listen. Who was she to say no to a free drink?

The pilot Frame closed the door behind them while they buckled in. Dane sat across from her, Gelert and Guinefort on the two seats next to her. As the ship ascended, Dane and Guinefort laughed and joked with each other, speaking animatedly about the fight and the intense moments it contained. Dane mentioned the incredible feat of Light Gelert and Guinefort had pulled off — the Blade Dance, he called it.

“Can I learn to do that?” she asked eagerly.

“Gelert could show you how,” Guinefort said. “But then she’d have to kill you.”

Gelert shoved Guinefort’s shoulder and the Exo laughed.

“That was her signature move until I figured it out. She refused to tell me how it’s done. Now we’re hard pressed to say who does it better.”

Gelert gave him a withering look.

“You still flail around too much,” she said.

That just made Guinefort laugh some more.

“I gotta say, I didn’t think you had it in you to put Zinnia down,” Dane said. He had a special talent for getting right to the heart of prickly subjects. Quarrel shrugged and toyed with her helm buckles.

“I just did what I had to,” she said. It was easy to say, but not so much to believe. She tried to tell herself that Zinnia would have shot back, given the chance. Except the Warlock had hesitated. What did it mean that she had not?

“Yeah, well, she’s going to take it bad. She thinks that since you’re her friend, you were going to go easy on her. Don’t let her whining get to you. It’s like Shaxx says: the Crucible is no place for mercy.”

“I can see that,” she said, remembering Guinefort and Gelert executing each other in the blink of an eye.

She changed the subject back to the Blade Dance. They argued about its origins. Dane maintained it was Cayde-6 who had started it, and Gelert was adamant that the feat was much older than him. Guinefort thought it had come from a long-gone Hunter who had tried to imitate a Titan’s Fist of Havoc. She wasn’t sure what that was, but by the way Guinefort explained it, she didn’t want to find out first hand. The three Hunters all agreed on one thing, however: she would have to join them in order to learn more. All through docking in the Hangar and walking to the Hunter’s Lounge, Dane and Guinefort needled her.

“I don’t know what you’re waiting for, fresh meat!” Dane sighed. He sprawled across one of the sofas nearest the brazier. Gelert settled on the other sofa, a polite distance from Quarrel. Guinefort went further back to fetch the drinks. Though it was well before noon, he had no trouble procuring any.

“Keg’s almost out,” Guinefort informed them, handing Dane a foaming glass. “You’re next on the list to restock, Dane.” The cups in the Lounge were a motley assortment, some of them chipped or missing handles. At least they looked clean. Mostly.

“Think you can spot me this time, Guinny?” Dane asked. “You know I’m saving up for another helm.”

“What are you asking me for? I don’t drink it.” Guinefort handed another glass to Quarrel, then presented Gelert’s with a flourish. He had a can of synesthete tucked under his arm, which he cracked into, letting the vapors wash over his noseplate.

“Because you’re such a nice guy and will do it anyways,” Dane said, grinning.

“You mean pushover,” Guinefort grunted. He flopped onto the sofa between Quarrel and Gelert, causing Gelert to slop her beer mid-sip. She glowered at the Exo and wiped her forearm across her mouth.

“Whatever you want to call it,” Dane shrugged. “So long as the tab gets paid.”

Quarrel took a drink. The beer was probably not the best idea for her nearly empty stomach, though it was wonderful for helping to take the edge off. Sitting and talking around the brazier felt much like sitting around the campfire in the mountains. Guinefort even took out his notebook after a while and began to doodle. She settled comfortably into their conversation, eased along by the alcohol, which they all replenished a couple of times.

“What else are you doing today, fresh meat?” Dane asked.

“Dunno,” she said. By now, the drinks were definitely going to her head. Ghost was going to have something to say about it.

“You won some glimmer from that match. You should get yourself a new weapon.”

“I did?” she said. “You lay a wager on me or something?” She certainly hadn’t agreed to anything like that!

“Are you kidding? You have to be much better before I’ll bet on you!” Dane chuckled.

“Shaxx knows the fighting is hard on your stuff, so he offers a little glimmer for the winners,” Guinefort explained.

“That’s awfully nice of him,” she said, feeling suddenly very amicable toward the Crucible Handler. Maybe she would finally be able to replace her melted rifle.

“He’s got glimmer to burn,” Dane said. “There are perks to being the Hero of Twilight Gap. Besides, he can cut deals with the Foundries that would insult them coming from anyone else.”

“They’re only too eager to get their weapons into the Crucible,” Guinefort said. “The happier Shaxx is, the more likely they get a contract.”

“He won’t be bought,” Gelert said.

Dane raised an eyebrow at the Awoken.

“Everyone can be bought.”

They continued to talk until Quarrel had to admit to herself that she was too fatigued to be good company any longer.

“Come with me to the Armory later,” Dane offered after she excused herself. “I’ll help you pick out something good. Banshee takes credit, so don’t worry if you can’t afford anything yet!”

As predicted, Ghost grumbled about her intoxication on the way back to her apartments. Her bed was calling stronger than the allure of food in the cafeteria. She promised him she would eat a hearty dinner when she woke up. The match had exhausted her, all of her fatigue crashing down at once as she wobbled on her feet and punched in her door code. Before she threw herself into bed, she scrubbed her scarf under the bathroom faucet and hung it over the doorknob. It didn’t feel right sending it off to the laundry. She also zealously brushed her teeth. Beer and her revisited stomach contents left a horrible combination in her mouth.

She slept until her door buzzer went off several hours later. Getting out of bed was a struggle. Her mouth was uncomfortably dry. A headache was settling into her temples. She wondered if Ghost could heal it away for her. He probably could, but not before going into an indignant lecture first.

She blinked sleepily down at Zinnia, who was fresh-faced and cleaned up from the morning fight. Even before she asked, Quarrel knew the invitation was to dinner.

“Let me get changed first,” she yawned.

Food was not as welcome as it had sounded before her nap. Quarrel’s fatigue and headache were getting the better of her, and the noise of the cafeteria did not help. They were right in the thick of dinner rush. Zinnia chattered happily about everything that came to mind. The Archives, the upcoming training mission, what she thought Shenu might have them do. The only thing she didn’t talk about was the Crucible. Quarrel rather wanted to leave the subject alone, but the memory of the little Warlock doubling over from a bullet to the gut would not leave her mind. She had to speak up before it drove her crazy.

“Hey, I’m sorry about today,” she said, poking at a bit of pot roast with her fork. It had looked good on the buffet. Now she was regretting the choice. The rich smell made her already touchy stomach turn.

“What do you mean?” Zinnia asked.

“You know, the match…”

“It was a close game,” Zinnia said. “I’m not mad that you guys won or anything.”

“I didn’t want to shoot you,” she mumbled.

“Oh, that.” Zinnia waved a hand. “You shouldn’t worry about it. Marina always says that love in the Crucible means taking the shot.” She spoke calmly enough. Quarrel studied her, wondering if she was really as casual as she sounded. Zinnia kept her eyes on her plate, chasing peas around with her spoon. Quarrel decided to leave well enough alone.

Zinnia did show real disappointment when she declined her offer to come over and watch vidscreen programming after dinner.

“I was going to go to the Armory,” Quarrel admitted.

Zinnia’s disappointment was quickly replaced with excitement.

“I’ll go with you! I’d like to talk to Banshee anyways.”

“Okay. Dane was going to help me choose a new gun,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. Zinnia’s excitement waned.

“Oh. Well…actually, I should probably finish packing for tomorrow. Maybe another time. Um…do you want to come over after that?”

Quarrel hesitated. Saying no to Zinnia much more was going to really hurt her feelings. Her head and stomach weren’t doing any better, but they probably weren’t going to any time soon.

“Sure,” she said. “For a little while.”

It was the right move. Zinnia was all smiles again, launching into talk about her favorite shows. Quarrel listened as best she could, her mind drifting to the Cosmodrome, to mountainsides and stars.