Destiny 2 - Account of a Salvage Operation

Foreword: I've been remiss in not uploading all of the Wahei Transcripts to this blog. So let's catch up...

"Honestly, Morgan, I'm fine." Wahei Ohr adjusted the set of her blindfold as she sat back and carefully reached out to feel for her tea and biscuits, and the other diversionary items she had to hand. Vizier alit on her shoulder gently as she turned her face in the direction she heard movement. "It's not as if I'm alone," she added, reaching up to tickle the top of her Ghost's shell.

"I'm here to keep her from getting too restless," Vizier added.

Morgan grunted. "You can certainly try. Just... Wahei, this is Fate's way of telling you to take it easy. When was the last time you took a break?"

Wahei's lips pinched into a thin frown. "Guardians make their own Fate, why should I listen to Fate when I can make my own? Seriously, I'm adaptable, I can cope, I can make this all work, if they'd just take a minute to let me explain--"

He interrupted her firmly. "Wahei."

She sighed. "I don't like feeling helpless," she admitted. "Last time I felt like this was when I had Lightloss."

Morgan said nothing. He knew she was talking about her experiences in the catacombs beneath Old Paris, which had not only been infested with Hive, but had also housed a Deathsinger and her consort. Wahei had never said much about her experiences down there, but every time it came up, he could see the way her body tensed up. The way her breath caught briefly in her chest, and the briefest of hesitations in the usual babble of verbiage coming from her. It hadn't left her paralyzed in the face of Hive threats, but something had happened to her.

"I'll say again," he gently patted her on the free shoulder, "you need to talk to someone. Doctor Grus is available, and I know that Doctor Uzair is making some progress with Shayura--"

"Thank you, Morgan." Wahei's voice had tightened, gone as firm as his earlier interruption. "Maybe I will." They both knew she wouldn't.

He grunted. "Try not to let her burn the place down," he said to Vizier. "I'll send Shaman around to check in while I'm out."

He left Wahei's flat, hoping that the Warlock would indeed take the time to rest up following her ordeal in the Lunar Pyramid. The medics had pronounced her of good health, despite the blindness, and so had no reason to forbid her from returning home, but there was still an adjustment period while the Voidwalker learned how to do basic things without the benefit of eyesight.

"Morgan, my brother!" The Titan stopped, turning as the figure melted out of the shadows nearby. A grinning Drifter walked one of his coins along his knuckles as he approached. "Been lookin' for ya. Got some time to help me out with a lil' somethin' somethin'?"

Morgan bumped knuckles with the man. "Might do. Vanguard's been keeping me busy as a liaison with Caiatl's side, but I should be able to squeeze in a little time on your behalf. Long as it won't keep me too busy."

Drifter nodded. "Shouldn't be too much of a problem," the rogue Lightbearer agreed. "There's this thing. Need a little help gettin' a delivery of mine out of hock--"

Now Morgan raised a hand. "Whoa, hang on, D. I know we got an understanding-- I'm part of your crew, but I'm not going to outright break into Vanguard or F.O.T.C. impounds to--"

"No, no, nothin' like that!" Drifter assured him, raising his own hands placatingly. "Not City hock that's got it. I could get it myself, but I think I might just need a little backup for this one. Especially since it's House Salvation that's got it."

The scarred Titan raised an eyebrow. "Really? I didn't think there were many still flying that banner after the last year, between their Kell getting frozen and Dredgen Bog's crew hunting down the last few bitter-enders in Eventide."

Drifter scoffed. "You mean what's left of Eventide. You and the Ruiner did some pretty major deconstruction work out there." He spread his hands. "Listen, you do a solid for me, and I'll make sure you're taken care of."

Morgan rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "Gonna have to make it worth my while, D."

"Hey." The Drifter flashed his grin. "Have I ever not been true to my word and been anythin' less than generous with paying you back, brother?" When Morgan nodded to concede the point, the Gambit handler clapped him on the shoulder. "That's what I like to see. Meet me on the Derelict when you're set to go."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Morgan leaned in to look over the scanners and peer through the viewscreens as the Drifter's ship flew over the ruins of Eventide. While quite a few buildings had fallen during the battle with the Shadows of Salvation several months ago, a sizeable part of Riis-Reborn's infrastructure was still intact. Morgan saw several skiffs with House Salvation's banner flying amid the skyscrapers. "That's way more Salvies than I expected to see," the Titan muttered.

Even the Drifter was shaking his head. "I don't blame House Salvation for skimmin' a little off the trade routes," he remarked. "Couldn'ta been easy when their head honcho got turned into a popsicle." 

Morgan grunted as he slotted shells into his shotgun and checked his auto rifle. "This is a bit beyond the scope of what you said we were going into, D."

"That's on me," Drifter admitted. He gestured out the windows. "But I didn't think the Salvies had the guts to try something like this!" Then he smirked. "But once we get my cargo back, it'll all be gravy, brother."

Morgan pointed. "Looks like there's a landing zone there in the industrial complex."

"I'll drop you off, then circle around," Drifter agreed. "See if I can get a bead on where they're holding my cargo."

Morgan pulled his helmet on, checking the set of the Torobatl celebration mask on the front of it, then racked a shell into the chamber of his shotgun. "Send me down."

"Transmat firin'!"

A moment later, Morgan found himself in the factory complex of the Technocrat's Iron, having to clamber down the remnants of the security brig that had protected the facility. As he did, he noted that there were fresh cuts in the metalwork, and some of its weaponry systems had been cannibalized and removed. Morgan whistled up his Ghost, and pointed. "Eyeball, make sure you get some pics of all this. We'll want to call this into the Vanguard."

He saw more signs of recent activity as he pressed forward. Computer banks and crates which had been gathering dust were missing, with footprints in the frost riming the floor. Heating lanterns were in evidence as well. Then, as he reached the heavy rail transport station, he saw several skiffs pulling away, and some of their lingering crew spotted the approaching Titan, moving to attack.

It wasn't difficult to take them down, but their stalwart defense felt different. This wasn't the shrieking desperation he'd seen in some of the House Salvation bitter-enders he'd come to know in the past year or so. These were Fallen galvanized with purpose, holding the line. "Gonna need a heading here, D," he reported over the comms.

"Got a lock on it, pinging your Ghost." And sure enough, a marker popped up on his HUD. "Our misappropriated shipment is just ahead."

But as Morgan reached the far end of the rail system, and saw the larger crew of Fallen shoring up their defenses ahead of him, his eye instead went to what stood behind them. "Is that... a Prison of Elders containment pod?"

"That's the cargo, brother!" Drifter agreed, cheerfully.

"People aren't cargo, brother," Morgan growled.

"Easy, Morgan. Fella inside owes me a favor. There's a price on his head hereabouts, he wanted me to smuggle him out of there and get him to the City. Supposedly Mithrax will let him lay low in Botza until the heat dies down."

Morgan grunted and squared his shoulders. "Give me a minute to clear out these Salvies."

The House Salvation crew that guarded the prison pod saw the grim form of the Titan in the distance, as he lowered his head and began to pick up speed. By the time he reached them, lightning was beginning to crackle over his armor, and he plowed into their makeshift barricade with all the subtlety of a tank shell. Most of them were scattered into sparkling ash, and the rest barely lasted much longer against his shotgun and fists. "Salvies dealt with."

"Just in time," Drifter remarked, as he transmatted in beside him. "Most of the skiffs in the area are clearing out for the moment. Let's get my client out of there." He strode up to the pod, inspecting it for a moment. As he did so, Morgan noticed the sigil emblazoned on one of the panels.

"Spider's crew?" Morgan tilted his head. "Wonder if it's Avrok. He owes me some silver."

Drifter just chuckled, then reached up to rap his knuckles off the pod's door in a coded rhythm. A voice from within rumbled, "Who's there? Drifter? Is that you?"

Morgan blinked. "Spider?"

The voice from inside the pod started. "Who else is with you?!"

"Relax, boss," Drifter assured him. "I... finessed Morgan into helping with the actual rescuing."

The Spider's voice became even more agitated. "You let Donovan Morgan see me like this?! We'll have words once I'm out of here!" The door rattled, but remained shut. "What? Did those House Salvation drekh seal me in?! Let me out of here, Drifter!"

Drifter chuckled again, leaning against the door to the pod. "About that." He winked at Morgan. "First, let's discuss the matter of our hazard pay."

"What?!" The Fallen crime boss hammered on the walls of the pod in impotent fury. "We had a deal! I will not be leveraged by an amateur extortionist!"

"'Amateur?!'" Now Drifter sounded angry. "Of all the-- I am a professional, thank you very much."

Morgan gestured for him to calm down. "Now, see, that kind of attitude doesn't make me inclined to help you out of there, Pillbug. You're in no position to set terms. I didn't have to come along, and now hearing that you wanna stiff me on payment?"

Drifter saw where he was going with this, cracking a smile. "Ooh, sure fire way to get a Titan angry with you. And you wouldn't like a Titan when they're angry."

"If Spider here," Morgan thumped his fist on the side of the pod, "won't pay me for getting his bloated backside out of the fire, then I need to find an alternate means of getting something out of this. I spent some of my very precious free time coming out here."

Drifter stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Say, we could swing him back by the Tangled Shore. I hear Queen Mara's got a handsome bounty on his ugly mug. Could be quite the payday."

"Now you're speaking my language," the Titan chuckled.

There was a clang from inside the pod as the Spider thumped his fist against the wall. He growled, but then calmed down. "Tell you what," the crime boss said, a little hollowly, "House Salvation commandeered my old ketch. If you can fight your way there, it's yours." There was a pause, before he added, "My associates will join you along the way. Give them a lift, and we'll call it even."

Drifter chuckled, slapping Morgan on the shoulder. "Hear that, brother? We got ourselves a new ride! Just gotta break it out of impound." He tapped his gauntlet. "I know where the Salvies keep their prize ships. You got Spider out, I'll get his ketch. You go round up his associates, meet me topside."

"Take the Pillbug up with you," Morgan called after him, as Drifter transmatted away. A moment later, the containment pod vanished as well. He shrugged, reloaded his weapons, and pressed onward.

More House Salvation crews tried to get in his way, and met similar fates to their brethren as he fought through them. He was approaching the central part of Riis-Reborn when Spider broke into the comms. "There's something you should know," the crime boss muttered. "Overheard some dregs talking."

"While you were hiding in your kennel?" Morgan rolled his eyes.

Spider grunted. "House Salvation is rallying. Someone kicked the hornet's nest."

"We noticed," Drifter cut in, dryly.

"Question is, who?" Morgan swept around a corner, shotgun raised, but the corridors were presently clear. "Nearly all of the Salvie Elites have been taken out. Most of the remainder aren't strong enough to be a rallying figure."

He heard shock pistol fire from up ahead, and charged onward, but as he reached the source of the commotion, he saw several Salvation troops dead on the floor, and a vandal was turning to flee when a wire rifle shot ventilated its head. Two remaining Shanks were shot out of the air a moment later. Morgan lowered his weapons as he saw another vandal, this one wearing the quilled armor of Spider's Syndicate, rise from a crouch behind cover. The Titan nodded to him. "Velask, sniper."

He must have left the comm open, because Spider spoke up. "That's Halsiks, one of my trusted associates. He's deadly with a wire rifle."

The Titan tapped his own chest. "Morgan," he introduced himself. He gestured with his gun. "Gotta go find some of your fellows. Fancy a jog?"

Halsiks' face was hidden behind his helmet and ether-mask, but there was a suggestion of a rasping, chuffing laugh. "Trrry to keep up, Guarrrdian," the sniper retorted, before turning and leaping across the space to the next platform, then scuttling along the floor on all sixes toward the teleporter in the next room.

The pair of them made quick work of the House Salvation crews between them and the auditorium. They paused in the catwalk overhead, watching as Salvation crews battled against a crew of Spider's associates. The quill-wearing Eliksni were holding their own, but were vastly outnumbered. The noise clearly reached the comm, as Spider noted, "Sounds like you found the rest of my crew. Help them clear out the rabble!"

Halsiks raised his rifle as he hunkered down and burst the glass, beginning to pick off Salvie dregs and vandals. Morgan leapt over his head, dropping down with a thunderous crash onto a pack of Salvie goons. He whirled as a Salvie Captain rushed toward him with swords drawn, but before it could reach him, a quilled lancer caught it in the throat with his electrified spear. Morgan nodded his thanks, then gunned down a Tracer Shank that had drawn a bead on him.

Another Salvation Captain was trying to jab its swords into the armored carapace of a quilled Servitor, but Morgan bowled the enemy captain over with a shoulder tackle, then brought his boot down on the Fallen's throat. He plunged onward toward a pack of dregs, then whirled as he heard a guttural roar from the captain as it got back its feet, but Halsiks took it down with a shot through the neck.

Soon, the room was clear. The Servitor and three of the spear-wielding associates remained. The automaton fussed with its plating, but warbled what was probably an expression of gratitude. Morgan introduced himself. The lancer who'd saved him earlier indicated his fellows. "Flotsiks, Jetsiks, SCUR-V," this was the Servitor. The lancer indicated himself last. "Ransiks. We are the Skiffblades."

Drifter finally checked in at that moment. "Got the ketch secured, Morgan. Lookin' at where you are, I'll meet you up by Gale's Watch." As Morgan led the crew toward the next teleporter, Drifter blew out a breath over the comm. "You weren't kiddin' about these House Salvation jokers. They're all riled up!"

Spider grunted, "They're looking for something left over from the Dark Ages."

"Sounds ominous," Morgan muttered. "What kind of 'something'?"

"Relics," the crime boss said, half-dismissively. "Antiquities of some kind."

Drifter sounded dubious. "Hm, that's awfully esoteric for a buncha rubes like these. They gotta be takin' orders from someone. Who the hell's calling the shots around here?"

With perfect timing, Morgan and the crew emerged into the antechamber of the Kell's command center, where a towering Salvation Baron whirled to face them. The Fallen bellowed. "You!" he pointed at Morgan. "You the one who broke out The Spider?" When the Titan simply shrugged, the Baron roared, as more Salvie crews poured out from connecting corridors. "Bring forth the Light's head, and Keel'haal will reward you!"

As Spider's associates fanned out, Morgan just laughed. "Bigger and tougher than you have tried, biggun. Let's dance."

He waded into the fray, lightning coursing off of his form as his shotgun boomed. Halsiks had climbed up to perch overhead, his wire rifle picking off dregs and vandals where he could. The Skiffblades proved to be quite good with their spears, parrying attacks from Salvation wretches and scything through them with ease. SCUR-V orbited the periphery of the melee, pumping an overshield into the Skiffblades or Halsiks as it passed.

Keel'haal, meanwhile, held his ground, firing his own cannon. His shields were tough, keeping him protected from most of Morgan's fire. Every time the Titan got close, the Salvation Baron sent him flying back with a sweep of his arms, laughing as he did. But as the Salvation crews' numbers began to dwindle, the Baron paused, listening to something on his own comm. "House Salvation! Fall back! Cover the escape!"

With a flash of light, the Baron dashed back through the door leading into the command center. The surviving Salvies did the same, their numbers briefly bolstered by others that had answered Keel'haal's orders. Morgan sprinted after them, blitzing through a pack of dregs that tried to stop him, then leaping like a missile toward the Baron's back, only for a captain to lunge in to intercept.

The Salvation officer did not seem to falter in his stalwart defense despite the odds turning against him. "You may win the day, Lightbearer," Keel'haal spat. "But my House stands, and will stand forever. We found Salvation, and we will outlast you." He drew his swords and bellowed again. "Stand and face me, Guardian!"

Morgan sized him up, and noted Spider's associates had taken up positions without Keel'haal noticing. He made a show of considering the Baron's challenge, then shrugged and said, "Nah."

Keel'haal blinked, then rocked back as a shot from Halsiks broke his shield. He spun as the Skiffblades closed in, his swords lashing out, but the lancers ducked and weaved past his desperate defense and cut his legs out from under him before plunging their spears into his heart. Keel'haal coughed, spitting ichor, before collapsing to the floor, ether steaming from his cooling body.

Morgan smirked. "Nicely done, boys," he congratulated them. He pointed. "Looks like Drifter's got the ketch for us." Indeed, hovering above the exterior landing platforms of Gale's Watch was an Eliksni ketch, sporting orange striped livery. He led the crew outside, but drew up short as he noticed the absence of something on the central platform.

Cobalt blue Stasis crystals remained where the frozen shape of the Kell of Darkness once stood. But the Kell herself was not there. Morgan stared for a moment, then looked up as Drifter transmatted down, the rogue Lightbearer ebullient. "Hoo! Haven't had that much fun in a while," he declared happily. Noticing the Titan's silence, Drifter glanced down at the broken crystals. "Aw, hell."

"The Witness must have broken Eramis out," Morgan sighed.

"No wonder the Salvies are rallying," Drifter grimaced.

Spider's voice came through on the comms. "So the Shipstealer's back in play?" He sounded thoughtful. "The artifacts she's after..."

"Price of her freedom, I'll bet," Drifter interjected.

"...imagine the resale value," Spider was muttering to himself.

"Lucky for us," Morgan said, "we got a clean ship, and a dirty crew to chase her with." He gestured to the associates, who had glanced at the erstwhile Stasis prison and were chattering among themselves.

"No, no, no," Spider interrupted. "That wasn't the deal. The ketch, sure, but not my crew. They work for me!"

"Oh, there was no deal, little Pillbug," the Titan interrupted. "Just... considerations. Mights and maybes."

Spider groaned. "Just... do me a favor, and don't let Drifter pilot my ketch?"

"You mean our ketch." Drifter shook his head. "Come on, now, I'd treat her like she were my own!"

"That's what worries me," Spider grumbled.

"Only thing you should worry about," Morgan snapped, "is the welcome you're gonna get in the Last City."

Drifter just laughed, and clapped him on the shoulder, then signaled to the associates. "Let's ride, boys!"

~*~*~*~*~*~

Well in advance of the crime boss's arrival, his people had been busy in the Eliksni Quarter, clearing out a disused building that still sported scars of the battle several years before against the Kell's Scourge. The newly re-established Ether Tank was already abuzz with business as Eliksni helped get the furnishings installed. From a recessed alcove, the Spider was tapping furiously at a console, then looking up as an associate fumbled with a box. "Be careful with that!" he snapped. "Or I'll dock you myself!"

But by the bar, Morgan was in conversation with the local leader of the Eliksni Quarter. Misraaks, Kell of Light, sat back with concern over what the Titan had just told him. "Then it's true. Eramis has broken free." He rumbled. "Her name still carries weight. There are old crews that will rally to the Shipstealer's command."

"The old crews!" This came from a third individual at the bar with them. Eido, Scribe of House Light, eagerly tapped her dactyls together as her eyes flicked back and forth, as if recalling script she had perused. "I've read about them-- the Ketchkillers and Skiffblades! The..." She paused, clicking some dactyls together. "...what's the human word?"

"The word you're lookin' for, little sister--" She looked over as a shape melted out of the shadows behind the bar, tapping a small mechanical disk against his palm. The Drifter flashed his trademark grin. "--is 'Pirates.'" He used the disk to scratch under his unshaven jaw. "Eramis thawing out is bad news, sure. And she's lookin' for something. But luck's on our side for a change." He held up the disk. "This little trinket is exactly what we need."

Eido leaned forward curiously. "What is that?"

"Little somethin' somethin' I picked up off the captain who'd commandeered Spider's ketch," Drifter replied. With a flick of his wrist, the disk opened up, revealing several intricate struts, like... "A skeleton key. Access, little sister. You hold this key, and any door you close," another flick of the wrist, and the disk closed back up, "you can open. If you can find it." He tossed the disk to Morgan and began to rummage behind the bar.

Misraaks rumbled again. "We must not take the old crews lightly. The full Vanguard should be rallied to deal with these outlaws."

Morgan pulled a face. "Well, that's a tough sell. Zavala's dealing with the aftermath of the Leviathan situation. And Ikora's got her spies out looking for Eramis, but it's a big system, and there's only so many Hidden to look."

"Which leaves us," Drifter declared, as he produced two drinks. "Fire on the Wall for you, Morgan. And for you, your Kellship, a Glintwisp." He slid the two drinks to their respective drinkers.

Misraaks lifted his drink up to his masked face, peering at it, while his daughter leaned in. "Father, we should do whatever we can to help!" She tapped her dactyls together with anticipation. "There's so much exhilarating knowledge to be gained from these 'pirates!'" She almost made a noise like squee. "They may hold antiquities from the time of the Whirlwind!"

Morgan blinked, peering at her from over the rim of his cocktail. "Remind me to introduce you to this Warlock I know. I get the feeling you and she would get along like a house on fire."

Misraaks watched the young scribe as she accepted her own cocktail from the Drifter. "Eido, this is more serious than you realize," he murmured.

"You ain't wrong," Drifter opined, leaning on the bar. "We all know how dangerous Eramis can be." But Eido appeared distracted, quizzically examining the little paper umbrella that had been included with her drink. He shrugged and turned to the Titan. "It's your call, Morgan. You wanna be a pirate?"

He scratched lightly at the scar across his eye, and flashed a grin. "The word you're lookin' for, D, is 'privateer.'" He raised his glass.

The Drifter let out another laugh and raised his own glass. "I'll drink to that! Anchors aweigh!"

He, Morgan, and Eido clinked their glasses together, while Misraaks set his unfinished Glintwisp down and stalked off. The scribe knocked back a swig of her drink, turned to the space where her father had been, then hurried after him. Drifter turned back to Morgan. "So... we got a ship, but we'll need a crew."

Morgan nodded. "Been thinking about that. I know a few Lightbearers who'll sign on for a cut of the loot. Maybe even talk some of Caiatl's people onside in the interest of removing piracy from threatening their refugee fleet. That, plus Spider's associates should keep us operational."

Drifter scratched at his jaw again. "How do we break down the share of proceeds?"

"Straight away, half goes to the crew, to be divvied up among them all," Morgan said, promptly. "We can discuss how to break that fifty percent down once we have a crew recruited, but we can't do this without them."

"Generous, but smart," Drifter conceded.

"Ten percent gets set aside for supplies and maintenance," Morgan ticked this off on his fingers as well. "Can't keep the ship running without parts, ether and food for the crew, et cetera."

"What about our pay?"

"Ten percent for you, as owner of the ketch," the Titan said. "Another ten gets set aside as surplus, to be used to cover shortfalls, or provide extra bonuses for those that earn them."

Drifter did the math, then peered at him. "That leaves fifteen percent for you?"

"Sure," he agreed. "I'm the one with my ass on the line as commanding officer. I deserve the pay bump."

Drifter chuckled. "Sure, that works."

Morgan extended his hand. "We have an accord, Drifter?"

He clasped it. "Aye-aye, Cap'n Morgan."

The Titan sat back and smiled. "Captain Morgan. That has a nice ring to it."