Sightline Survey Lore:
“Picking up a lot of Fallen chatter. And Cabal chatter. And Fallen-Cabal chatter. If I ever got beauty sleep, I would say they are interrupting it!” —Failsafe
Zidarrh crouches on the edge of the ridge, looking down over Nessus. There’s a cave entrance down below he’s keeping an eye on. It looks likely to contain more Vex than he wants to deal with today.
Next to him, Legionary Yerg leans back against a boulder, screwing a pack into her armor’s internal nutrition socket.
Zidarrh turns up the flow on his Ether mask and breathes deep, eyes glowing brighter with each breath.
He nudges Yerg’s sizeable knee. “Got any snacks?” he asks, enunciating his Ulurant with care.
Yerg makes an awful straw-sucking noise beneath her helmet. “You can’t have any of my juice.”
He shakes his head in disgust but nudges Yerg again. She nudges back and Zidarrh’s whole body rocks to the side.
“What’s with the new soldiers on your ship? The skinny ones with the sticks,” he says.
“I don’t want to talk about it. They give me the creeps.”
“Well, yeah,” Zidarrh affirms. Mindful of his allotment, he cranks his Ether intake down again and casts around for another topic. “So, uh, this planetoid, huh?”
“Are you trying to ruin the one break I get all week?”
“I’m making conversation! It’s my break too.” If Zidarrh wants to show off his language skills, he needs someone to show off to.
Far below them, the remnants of a radiolarian lake bubble at the center as its levels continue to slowly recede. Zidarrh does not want to think about what might happen when it fully drains. More Vex, probably.
Yerg takes a loud drink. “Planets shouldn’t change. It’s not right. We crushed up some of this place for the old emperor’s wine and there was a Vex monster in it! Bad enough for a planet to have monsters. A planet shouldn’t be the monster.” Yerg hesitates. “And what if a few Legionaries tried a little wine back then? Just to make sure it was safe for our emperor? Was that monster wine?”
On the whole, Zidarrh is relieved she didn’t share her juice. He scans the horizon.
Three Guardians on their fancy Pikes drive closer, heading for the draining lake. Yerg nudges Zidarrh hard enough to push him over.
They wait in silence for the Guardians to enter the cave, one-eyed drones floating at their shoulders.
“I’m revising my list of things I hate here. They’re at the top,” Zidarrh says.
Yerg nods fervently. “I give up on this break. Let’s get out of here. What’s that thing Eliksni say… ‘Security in numbers?'”
“You got it,” Zidarrh says. He does not correct her.
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