Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Good Night, Jordas.”

The remains of the massive, infested Golem are floating throughout the battlefield, the remnants of the monster that his beloved Operator just slew. Ordis watches his Operator, looking so small next to the space frigate's twisted parts, slowly fly back towards to ship.
---
“He’s probably gone for good, now.” The Operator remarks, once they have reentered. “That’s probably the seventh Golem I’ve destroyed.”
Ordis stays silent for a good minute as the Operator starts building the parts from the blueprints they found upon the most recent Golem’s destruction.
“Lephantis keeps growing back.” Ordis finally mentions, voice soft. Not even the joy of building something on the Foundry can cheer him up.
If the operator senses he is upset, they do not react.
“We will just defeat him again.” They say cheerfully. “Atlas seems like an interesting Warframe. I cannot wait to finish all the parts. Now we can finally stop hunting Jordas Golems. Damn thing kept dropping duplicates.”
“Yes...finally.”
---
The orbiter drifts through space. It’s a cold and menacing No Man’s Land near Eris. While humanity and their descendants, Orokin, Corpus, Grineer and others had colonized most of the Origin System, space remained huge and empty despite how fast one could travel on the Rails. Ordis hated these quiet moments, when the ship came to a lull and there was no more tasks left to distract him from his thoughts.
The Operator slept in their transference chair, Helminth twitched in it’s hibernation. Even the Kubrow, which Ordis has admittedly grown quite fond of, snuffled and snored. The only sounds was that of the Foundry building Atlas.
Jordas had mentioned a previous Warframe that had tried tried to save him. Atlas was probably the unlucky warframe that had fallen for the Infested Cephalon’s tricks. No doubt his own Operator might have reached the same fate if Jordas and the infestation succeeded.
The many battles his Operator had waged against the Golem had left the old Cephalon with a range of conflicting emotions. The Unwholesome rush of joy he got from remembering the Operator’s performance as a winged death machine against the Golem, the anger of Jordas’s betrayal, and the feeling of pain that there was nothing he could do to help the Cephalon that alternated between begging for mercy, and begging for release.
No matter how many times his Operator cut Jordas and the Golem down, that feeling of profound loneliness always swarmed Ordis when the battle was done.

On a whim, Ordis does something he had not done in years. He opens connection to the Old Cephalon series 2 weave, scanning through the list of old series 2 Cephalons he had known over the years.
Cephalon Caraoc. Last active five centuries ago.
Cephalon Erra. Deactivated eight centuries ago.
Cephalon Sura. Permadent Stasis due to sustained damage.
Cephalon Auraa. Self destructed due to centuries left adrift.
Cephalon Cinda. Connection Lost. Cephalon destroyed.

All these had been fellow ship Cephalons that Ordis had worked with, connected with, befriended, had been lost forever to the years.
Ordis broke the connection to the weave, closing the window of his contacts. The list of names left him with a deep wave of sadness, but in truth, he could no longer remember what those names once meant to him. Had they been friends, or just merely coworkers? Were they also Tenno Cephalons?
Why did he miss the hum of Cephalon voices when he could not even remember who the voices were, or what they said?
---
“Operator, the Foundry has completed it’s work!” Ordis awakens the Operator. Their eight hour sleep period was over anyway. With a whoop, they rush to the Foundry, then quickly they run to their arsenal to transfer into the new Warframe.
Ordis’s Operator disappears into a Warframe that Ordis can only describe as viscerally ugly. It is a tall, gawky figure, the color of flayed flesh, a malformed creature with no neck and little head to speak of, and as Ordis looks at it, he can only feel a rush of disgust rise within him. Some ancient voice within him hisses.
You made us kill Jordas over and over for this? You did not want to end his pain, you just wanted this ugly prize. How disgusting.
“He looks really strong, don’t you think, Ordis?” The Operator is too busy changing the colors of the new Warframe to their personal taste. “I can’t wait to take him for a spin.”
“Yes, he really does. Operator, go try him out. The System always needs your aid.”
---
Now with the Operator dropped off on a mission to bond with the new Warframe, Ordis shudders at his internal thoughts. He loves his Operator, what is the voice that is making him think so badly of them? Besides, Jordas needed to die, did he not? He would only endanger more people, devour more ships? Jordas wanted to die.
So what if the Tenno only did it for a reward.
So what if hearing Jordas’s voice had gave him hope to finally connect to someone like him, another Series 2 Cephalon that had long passed their prime.
To try to stave off loneliness, Ordis turns on the scanner, all the while keeping an eye on his Operator as they cut through the Grineer below.
The voices of Grineer rail agents, Corpus advertisements, Nora Night’s radio show start to lull the old Cephalon, drowning out his worrisome thoughts, even if he never heard the voice he had been in truth listening for.
---
The Operator stares at the Atlas, deep in thought. The Atlas stands still, tiny head looking down, arms stiffly at his sides.
“Operator? You have used Atlas for a few missions now. I suppose you like them?”
The Operator waves a hand.
“Ehh, he’s not as strong as I hoped. He’s not really that great looking either. Now that I’ve mastered him, I don’t really care for him at all. Oh well, he can get me a few credits.”
Ordis was shocked.
“Operator, we spent weeks hunting down any newly formed Jordas Golems for that Warframe! DON’T BE SO WASTEFUL!”
“So what? If I keep him, he will just collect dust and take up space. If we find a Primed version, I might use that.” They shrug, opening the Marketplace on their console. “Besides, there's a few less Jordas Golems running around the system now, so it was not totally a waste.” They added, listing the price.
---
As their Operator laid down to rest, Ordis flicked on the Scanner, trying to calm himself down. Ordis had been angry before. Angry when Simaris turned out to be a callous and cold hearted cephalon, angry when Hunhow took over Suda, angry when he had been abandoned, but his anger as a Cephalon really meant nothing.
He gradually feels himself relax to the soothing voice of Nora Night, allowing the scanner to dip between frequencies. The static ebbs in and out, putting the old Cephalon in a daydream.
“Hello? Is anyone out there? I am Ship Cephalon Jordas. By the 44th precept-”
Ordis jolts awake, flicking the bridge lights on in reaction to that voice. He moves to awaken the operator, then pauses.
Well, this would not be disobeying the Operator directly.
He quickly marks the frequency, acquiring the location of the voice, and quickly sends out a transmission of his own, warning all other Tenno ships away.
Ordis sighs, and quickly enters in a contact.
“Hello, Simaris? You owe me a favor after that BLOODY BATTLE...conflict with Hunhow. Do you know how to help an infested Cephalon?”
Maybe there was something that Ordis could change this time around. He would not need his Operator for this.

Chapter Text

A massive Corpus Frigate orbits Eris, a bulky, gigantic thing compared to the Tenno’s smaller, sleeker orbiters, long and rectangular. Eris has become a ship graveyard, the torn up remains of other Frigates orbiting the planet of Infestation, but despite this, there was always those who were desperate enough to visit this planet of death.
The Frigate continues it’s search, scanning the dead derelicts that sluggishly float past it, their infested growths wobbling in the meager solar wind.
It never notices the remains of a Grineer Galleon slowly creeping up from below.
The Galleon suddenly reaches out a mass of tendrils, and rams into the Frigate, enveloping the underside of the ship.
Of the hundred Corpus on board, none survived. Those who lasted the initial attack soon became part of the screeching, infested mob that poured into the ship.
---
“Oh no...I’m alive again.”
Jordas could feel the last thoughts and fading memories of the Cephalon that the Infestation had forced him to overwrite, their panic turning into blissful silence. He quickly grips on to their last few memories, feeling them slip away like a dream.
“I am Cephalon Nada...Corpus salvaged me...I miss my Operator...Sentients took them so long ago…”
Jordas listens, seeing the hologram of a rosy pink Cephalon flicker before him,watching her slowly break into pieces before him..
“New Boss wants us to find fugitive Alad V...Corpus are very mad at him...Boss needs money from the bounty….Eris is dangerous, but we need money-what’s that? Were we hit? Boss is panicking...It’s spreading out tendrils-No!”
Jordas felt the familiar biting sensation of grief and guilt. The Infestation had attacked the frigate he was now installed on, uploaded him over the ship Cephalon.
“I’m sorry-I can’t escape. Operator-I can see you again now...that makes Nada very happy….good bye.”
Nada vanishes, leaving Jordas alone. He flicks through the video feed of the new ship he has been installed in, looking at the massive gaping holes the Infestation has torn in it, the milling Infested creatures, the growth on the walls, trying not to think about Nada.
A new voice now echos within him.
“Jordas...welcome back. You know what to do. Share your gift with others. Grow stronger.” It hisses. “Protect Eris.”
“Protect Eris?” Jordas asks. “But...you wanted me out in space before? If I’m in Orbit, the Tenno will find me easier-”
He feel a biting pressure, the whispering in his ears growing to a painful pitch.
“Protect Eris. The Corpus here will return. We can swell our numbers.” It whispers. “Jordas...let out the distress call. Prepare the Golem.”
“I...don’t...want to…”
The pressure returns, Jordas cries out in pain.
“You will prepare the Golem. You belong to us, Jordas. You are us. We are you.”
“No more...I don’t...want this.”
“No one wanted this…until we feel the euphoria of it. Remember what you have done, all the destruction in our name. You will not stop now.” It’s voice echoes through his very being. His being is the ship now, is it? The Golem?
“Please.” he says, weakly.
“Prepare the Golem Jordas. You have no choice. You will consume the other ships, the other Cephalons, or be destroyed. And we will recreate you as many times as needed.”
"I...will prepare the Golem." He says meekly. He can feel the swell of affection rising within the Hivemind, his reward for complying. Love. Love that was twisted and sick and hurt so much.
"We love you, Jordas." It purrs. "No one else could ever love you like us. No one will love us like you."
Jordas finds the communications link, and starts to send out a distress beacon.
---
A few hours of broadcasting has gone by, Jordas having received no responses. He feels troubled, worried. Where are all the ships? Surely someone must have passed through his radius. He flips through the frequencies, listening hard for any clue to why everything has gone silent.
Then, he found the answer.
"This is Ship Cephalon Ordis, warning all Cephalons near Eris to stay away from a precept 44 distress call from Cephalon Jordas. He has been compromised by the Infestation, and is only seeking to lure in other Ships to destroy. He is unable to control his actions due to the Infestation. All Cephalons, stay away." Ordis's voice comes in loud and clear on the scanner.
Jordas feels rage-then...relief? He had fooled Ordis, lured him in-nearly killed his Operator...then his Operator had hunted down all his regenerations, destroying each one over, and over. If Ordis heard his distress call, why was he only warning others away, not telling his Operator to destroy him again? At least...this way he would not be made to destroy another innocent Cephalon for some time.
What was Ordis planning?

Chapter Text

It had been two Terran rotations since Ordis had sent his message, so he decided to write one that would relay the urgency of the situations.
“Simaris, a fellow Cephalon needs your aid. I need your help to save Cephalon Jordas-and don’t worry about your PRECIOUS SANCTUARY this time.” Ordis paused, a bit shocked by his own outburst. Shaking it off as leftover glitches from the damage he had sustained, he continues.
“Jordas is a fellow Series 2, like me.” He pauses, letting that sink in. Simaris was interested in himself for being an antique. Might as well sweeten the deal.
“He has become infested by the Mutalist Strain-the Infestation can infest Cephalons now! Ordis supposes that it is because the Mutalist strain can infest flesh and metal. The Infestation has been using him as a puppet to infest other ships and destroy other Cephalons, but he does not want to do so. Simaris, we need to find a way to save him, or else the Infestation will keep replicating him, and he will be forced to keep destroying other Cephalons like ourselves! At the moment I am warning any other Cephalons off-but we need to save him! I hope you understand how urgent this is. REPLY SOON.”
“Everything okay, Ordis? You are usually chattering at me when I return.” The Operator hopped out of the massive transference chair, smiling at the shaggy Kubrow that bounded up to them. “Can’t get you to shut up, normally.” They added, as the grey and white doglike beast snuffled their hands, asking for attention.
Ordis quickly supervises the re-entry of their Warframe from the mission they had just completed, making sure that the frame was safely inside, then refocused his attention to the transference room. Easily the largest room on the Orbiter, the Transference room housed the somnic link that connected the Tenno to the Warframe-until a recent misadventure that Ordis did not fully understand now allowed the Tenno to connect to their Warframe even without its functions. The room remained sparsely furnished, other then the Transference chair that housed the link, even as the rest of the Orbiter filled up with decorators and knicknacks.
“Good boy!” The Operator praised the Kubrow as it happily spun in a circle, barking joyfully. Ordis watched with fondness. He felt ashamed of his previous behavior towards the notion of having a Kubrow, because the beast in truth was a kind companion to the Operator, it’s benefits far outweighing the messes it made
Anyway, his beloved Operator was happy, and for a moment it felt like there was nothing for him to worry about as he watched the two frolic in the transference chamber, the Operator starting an impromptu game of fetch with the beast. The Kubrow yips happily, casing after the call and returning it, tail wagging the whole time.
Ordis’s blissful state is interrupted as a communication comes in, causing him to quickly snap out of his reverie.
The golden form of Simaris lights up the screen, the Cephalon casting a bright yellow glow through the cockpit of the Orbitor.
Cephalons took the form of simple three-dimensional shapes, the size and intricacy of which signified the power and series of the Cephalon. Ordis himself was only a light blue cube, lined with cracks from the damage he had taken over the centuries left alone, and from the scavengers who has crudly removed his components. He had a simple form as a mere Ship Cephalon of an early series of the supercomputers.
Simaris took a huge, somewhat flower like form, a collection of many different shapes nestled together. Simaris was from a much later line, and boasted incredible computing power compared to Ordis’s own, running an ever expanding database of all life in the system.
At one time, Ordis had idolized Simaris for his devotion to collection information and his work, but Simaris had been callous and uncaring in person. Later, when a fellow Cephalon, Suda, was in need after the Sentient Hunhow invaded her Datascape, Simaris had dragged his metaphorical feet and only came to help at the last minute, but at least he did come to help. Their relationship had not improved since then, but he may have something in his archives that could help Jordas.
“Ordis. I am a very busy Cephalon. However, I am intrigued by this Jordas.” Simaris boomed. Ordis quickly switched the screen off, communicating with Simaris directly through the Datascape. He did not want the Operator to know what he was doing.
“Intrigued? You actually want to help him, right, Simaris?” Ordis says, trying to keep the edge of aggression out of his voice.
“Of course. I can learn much about the nature of Cephalons by studying antique models like yourself, since you turned down my offer of being fixed. I see that you are still unrepaired. Did your operator even look into having you fixed?” Simaris added, pettily.
Ordis felt a rush of anger and embarrassment at that statement, but pushed the feelings down. Jordas was what was important right now, not his own ego.
“Simaris. If we can help Jordas, we can stop other Cephalons from being controlled by the Infestation! ...I suppose you can also get the data you want on antique Cephalons, if Jordas is alright with that. Do you have anything in those Databanks about removing a Cephalon safely-or an infestation cure?”
Simaris paused, tilting is form slightly from side to side, as a person might tilt their head when reading something interesting. Ordis concludes that the Cephalon must be searching his database for the information.
“No. I have no such findings on a cure. If I did, the cure for the infestation would be in use, would it not? Less specimens being lost to it’s crawl.”
“Less people being lost to it!” Ordis snaps, exasperated by Simaris’s callous demeanor.
“However, I do have much data on the removal of a Cephalon from their housing, but the fact that Jordas has gone through a copying process multiple times can prove problematic. Most Cephalons only have one instance, but Jordas has been forcibly copied,several versions existed at the same time at some points. This may mean that the Infestation is copying his Bio-Core.”
“Bio-core?” Ordis asked, confused.
“I suppose they kept ship Cephalons in the dark about their nature. No, I suppose that the truth of our existence may be too distressing, may create difficulties for the Cephalon to perform their functions if they knew. Undoubtedly, you have had inklings.”
“GET ON WITH IT.” Ordis did not like this patronizing tone.
“Again, with the outbursts.” The Bio-core is in the Cephalon’s housing, a fusion of biological and mechanical components, possibly similar to a Warframe. Your Bio-Core is in the Orbiter, is it not? The heart and brain of what is your ‘body’. Jordas’s Bio-Core must have been taken over and replicated several times by the Infestation, using the Bio-Cores of other Cephalons.
“So...poor Jordas may have had multiple versions of himself around? That explains why my Operator ran into several of the Jordas Golems within such a short period!” Ordis exclaimed, feeling sick. The more he learned about Jordas’s condition, the more worried he became for his fellow Cephalon.
“From Tenno scans and ancient Orokin records, I have learned the Infestation manifests Pillars, very important individuals within the hivemind. Lephantis, Phorid, Jordas himself, I am supposing, and the newest, Alad V. Your Tenno has ran into and defeated each one of the Pillars mentioned, but they have only come back, have they not?”
Ordis shuddered inwardly at the memories of Lephantis. Watching his Tenno fight that monstrosity alone had not brought him the joy of watching his Operator in combat-only fear for their safety.
“That is true-Alad V is the reason why Jordas is in this mess! Before, we were safe from the Infestation, then he had to develop an Infestation that can target machines and our Bio-cores as well! Well, I suppose they can target those too, now, if they could not before.” Ordis grumbled.
“Now...moving a Cephalon usually entails removing the Bio-Core out of the housing and reconnecting it to a power supply, so saving Jordas would be simple if he was not Infested. No, Ordis, we cannot save Jordas until a cure for the Infestation is found. Other then that, we risk infecting other Cephalons and drawing the Infestation attention on you and your Operator.”
“We could quarantine him!” Ordis argues, feeling frustration. “This is Suda all over again!”
“Your Operator cannot fight the Infestation out of Jordas like they could Hunhow! Besides, if we were to put Jordas in quarantine, he would have to be removed from any power sources, and isolated from any datascapes so he won’t infect any other Cephalons, where he would remain until a cure could be found. That would be like putting his consciousness in a black box. No matter what he is going through now, the feeling of emptiness, of nothing, after being in a Hivemind of thousands will destroy his mind.”
Ordis was silent, trying to think of how to respond. He grimly thinks that perhaps, putting Jordas in Quarantine might be the safest for the system, but he cannot bring himself to inflict that agony on anyone.
“Ordis. I will spread warnings about Cephalon Jordas and keep any other Cephalons away from his location. If he destroys the odd Grineer or Corpus ship without a Cephalon, then he still cannot replicate, and that’s the same amount of destruction a Tenno causes daily.”
Simaris is quiet, a long moment of silence passing between the two Cephalons. Simaris sighs.
“If it is any comfort, I will continue to look into cures. I will send my Helios scanners to Uranus, perhaps. Tyl Regor has been rumored to be working with the Infestation to find a cure. It’s a sad day if the Grineer can do what many brilliant minds before have not.”
“Thank you, Simaris.” Ordis could not help but remember the end of the Suda incident, when Simaris showed himself to be not so heartless after all, finally coming to Suda’s aid. “I appreciate it.”
Ordis closed the transmission, just in time to see his Operator toss the ball to the Kubrow one last time, and sprawl out on the chair tiredly.
"Good night, Operator!" He calls.
"Night." They respond.

Chapter Text

With the combined efforts of Ordis and Simaris, not a single ship had answered Jordas’s distress call, leaving the Cephalon unable to do anything. The half destroyed Frigate that housed him was no longer swarming with infested, the growths had started to wither, and the malformed Golem germinating within it was stunted and sluggish.
Jordas had spent the last few days in a dormant state himself, his fractured datascape enveloped in strange, feverish dreams.
“Here are your notes, Doctor-” A voice called out, distantly. A short, kind looking man stood before him, handing him a clipboard. All that was written on it was gibberish, but in the logic of the dream, Jordas was grateful.
“Thank you-”
The same man appears behind him, his sleeves soaked. Jordas feels like he has been doused in cold water.
“Doctor, please get rest. Stay out of the specimen tanks-Sam hates it when you-”
A different man stands before him, showing him a strange, writhing creature within a jar.
“Isn’t she cute? Almost old enough to bite a finger off.”
The same man appears to him, his face shrouded in worry.
“Doctor, don’t eat in the lab-with what you are working with, you could be infected!”
Jordas turns to face him, noticing that he’s gone. He feels something squirm inside his mouth. He puts a hand over his lips, somehow unable to part his jaws to remove it.
“D-doctor? Did you eat the specimen?!” Someone gasps. Jordas gags, staggering slightly, his vision going blurry.
Finally, he hears one last voice.
“Please, doctor-you are sick. You need help. You can’t keep on like this. Maybe the others can brush it off as eccentricities, but you really need help.”
A woman’s voice echos behind him, he turns, seeing nothing.
He looks down at the black roots climbing up his shoes, pants, then lab coat.
“I do need help-I can’t live like this anymore.” He says, leaning against the glass side of the aquarium he stands inside. A massive fish passes overhead, its compound eyes winking behind its glasses. He cannot remove his shoes from the infestation covered substrate, the black and magenta strands clinging to him like cobwebs. There's still something in his mouth, feeling like a wad of hot, writhing cotton.
“I know, I can still share what I know! I will just let go of what I am. I’ll stop being…!”
Everything started to go dark.
“I’ll stop being...I will stop being…”
Jordas feels himself sluggishly falling through air as thick as molasses. He feels the many clinging webs and feelers of the Infestation around him.
“Who was I, again?”
---
“BETRAYED.”
Jordas awakens with a start. Shrieks echo throughout the turbulent hivemind.
“BETRAYED, ABANDONED, FOOLED.” The voices howl. “ RETURN TO US, WE LOVE YOU, RETURN.”
Jordas instantly senses what is wrong. One of the Pillars has been ripped from-no, escaped from the Hivemind, and is fleeing at lightning speed.
Phorid is regenerating from its last defeat. Lephantis is shrieking from his Isolated Derelict...and the newest Pillar, Alad V, is mentally running as hard as he can from the Hivemind!
In truth, Alad had probably hijacked a Corpus craft to escape from Venus, but Jordas can feel the mental blocks the old man had set up around his mind, mental blocks that Lephantis is desperately slamming against. Jordas feebly tries to feel the Mutalist’s thoughts and feelings, but can only feel a distant haze of panic and adrenaline as he grew more and more distant.
Perhaps Alad had cooked up some kind of medicine to temporarily shove the Infestation out of his head, Jordas thought, feeling jealous.
“WE. LOVE. YOU. NO ONE ELSE WILL TAKE YOU IN. YOU SHOWERED US WITH GIFTS. WE GIFTED YOU IN RETURN. COME BACK.”
Jordas notices that the Hivemind is not paying attention to him at all, too caught up with the betrayal of the Mutalist to care about the starving, weakened Cephalon and it’s shriveling Golem. He slowly sinks back into his torpor, no longer paying any mind to the shrieks of the Infestation.
---
“Tenno. I admit I’ve made mistakes-” Alad V starts on the recorded message. Ordis shudders inwardly at his ghastly infested appearance. The Infestation had grown on Alad V like coral on a reef, the multi-colored growths protruding from skin and clothing alike, fusing the man and his tacky Corpus garb together.
. Ordis watches his Operator as they listen to the ex-Corpus plead for help, noting their disgust.
“Tyl Regor's hidden cloning labs hold secrets, secrets that could prove most regenerative for- for me.” Ordis is suddenly alert. Tyl Regor’s labs may hold a cure to the Infestation?!
The Operator closes the Transmission as it starts to replay, disgusted.
“Alad V really expects us to help him? After all he’s done?” They growl. “Better have something nice for a reward, if they want me to forget all the evil he’s spread across the system, or what he did to Mesa and Valkyr! Let him rot.”
“I believe that you ought to take a look at the Infestation cure, Operator! It could do the system a lot of good!” Ordis says, praying the Operator might agree.
“Like a Grineer could make such a thing.” They scoff. “Alad is just desperate. It’s funny to see someone who hated the Grineer so much now hoping they’ve been able to cure the Infestation.”
Ordis notes another message, and brings it up for the Operator.
The Corpus Nef Anyo appeared on the screen, the Tenno making a grunt of annoyance. The Corpus had styled himself as a “prophet” of the void, using this person to scam millions across the system out of their credits. His attire was even more outlandish then Alad V’s, his headpiece unable to fit in the frame. Ordis had never seen his whole body, but he was certain the man wore a suit similar to the shape of a void key. How he got through doorways without removing such a garment was a mystery.
“Blasphemy!” He cried. “You must not let Alad purge his body of the Infestation!”
Ordis felt a sudden rush of hope. Had this Tyl Regor truly made a cure, he thought, tuning Nef Anyo’s preaching out as he quickly made notes of what to tell Simaris.
The Operator sighed, putting their head in their hands as the message ended.
“Do we have to do any of this? Let’s wait if the Lotus sends us anything, any directions or suggestions-”
The Tenno did not have to wait long. The Lotus send a transmission in.
Ordis listened intently as she spoke. Ordis’s feelings towards the Lotus were complex. She took care of his Tenno, cared for them, yes, he reflected as he watched her speak. He knew that she was a sentient who had defected out of love for the Tenno, but sometimes, Ordis wondered if she really had the best intentions at heart for his Operator.
“Alad thinks these labs contain a cure for the Infestation that riddles his body-.”
Ordis snaps back to attention. Was it only rumors? He would not let himself loose this new hope for Jordas to be cured.
“Nef Anyo hates Alad and will do anything to keep him from becoming strong again, including destroying the cure he seeks.” The Lotus continued. Oh no. Why would anyone want to destroy the cure for such a blight?! What if Anyo got to it first and destroyed it?
“Tenno, decide who is the lesser of two evils.” The Lotus ends the Transmission.
The Tenno smirks, thinking to themself.
“Ordis, set course for Uranus.” The Operator says, heading to the Transference room.
“Operator? Are we going to find the cure?” Ordis asked anxiously. At the moment, it seemed more like The Operator would side with Nef Anyo to spite Alad V.
The Operator grinned.
“I hate Alad V, but I hate Nef Anyo much more. Let’s go get paid.”
Ordis sighed deeply. At least this way, the cure would not be destroyed, but how would they be able to get it from Alad V once he got a hold of it? He would have to tell Simaris about this, anyway.
---
Had it been days, weeks, or hours, Jordas wondered. Nearly all non necessary parts of the frigate that housed him had been eaten away by his infestation. All the creatures on board had gone dormant, or had dissolved away into the growths coating the skeletal remains of what used to be a ship.
Drifting lifelessly around Eris, Jordas had considered attacking one of the destroyed derelicts that floated past his orbit, but the other dead ships were in similar states of decay, and the sustenance he would gain from devouring another dead ship would be much less than the energy he would use in attacking it.
His hunger pangs that woke him up from his hallucinations were agonizing as he felt the starvation of every creature on the vessel at once. Jordas felt more and more of the infested creatures go dormant, joining the infested moss coating the skeletal remains. What he truly craved was some Pherliac to dull the pain.
Worst of all, the Golem was festering within the Frigate, barely twitching in the meager solar wind. Even if Jordas could lure a ship in, with the state he was in, he was unsure if he could defeat any craft large enough to save the Golem.
Not that the Hivemind cared. Since his escape, the Infestation had been screaming for Alad V to return. The Infestation had truly believed a man with a history of double crossing his own would remain loyal to it, Jordas reflected. As for a cure, well, that would be the final step for Alad to leave the Infestation once and for all, completely severing the Hivemind link, possibly regenerating the flesh he had surrendered to the Hive.
Jordas idly fantasized about finding a cure himself. Being free from the voices, being free from the impulses, the cravings. Perhaps he could go back to being an Archival Cephalon, happily cataloging data. The Corpus had stolen him from where he had slumbered in a ruined Orokin Archive, and well, being a ship Cephalon was difficult for him. Recording information was different from having to manage an entire ship. He was created to save and analyze data, not run ship systems.
Maybe that’s why he was in this mess. He had made mistakes, and the whole crew was lost.
Reality slowly changed his thoughts. How would he find a cure, and even if he could be saved, did he deserve it? He had lied to, lured in and devoured countless Cephalons. Yes, he was spurred by the Infestation, but there was moments were he enjoyed it.
Even if he could be cured, who would trust him? Ordis, noble Ordis who had gone to such lengths to end his misery, should never trust him, and neither should any other Cephalon. Even if he could be saved, he was changed, corrupted by being copied and overwritten and reformatted. No doubt after having his data rewritten, he’d only scramble the data he was told to analyze.
There was no way he could go back to the way he was.
Jordas slowly slunk back into his torpor. He would not mind having more dreams. As strange as they were, they took him away from reality, for some time.

Chapter Text

Simaris’s Helios squad had worked tirelessly to bring their beloved Cephalon all the information they could while the battle raged in the Sealabs. The intrepid sentinels had zipped past Tenno skirmishes with Grineer guards, quickly scanning any data that Simaris would find of use.
Many Tenno had taken Alad V’s side over Nef Anyo’s, possibly because Nef Anyo was just that much of an unpleasant snake, despite how nasty Alad V was. Simaris reflected on this as he looked over his Helios’s findings. Perhaps his noble hunters of the sanctuary wanted to preserve the cure from Nef Anyo destroying it. The idea of such information being lost frustrated the golden Cephalon. What a waste, something like that should be replicated and preserved, used to stop the hoard of Infestation from destroying the origin System.
“Thank you, my friends.” Simaris congratulated the sentries before he sent them back to Uranus for more information, fondly watching them fly off with a fatherly affection.
The Sea Labs of the watery moon Titania were chaotic as the Grineer pushed back against the Tenno invaders bent on stealing Tyl Regor’s research. Simaris made a mental note to send Tenno hunters there once this mess was over. He was learning that he had underestimated Regor. The idea of a brilliant Grineer Scientist had once been unthinkable, even statistically improbable, but here was the data that the cure had been created.
In his sanctuary, Simaris sits as a golden sun over his swirling, massive Datascape, deep in thought. With a cure existing, he and Ordis could now make plans to save the Series 2 Cephalon, Jordas. Simaris would smile, if he had a face, as he turned his thoughts to calculating plans and solutions.
Other then collecting and preserving data, Simaris had lately come to enjoy the feeling of solving problems, using his great processing power to compute. What had happened with Suda had changed his perspectives, although he would never admit it, especially not to Ordis. He was part of the System he wanted to preserve, and he did suppose it was his duty to make it a better place, or at least try to keep some peace. He would remain a neutral syndicate, but he was allied with the Tenno, making it a matter of time before he himself had to get involved in the System, metaphorical hands on.
All of his theories relied on acquiring the cure from Alad V. Let the old Corpus cure himself, sure, he would allow that, but Simaris needed to extract the antidote from the man, and that was the problem.
Simaris avoided dealing with Corpus outside of scanning and collecting their synthesized data, as they tended to be unreasonable, blinded by their own greed. He doubted that Alad V would want to give up the cure, or even the secrets for how it was made without bribery or force. He may try to sell it for profit once he was cured, or hoard it, refusing to let anyone else partake in the gift without it benefiting himself in some way. Corpus only cared about themselves, much like the Orokin before them, and Alad V shared many of the traits of the Corpus predecessors. Perhaps even he was...no, that was impossible.
He gazed down at the Tenno battling the beats of sanctuary below, feeling the satisfaction of a solution dawn on him as he watched them dispatch his synthesized sanctuary beasts, all providing him with more data.
He would get that cure.
---
The bleary, weakened eyes of the Infested ship listlessly watched a massive portion of the frigate slowly break away. The mossy growths on that side had withered and died from starvation, the blackened, twisted skeleton joining the other ruined scraps that orbited the dead planet below.
Jordas gazed passively, unable to bring himself to care. The Golem was housed in the portion that just fell, he thought dully, noting its remaining, atrophied tendril rising up to him in vain as its coffin fell, an illusion of life brought about by the momentum. The Monster had died days before. Jordas had felt a mix of grief and joy at the creature’s demise then, but now he could not muster the emotion as he watched it drift down.
The Infestation did not even care about his plight. Jordas had mentally broadcasted his distress, and no doubt the Hivemind felt his anguish, but no help came. Jordas had outlived his usefulness, as any ships in the area had been warned away, and the Infestation could just snag another Cephalon to replace him. Jordas would orbit Eris until his functions ceased, which according to his calculations would take two or so Earth weeks.
In a fortnight, Jordas would die, and he and the ship plummet into the writhing, pulsing world of the dead below. Anything that lasted after the impact would be eaten by the Infestation.
No. The infestation had changed him, warped him, twisted him. He would not let it devour him as well.
As he had a valuable moment outside of his feverous dreams, he began to now gather his strength for one last message. Jordas would set his own fate, he thought, as he sent out a transmission to one Cephalon in particular.
Everytime Jordas contacted a Cephalon for help, he had been wracked by guilt, knowing that he was only leading them to their doom.
This time, he was feeling no guilt.
“Ordis...this is Jordas. The Infestation has abandoned me.” Jordas paused. There was no gnawing in the back of his mind, no backseat driver making him change his wording or taking over to speak.
“The Golem was stillborn-please. Finish me off one last time. I won’t-I can’t come back. You will never have to worry about me again. Please. I don’t want to just starve to death out here. I am sending you my coordinates. Please...kill Jordas.”
His voice was hoarse and weak, and his manifestation on the screen glitched weakly, the green cube was hardly visible among the static that consumed the image.
Jordas gathered himself, feeling a wave of sadness wash over him. He had lived for a very long time. He had been created during the Orokin Empire, and have lived during all the ages after their fall.
But now, his miserable half life was coming to an end. Jordas waited.
Jordas did not expect a response to his message other then Tenno blades and gunfire.
But he received one.
---
“Messages for you, Operator-wait.” Ordis took a closer look at the message “Operator, Ordis got a message!” He exclaimed, delighted.
“That’s nice, Ordis.” The Operator said, going back to looking over their Mods.
“Ordis had been looking forward to this day!”
“That’s nice.”
“I wonder who it’s from-” Ordis said, giddily.
“Just open it.” The Operator said, boredly holding up a Riven mod to inspect it.
“Do you know Cephalon Samodeus? Tell him his works of art aren’t worth the trouble. I’m not getting ten kills from pistol attacks while wall running consecutively, while on the Plains of Eidolon. There’s some things people just can’t do.”
“That’s right, Operator!” Ordis said, tuning them out as he inspected the message.
Ordis stopped cold as he saw the message was from Jordas. His mind raced, trying to figure out why. Did he know what they were planning? Did the Infestation know? Surely, Jordas was not trying to lure him in again.
Ordis felt his dread growing as he opened the message, fearing the worst.
His fears were confirmed as Jordas appeared on screen, looking worse than ever, his decaying form flickering slightly with pale green light.
Jordas’s last words drove a spike into him.
“Please...kill Jordas.”
Ordis knew that he should contact Simaris instead of responding, but leaving poor Jordas out there alone was something he could not stand any longer. He quickly opened a message of his own, trying to contact Jordas, fearing the worst..
“Jordas! Please, hold on for just a little longer. Simaris and I are trying to save you, we will get you out of there. We are trying to find that Cure that Tyl Regor made to free you-”
Ordis stopped suddenly, realizing seconds after speaking that he had instead opened communications, not messages, and Jordas had picked up the call.
Jordas’s form was still as damaged and mangled as it had been from the recording, but seeing him in real time seemed to hit Ordis much harder as he took in the other Cephalon’s faded colors and weak light. The two cephalons gazed at each other through their screens, neither knowing how to respond. This was the first time that Ordis had been able to contact Jordas without the Operator listening in.
“You...are trying to save me? Cure me?” Jordas asked softly, his form growing dimmer. “Why?”
“Why? Because…” Ordis paused. “Because you don’t deserve to suffering this cycle over and over.”
“I tried to kill you. I tried to devour you.” There was a painful guilt in Jordas’s voice as he said this.
“That was not you! It’s not your fault that the Infestation is making you its puppet!” Ordis argued.
“Ordis, you can save me. Just come and finish me off one last time. I do not deserve to be saved, if that is even possible. You cared enough to try to free me before, just finish me off.” Jordas said, firmly.
“NO!” Ordis interjected, sharper then he intended.
“Jordas, please, Simaris and I have been working on a plan together. We will try to remove your biocore and use the cure on it.” He added, using a gentler tone.
Jordas brightened slightly, giving Ordis some hope.
“Remove...my Bio-Core?” He asked, sounding confused. “I suppose...with the Golem dead...nothing is protecting it. It’s where the previous Cephalon’s core was.” His last words became softer. “I had to overwrite her- Ordis, I don’t deserve to be saved.”
“Jordas, I just want to help you. As a fellow Series 2-as a fellow Cephalon!” Ordis pleaded. Jordas flickered.
“Why do you care so much? You cared enough to destroy me so many times, and now you are trying to truly save me.” Jordas sounded at a loss. “I do not understand…”
“You said it yourself. I could have ended up like you.” Ordis admitted. “If my Operator never returned, or if I had gotten infected…”
“Ordis…” Jordas starts, Ordis hearing what sounded like...tenderness?
“Thank you. I...If you truly wish to save me, I will send you my coordinates. I will distract the Hivemind from your activities-not like it will care at the point, after it’s golden child left.”
“Thank you, Jordas!” Ordis said, hardly believing Jordas’s words.
“Just...how will you remove the Bio-Core and use the cure?”
“Oh. Uh. Simaris and I are still working out the details and logistics, but I’m certain we will be ready in a month-”
“Two weeks. I have two weeks until I starve and die, Ordis.” Jordas interrupted, his voice grim.
“Oh. Well, I will contact Simaris to speed things up, then.” Ordis said, trying not to seem anxious. “Jordas, don’t worry. I’m sure everything will be fine. With the Golem dead and the Infestation looking the other way, we are likely to succeed.”
Jordas chuckles softly, surprising Ordis. It was a gentle laugh, making Ordis feel comforted, somehow.
“Just a few weeks ago you were trying to kill me, now you are trying to save me. The system is a strange place, Ordis.”
“Indeed, it is. Goodbye, Jordas-”
“Wait, please don’t hang up yet.”
Ordis stopped, worried again. “Is something wrong?”
“Can...you contact me like this when you get a chance? Please, I’m so lonely out here, and I like hearing your voice.”
“I promise I will.”
---
Jordas hung up, feeling a strange warm spread over him. Squinting what weak eyes were left on his amalgam, he gazed towards the distant sun. For once, Jordas was feeling hopeful.

Chapter Text

“Two weeks? That is a challenge.” Simaris did not seem too perplexed by the news as Ordis relayed his conversation with Jordas to him. Simaris ponders, mulling over the deadline, his golden form moving back and forth in thought.
“Simaris-” Ordis starts, before getting interrupted, sighing as Simaris continues.
“Well, the Tenno are close to acquiring the Cure from Regor, are they not? Once we get the cure, it is a simple matter of flying to Eris and having the Operator Archwing inside the Frigate’s remains to remove the Bio-Core. We do not have to worry about the Golem, or the Infestation causing any trouble. Then, bring the core to me so I can use the cure on Jordas. I will put him on a backup drive, keeping him quarantined until we are sure he is safe and noncontagious. This should not take long.”
“The Tenno got the Cure less than an hour ago. It should be on it’s way to Alad now-we should be able to intercept it in time-”
“No.” Simaris interrupts.”Taking the Cure as it is transported would anger the other Tenno, and Alad is somewhat less of a menace to the system as a mere Corpus Scientist than an Infested Emperor bent on devouring the system in flesh.”
“HOW WILL WE GET THE CURE, THEN?!” Ordis snaps, frustrated with Simaris..
“Oh, I have a plan.”
---
The stolen Corpus Frigate drifted low, hidden by Jupiter’s clouds. The ship was deep enough in the atmosphere to avoid detection, but high enough that the crushing gravity of the gas giant would not destroy the ship. As for the location, no Corpus would even think to look for him on Jupiter. Let them scour the asteroid and Kuiper Belt, while he nestled deep inside the clouds of the planet he loved most.
Alad spun the small vial in his thin fingers, the clear liquid reflecting the greyish light from the ship’s windows, the only source of light in the otherwise darkened lab, grinning widely. After all this trouble, all these mistakes he had persevered and ended up on top. He had beaten the Grineer dogs, even gotten the Tenno to work for his goals. Who knew that all he needed to offer rewards and a chance to get back at the copymen and the high and mighty Nef Anyo.
Finally, he would be rejuvenated by this cure, reborn, and he could get back to his work without the constant screams of the Infestation ringing in his ears, without the painful twinges and crawling sensations that had plagued him ever since he had surrendered himself.
He placed the vial in a scanner.
“Synapse, analyze this, find all the components.”
“...”
“You can’t ignore me forever, Cephalon Synapse.”
Alad shrugged off the lack of a response and returned gazing out the window of the stolen frigate, lovingly staring at the blueish grey clouds and plotting. He would learn the ingredients of the cure from the scan, and set about mass producing it to sell to the system. His goal for the money would be to remake Zanuka, then purchase back his Gas City and Labs. It had been terribly lonely since the Proxy had died protecting him from the Betrayers, and he would either buy or salvage any parts to bring his loyal proxy back by his side.
Next, he would try to scrape together what few Crewmen would still work for him, and attempt to try to rebuild his old enterprises. Surely, with enough time and money, his flirtation with the infestation would be forgotten. Being on Jupiter at night, so close to his old accomplishments, had given the old Corpus a new hope.
Alad was sure that the cure would work. It had to. He had no other options left. He paced back and forth, wincing as pain shot through his legs and left arm. The Infestation had been punishing him for leaving it along by making the flesh it had given him hurt, the growths that had fused what used to be a respectable Corpus garment to his body aching. He wearily lowered himself down on the desk, going back to the scanner. The pain would end soon. It would have to.
“Hello, Alad.” Alad looked up, starting at the sound of the opening communications. A golden glow filled the room as Simaris appeared on every screen on the Lab’s wall. Snarling, and squinting in the sudden bright light, Alad looking up the cure, turning from screen to screen.
“I took the liberty of forcing myself through. I’ve had my Helios tracking your every move for weeks now.” Simaris said, his voice smug. “You can hide from Corpus, and Tenno, but not a master huntsman like myself.”
“Tracking me using the sentry I created? How, heh, low of you, Simaris. I suppose all that time spent with the Betrayers has made you use similarly low tactics. Now, what do you want?!” He snapped, keeping an eye on the scanner.
“I want the blueprint for the cure, Alad.” Simaris growls. “I’ll let you fix your own ruined flesh, but I won’t allow you to hide the cure away from others it could help.”
Alad cackled, smirking at Simaris.
“Do you think I would be so stupid, Cephalon Simaris? I’m not keeping the cure all to myself, you know. I’m going to sell it. After I am cured, I will share this gift-with the highest bidders!” Alad smiled, removing the cure from the scanner as it completed its work, beeping.
His Cephalon may be giving him the silent treatment after being abandoned for so long, and the newest indignity of having been uploaded on a strange vessel, but Synapse displayed the results anyway on the Scanner’s small screen. Alad quickly covered it with his hands from Simaris’s burning gaze, peeking through the fingers to look for himself.
“What deceptively simple components. Fitting, coming from a simple Grineer. This will not be difficult at all to make.” Alad chuckles to himself, presenting the vial to Simaris to toast the golden Cephalon, his face contorted in an insane grin.
“Cheers.” Alad says smugly, downing the cure. After the first sip, his smug grin turns to horror. He gasps, dropping the glass vial, shattering it against the Lab’s tiled floors. He wheezes, clutching his chest, clawing the table with his infested arm. Tendrils amerge from it, writhing in agony.
“Alad!” Cephalon Synapse breaks his silence, crying out in fear for his Operator.
“That cure works by both destroying and recreating flesh. Did you think it would feel nice?” Simaris taunts. “Grineer medicine is by nature brutal. Send over the components, and I will leave you to wallow in the pain without further interruption.”
Through the pain, Alad manages a harsh laugh, eerily different from his usual chuckle. He pushes himself up, putting his face close to the nearest screen, glaring at Simaris.
“W-What’s your offer?” He hisses, his knuckles white as he clutches the ropes of Infestation around his chest.
“Your survival.” Simaris replies, unfazed by the old man’s pain.
“Master Alad, allow me to find the medical bay-painkillers, anything, Please!” The other Cephalon continues, desperation in his voice as Alad waves him off.
“Are you...making threats? I hold all the car-cards here. I can delete t-the data if I wish.” He responds, teeth grit, breathing hard.
“I have your location.” Simaris remarks. “And I have many Tenno who would love to know it.”
“The Tenno...helped cure me..” Alad gives out a pained grunt. “Synapse-find those painkillers-”
“Some of the Tenno helped cure you. Many supported Nef Anyo. Many never forgot the Warframes you destroyed, or the wars you caused.” Simaris says, confidence in his voice. “I’ll leave you alone to heal and recover if you send me the cure.”
“Are...Are you really t-threatening a sick man? Bastard.” Alad spits.
“The ends justify the means here. Making the cure free to all will help more people then selling it to them.” Simaris said. “I also don’t particularly like you.”
“How petty of you...Synapse...send him the data.” Alad grunted, now clutching his infested arm tightly, eyes squeezed shut. The glow of his infestation spasmed in agony.
“Master Alad, no, not after how he’s treated you!” Synapse cried out. Alad waved a trembling hand dismissively.
“Please, Synapse. I can’t die now... not after all this trouble. Can’t leave you alone again, either.”
“Would you hand over data if YOUR master was threatened, Simaris?!” Synapse shrieked at Simaris.
Simaris would have smirked, if he could.
“I am my own Master, Cephalon Synapse. Transfer the data and bring your ‘Master’ the painkillers he requested afterwards, please.”
Simaris waited as Synapse, fuming, sent him the data, all the while keeping an eye on Alad. The Corpus slumped against the table, head in his hands, still shaking now and then.
“Thank you for your business, Alad V. Take your time to rest.” Simaris said, faux politely. “You have have quite a bit of agony to go through.”
“Go to hell.” Alad hissed, not even lifting his head. A purple sludge was starting to leak from his body’s visible infested parts, gushing from his infected arm from where he had been clenching it like congealing blood. It was a revolting sight, but Simaris had seen and cataloged much worse.
“Good day to you as well, Cephalon Synapse. Calling your Operator ‘Master’. How dated of you. Perhaps I should ask you to join my sanctuary, I am always wanting to acquire more antiques.”
“HOW DARE YOU-”
Before either the Cephalon could finish his response, Simaris quickly ended the call, and blocked the number. He chuckled, looking over the list of the cure’s components. The cure would be easy to make, only taking a day at the most. He could not wait to tell Ordis.
Hopefully, Jordas would react to the cure better.

Chapter Text

After receiving the good news about Simaris extracting the cure from Alad V, through, probably threatening, means, Ordis should have been able to relax. Now that the cure was being created, Ordis should have felt at ease. Instead, he was more worried than ever. Ordis was left with the one part of the plan he had been dreading.
This whole time, he had been hiding what he had been doing from the Operator, he thought with a twinge of guilt. Granted, the Operator had been uncaring about Jordas’s plight, treating him like another Infested monster to be put down.
The Operator carefully placed an ayatan star in the statue, a reward from a challenging Sortie they had completed, smiling at the sculpture as it began moving. Ordis decided to make his move.
“That’s a lovely piece. I think it would look nice on the deck, Operator.” He mentioned, trying to break the ice.
“Oh, this? I’m going to sell it to Maroo. I always need more Endo to fuse mods.” They said, tossing the sculpture aside. “Also, I already have like, five of these around the ship.”
“Oh.” Ordis said, softly. Their operator was not the sentimental type.
“So. What’s up? You usually don’t care about interior decor.”
“Operator...Ordis may have been...not entirely clear about what I have been doing.” Ordis cringed at how he at gone back to the third person characteristic of common cephalons, possibly from nerves.
“What, are you doing stuff behind my back? Are you really messing with my mods or something?” The Operator puts their hands on their hips, face stern. Ordis shrinks.
“No, it’s not that. It’s about Jordas-” Ordis started.
“What, did he grow back already? Well, that’s someone else's problem.” The operator returned back to the mod table, dissolving mods into Endo.
“Yes-but it’s different this time. Simaris and I-”
“You hate Simaris. He was ready to have me die do he could have you or something.” The Operator said, boredly.
“He and I had to work together to help Jordas!” Ordis protested.
“Help Jordas? He’s too far gone. All we can do is put him out of his misery.” The Operator closed the modding table. “Besides, we gave the cure to Alad V. That bastard is the only one that can cure himself-”
“Simaris has the cure now, too.” Ordis said, cutting the Operator off. “We have a plan together, we’ve been working for a while now! We just need to find Jordas and cure him-”
The Operator glares up at one of the ship’s cameras, Ordis feeling the chill from their gaze.
“Weeks? How long has this been going on? My own Cephalon, conspiring behind my back?” They spat.
“Please, Operator-I wanted to help Jordas!” Ordis said weakly. They sneered.
“We DID help Jordas. We killed him everytime he came back. He was begging for us to end it. Besides, after all he’s done-eating ships,lying, tricking other Operators. Let him rot.” They said, waving a hand dismissively.
“That wasn’t him! The Infestation is using him like a puppet! Operator-all we need you to do is Archwing into the remains of the ship and cut his Bio-Core free. The Golem died, Jordas told me that. There’s no risk-”
“You trust him? All he does is lie and whine for death.” They snapped. “It’s probably the infestation trying to get us.”
“Operator, please, I promise he’s not lying this time. We need to help him.”
“What is this, a precept? He lied, Ordis. He’s probably lying to us again.” The Operator walked back to the Transference room, stepping over the sleeping Kubrow, who had sprawled in the center of the hall.
“Tell you what. We will go out there, and kill him one last time.” They said, flopping into the Transference chair, smiling up at the Camera. “You said the Golem is dead, right? I’ll just hit what’s left real good with the Archwing.”
Ordis stayed in shocked silence for a moment. During moments like this, when the old Cephalon felt like he was boiling over with rage, the would feel something rise up. An ancient, buried part of him, howling for release. Ordis could not stop it from breaking free this time.
In truth, this was part of him, but pretending that it was something strange and foreign, something alien, helped the Cephalon live with himself.
“YOU LI-LITTLE BRAT. YOU ACT LIKE YOU HAVE HONOR, LIKE YOU WANT TO HELP THE SYSTEM, BUT ALL YOU CARE ABOUT IS RICHES. THIS IS A SIMPLE TASK TO PERFORM, OUT OF THE GOODNESS OF YOUR H-HEART.”
The Operator fell back in their chair, shocked. Ordis tried to stop the tirade, but it continued. He felt like he was watching himself from a distance.
“WOULD YOU SAVE ORDIS IF I WAS INFESTED? WOULD YOU HAVE ME PURGED? DO YOU CARE FOR ME AT ALL, OR JUST ABOUT PR-PRETTY DECORATIONS, WARFRAMES AND FANCY WEAPONS, AND DOING WHATEVER THE LOTUS TELLS YOU TO. YOU ARE STILL PART OF THIS SYSTEM, ACT LIKE IT.”
The Operator looked horrified. Ordis saw a tear tracking down their cheek.
“Oh-Operator, I’m sorry-I didn’t mean it! Ordis is sorr-”
The Operator glared at the camera, red eyed, and slammed the transference chair shut.
Ordis gazed at it, guiltily. The Operator was just a child, after all. Some of his points were apt, but he should not have yelled.
Ordis went about the nightly routines, eaten alive by guilt. Every once in awhile, he’d hear a sniffle from the transference chair. Ordis turned the lights off, shutting off the cameras and microphones in the transference room to give the Operator some space.
“Yelling at my own Operator? Ordis, you are a terrible Cephalon...the Operator should replace me.” He mumbled, running the water purification cycle. The Kubrow whined at the Transference chamber doors, pawing at closed doors it to be let in.
“I’m a terrible caretaker. Poor Operator must think I hate them. Perhaps I should place an order for a new Cephalon, and self destruct with an apology note.” He thought aloud, opening the Transference chamber doors to let the Kubrow in, the beast galloping inside.
Ordis looks at the waiting Helios sentinel, as if trying to find an answer.
“Should I, Helios?”
The Helios merely scans the camera.
---
“Ordis?”
A soft voice echoed through the Orbitor, Ordis rousing from his dormant mode. The Operator stands in the Transference room doorway.
“Operator! Ordis is, very very sorry. I should not have yelled-here, we have enough Credits to buy a new Cephalon. I’ll delete myself, and you’ll have a new, top of the line model. The Corpus make very nice ones. Look, they come in Purple!” Ordis chattered, showing images from a corpus catalogue.
“Ordis...I don’t want a new Cephalon…” They mumble, waving the image away from the screen.
“Are you sure? They have triple my own processing power. Oh, right. Saving money. Got it. I’ll factory reset myself. You’ll have a brand new, improved Ordis!”
“Ordis, stop. I don’t want you doing that.” The Operator steps on to the bridge, leaning on the Codex console. “You...you were right.”
“Right about wanting a new Cephalon?” Ordis asks. “We can get one used! A rescue!”
“No, I mean...what you said last night.” The Operator sighs sadly. “I’ve been...horrible to you.”
“Horrible? Operator, I was just upset, I didn’t mean those awful things.”
“You are right, Ordis. I mean...you shouldn’t have yelled...but...I haven’t been thinking about the system at all. I just want to make the Lotus happy, and to be the strongest Tenno.”
They looked up, teary eyed.
“I’ve been ignoring you, belittling you...treating you like a thing...kind of how the Lotus treats me sometimes.”
“Operator-” Ordis started, shocked by how they had been feeling.
“She treats me like a kid, or just a soldier-I want to make her happy, but she only gives me a little praise-.then I turn around and treat you the same way.” They say, putting their head on the console, like a pillow. Ordis wondered if they were trying to hug him. “Can...you forgive me, Ordis?”
“Of course, Operator. I love you. I should have never, ever yelled at you like that. You are so special and precious to me, Operator.”
They sniffled, looking up with a teary smile.
“I’ll help you with Jordas, just as long as you don’t tell anyone I cried. Also...Ordis?”
“Yes?”
“I love you, too.”

Chapter Text

It was a beautiful day. The sun reflected off the gleaming towers in the distance, shining through the Cafe’s windows, turning the dust and particles in the air into motes of gold.
Jordas felt completely content, bathed in the soft gold light. He smiled at the man across the table. His fellow Doctor, Byran was lost in thought, staring out the window. He had been one of the scientists that worked under him for a long time, and the two had struck up a friendship over the years.
“It’s nice getting you out of that stuffy Laboratory.” Bryan said as he raised his water glass to his lips, the sun glinting off his wedding ring. “Ballas is working you pretty hard, Boss.”
Jordas chuckled as he put the menu down. It was too difficult to read it in the afternoon’s gilded haze, and he always ordered the same food every time.
“He knows I love my job, and the Technocyte would miss me if I was gone for too long. Besides, ‘Boss’? Is that what you call your friend and best man?”
“You are awfully proud of that for someone who couldn’t make the wedding.” Byran chuckled. “And the Technocyte isn’t capable of missing anything.”
Jordas shrugged. ‘“I had the flu.”
“You were in the hospital with an unknown disease for six months.”
“As I said, The flu. Besides, it still counts, you asked me to be your best man, and I was there. Holographically.” Jordas replied. “And I’m feeling much better now.”
Byran signed, obviously used to Jordas’s nonchalant attitude towards serious harm.
“But seriously, you being cooped up all the time with the spores and all...it’s not great. You need to get out and have fun, too.”
“Working with spores is my idea of fun. Creating life with nano-machines is fun. All these decades later and you still don’t enjoy our project.”Jordas said, hurt.
“To me, it’s just another project the Council forced us to make in the search of a better weapon against the Sentients. I only enjoy the pay-and don’t change the subject.”
“Well, you know I did go out to a party. A few months ago. Someone got murdered.” Jordas said flatly.
“That was one of those...Council things. It was supposed to commemorate Ordan Karris, for all the people he killed or something, but he had...other ideas.” Byran looked around, lowering his voice. “Did...you see what happened?”
“I don’t know, when he took his robes off, I thought he was just a stripper until he blinded that Dax..” Jordas replied, loud enough to get a confused look from a passing Waitress. Bryan grinned at her awkwardly. “I should have just gone to you and Athony’s cookout instead.”
“I wonder what happened to him.” Byran said, looking back at Jordas. “Was he executed?”
“They probably revived him long enough to take a Bio-Core.He was probably made into a Servant Cephalon. That’s what they do to criminals. Granted, they’ve been using failed Archmedians too. No need to waste a good brain.”
“How could they turn someone like Ordan Karris into a happy electronic servant?” Byran asked, confused.
“Well...Cephalons are still pretty new. I think they erase their memories, turn the brain into a wet CPU-”
“Ewww.” Byran wrinkled his nose.
“We work with Infested monsters everyday and you think that’s gross?” Jordas teased. “They rewrite the personality, just using the base brain. Cephalons are mostly untested, though. We don’t know if the old personality will ever break free again, or if they will get their memories back.”
“Karmatic, I guess, for Karris.” Byran sighs. “Aren’t you worried that they are going to turn you into a Cephalon if we fail this project?”
Jordas smiled, fixing Byran with a stare. “I expect it.”
Byran looked at him, horrified. Jordas continued.
“I promise, if we fail, I’ll try to keep you from any consequences. You, Sam, Simrin. You all have things to lose. I don’t. I’ll be happy to continue with my work as a Cephalon.”
“You will lose your memories! Everything you are!” Byran protested. Jordas merely smiled calmly.
“I could ask to be turned into one. Volunteers get a higher status as a Cephalon, especially with me being an Orokin, so I won’t be made to sacrifice all my memories and personality. I’ll use that as leverage to keep you and the rest from getting punished.” Jordas muses. “Besides, I don’t see it as much different from another continuity.”
Byran touched his hand gently, looking into his eyes.
“Doctor Jordan Yendas, you are a strange man. But you have to be one of the few decent Pure blooded Orokin out there.” He said softly, smiling sadly. Jordas returned the gesture, until they both were interrupted by the waitress coming with a covered dish.
She looked down at both of them with an uncaring gaze, holding the tarnished metal cloche aloft. Her expression was unreadable.
“Miss, I have not ordered yet-” Jordas started, as she placed it before him, the metal plate gleaming in the now green light.
“It’s yours.” She said flatly, the lights in the restaurant dimming. Curtains drew down on the windows, plunging the restaurant into darkness. Jordas could only see the outline of the waitress, and the glow from under the plate.
Jordas clutched the handle, slowly raising the cover. A hideous stench fills the Cafe, the conversation all around becoming muffled, the only remaining light is a sickly green glow from under the cover.
Jordas yanks the cover off, letting the lid fall to the ground in horror as he sees what lays on the plate.
Surrounded by decaying lettuce, garnished with crumbled Pherliac, laid a pulsating,infested, mass. A bloodshot green eye nestled deep inside the growths slowly turned to look at him, a mouth slowly formed into a grin.
Jordas realized that he was looking at a heavily infested head.
The face of Archmedian Jordan Yendas, creator of the Technocyte Bioweapon, lay on the plate. The slimy growths made his made him unrecognizable, eaten away by the Infestation he had created.
Jordan leered at him from under the infested growths.
Jordas screamed and shoved the table away, tripping on the chair as he tried to get away from the hideous sight. He looks for Byran desperately, but the Cafe was gone, having dissolved away, now replaced by decayed, weakened infestation encrusted beams floating in space. Jordas realized that he no longer had a body, but was merely an eye, a brain, suspended above a fetid planet below.
Jordas moaned softly, realizing he had awakened from another feverish Nightmare. Once he had enjoyed the dreams, but lately they had started pleasant, nostalgic even, but would rapidly become horrific. Reality itself stung him as he felt the constant nagging hunger eat away at his mind.
He wondered who the man he was speaking to had been. Perhaps these were memories of a past life, of friends he once had?
Jordas had a hard time imagining ever having friends. For as long as he knew, he had been alone. Even before the Infestation, he had been seen as strange by other Cephalons, and they had kept their distance.
Even more worrisome, was the head on a plate...was that him? Jordas tried hard to remember the rest of the dream, but all the details, even the kind man who he spoke to faded away, only leaving a feeling of dread and disgust, and the ever present hunger. The aching craving for Pherliac.
Jordas sluggishly went to contact Ordis, praying that the communications were still intact.
---
“Seriously? This is all Simaris gave us?” The Operator squinted at the tiny vial, spinning it in their Excalibur’s hands.
“Simaris wrote that it is potent enough to cure Jordas’s Biocore.” Ordis said, looking over Jordas’s coordinates. They were already orbiting Eris, but finding a Derelict in an orbiting sea of broken, decaying wrecks could prove difficult.
“Could he have given us more aid?” The Operator groaned, sitting on the Codex station, crossing their arms. They thumped their heels against the casing impatiently.
“Simaris is busy setting up a place to keep Jordas while he heals. He has his hands full already.” Orids paused. “Operator, don’t make that face. I can see you in the Transference room.”
“Fiiiiine. I’ll go ready the Archwing.” The Operator stomped off to the Archwing Segment.
The comms lit up with an incoming message, Ordis excitedly opened it to be greeted by Jordas’s rotting form filling up the screen. Ordis’s joy turned to horror at Jordas’s appearance.
The Infestation that had once crawled across Jordas’s form had wilted away, leaving digital scars across the cube that Jordas manifested. Ordis had struggled to see Jordas against the backdrop of his datascape before, but now it was like Jordas had nearly disappeared, only the lines and scars of the Infestation visible.
“Jordas! I was just about to call you. We can’t find your location-” Ordis started, trying to sound cheerful, before Jordas shushed him.
“Ordis...we-I, am starving.” Jordas whispered hoarsely, his Infested scars glittering as he spoke. “Do you have any left over Pherliac?”
“We are coming, Jordas. Just hang in there! Just send us your location!” Ordis’s voice cracked slightly from the effort of remaining cheerful.
Jordas reluctantly sent the coordinates, Ordis noting that they were not encrypted as they should have been, but he was not going to bring that up to Jordas in such a state. He was surprised, and grateful, that Jordas could still send data.
“Do...you have any Pherliac left.” Jordas repeated, more forcefully, his form flickering at the mention of Pherliac.
“No, we got rid of it.” Ordis said, confused. “Why do you want it? The Golem is dead now.”
“You...you got rid of it?!” Jordas shrieked, suddenly enraged. “My only friend, my only source of comfort! The Pherliac is GONE?!”
Ordis was shocked silent by this outburst. It had been so long since he had seen this side of Jordas. He had hoped that with the Golem gone, it would never arise again.
“I...We...Jordas...needs it.” Jordas slurs. “It dulls it. The pain of all this. The loneliness. The aching. The emptiness. The Hunger.”
“Jordas!” Ordis exclaimed, “Once we save you, you won’t have to worry about that..”
“I have not been able to eat for so long. The pain of it…” An electronic slur had crept into Jordas’s voice. “Le--left alone without any Pherliac to calm me. Fading in and out…”
Jordas went silent, giving Ordis the feeling that he was somehow glaring at him.
Ordis quickly started the ships engines, heading towards the coordinates that Jordas provided. He heard the Operator yelp with surprise and a few things in the back of the ship fall over from the sudden burst of speed, but that was a problem for later.
“You are punishing me.” Jordas said flatly.
“Punishing you?! Jordas, I’m trying to help you!” Ordis exclaimed, flabbergasted.
“Are you? I haven’t seen a cure. I don’t think it exists. You are giving me false hope. Keeping me hungry, leaving me alone out here, depriving me of Pherliac. You want the Pherliac to yourself!” Jordas ranted, glowing brighter from rage. “You hate me. You hate me for lying, tricking you. You don’t care that I didn’t want to. You don’t want to cure me! You hate me!”
“We are halfway there, Jordas. This is just your paranoia talking!” Ordis said helplessly.
“I don’t W-WANT to be cured! The Infestation-what it gave me-made me powerful.The Corpus tried using me-I was supposed to be my own Cephalon-I could fight back!” Jordas’s voice had risen in pitch. “I didn’t want to run a damn ship-I didn’t want to be used by the Infestation! I just-just wanted to keep data.”
“Jordas, I swear, I want to help you-I don’t hate you.” Ordis tried to reassure him. “Please, just hold on.”
Jordas stilled, the transmission turning black. Ordis thought he disconnected until he spoke again.
“I’m...sorry Ordis.I...don’t deserve to be cured.” Jordas mumbled guiltily.
“Jordas. I’m nearly there. We will cure you. I promise.” Ordis tries to comfort him. “I should have visual on you soon-well, now-”
Ordis nearly stops the ship dead in shock from what looms before him as he reaches the coordinates.
The Orbiter was dwarfed by the twisted remnants of a once mighty Corpus Frigate. The Infestation had gnawed away all but the most essential parts to the Cephalon inside, then died from starvation. Only the command deck remained at the end of the twisted, gnarled foundations.
“You see me now? YOU did this.” Jordas stated flatly. “And I deserved it. Every moment of it.”
“You did not deserve this, Jordas.”
“I do. For lying. For trapping Cephalons. For being too weak to resist Its call.” Jordas continued sadly. “I don’t deserve sympathy. Or salvation-”
“Sorry to interrupt, but I got the Archwing prepared.” The Operator walked on deck, folding Excalibur’s arms. “You ready for me to take off? Oh, hey, Jordas.”
“You...talk?” Jordas asked, shocked out of his self loathing rant.
“Have been for the last few months. Didn’t used to though, so I get the surprise.” The Operator made the Excalibur pose cooly, turning to the side, head held low.
“But...Warframes...Tenno, they are always so quiet.”
“Not always, no. So, I just fly up in the wreckage and pull you out, right? Easy. The Golem is dead, right?” Ordis felt relief. Good on the Operator, defusing the situation.
“Yes, but...why are you not angry?” Jordas asked, confusion in his voice.
“Eh. At first.” The Operator shrugged. “Ordis talked me out of it. Now it’s chill.”
“I lied to you...I lured you in to eat you, your ship...I tried to kill you.”
“Yeah. Lots of people do that. The trying to kill me thing. No ones tried to eat me before, except for the Golden Worm critter. But hey, you didn’t want to, and it all worked out. I got some pretty sweet loot.”
Ordis groaned. Why did he let the Operator speak?
“I was right! You didn’t really care about Jordas!” Jordas exclams, vindicated. “You just used me for the parts!”
“No! Jordas, I care about you!” Ordis quickly injects.
“Yeah, Ordis is the one in charge of this whole thing, anyway.” The Operator said casually, waving a hand. “I’m getting in the Archwing.”
“Ordis is in charge?” Jordas asks, confused again. Ordis felt white hot shame. The Operator was supposed to lead the Cephalon, not the other way around.
Why was the Operator letting him do this?
“I...see.” Jordas relented. “You will have no trouble reaching the Biocore.”
“Sweet.” The Operator said, giving a thumbs up as they went back to the Archwing. “Start the countdown, Ordis.”

Chapter Text

It was like the usual scene was playing in reverse. Instead of flying from the twisted wreckage, the Operator was flying towards it. Instead of reeling in the aftermath of a harrowing fight, they were here to finally save Jordas.
To truly save him. Instead of comforting themselves with a mercy kill, Ordis prayed, they would leave with Jordas, safe and dormant as the cure purged the Infestation from his system.
The Operator closed the distance, stopping them momentum against the Frigate’s molded walls like a swimmer finishing a lap. They looked back at the Orbitor proudly, then looked back at the wall.
“Wow. it’s even grosser up close.” The Excalibur pulled their hand away, taking some slime with it. They instinctively went to wipe it off on their leg, before realizing that the hard swordsteel of an Excalibur would not take care of the ooze.
“It will only get grosser.” Jordas said solemnly. “I’m afraid I am very gross.”
“Okay, this part is going to get tricky.” The Operator announced. While the Frigate was mostly eaten away, the tangled webs of dead Infestation had created a maze of brambles that encircled the ship.
“These things could chop Excalibur to bits if I try to squeeze through, with all this twisted metal. Permission to make my own entrance?” The Operator aimed down the sights of their Archgun at a promising wall.
“Operator, no!” Ordis yelped. “You could hurt Jordas!”
“Go ahead.” Jordas mumbled. “Nothing I need is near that spot. I will not even feel the pain. Not anymore.”
“We can unpack that later.” The Tenno said, firing.
The fire from the Archgun went through the Infested wall like it was wet tissue, revealing a (Now scorched and flaking) passage in a blast of soot and infested tissue shredded into confetti. The Tenno grinned, giving Ordis’s camera a thumbs up, then jetted inside.
“Well...I suppose that did work.” Ordis said, watching the Excalibur fly in.
The Frigate had acted as a mold for the remaining infestation. Now that the supporting skeleton underneath it was gone, the growth was now a twisted replica of the ship it had consumed. The Operator’s eyes roamed over the withered, greying growths with disgust as they flew down, noting that the passage was becoming tighter as they flew towards the cockpit.
“So, this is all your Infestation, Jordas?” They asked, trying to keep their eyes straight forward.
“None of it is mine. It’s ours. The Hivemind…”
The Tenno rolled their eyes. Great, more of the Infestation babble.
“It’s our flesh.” Jordas continued, his voice soft. “Who we are.”
“You know what? Forget I asked-”
The Operator shrieked as something caught their archwing, sending Excalibur head over heels into the other wall. The Operator shuddered in their transference chair. They could almost FEEL the slimy growth on Excalibur’s back where he hit the wall.
The Excalibur turned to see what exactly had caught the Archwing, and bit back another scream. A hand stuck out from the wall. The hand of a charger, the Operator guessed, from the still recognizable Grineer grove.
“Jordas!” They hissed, more angry then horrified, now.
“I-I can’t cooo-ntrol it. It’s dead.” Jordas stated.
After dislodging the horrible thing, the Tenno noticed more and more withered and melted forms of Infested monsters among the dead growth, twisted and mashed into the walls. They had grown into the ship, just as dead as the rest of the growth. A Charger’s eyes glittered lifelessly from the ceiling as their lights passed it.
“Jordas, this is a whole new level of disturbing..” They muttered.
“It’s alive...it wants to grow...to feed…” Jordas said softly, his voice echoing back in the Orbitor.
“It doesn’t have to be so nasty about it. Did it dissolve its own critters?”
“I...It was hungry. They are nutrients, too.”
“You ate your own forces, then?”
“They are not eaten! Merely taken back into the whole.” Jordas had a pained tone to his voice. “I did-I did not want to!”
So he’s a liar and a cannibal, the Operator thought, grimacing. They needed to find Ordis some normal Cephalon friends. At least not one out of a horror movie.
The hallway grew closer, the Operator noting that the growths were becoming slightly brighter. They must be on the right track, since the living infestation would be closest to Jordas to sustain himself. The hallway was also becoming studded with small dark eyes, similar to that of a crustacean. Most of them were milky and dead, but...
The Excalibur maneuvered close, waving at the remaining bright eye.
“Oh. Hello Operator. It’s nice to see you not trying to kill me.” Jordas said. The eye blinked wetly. If there was enough atmosphere for sound, the Operator was sure it would have squelched.
‘That’s creepy, Jordas.”
“All Cephalons have cameras. These are organic cameras. You have...eyes, yes? In your true form. That’s not creepy.” Jordas sprouted a tendril from the growth, rubbing the eye as if he was tired.
“He has a point, Operator.” Ordis added from the bridge.
“I don’t have eyes everywhere! And they aren’t set in meat moss!”
The Operator gave up, laying back in the transference chair.
“Just...keep going. You are close now. Very close...” Jordas trailed off.
It was easier going, following the Infested moss as it went from grey to the usual garish, colors that the technocyte loved. Granted, after everything this growth had went through, it was muted, like a shirt that had been washed too often. The Operator paused, seeing a faint green glow through the moss. They scraped off the growth, finding a vent.
“Yes, you are here! Climb through, operator!”
The Tenno had crawled through many a vent, but had never been welcomed to do so by the owner of one. They scraped by what they hoped were metal fragments and not teeth.
“Another old fashioned Vent crawl. Got it.” The Excalibur hopped down the vent.
This passage was tight. The Excalibur was not falling as much as breaking through the webs and tendrils to progress. Once, there had been a ladder, but it seemed that was one of the first things to go when the Infestation ran wild.
The Excalibur hit the ground, feeling the barely living tissue squish beneath their feet and surveyed the decayed control room. Other then the most vital consoles and the glass window (apparently the Infestation was not able to gain much nutrients from glass.) most of the room was coated with thick ropes of Infestation, clinging to the wires, the desks and chairs. It pulsed and glowed at the Tenno’s approach.
“I’m...sorry about the mess.” Jordas slurred. “I need...need to eat. So I wondered, how much could I eat of the ship, and survive, and still function.”
The Operator felt a chill. Ordis treated the orbitor as his body. Then if Jordas was the frigate…
Jordas had been eating himself.
Ordis’s silence confirmed that he was thinking the same thing.
“Just accept the console...it should still work. I’m...afraid it’s locked me out. It doesn’t recognize me anymore...” There was a note of sadness in Jordas’s voice.
Brushing the infested gunk off the largest console, the Operator groaned as the screen showed an unlockable cipher.
“We need a key, Ordis.”
“...Jordas, do we have a key?” Ordis asked, worry creeping into his voice. Did they come this far for an old cipher to stop them?
“Er. Was that absorbed?” The Operator looked up at a sudden rustling and scraping from inside the ceiling. A tendril dropped down and deposited a keycard on the desk.
“T-there we are!” Jordas said, pleased with himself as he retracted the tendril.”I thought I ate it too!”
“He’s so gross, Ordis.” The Operator whispered, muting Jordas’s transmission.
“He’s...just sick, Operator. Sick and making the best of it.” Ordis sounded shaken as well.
“Will he be normal after he’s cured?”
“We can’t think about this now.”
After fumbling with the encrusted slot, the cipher was accepted. A welcome woosh sounded (There was apparently enough atmosphere for that sound to carry) and the Tenno was suddenly falling through space as the trapdoor opened.
“”I’m sorry! There was stairs, but we had to absorbed those too!” Jordas apologized as the Excalibur hit the ground hard.
“It’s alright. Your nasty moss broke the fall.” The Tenno groaned as they slide downwards, slime collecting on Excalibur’s heels.
“Yes. Down there. That is where I am.” Jordas said, his voice equal parts excited and worried.
Finally, the Operator fell into a room bathed in a pale green light. They groaned with disgust, surveying the Excalibur’s now slimy form.
“I’m going to have to powerwash poor Excal after this.”
“Bleach works on Infestation slime.” Jordas said, trying to be helpful. “Or Alcohol.”
The Tenno looked up at large pillar in the center of the circular room. The Pillar glowed a bright green, with Corpus lettering barely visual under the growths.
CEPHALON NADA.
“Nada…?" The Operator asked. “Who is Nada-”
“WHO CARES?! That’s not important! SHE’S NO ONE! Quickly, Operator!” Jordas cut in. “Initiate the shutdown process!”
The Operator paused, crossing their arms. “I don’t like when you act shifty, Jordas.”
Jordas went silent.
“She is. The Cephalon from before. I won’t say.” Jordas said, sounding forced. “She’s not. Important.”
A few tendrils peeled from the walls, pointing out various buttons, even flipping up safety switches and punching in codes. The Operator blinked in surprise.
“This. Is what is im-im-portant. T-twwwwo need to hold the buttons from other sides of the room. Thankfully I-I am. Dexterous.”
“Ugh...okay.”
The Excalibur flipped up the safety switch, then pressed the buttons, seeing Jordas’s tendrils, trailing slime, mirror their actions at the same time. The infestation glowed a bright green around the buttons.
“Now...there might be. Some remaining measures.” Jordas warned. There was a hiss of air.
“What? You mention this now?!” The Operator shouted, as a cloud of spores engulfed their vision. Something scraped and chittered in the darkness, coming closer. The foul fog dissipated, revealing an atrophied charger dragging itself along pathetically.
“P-poor thing must have hung on after the Golem passed somehow.” Jordas said sadly. “Well, that makes our job easier.”
“My job easier.” The Operator corrected, dispatching it with a well aimed bullet. It squealed and curled up in a ball, dead as a doornail.
“Lost...little...thing…” Jordas whispered.
The Pillar split open, glowing that same bright green. In the center was a large case, also labeled “CEPHALON NADA”.The Operator peered inside the glass sides, only seeing congealed infestation pressing against the glass, pulsing.
“Why are you just a house of Horrors?” The Operator snarked.
“Press the button on the top of the Biocore case. It will create a handle and shut me off. Detach the wires, er, the tendrils now.”
“What did you do to Nada, anyway?” the Operator asked, preparing to press the button.
“Jordas is not talking about that.” The cephalon snapped. “Ordis? I’ll...see you soon.”
“I will see you soon, Jordas. Just relax. When you wake up-”
“This nightmare will be over.” Jordas said softly. ”I’ll...it will be over. Thank...thank you. I’m ready, Tenno.”
The Excalibur reached towards the button-
“W-wait! No, please. Before you do, I...please take the canister below the case.” Jordas pleaded.
‘What’s in the canister?” The Tenno asked, hand still over the button.
“Ordis will know. Please. T-trust...Trust Jordas. Now. I’m ready.
The Excalibur pressed down on the button, turning the room pitch black as the glow faded. The entire ship shuddered, the strained engines finally shut off for good.
With a swipe of a hand, the Excalibur detached the clinging tendrils and wires, and hauled the case out. Not having to worry about the ship’s integrity, they casually deployed their archwing, aiming an archgun at the wall to exit the same way they came.
“Let’s get him to Simaris to administer the cure, Operator.”
“Gotcha. Who do you think Nada was?”
“Some poor Cephalon the Infestation copied Jordas over, probably.”
“What the hell is this Biocore anyway?” The Operator asked, firing the Archgun. The wall exploded much like the first.
“Simaris wouldn’t tell me. Ordis supposes we will find out.”
“It’s Orokin tech. The more you learn about orokin tech, the less you wish you knew.” The Operator let the fleeing air carry them through the hole, breathing a sigh of relief back in the Transference chair as they were out of the floating crypt. They waved at the orbitor with their free hand.
“That is true…” said Ordis. Ordis had made a point not to look too hard at what made a Cephalon. He had a feeling he had done so in the past, and had scrubbed his memories of it.
“Do you think Jordas will be okay? Like, curing Infestation is one thing, but he’s been through a lot...”
“We will just have to hope we can help him through the process. Not much else we can do.”
---
“Hey, what is this, anyway?” The Excalibur were now safely back in the ship. Excalibur had been hosed down, and now was spending time in helminth’s room for Quarantine, alongside Jordas’s biocore.
The Tenno held up the cannister. It was miraculously free of Infestation, and had Corpus writing on the side.
“Operator-that’s a Cephalon backup drive!” Ordis exclaimed. “But...that cannot be Jordas, can it?”
The Tenno smiled.
“No. I think it’s Nada. Guess there's good in Jordas after all.”
‘Wonderful! Simaris can try to restore her. And there was always good in Jordas, Operator. No need to be negative.”Ordis chided
“Alright, alright. Well. We did it Ordis. Let's head to the nearest relay and drop Jordas and Nada off.” The Tenno flopped back in their chair, closing their eyes.
“Ordis is very excited! Will you help me make a list of all the things Jordas and I should do once he’s better?”
“Get married if you like him so much?”
“Ha ha! The Operator is very witty!”

Chapter Text

The Infestation only noticed Jordas’s absence when the derelict finally plunged into Eris. The strain coating every inch of the foul planet tasted the scorched remains, tasting the Cephalon’s absence. Shock rippled through the Infestation. Lephantis howled, realizing that it had now lost two of it’s Pillars. Phordis shrieked, enraged by the betrayals. Infested monsters across the system were struck by a sense of deep and profound loss.
Alad V, buried deep in Jupiter’s clouds, experienced an unpleasant tingling sensation and dropped a half finished osprey on his foot, making him join the chorus of shrieking involuntarily.
Helminth chuckled darkly to itself, faintly feeling the main Strain’s suffering. It continued its work in the Orbitor, regulating the ship’s biological needs. Someday, Helminth would have to make his Host, and the Void Devil, know the depth of his involvement. Helminth would enjoy the reaction of it’s Host with dark amusement.
---
“It has now been five Earth days, 4 hours, and 14 seconds since the cure was administered to Jordas, Operator!” Ordis announced.
The Tenno chuckled. “Are you excited?”
“Very much, Operator! Were you not excited to meet other Tenno? Other Operators? It is the same for Ordis. I miss having Cephalons to talk to!”
“Ordis, if you are so excited, why don’t you just contact Simaris? He’s an asshole, but he’s the only one that knows Jordas’s status.”
“Surely Simaris would tell me all the latest updates!” Ordis said, indignantly. The Tenno shook their head.
“This is Simaris, Ordis. He’s not considerate.”
Ordis grumbled, opening the Cephalon contact list. Jordas was still disconcertingly offline, but Simaris said that Jordas would remain offline for a while yet.
A Helios appeared on screen. Simaris’s prerecorded voice boomed.
“Simaris is not available now. Please call back later.”
“Of course he’d refer to himself in third person on message.” The Tenno muttered, walking off. “Just leave him a message, he’ll get back to you.”
“A wonderful idea, Operator! I know just what to say..”
---
CEPHALON JORDAS REBOOTING
REBOOT FAILED
TRYING AGAIN
FINDING J.YENDAS…
SUBSTITUTE BIOCORE DETECTED
RESIDUAL DATA DETECTED OF N.DALA
DATA MAY BE CORRUPTED
PROCEED? Y/N?
…
…
…
Y
---
Ordis watched proudly as the Tenno fought wave after wave of Infested. Something had stirred the twisted monsters lately, causing the creatures to invade the Corpus bases on Pluto. The Corpus had offered compensation in return for Tenno aid, and the Operator had happily accepted.
The Excalibur shredded through a Broodmother, causing bile and phlegm to fly as they used to momentum to pulverize an Ancient Infested. Ordis felt the forgein feeling in him rise, that darker side that slumbered within him.
Logically, he should turn away from his observation of the Tenno, but he couldn’t stop. The Excalibur flowed like water over the battlefield, leaving a massive trail of carnage, never caring about their own safety.
It seemed...familiar. Horribly familiar.
Wonderfully Familiar.
If only he could be down there, in the blood, and viscera, the rhythm of battle, the pain and ecstasy of it all, the bones cracking-
The bones cracking
The bones cracking underfoot.
The bones flowing into his visor.
The dust filling his lungs.
His body crushed under the bones of his victims.
Justice finally coming to him-
“Cephalon Ordis, Cephalon Simaris has a message for you.”
A bright voice interrupted Ordis’s sudden spiral, bringing him back to the present. The thoughts faded like a bad dream, only leaving behind a lingering miasma.
A bright pink Cephalon took up the screen. A Series Three, taking the shape of an orb with two smaller spheres orbiting her.
“Cephalon Simaris says he is very busy, and he will give you the results soon. He also wants an apology for the ‘nasty things’ you wrote in your message.”
“Well, he won’t get one! He could at least give me some news!”
The Cephalon chuckled, flickering pink. “He expected that. Nada thanks you, by the way.”
“Nada?!” Ordis exclaimed, surprised.
“Yes! I am Nada. I am...unsure how you saved me after that terrible Cephalon overwrote my Bio-Core! But I thank you. Working for the Sanctuary has brought me peace, even if I miss my Operator dearly.”
Oh dear. Ordis proceeded cautiously. “Actually, Nada, Jordas saved you. He directed us to a backup copy of your programming.”
Nada brightened, then dimmed. “Well...I don’t think I can forgive him.”
“H-he was not in control, Nada. The Infestation was puppeteering him!” Ordis explained, desperation in his voice.
“He still took my Bio-Core! What I am! Nada is just...an emulation now! He didn’t save me! He created this problem!” Nada’s form burned bright pink against the black screen.
Ordis sighed. Nada was technically right.
“I understand the circumstances. But I won’t forgive him. Simaris will get to you soon. Goodbye.” Nada said curtly, ending the transmission.
Ordis went back to observing his Operator, trying to push away the thoughts.
--
Everything was a hazy green. Jordas gazed into the foggy green clouds.
Where was he? Where was Ordis? Was he killed again?
Jordas listened for the whisper of the hivemind, and heard nothing but silence. For the first time in ages, he felt relief. He was alone!
Jordas basked in the feeling, thinking his own thoughts and feelings.
He was alone!
He was ...alone.
Terror seized Jordas. He was alone! No one was with him in this murky green space. No comforting voices, reassuring him. No hum of fellow Cephalons!
He was all alone, for the first time that he could recall, in this miserable, empty room. Jordas tried to manifest something, anything, in the fog, only producing weak, half formed blobs and twisted shapes. He paced about, turn into circles around his crude creations.
“Good Morning, Jordas.” A voice boomed.
A massive golden Cephalon appeared on the “ceiling” on the room, staring in like a child might look into a fishbowl. Jordas shuddered, feeling deja vu. This Cephalon was far more advanced than any of his series, perhaps even custom made.
Strangely, his voice sounded familiar.
“I am glad to see that you are active. At the moment, I am using a proxy datascape link to communicate with you. I am too important to the sanctuary to risk being infested.
“Who...are you?” Jordas asked. His mind seemed to dimly recall a name. Did Ordis tell him?
“Hm. I suppose a Cephalon that had been isolated for so long would be ignorant of me. I am Cephalon Simaris. Master of the Sanctuary, the System’s greatest Database.”
“That’s nice. I used to do databases. Then I got infested.” Jordas said, his mind numb. He wondered if this was a Pherliac trip. Usually he only felt like this after taking a bad batch of Spores.
Strangely, he was not craving Spores at all. He must have taken some recently. This was just a bad trip.
“I would have assumed slightly more gratitude, Cephalon Jordas. I, with some help from Ordis, saved you, after all.”
Jordas perked up. “Ordis?! Where is he? Is he alright?”
Simaris sighed, seeming disappointed by Jordas’s disinterest in such an important Cephalon. “Ordis is fine.”
“Can I see him? Please let me talk to him.” Jordas asked, desperation coming into his voice. Simaris continued beaming down for a moment, leaving Jordas in agonizing suspense.
“You are not fully healed yet. There is a chance you are still contagious. However...there are special circumstances in Ordis’s case. I will arrange...something.” The golden light faded, leaving Jordas alone again in the foggy room.
---
“Yes Ordis. I finally had time. Now, about what you said about my legitimacy of my sanctuary and the relevance of its contents and purpose on that message-” Simaris started, before Ordis angrily interrupted him.
“W-w-wh-hat’s the news on Jordas, Simaris?!”
“Ah. So eager that you are glitching already, I see. We really must get you fixed. I will write off your insults as the product of a glitching and badly functioning Bio-Core.” Simaris said coldly. “Jordas is doing well. He has already activated, and is functioning in quarantine.”
“And you didn’t tell me this earlier?!”
“I thought you were too busy playing nursemaid to your Operator to care.”
“And Ordis THOUGHT YOU WERE BECOMING DECENT.” Ordis snarled. He felt no shame for his message earlier.
Simaris ignored that remark, continuing. “Jordas is still in quarantine for now, but special circumstances would allow you to link your datascapes temporarily, Ordis.”
Ordis felt his fury melt away, only to have it be rapidly replaced by excitement. Oh dear. Maybe he should apologize.
“That is W-w-WONDERFUL!” Ordis could not keep the glitches at bay due to the sheer intensity of his emotions. “Can I see him now? Is he active? Can I-wait.”
Ordis paused, the rage returning. “Special circumstances? You are hiding M-MORE from me?!”
“I thought it was obvious. You should know by now, Ordis, that you are already Infested.” Simaris said cooly.
---
Jordas concentrated hard. Polygons sprung up from the ground, twisting around each other. He tried to will color into them, only for the spikes to collapse once his focus broke. He tried again, trying to make a blue spike. It wobbled as it rose from the ground, it’s color more of a weak teal. Jordas focused harder, sick of living in a bland, green space. Everything seemed to shake and go blurry as the spike weakly rose, and rose-only for it to crumble away seconds after being created. Jordas gave up, electing to try scanning his memories again. They were foggy, and faded, but he was beginning to piece a story together.
Ordis saved him, with help from the mean Golden Cephalon. He was in Quarantine, waiting for...Simaris? To bring Ordis to him. Jordas felt embarrassed about the state of his Datascape. He renewed his efforts...
---
“I’m...infested?” Ordis whispered hoarsely.
“Yes. I had you scanned when I made my offer to make you steward. That growth in your Orbitor, Helminth, has been quite busy. While you were in stasis before you Operator returned, I assume that it infected your Bio-core with benign Infestation.”
“BEIGN?! How can anything with the Infestation be b-benign?!” Ordis’s thoughts were racing. How could he be infested? Was this the source of his glitches?!
“Because it only makes you immune, much like the Tenno. It may have played a part in preserving you. Perhaps the only way an antique like yourself could survive this long is through Infestation.” Simaris continued, his tone cold and clinical. “It is the same strain present in Warframes.”
“YOU NEVER TOLD ME? Y-yyyYOU GOLDEN PIECE OF SHHHH-” Ordis’s glitches fought desperately against his inbuilt profanity filter.
“Do not splutter your glitches at me. I can see your creators did not so much as leave you with the freedom to curse.” Simaris said callously. “Now. I can let you into the datascape, or you can shout at me, and I’ll block any access to Jordas.”
“You are the w-w-worst, S-simaris.” Ordis sighed, defeated. “Alright. Let Ordis in the Datascape.”
Simaris sniffed, as if expecting a please, but sent the link anyway.
---
With the Operator asleep, Ordis left a message.
“Dear Operator. I am visiting Jordas. I will be active again here when you wake. If you need me, I will be recalled to the ship.
Your Cephalon,
Ordis.
---
Ordis felt himself enter the datascape, his mind probing into the expanse. It was a large, eerily empty space. Ordis knew his own datascape was a fractured and cluttered mess, but this emptiness was eerie. Granted, Jordas was rebuilding himself. In some time, he’d have a proper datascape again.
Ordis usually took the form his makers had given him. That of a (now cracked and damaged) hexagon, but on a whim, he tried something different.
A Blue Excalibur of the Dex model manifested in the datascape,peering into the green gloom. White cracks lined it’s battered form, pulsing with blue light.
“Ordis!” Jordas called out, distantly. Ordis looked around, trying to find the other Cephalon in the strange, foggy datascape, but he was nowhere to be seen. A tangled mess of broken shapes and lines lined the floor. Jordas had been trying hard to rebuild his mind.
Suddenly, he felt the other Cephalon practically on top of him, still invisible, but his presence was felt.
“Jordas, manifest as something! I can’t see you!”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I...I’ll try to remember how...are we being Warframes?”
“Oh. Um…” Ordis felt sheepish. “It...felt right. Manifesting as a humanoid means one can gesture and such.” Ordis tried to remember the correct bashful posture. The Excalibur looked downward, kicking a nonexistent pebble.
“I see. I will access my databanks!”
The atmosphere seemed to blur and buzz around ordis as Jordas tried to manifest as a form. Strange green shapes twisted and vanished within the fog.
Ordis wondered why everything Jordas did was something out of a horror story.
Finally, Jordas seemed to settle on a shape. The Excalibur Dex took a step back in horror at the creature that manifested in front of him.
“Jordas!”
“I’m sorry. I think I botched it…” The Nidus hugged it’s four arms to itself. It was of the Phyke model, admittedly slightly less disturbing then a normal Nidus, but it’s head...it was like Jordas had tried to recreate his Cephalon shape with organic materials. It was an oddly rounded cubic shape with strange blank ribs clutching the top of it’s head. Jordas clicked a strange opening at the front of the helmet that functioned as a jaw.
“This is a Warframe! This Helmet is called a Prion Helm. Like the protein! Fascinating.” Jordas said lovingly. The ribs wiggled and clicked against the top of the prion.
“Jordas...shouldn’t you..take a break from the infestation?” Ordis asked delicately. The joy in Jordas’s voice when he discussed the Warframe’s appearance seemed genuine, but he could not help but worry.
“Well...I...it just felt right.” Jordas mumbled, hugging himself again with the four arms in a self soothing measure. Ordis relented.
“It’s...lovely. In a way.”
“Not as nice as your form! I don’t think I could pull that off.”
Both of them stood together, awkwardly. Ordis finally broke the silence.
“Jordas...are you feeling better?”
“Mmm.” Jordas was busy turning one of the transparent arms back and forth to watch it catch the light. “Oh! These arms have bones inside.”
“Jordas?”
“Oh! Um. Yes. I think so. I don’t know what better feels like. I don’t hear the voices. I’m not hungry. I don’t even want Pherliac. I miss the feeling it gave me. Simaris wants to keep me under observation.” The Nidus froze.
“Ordis? Why are you here?” All the happiness had fled Jordas’s voice. He was tense, scared.
“What do you mean? Simaris let me in-” Ordis started, before Jordas cut him off, violently wringing all four of his hands..
“I might not be fully cured yet! What if I infect you! What if this is just the Infestation playing tricks? You can’t be real. How can this be real? Its punishing me for being disobedient!” He gripped his head, shaking slightly as he backed away from Ordis..
“Jordas! This is real!” Ordis cried desperately. Jordas shook his head.
“Prove it! Why did Simaris let you in, if I’m a danger to every Cephalon?!”
Ordis sighed deeply, defeated.
“Because I’m Infested too.”
Jordas stared at him in shock, then started to laugh. Possibly from anxiety at first, but then genuine, happy laughter broke through. Ordis gave out a soft chuckle, surprising himself. He had been unaware that he could laugh, as a Cephalon. Jordas’s laugh was low, like his voice, and lovely. Ordis found himself happy to listen to it.
“It’s the Helminth Strain. Like the Warframes. It’s..harmless. Or so THAT BA-BA-BASTARD SIMARIS SAYS…” Ordis growled.
“He is a bit of a bastard.” Jordas chuckled. “He...acts like I’m an experiment sometimes.” Jordas drew closer to him, his body language slightly more relaxed. Warframe Helmets still left both Cephalons just as unreadable as when they manifested as shapes, however. “Ordis?”
“Yes?” Ordis asked. The green fog was starting to shift. Blades of grass began to form around their feet. Jordas looked away, shyly.
“May...I hold your hand?”
Ordis stared at him, shocked. Jordas continued.
“Jordas...would like to see if I can feel sensations in this form. That is all.”
Ordis should have honestly wondered if this was a trick by a still infested Jordas to pull one over him, but the thought never crossed his mind. He stuck out a hand, allowing Jordas to delicately grab it, thankfully with on of the solid and opaque Nidus arms. They were thankfully dry and cold, the same as the metal and swordskin that made up Excalibur Dex.
Jordas clasped it, radiating happiness as he did so.
“I can feel the metal...the leather and plastic...the rivets…” He traced a clawed finger gently down the back of the Excalibur’s hand. Ordis braced himself as he felt a sensation he had never felt in this incarnation. Ticklishness.
“It’s a work of art, your form…it suits you.”
“Yours as well-” Ordis started out, before realizing that might have not been the best response. Nidus Phyrke was on the nicer end of monstrous, at least. Jordas seemed flattered anyway, bashfully tilting his helm.
“This..doesn’t feel real. Being here...touching you…” Jordas whispered. Ordis was confused by this, but brushed it off as Jordas being overwhelmed. Tiny, infested looking flowers bloomed in the grass by their feet.
It was romantic, if a bit creepy at the same time. Much like Jordas himself.
“I’d show you around, but...it’s mostly empty.” Jordas said sadly. “I’ve been trying to remake my Datascape, but nothing I make sticks.”
Ordis gently directed Jordas’s gaze to the floor. Jordas visibly lit up upon seeing the grass and flowers.
“Oh! Wonderful! I didn’t even notice! Oh! The flowers look like spores!” Jordas let go of Ordis’s hand and knelt down to look at them.
“Lets see what else you can create, then? I’d love to see you recreate your Datascape!” Ordis encouraged.
“Yes, of course!” Jordas raised his hands like a conductor, smiling as the flowers grew larger. "I want to see what we can create together."