Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I just want to say, thanks for bringing me back, and killing that scary thing, and taking me on the adventure we went on a while ago, and thanks for being cool about stuff, like letting me drive the caravan that one time when you weren’t looking, and thanks for bringing everyone together, and thanks for being my friends. You’re the only ones I have. And I appreciate you. And I hope we’re friends for a really long time.”

“That’s what friends do. They help each other. It’s all part of the deal.”

“Well, then that’s a pretty good deal.”

[Except from Loader Bot’s memory banks, Day 517 since last wipe]

—

Two pairs of footsteps resonated into the bottomless chasm that was the Vault of the Traveler. Rhys crossed the gap between the last step and the top platform. He turned back to Fiona.

Funny. A few days ago, he’d still believed she and Sasha had already pilfered the very chamber where they now stood--that they had abandoned him on Helios, seized the Vault’s riches for themselves, and had all but forgotten his name by now.

He had woken up that lonely morning in the Biodome as he had countless mornings before: from a dreamscape of ghosts and guilt. Until he’d been summoned by a cryptic message to Prosperity Junction, he’d had no clue where to go next.

At least now, with the untold treasure that had originally brought them together in reach again, it looked less like nowhere.

Not that he’d readily spill that sentiment to Fiona. No, the two of them had reached their humiliation quota just moments ago outside this Vault, when she’d stared daggers at him and demanded he answer for a certain incident involving Sasha and a blue flower.

"I just want you to know, I totally forgive you for ripping me off," he offered instead, and in a show of graciousness extended his hand across the gap.

"I know, I know, it's really big of me,” he added with a smirk. He wasn’t even offended when she stuck out her tongue as she accepted his hand and stepped across. “But I figure we're on our way to bigger and better things, so water under the bridge. If a giant exploding Vault Monster doesn't settle the score, frankly, I don't know what does."

"I gotta say." Her gaze drifted up wistfully. "I'm a little sad it's over."

"Well, who knows? Maybe this is just the beginning," he said.

They both stood inches before the chest. The moment was silent, full of fear and suspense. There was no turning back.

"Would you like to do the honors?" Rhys asked.

"It's the last one," Fiona said, echoing the words that started it all when they’d found Gortys' disjointed core. "It's only right we both open it. It's the best part.”

"Was kinda hoping you'd say that."

He laid a hand on the stone chest, followed by her. The lid creaked open to reveal its bounty.

—

"Here, Sash. I know I just called dibs on shields, but on behalf of the Children of Helios, I would like you to have this."

Sasha crouched in The Traveler’s shimmering spoils, next to Pandora’s unlikeliest bandit leader. She looked up from a sleek double-drum magazine to see him offering her a shield.

"It’s okay, Vaughn, you keep it," she said. "Your men need all the help they can get in these wastes. No offense, but those laser pointers won't fool the other bandits out here forever."

"And no offense to you, but an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. Especially where near-death experiences are concerned." Vaughn paused and considered his words. "Not that we aren't all super grateful for what you did, obviously. But let's just say, watching a friend teeter on the brink of…the brink is one of those acts where no one wants an encore."

Sasha adjusted her arm sling, fashioned from the red scarf around her waist. She herself still scarcely believed what had just happened. First, everything was fading away. Fiona and Rhys' desperate clutch on her, the throbbing in her abdomen—all she sensed was receding like a dream.

Then it was all rewinding. The ravages of the last few painful moments all absorbed into Felix's watch. She’d live another day. Of course it wouldn't be a gift from Felix if it didn't have strings attached, she thought sourly, rubbing her fractured arm.

"Yeah, trust me, I’m not about to make a habit of it," she mumbled, her hand drifting down to massage her abdomen, at the spot where the pocketwatch had worked its miracle.

"You might’ve not had to do it even once, if I hadn't jumped the gun with the Moonshot cannon," Vaughn countered. "Call this amends."

"Oh, so it’s your fault those detonation charges had a shorter range than I could spit?” She raised her eyebrow and cocked her head at him. “I doubt it.”

“That, uh, certainly didn’t help either,” he conceded.

"But seriously, just give the shield to one of them.” She jerked her head towards the rest of their companions. Athena and Cassius had both inadvertently reached for the same prize, and glanced at each other hesitantly. Zer0 appraised a sniper rifle in his hands with the scrutiny of Marcus Kincaid himself.

Unswayed Vaughn waved the shield before Sasha with a sly grin. “Did I mention it's a Pangolin exclusive, and when it runs out, it causes the attacker’s shield to break, too?"

"Really?” Sasha’s eyes glimmered, and her tongue darted, tantalized, over her lip. “Now you tell me!"

With a delighted laugh she plucked the shield from his hand and fixed it to her belt. Until her arm healed, she had an inkling her trusty Atlas Silver SMG would take a backseat to her Desolator pistol. At least with her new drum mag, reloading would be ancient history. Fumbling with her hand in the sling, she attached the mag to the pistol. There was that satisfying click of two already-awesome pieces of weaponry joining to become near-unstoppable.

Grinning, she aimed the pistol at a Children of Helios symbol painted into a nearby post. "Nothing personal, Vaughn," she quipped, and fired. She basked in the force of the gun jolting in her hand, the burning scent, the resonating sound as the slug struck the wood. She was ready to seek out the nearest Badass and dare him to waste his ammo on her.

"No worries. We're still undecided on the penalty for desecrating our graven image," Vaughn joked. "Besides, you missed."

"No, I--" She squinted at her target. So, she hadn't actually hit the sunny icon. The bullet had just barely struck the edge of the wood. "--Look, it's a new gun, okay?" Her nose wrinkled and she gave a huff, glancing down at the Desolator. It would take some getting used to, aiming with a pistol. She'd be sure to get in more practice before…before…

Just what was next, anyway?

That question always included Fiona. But for the first time, Sasha turned and noticed Fiona was gone, and Rhys with her.

"Hey. Did they already go in the—?" Her eyes followed the last spot her sister and newly returned…friend? …had stood, over to the pulsating gate where The Traveler had first emerged.

Vaughn's gaze followed hers. "I guess they couldn't wait to get their hands on the bigger prize."

"Well, c'mon, let's go after them!" She nudged Vaughn's shoulder as she took off towards the Vault. "I've been getting stuck with Fiona's hand-me-downs since we were kids; I'm not about to let her--" When she realized he wasn't following, she stopped to look back and raise a quizzical eyebrow.

"Yeah.” Vaughn looked down at the valuables he'd collected from The Traveler. “I'm not so sure I want to, Sasha. There's enough here to sell and fill the Children of Helios' stores for months."

“Seriously? After all we went through to get here?" She gaped at him and flung her good hand back towards the beckoning Vault. "You're saying you're not even a little curious what's in there?"

"Oh, I'm a lot curious, don't get me wrong," he said, walking towards her. "But what if whatever's inside…just isn't enough?” He cast an apprehensive glance to Athena and Zer0, then lowered his voice. “That's what keeps those Vault Hunter types always wanting more, isn't it? That ongoing pursuit of the next score.” He looked back to the Children of Helios compound. "It's like an addiction. I can't risk what I've built here to get mixed up in that."

She frowned, but thought she understood. Minutes ago, she had been willing to give up her chance at the Vault for the ones she cared about, too. "Your followers really are lucky to have you, Vaughn," she said.

He shrugged. "Well. Technically they're Rhys' followers."

"Um, who made them a home out of nothing, and got them this far?” she posited. “You, or that creepy headless statue?"

Vaughn laughed. "I'd call that a textbook 'Column A, Column B,'” he said. "But thanks. And look, even if you, Fiona and Rhys go galavanting off on another epic quest, remember you're always welcome here."

"Hey, that's not happening, alright? Whatever we do next, we’re all in it together," she said. "We didn't find each other again just to—"

A flash like lightning filled her vision. A seismic whoosh rolled past her. She whirled around, and her jaw dropped.

Where the Vault had been, now there was nothing but an empty stone archway.

—

"Fiona?"

Rhys looked around after the shockwave. Everything looked the same. He was still standing inside the otherworldly chamber crafted eons ago by a long-dead alien race. The huge stone chest still lay open before him. Only, the hat-favoring companion he had opened it with was nowhere in sight.

There was something in the chest: a small mechanism, no bigger than his fist. He picked it up and looked it over. A blue pillar of light emerged and took the shape of a schematic. He squinted. It looked like a weapon plan of some kind, but the writing was in some language for which the word "arcane" came to mind. Eridian, if he was more the gambling type.

He tucked it away. Maybe there was enough power in the Helios computer at Vaughn's compound to translate it. And maybe Fiona already headed back that way. Yeah, that must be it. That blast probably just shorted out his budget cybernetics, and he didn't see her leave.

Why didn't she take the schematic, though?

Confused, he turned back to the monolithic archway. The view of the other side was distorted, as though underwater. Yet, he could make out tall shapes that weren't Pandoran mesas—bright colors that didn't belong to rock and sand.

"What the…?" As he stepped through, he felt a sensation like falling forward.

The world he stumbled out into was definitely not Pandora. The ethereal gateway faded behind him, leaving him stranded in this foreign world.

In the distance he discerned the tops of skyscrapers. Hovercrafts darted between them like ants. Bright neon signs crowned each tower. His immediate surroundings were less grandiose. Graffiti plastered the derelict one- and two-story buildings. There were cranes for a shipyard visible over the flimsy rooftops. The crumbling street was home to a string of gutted out vehicles. He heard gunfire close by.

He turned back to where the Vault had been, and saw he was in front of a power plant. Above its entrance was a big red neon sign: HAPPY HUNTING THIS EXTERMINATION DAY! BROUGHT TO YOU BY DIRECTOR ALEXANDER WORMWORTH AND HIS ESTEEMED ASSOCIATES OF THE ATLAS BOARD.

The name "Director Alexander Wormworth" was in larger letters, while "Esteemed Associates of the Atlas Board" shrank in comparison. Below the lettering were four holographic blue-tinted heads. The largest must have belonged to Alexander Wormworth, a pasty and portly man of about fifty. His three "esteemed" associates were too scaled down beside him to perceive much about their facial features.

Rhys was less interested in their faces than he was in their company. Atlas still had a board of directors here? So, where was "here"?

To answer his unspoken question, a tone rang out over a loudspeaker, followed by a chipper female voice. "Attention, Lectra City! Shanneth Kyrie reporting. Please disregard the alleged disturbance at the power plant. We’ve been assured that it was only the result of some faulty wiring, and the situation will soon be under control. You're all doing a great job of cleanup this Extermination Day. If Promethea could smile, the rest of the universe could see itself in her dazzling teeth, all thanks to you!"

Promethea? Rhys blinked. The guns ceased when Shanneth spoke. His gut twisted in a knot as he began to guess what kind of "cleanup" she was talking about.

"If you'll all kindly make your way to the Ceasefire Zone in the harbor, our friends at Atlas have arranged a treat: a ton of fresh, shiny ammunition for your efforts. That's an actual two-thousand pound ton, by the way; not a 'ton' in the figurative sense, like the ton of pride Director Wormworth has in all of you," Shanneth went on. "Oh, and if you're super lucky, he might even show up via holo-broadcast to have a meet-and-greet with some of our participants. But not if you're too sloooow!" The last word came out in a flippant singsong. "So, get the lead out, exterminators! All aboard at the harbor!"

There were whoops and hollers. The gunfire resumed but slowly retreated.

Rhys looked up again at the blue holographic visage of Director Wormworth. He felt for the Atlas stock certificate folded in his pocket. It looked like he inherited some employees from the former Atlas. And apparently, they liked to conduct blood sports in their spare time.

Still, it seemed his best shot was to make his way across Lectra City to the harbor, and try to have a word with this Wormworth.

Cautiously, unarmed save for his arm, he stepped into the war zone standing between him and the harbor.

He didn't get far before a van-sized hovercraft swooped across the sun and landed behind him. The rear doors burst open, and several men in red armored suits filed out. "Readings are negative. There's nothing here, Sir," one of them said into an ECHO-Comm after a cursory look around. "Area's clear, moving on to check inside the power plant."

"What about that guy over there?" said another, pointing at Rhys.

"Him? Probably just one of Wormworth's exterminators getting too nosy," said the first. "Set to stun! Hey you! Freeze!" he barked. A collage of weapons suddenly pointed at Rhys, who did indeed freeze.

"Director Colton won't be happy if Wormworth gets a man here first," said one of the red suits.

At the back of the cluster, one of them slowly shifted his weapon away from Rhys and towards the backs of his companions. "He already did," he announced, and unleashed his stun shots on the others, who fell to the ground convulsing and gasping in surprise.

Rhys eeped and shirked away, keeping his hands firmly above his head.

The traitor among the group looked back up to him. "Faulty wiring, nothing," he said. "There was a Vault here, and you were in it. So start talking."

"Waitwaitwait, I can explain!" Rhys babbled, giving his raised hands a little desperate wave. "You're Atlas, right? Great! I'm your new—"

He flinched as a bullet just barely ricocheted past his nose. But it hadn't come from the red-clad man. He glanced sideways and saw a group—most likely Wormworth's Exterminators—coming around a corner. With ample mohawks, tattoos and piercings, they didn't look much a stretch from Pandora's finest.

"I told you they was hiding something at the power plant!" one growled.

"Yeah! Whatever you Atlas bastards is keeping from us, we want our share!" called another.

"Oh, sh-" began the rogue Atlas soldier. A hail of gunfire burst forth. He dove for cover behind the hovercraft. Some of the other soldiers slowly began to regain their senses and shoot from their positions on the ground.

Trouble was, they hadn't uniformly decided where to direct their fire. Some shots found the exterminators of dubious alignment. One or two shots were made instead at the traitor in the soldiers’ midst.

Rhys ducked as one shot sought him out. In the confusion, he wasn't sure if it was an Atlas soldier's stun shot or an exterminator's not-stun shot. Either way, he didn’t intend to stick around and see if the next one had better aim.

He took off into Lectra City, the harbor’s cranes his only clue of which way to go. The sound of one pandemonious tussle faded behind, while another loomed ahead. This one was bound for the harbor, for that ton of free ammunition and an audience with Director Alexander Wormworth.

He remembered suddenly that Wormworth might not be his only hope here.

"Fiiiiiooooonaaaaa!" he called out mid-sprint.

Chapter Text

“I thought a city like Promethea would be crammed full of opportunity, but actually it was a tinderbox of violence and greed. Corporations were pulling out, calling the joint dead-end. People were starving, eating stone soup and boiled ratch to get by. But somehow, I survived. It was a real ‘wrong-place-at-the-right-time’ type of situation. You know, sometimes the trick to being successful is just staying in the game longer than the other guy.”

-Typhon DeLeon, ECHO-Log Series Commissioned By Some History Dweeb

———————————

“Just try again, Gortys,” Vaughn urged. “You can do it. You have to.”

“This is a lot of pressure, you guys,” the robot whined. Her digital face lowered in anxiety and frustration. “Could I… have a little space, please?”

The motley crew backed away from Gortys, beneath the petrified husk of the form she’d assumed while fighting The Traveler. Free to move, she rolled back and charged headlong at her giant doppelganger. Her head bonked and bonked against it, each time recoiling with a little “Umph!” Her digital eyes flickered, and she held her head as though seeing stars.

“I can’t do it,” she conceded, shaking her spherical body to regain her senses. “I’m so sorry, Vaughn. Sasha. I think my beacon died when the Traveler died. I’m really, really sorry—I can’t summon the Vault again.”

Shakily, Sasha released a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding. “Alright, so, any idea where it went?” She felt cold, nauseous, and lightheaded all at once.

They can’t be gone. They can’t be gone. 

She hated being a victim to those feelings, so she filled her head with anger instead. At least anger was hot. Anger wasn’t helpless. “There has to be something you can give us, Gortys! Isn’t that Vault—oh I dunno—what you were built for?!”

“That’s true, but it could literally be anywhere in the universe,” Gortys lamented. “On a planet, on an asteroid—”

“Perhaps even in a black hole,” Cassius offered dottily. “Though I would, of course, prefer that weren’t the case.”

“Thanks for that insight, Doc,” Vaughn grumbled. “I almost forgot to add ‘Rhys and Fiona crushed to an atom in the center of a collapsed star’ to my list of worries.”

“Don’t mention it,” Cassius said. “If you like, I could speculate on likelier, but no less gruesome hypotheses.”

“Uh, hard pass.”

“Guys! Just stop!” Sasha spat. “This isn’t helping! They’re not in a black hole, okay?!” At her feet glinted a crystalline shard that had been part of the Traveler’s insides. Even dead, the behemoth mocked her. She swore through clenched teeth and kicked the shard, sending it sailing.

“Sasha.” She sensed Athena moving to her side.

“Don’t.” She dug her heel in the dirt, hugged herself and fixed her stare where the shard landed. “I don’t want to hear that you ‘know how I feel,’ alright?” 

Fiona couldn’t be gone forever. Not like Athena’s sister.

“Good. Because, frankly, I don’t,” Athena responded flatly. “I don’t see any circumstance where I would waste my anger on a beaten opponent. In your place, I would target the source of my problem. And then, as you once said yourself: burn it all to the ground.”

Sasha’s nostrils flared. “So how are we supposed to do that, exactly?”

Athena’s expression showed a flicker of softness. “By keeping our heads and coming up with a plan. Think you can manage that? For your sister?” Her gaze darted to Vaughn. “For your friend?”

Sasha turned abruptly and strode to the side of the Gortys colossus to rest her forehead against it. This was the story of her life—everyone came and went. Felix, the lifetime of marks that were almost friends or more. But not Fiona. Her sister had always been there. Fiona, for whom lies came as easy as smiles, yet to Sasha her word was always her bond. With that foundation crumbled away beneath Sasha’s feet, where else could she fall?

Then there was Rhys.

“Why don’t we just start with the obvious,” Vaughn said. “Has anything like this ever happened before?” He cast a glance between Zer0 and Athena. “I mean, you two are the experts here on all things Vault-related, right?”

“There’s still a lot about Vaults no one understands,” Athena replied. “For a while, some of us thought Typhon de Leon may turn up with insights from his later career.”

“Who?” Vaughn cocked his head.

“Typhon de Leon / A trailblazer among us / The first Vault Hunter,” Zer0 intoned.

“Right,” Athena nodded, “but I wouldn’t hold my breath on that.”

“Why shouldn’t I hold my breath?” Gortys asked. “Other than not having any, I mean.”

“De Leon’s MIA. Has been for years,” Athena answered.

Gortys lowered her eyes. “Oh.”

“Press F to pay respects,” Loader Bot said.

Sasha blocked their chatter out. Rhys. She’d woken up this morning thinking he was a charred skeleton in a bad red tie somewhere under the twisted rubble of Helios. Nothing could have prepared her for the walking, breathing ghost that had greeted her in the Helios control room. She hadn’t even tapped into the well of words she’d wanted to say to him. All they’d managed then was a joyous hug, and a hesitant “I missed you.”

And now he’d vanished all over again, leaving everything else still unsaid.

“Gortys, not to be a ‘Shot In The Dark’ kinda guy here,” Vaughn ventured, resting his hands on his knees to reach face-level with the robot. “But I don’t suppose the Atlas scientists who built you happened to include, you know, a Beacon Recharger Upgrade or something?”

“Doubt it,” Gortys said. She seemed to shrink before Vaughn. “I can check, but please try to manage your expectations. I don’t want to disappoint you too much.”

“All our friends ask is that you try,” Loader Bot assured Gortys, kneeling beside her and placing a skeletal hand on her domed head. “That’s what friends do. They help each other. Right?”

“You—you’re right, Loader Bot.” Gortys lifted her hand to latch onto his. “It’s all part of the deal, just like Fiona said.” Her digital face brightened in its teal hue. “I’ll give it my best—just hang tight!”

Her holographic compass emerged from her head and pulsed faintly. She bobbled around the area, as though chasing a firefly visible only to her. Reluctantly, Sasha lifted herself from Mecha Gortys’ husk and rejoined the others.

“About your arm.” Athena glanced at Sasha. “I wouldn’t go to that snake oil peddler Zed if I were you. Nurse Nina mostly sells family planning these days, but her Insta-Health packs are far better quality if you can get them.”

Sasha fumbled with her arm sling. “You realize Felix is dead, right?” she uttered without looking at Athena. “You don’t have a protection contract to uphold anymore.”

“You really think that’s why I’m still here?” Athena retorted. “After today, I can be assured the ‘untapped potential’ Felix saw in you two has grown like he never imagined.”

Sasha felt that detestable sting in her eyes and shut them tight. “Then why are you still here?” she asked.

“Because Fiona is a Vault Hunter,” Athena said. “Something big is on the horizon. I don’t know what yet, but now is the time for Vault Hunters to band together.”

A huff. “Oh, so you just needed my sister for some greater purpose all along. Thanks for telling me.”

“Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me, Sasha? ...After Hollow Point, I mean?”

Sasha turned her head away. “The last words Felix ever said to me were ‘trust no one.’”

“I might have agreed with him once,” Athena admitted. “But do you envy the man, going out on a note like that? I doubt it.”

Before Sasha could form a reply, Gortys made an excited noise. “I think I found something!” she chirped, pointing over the ravine. “It’s over yonder!”

“Fascinating!” Cassius remarked. “Could this mean there was another Gortys upgrade to survive—” he stopped mid-sentence and averted his eyes from Athena, “—the, ah, inhospitable ravages of Pandora?”

“Is it another upgrade, Gortys?” Vaughn asked.

The robot made an “I dunno” sound. “Could be,” she added. “The reading I’m picking up is like one of my upgrades, but different. Older. And partly...in some other language?” She glanced around. “Does anyone know what—” a garbled, incoherent string of otherworldly syllables emitted from Gortys’ so-called mouth, “—means?”

“In my experience, that means ‘I’m a Guardian from a bygone era and your journey ends here,’” Athena said.

Sasha recognized the sound as well. The strange aliens inside the Traveler had made a similar cacophony.

“The Guardians call' / One quest’s end sparks another / A Vault Hunter’s lot,” Zer0 mused.

“How do we know this signal—whatever it is—will lead us to Fiona and Rhys?” Sasha asked.

“Guess we don’t, but it beats wandering the desert aimlessly,” Vaughn said. "Believe me, I've tried it before. Would not recommend."

Sasha surveyed her companions, from Vaughn to Athena, to Loader Bot and Gortys, and she supposed even Cassius. If her life's foundation had crumbled, there were worse places to fall than here with them. “Thought you didn't want to get addicted to epic quests like some Vault Hunter,” she told Vaughn.

“Well, wouldn't be the first destructive behavior Rhys has put me up to,” he chortled. “Remind me to tell you about rush week sometime.”

To her own surprise, she actually smiled. “Then I guess let’s get going.” She looked around. “So, where did Fiona park the caravan?”

Vaughn cringed, as though remembering a crucial detail. “Uh. Well, ‘park’ isn’t exactly the word I’d use.” He gazed off towards the Moonshot control center. The rear end of the caravan poked from its roof.

———————————

Rhys made an even poorer Exterminator than he’s made a Vault Hunter. He flitted from cover to cover across Lectra City—a hollowed out car here, a concrete rampart there. Whenever a shot rang out, he covered his head and crouched.

He turned a corner. There, down the street, was a skeletal car rusting away near an awning. The jump from the vehicle to the awning looked doable. Checking again for Exterminators or dubiously aligned Atlas soldiers, he dashed for the car. The trunk gaped open, empty. The doors had long since been stripped, possibly for makeshift shields. He stepped onto the faux leather upholstery of the backseat and reached for the roof.

A chitter sounded from under the front seat. He shrank back just as an arachnid creature crawled out. It didn't seem to appreciate the intrusion, if its gaping mandibles were any hint. Rhys staggered back, but the arachnid scuttled doggedly after him.

His eyes fell on the open trunk, and he recalled an incident involving an outhouse and a bandit in Prosperity Junction. He crossed his arms in front of him, the cyber one outermost. The creature lunged and bit into his forearm.

“I! Don't! Think so!” He shoved the pest into the trunk and wrenched the lid down. It was just ajar enough to twist his arm free of the bite, though his sleeve was shredded in the process. He slammed the lid shut and held it against the sporadic thud within.

He didn't rely on the trunk to stay closed, so he scrambled onto the car’s roof. Then, after a few preparatory arm swings, he lept flailing onto the awning. A boarded-up window served as his ladder to the building’s roof. There, he saw the harbor two blocks away.

He skimmed the rooftops for Fiona, turned up nothing, and sighed his disappointment. Even she’d have to admit the trunk stunt was testament to his cunning.

A crowd had gathered at the harbor. Most exterminators apparently hadn't been suspicious that Shanneth's announcement was meant to draw them away from the power plant. Rhys plotted a quick course to the ground and easily walked the remaining distance.

The nearest barge’s deck was lined with blinking green chests, most of them opened and pilfered. The clacks of reloading guns rippled through the crowd. Some exterminators waited with bated breath for this hinted appearance of Director Alexander Wormworth.

With several dozen backs to him, Rhys took a moment to compose himself. He rolled up his torn right sleeve to the elbow, smoothed his hair, and dusted off his jacket and slacks. An old pre-interview habit made him exhale into his hand to check his breath. He scowled. It was pretty rancid, considering the shortage of breath mints back at the Biodome. But it wasn't like Holo-Wormworth would be in a position to notice.

A terminal on the barge sprang to life, revealing the same pasty, portly man Rhys had seen at the power plant. This hologram showed Director Wormworth from the waist up. He looked distracted, even worried as he surveyed the Lectra City exterminators.

“What a delightful turnout we've had today!” he greeted them with visible haste. "The rest of the universe may say Atlas is finished, but I have only to look around at the weaponry you all hold to see that our second wind is coming!"

There was a sparse applause, promptly drowned out by the procession of shouted questions.

“When are the new guns coming?!”

Director Wormworth sucked on his lips. “Yes, new guns, we're aware of that complaint and continue to appreciate your feedback. You can be sure what you currently have is the finest in the industry, despite its age. Because Atlas was always ahead of the curve! Of course, Directors Colton, Sampson and Hazeltooth—and I—can't wait to give you something newer and even better, just as soon as the means become available.”

“Why aren't you taking Pandora back from Hyperion?!”

The bluish hologram froze, save for a line of static running down. “We're working on that highly delicate, but important issue. Just because Hyperion suffered dismal blows with the death of Handsome Jack and the destruction of Helios, that doesn't mean we can afford to be hasty. We're looking into what caused our competitors such immense trouble. When the time comes, we will be ready to face the same. Anyone else with another question? Perhaps a little more relevant to why we're gathered here today?”

“We're running out of ratches to shoot in Lectra City! When are you going to move Extermination Day to Meridian?!”

“Unfortunately, Director Sampson has safety concerns about Meridian’s citizens. Which I share. Yes, wholeheartedly.” Wormworth scratched his nose. “But you are correct; there are plenty of ratches here in Meridian, too. If possible, I’ll have a word with my colleague about getting a team together to relocate some ratch nests to Lectra. We'll just have to see. In the meantime, a quick reminder. Extermination Day is a privilege, and everyone must register at least 24 hours in advance. We have reason to believe an… unauthorized person may be participating.”

Rhys knew at once the “unauthorized person” was him. To his relief, Wormworth was nothing like he expected. The visage at the power plant commanded respect—presented himself to be on a tier with even Handsome Jack. This was no Jack swaying like a weed before the crowd.

Wormworth reminded Rhys of Henderson. A smile crept onto his lips. This was someone he knew exactly how to work.

“If that person is here, I ask them now to report to one of our designated personnel in the red armor,” Wormworth went on. “The mixup should be resolved quickly, and we'll go from there.”

Rhys stretched his arms over his head in a yawn. The glare from his exposed metallic forearm caught Holo-Wormworth's attention. “Hoo-okay, you got me, Alex,” he announced for the congregation to hear. “I was saving it for a surprise, but I guess the cat's out of the bag.” He presented his wrists, awaiting handcuffs. “Have our good friends in red take me away. I deserve it.”

The exterminators shuffled to either side, creating a path between Rhys and Holo-Wormworth. The Atlas Director raised an eyebrow. “I'm sorry, you have me at a disadvantage, Mister…?”

“Pish! ‘Mister.’” Rhys stepped through the crowd and ribbed a bystander with his elbow, winking. “Will you listen to this guy, pretending he doesn't know me?” he chortled to the random exterminator, jabbing his thumb at Wormworth. He faced the hologram again. “It's only Mister Rhys Strongfork on my letterhead. You've seen it, or at least your secretary has.”

He unsheathed the Atlas stock certificate from his pocket and flashed it like a badge, just long enough for Wormworth to register what he was holding. The almost ephemeral widening of the Director's eyes confirmed that.

“But please, call me Rhys,” he went on, returning the paper to his pocket. “And I'm here to turn Atlas around, and finally give these good people—” he flung a hand out to the exterminators, “—nothing less than what they've been asking for!”

As he had hoped, there were intrigued murmurs. Eyes turned towards him, away from Wormworth.

The hologram lowered his gaze, considering the game he'd just been invited to. “Oh, of course. Rhys.” He feigned recognition. “I must have missed the memo you were in town already. We're… understaffed, as you can well imagine.”

“Oof. You know how I feel about the ‘U’ word, Alex. I prefer to think of us as a ‘lean, mean, fighting machine,’” Rhys countered. Holo-Wormworth’s smile was strained. Rhys was in now. “It looks like I crashed your party, but once you’re available, I can’t wait to talk shop in person,” he continued.

“By all means, no time like the present,” Wormworth said. “I'll arrange a hovercraft to bring you to Atlas HQ right away.”

Rhys pinched his lapel and flashed a smile. “Al, you and me, we're going places. I can feel it.”

Chapter Text

“ Look, you wanna know the reason why I’m in that chair and you’re not? For the exact same reason why north is north, why the handsome guy always gets the girl, and why every spaceship in the universe is shaped like a cock. It’s destiny, Rhys. And men, real men, men like me, make their own.”

[Excerpt from Loader Bot’s memory banks, Day 515 since last wipe]

———————————

There wasn’t much to look at in the windowless hovercraft, so Rhys faced one of his Atlas soldier escorts. He couldn’t tell if they were the same ones from the power plant. If so, they didn’t let on that anything awry had just happened in their ranks.

“When we get to the HQ, I’m assuming there will be a long-range comms tower I can use to send a message off-world?” he asked.

“Director Wormworth keeps a waiting list of requests to use it,” the soldier said. “When I tried to RSVP to a class reunion on Eden-4, it took four months.”

Rhys fell silent again. Looks like I have some policy changes to make around here, he thought. 

They landed on a platform and filed out. From there, Rhys’ escort led the way into a garage with a cargo elevator in the far end. “Up above is the old CEO’s office,” the same soldier explained. “Orders are to escort you there and wait for the Directors.”

Rhys shrugged. “No arguments here.” The group boarded and started the ascent. Rhys regarded each of the soldiers, motionless as golems. He cracked his neck left and right and rocked heel to toe. “So,” he tried on the only one to have spoken so far. “The strong right arm of Atlas, huh? Must make you proud, having that on your resume.”

“No greater joy than duty.”

Rhys gave him two thumbs up. “That’s what I like to hear, Captain…?” he led, expecting a name.

“Private,” he corrected. “Private Gonner Maleggies.”

“Heh. Noted.”

At the top, Rhys soaked in the grandiose chamber around him. The musty but once-proud office stretched out languidly towards a hallway flanked by giant, empty fish tanks. His stomach fluttered as he recalled his last time climbing up a trapdoor into a sanctum like this.

Outside the lofty windows, all of Meridian sat obscured by a sheen of dust. Rhys pressed his fingertips to the glass and swept downward, allowing the vibrance of the city to shine through those five thin streaks. He squinted, then pressed his entire palm to the glass to wipe away more of the dust. He basked in the view, just as he had the amethyst surface of Elpis in Jack’s office. Wow. I used to dream about being here, he remembered confiding in Jack’s hologram. 

And Jack had expertly stoked the fires of ambition when Rhys had assumed that regal chair. You look like somebody who could kill a whole bunch of people with a phone call and a little bit of bass in your voice.

This office, unlike Jack’s, currently lacked the essential desk and chair. Rhys added that to his mental to-do list. Red upholstery for the chair, he resolved—that was a no-brainer. He pondered what would look good for the desk. Mahogany? No, too Jakobs. Maybe gunmetal. Or titanium. He shrugged to himself. Plenty of time to make that call later.

He remembered the dust on his hand and brushed it off on his pant leg, briefly feeling the outline of the Atlas stock certificate in his pocket.

You gotta know what you want if you’re gonna make it, Kid. The words whispered in his memory and slithered down his spine like a viper.

He slipped a hand into his pocket to feel for the folded up piece of paper that bought him this meeting. Thanks to a one-in-a-million chance of the Vault bringing him here, that paper was about to buy him even more than that.

I was supposed to find a worthy successor to the Hyperion throne . Jack’s words continued to replay in his mind. That successor, Rhys, is you.

He tightened his left fist to still his trembling fingers. 

What do you say, Kid?

“Yes.” He silently mouthed the word he had given Jack in reply. He smiled at the city beyond the glass. Yeah. Let’s do it.

“Yes, what?” asked Private Gonner Maleggies. The question yanked him back to the present.

“N-nothing.” Rhys turned away from the window. “Just a little positive self-affirmation. You know--yes. As in, ‘Yes! Let’s get this road on the show!’” A weak chuckle.

Gonner shrugged. “Whatever gets you there. Just so you know, I think the Directors are on their way.”

Sure enough, the sound of footsteps echoed from somewhere beyond the empty glass tanks. Like an actor cued on stage, Rhys shuffled back to where a gunmetal-or-titanium desk should be. He wiped the dust from his pant leg, and checked his breath again.

Four distinguished figures filed in. Rhys recognized Wormworth, joined by two other men and one woman. All were over fifty and wore high-end suits. The darker skinned man wore shades. The woman looked like “just came from a hair appointment” was her default mode. The last man was short and stocky, with a goatee. They stopped side-by-side, several feet apart. They raised their watches, pressed a button in unison, and behind each of them a chair digistructed. The seats were faded leather, the legs pearl. They all sat. Rhys stood and faced them.

The woman nodded to the Atlas soldiers, who exited between those two empty fish tanks. Rhys suspected they didn’t go very far.

He’d heard some other Director names on his way here, though he had no idea which could be which. He started by greeting the familiar face among them. “Director Wormworth! It’s a pleasure. You’re taller than in the hologram.” He flashed that charming grin he’d perfected in his three years reporting to Henderson. “Who do we have joining us?”

“From the left, we have Directors Bennett Sampson, Liza Hazeltooth, and Jarvis Colton.” Wormworth waved a hand at each colleague in succession. “We at the Atlas Board welcome you to Promethea.”

Rhys mentally stamped their names by their faces, resolving to practice them in conversation. Before he could launch into his own introduction, Wormworth continued. 

“Strongfork. That’s quite a name,” he said. “We took the liberty of running it by the ECHO-Net before this meeting. It seems, Rhys, you’re listed as one of thousands of Hyperion personnel killed in the Helios disaster.” He shifted in his seat. “I think I speak for all of us saying, we have several questions before we continue. For one, how does a dead Hyperion man walk out of a Vault, onto another planet, and declare himself rightful owner of Atlas?”

“Right, that—so glad you asked.” Rhys ran his fingers through his hair and gazed at the ceiling. He was uncertain which details about Helios might have gotten to Promethea, so he chose his words carefully. “First off, I got lucky on Helios. One of our Loaders was overdue for a reset, so he—” he cleared his throat “— it had reached self-awareness. When the station started falling, the nearest escape pod had a jammed hatch. The Loader opened it for me.” He threw up his hands in mock frustration. “If only all employees were as reliable as robots, right?”

Wormworth smiled his assent and nodded once.

“Helios was notorious for its sloppy management at the end,” said the woman. “But that worked to your advantage, it seems.”

Rhys played a quick word association game in his head. Liza Hazeltooth. LH. Lady with Haircut.

“I thought so too, Director Hazeltooth,” he agreed. “On both counts. Once, a colleague of mine was even willing to throw away $10 million of the company’s money to buy a Vault Key, which turned out to be a fake. You can guess how pale in the face he made our supervisor.”

Hazeltooth shook her head, disgusted. “Exactly what I’m talking about. Just shameful.”

“Your colleague bought a fake Vault Key,” said the man in shades. ( Jarvis Colton, Rhys recalled . The one with the shades. Cool Colton.) “But you got here in the Vault of the Traveler. Maybe you got lucky when Helios fell, but nobody’s that lucky. How did you find Gortys?”

Rhys blinked in surprise. “Whoa, you are well-informed, Director Colton. You know about the Gortys Project?”

“I was the one who lobbied to approve the Gortys Project.” Colton adjusted his shades. “I’d hoped when Handsome Jack bought the rights to Atlas, he would continue it with Hyperion funding.”

Do they realize Jack only bought Atlas to look at it on his trophy shelf and laugh? Rhys thought. “Jack was, uh, a very busy man,” he said, noncommittally.

“He was.” Colton allowed. “He could have retired a wealthy man after the Eridium discovery, but instead he tried to civilize the savage world of its origin. And to those ends, he chose to pursue the Vault of the Warrior, for all the good it did him. I wonder, would you say he made the right call? Would Jack still be the dominant power on Pandora now, if he had trusted in the Gortys Project instead?” Colton leaned forward in his chair. “What’s inside the Vault of the Traveler, Mr. Strongfork?”

Rhys’ attention drifted to the mysterious object in his pocket, and he decided that’s exactly where it should stay until he knew what it was.

“Now, if I may read between the lines here, Director,” he laughed, “it sounds like what you’re really asking is ‘Can the Vault of the Traveler bring Atlas back to dominant power?’ And to answer that? Well, the Vault did bring me here from Pandora, to this meeting. Maybe it’s some kind of ‘destiny machine,’ leading its users where they’re meant to be in life.”

Colton didn’t react at first. Behind his shades, Rhys pictured him making a slow, deliberate blink.

Then he removed his shades, folding them into his pocket. He had one gray eye, and one bright orange. Rhys froze as the ECHO-Eye scoured him from head to toe. There was no way it wouldn’t catch what he was carrying. “Uh, I…” He concocted an explanation in his head.

Colton simply put his shades back on. “I never believed much in destiny. But it could be you’re right.” His smile was indecipherable.

Bennett Sampson spoke up next. His voice was an odd mix of posh and coarse. It belonged to someone who had smoked his lungs away through years of imported cigars. “If the Vault of the Traveler is a ‘destiny machine,’ as you put it, why would you say your destiny is here?”

Sampson. The short, stocky one. Stocky Sampson.

“Thank you, Director Sampson—now we get down to it,” Rhys said. He unfolded the stock certificate for them to see “Handsome Jack let you all down. He bought the rights to your company for pennies. And from what Director Colton tells me, you hoped Atlas and Hyperion would be unstoppable together. Instead, Jack left you to rot in his junk drawer, with only enough means to recirculate your old products in blood sports here on your home world. Well, I say it’s time to make him regret it from beyond the grave. I give you my solemn oath, as your new CEO and re-founder, I will deliver on all of Jack’s broken promises and lead Atlas to new heights.”

The Atlas Board of Directors beamed in admiration and clapped. An Atlas soldier returned with an ECHO-Device displaying the prompt “PUSH IF AWESOME,” which Rhys naturally pushed as there was no word that described him better. His brand new gunmetal- and- titanium desk digistructed right on the spot, complete with “Universe’s Best CEO” mug by the red velvet chair. The soldier saluted as Rhys took his new seat and smiled, with teeth freshly sparkling.

At least, that’s how he envisioned it.

The Board’s reaction, in truth, was somewhat less enthusiastic. In fact, three of them looked like he’d just started oozing slime.

“You. Have. Some. Nerve! ” Hazeltooth sputtered.

“Is that the real stock certificate?” Colton pushed his shades down on his nose to scan with his ECHO-Eye again. “That’s the real stock certificate.”

“And you just stole it from Jack?” Hazeltooth’s mouth gaped open. “Was this right after his death? Or did you wait until the entire station was rubble?”

“I suffered your familiar tone back in Lectra, in front of all my Exterminators.” Wormworth’s finger stabbed the air. “I gave you safe passage to Atlas HQ. And this is the thanks I get?”

Sampson had nothing to add. He judged his hands in his lap worthier of his attention than Rhys.

“Okay. Um. Let’s back up, where, uh, exactly did I lose you?” Rhys looked from director to director, confused. He lowered the stock certificate to his side. “Anybody can see Jack stole your company’s future from you. I’m proposing to help you take it back.”

“Handsome Jack,” Hazeltooth began with her nose raised, “was a man you’re privileged to meet once in your lifetime. A trailblazer. A visionary. A genius.”

Rhys’ throat went dry, and words failed him. In his mind he heard a manic burst of laughter, accompanied by a flash of blue.

“A month more, and Jack’s city of Opportunity would have flourished like Meridian did in Typhon DeLeon’s day,” Hazeltooth continued. “The Pandoran miscreants did the six galaxies a terrible disservice when they took Handsome Jack from us.”

Hell-o, what’s this? More of my fan club? After, oh, how long is it now? Ha! Don’t you get it yet, piss stain? I told you I was immortal, Rhys imagined Jack gloating. You can’t kill a legend.

“I don’t care for your accusation of ‘blood sports,’ either,” Wormworth huffed. “Extermination Day is a necessary community service to control our pest population. I cannot be blamed if it’s dangerous work, or if an exterminator occasionally disregards their own safety.”

Look at you. The way you try to memorize their names—just too adorbs. I could have told them all their name was “Meatsack” now, and they’d have tattooed it on their freaking foreheads.

Rhys shook his head, as though it would banish those brain cells burdened by the memory of Handsome Jack. He found his voice and turned to Colton. “It was your Gortys Project that brought me here. I opened the Vault—”

Colton spread his hands. “And Jack opened three before he was done.”

Hazeltooth raised her wristwatch slowly, her finger closing in on a button whose function Rhys didn’t think he was going to like much. “Then you come here with his stolen rights, and claim to be not just his equal, but his better ? Unthinkable.”

Rhys could scarcely believe this had turned so sour, so fast. Jack’s influence really was still everywhere. “Director Hazeltooth, before you do anything hasty, just let me—”

“Stop. You are no visionary, Mr. Strongfork. You are a vulture, and pecking at the remains of your betters will not make you one of them,” she hissed. “We’ve given you enough of our time. The Lance will show you out, then it would be wise of you to—”

“Oh, hold your bloody horses, Liza.” Director Sampson finally lifted his head. “Do you honestly still think Jack did all the things he said he did on his own?”

Rhys turned to him, surprised, a little hope restored. Even the specter of Jack had nothing to say.

“Well… of course not on his own ,” she conceded. “Jack was a born leader. He had only to tell others they were special, and they would do anything for him to prove it. He knew how to inspire them.”

“So, what makes you so certain Mr. Strongfork here can’t do that?” Sampson asked, gesturing at Rhys. “He convinced a self-aware Loader to sacrifice itself for him. Alex, he walked through your little extermination game unarmed and asked you nicely to pick him up—a total stranger. Then remind me, what did you do? And for God’s sake, Jarvis, he’s here , isn’t he? That means he somehow assembled your Gortys robot and got past whatever monstrosity guarded the Vault.”

“Right?! Thank you!” Rhys reflexively fired a finger gun at Sampson. When he got no reaction, he chalked it up to the culture gap between Hyperion and Atlas and holstered his hand in his pocket.

“We still know nothing about him,” Hazeltooth said. “Are you suggesting we hand Atlas over to him just because he found a piece of paper and scratched his name over Jack’s?”

“No. I’m suggesting we mind where he came by that bit of paper: Pandora. Remember all the projects Atlas left there to rot? All that money sunk in a bleeding sandpit? All those wasted chances at this company—our company—having a future? What harm can there be in sending Mr. Strongfork to get them for us?”

“See? Director Sampson gets it,” Rhys added. “That’s exactly what I was leading up to. You want this company back in the big leagues again? You gotta take risks.”

“And what risk is there to us, really?” Sampson continued. “Say he goes back to Pandora and gets trampled by a rakk hive. We gain nothing, we lose nothing.”

Rhys gave a nervous laugh. “Heh. That’s just what you call an occupational hazard.”

“Or say he brings something we can use. I mean really use,” Sampson said. “Wouldn’t it be worth it to see Tediore take all those ‘At Least Not Atlas’ jokes and shove them?”

Colton’s lips pursed in consideration. “I do hate those jokes,” he admitted.

“Hyperion is still reeling. We might never get another chance like this.” Wormworth stroked his chin. “Maybe you’re right; what do we have to lose?”

Hazeltooth looked at the others and gave a sneer, but she knew she was outmatched. “Alright, Bennett. You want a vanity project? Fine, take it,” she said through clenched teeth. “But I will not tolerate squandering what few resources we have on your little gamble.” She glared at Rhys. “Do you understand me? We’ll see if you really are half the man Jack was. Everything you need for this venture, you are to come up with on your own. That means transportation off-world, your own crew to salvage the old Atlas facilities on Pandora—all of it.”

“Liza, you won’t be disappointed,” he said. Though, he predicted the only way that would be true was if he rode back from Pandora on Jack’s diamond horse, the heads of five Vault Monsters in tow, with enough new investors to fill a stadium.

“Then good luck to you,” said Sampson. “Suppose we’ll see if that bit of paper is still worth squat, won’t we?”

With that, Hazeltooth pushed the button on her watch. “Our meeting is over. Show Mr. Strongfork out,” she said. The Crimson Lance returned to acquiesce.

As he was escorted away, Rhys grappled inwardly with what he’d just agreed to. Another suicide mission on Pandora? More skin pizza parties? Near-death experiences on the regular?

And how was he supposed to get back there? The Vault was gone, and the Atlas Board wouldn’t give him a ship. And how was he supposed to salvage the old Atlas facilities, if they wouldn’t give him a crew?

He gave serious reconsideration to his “Vault of the Traveler as a Destiny Machine” theory.

Chapter Text

“Shit. So they’re just gone? Again? That tour guide chick, and Rhys?”

“We’re going to find them. Yvette... this doesn’t change—”

“Oh yes it does, Vaughn—this changes everything! Like it or not, this whole little ‘cult following’ thing we’ve built here? It all hinges on Rhys being some great martyr, descended from on high to break their corporate chains with his magic golden wire cutters. That bullshit story kept these survivors in line.”

“Well, I wanna think ‘bullshit’ is a little harsh, Yv. I’d call it a more effective version of the truth.”

“Fine, call it whatever you want; it was what stopped them from eating each other that first week on Pandora. Not to mention, it’s why they accepted you—Rhys’ best friend—as their leader without so much as a finger gun fight. So, what happens when they figure out it was all a lie?”

“I mean, it wasn’t all a lie. We actually thought Rhys was... was gone. You remember. We both did.”

“Yeah. Of course I remember. More than you know. But Rhys is alive. He came back, and he left again. In a Vault."

“You can’t exactly blame him for that.”

“I’m not blaming him for anything. I’m just asking, what will the ‘Children of Helios’ do now?”

“I don’t know, alright? Kinda breaking into uncharted territory here myself.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to ‘being a leader,’ Vaughn.”

“You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you?”

“Say what?”

“I can’t do this without you, Yvette. I need your help. Please.”

“Wasn’t so hard, was it? Leave everything to me.”

[Excerpt from Loader Bot’s memory banks, Day 517 since last wipe.]

———————————

“Wow, yeah, that’s…” Sasha placed a hand on the front bumper of the caravan stuck in the Moonshot Control Center’s ceiling. She gave a push, and the vehicle didn’t even budge. “... That’s stuck in there good. Looks like Fiona had all the fun while I was getting blown up.” She gave a wry smile.

“Don’t worry, Sash.” Vaughn said. “We’ll have it out before you can say ‘Torgue’s your uncle.’ Athena knows what she’s doing.” He gave Athena a sidelong glance. “You, uh, do know what you’re doing. Right?”

“I was there when Loaders were created. Long story for another time,” Athena said. “Good thing Helios still has some.”

She pressed a button on a universal remote, and a hiss issued softly above the caravan’s unorthodox parking place. The hiss grew louder, like a geyser bursting from the ground. Soon came the scrape of metal raking across metal. The caravan inched upward. Sasha stepped back and shielded her face from the falling dust and debris.

Sunlight crept through the razor-thin opening as the caravan breached its ensnarement. The light flooded inside, and the hissing grew into a roar. Sasha squinted up at the source of the ruckus: a crew of airbound Loaders, each bound by heavy cables to the rear of the caravan, and burning the jets on their robotic feet at full force.

Sasha couldn’t help but grin despite herself at the image: the most sophisticated in Hyperion robotics, all convening to tow a battered Pandoran caravan out of a shattered, mega-gazillion dollar husk of a Hyperion space station. If she saw Fiona again, she’d have to remember this.

When. She caught herself. When I see Fiona again, I’ll—

“Sasha? Sasha!”

She felt a shock ripple through her.

“Say something... can hear me, sis! Not sure how... works!”

Instinctively, Sasha’s finger darted to the ECHO-Device in her ear. “Fiona?!” The ECHO was active now. Funny — she’d definitely turned it off as she ran back to the Traveler’s core (it just seemed easier than saying goodbye.) She couldn’t remember switching it back on after that. It must have been in that panicked moment when the Vault vanished. 

And now her sister’s voice was crackling through. Broken and incoherent, but unmistakably Fiona.

“Vaughn, Athena, did you hear that?” she called, stepping away from the Loaders’ tow job and back towards the others.

“Kinda hard to hear anything over that!” Vaughn shouted over the din as the caravan finally gave way. It dangled in midair, suspended by the Loaders’ tow cables.

“Alright, now, setting the cargo down outside,” Athena said, and pressed another button on the universal remote. The Loaders started drifting out of view, taking their hanging caravan ornament with them. Sasha shifted her gaze from the gaping hole in the ceiling to the window overlooking the Traveler battle site. The Loaders were lowering the caravan down into the wreckage. 

LB and Gortys waited like ants on the ground below. LB had cleared away the bigger chunks of the Traveler to make room for the caravan’s graceless landing. Gortys, by her excited pointing and waving of arms, seemed to spectate. Zer0 had remained below as well, for reasons that remained a mystery to anyone but himself. Though, he appeared preoccupied with the rubble that once composed the Traveler’s body.

“... me, Sash? Don’t know where… itely not Pandora. I…. just keep moving.” 

“There! There it was again!” Sasha whirled to face Vaughn and Athena. “You’re seriously going to tell me you didn’t just hear Fiona on the ECHO?!”

Athena glanced at Vaughn, then back to Sasha. Her expression was stone. “No, uh, I don’t hear anything.”

Hesitantly, Vaughn raised his finger to his ear. “Fiona? You there? Glasses Face to Hat Lady, do you copy?” He waited, then chewed his lip. “Fiona? ... Rhys? You there, Bro?” After a pause, he lowered his finger to his side. “I got nothing, Sash. Sorry.”

Sasha growled in frustration and mashed her ECHO-Comm again. “Fiona, talk to me! Fi! Just tell me how to find you, okay?!”

Silence. Sasha’s jaw clenched. “Dammit!”

“Look, Sasha,” Athena tried. “After Jess…” she bit her lip, “... after what happened to my sister, I swore for a while I could still hear her voice, too. Of course, it was mostly just screams but... you know what? Forget I said anything.”

Sasha shut her eyes.

“If I may be so bold, and you know I would rarely consider myself such,” Cassius said, stepping forward, “I believe what Athena means is you’ve just suffered a traumatic episode, and—”

“—And you don’t believe me.” Sasha finished for him. 

“Nobody’s saying that.” Vaughn raised a trepid hand.

“Look, I’m not hallucinating!” Sasha jabbed her pointer finger in Vaughn’s face. “I know it was her! She said she ‘wasn’t sure how this works,’ and she ‘definitely wasn’t on Pandora.’”

“Well, that narrows it down,” Vaughn said. “Maybe the Vault went out of range while she was sending the message. It teleports all over the universe, after all.” He scratched the back of his neck, then turned to Cassius. “Any thoughts, Doc?”

“I may not know much about Vaults, but Fiona stuck out her neck for me once,” Cassius said. “It would be remiss of me to return to my plants with her still unaccounted for. ... Even if they do require watering. And constant monitoring of the pH levels in their soil. And music to promote their growth, set to just the right volume. And—”

“Hey!” Sasha snapped her fingers. “Is this train of thought making a round trip anytime soon? You know, back to our ‘missing people’ problem?”

“Ah, yes, of course.” Cassius blinked back into lucidity. “It would be my pleasure to review the Biodome’s systems for the last known locations of the Vault of the Traveler, and compose an algorithm to predict when it may come in range again,” he said. “Of course that’s what I meant. Did you think otherwise?”

“That could work.” Vaughn turned back to Sasha. “What do you say? We could just stay here and wait to see if she signals you again?” he suggested. “The Children of Helios have plenty of, y’know, semi- comfortable lodgings, and there will be plenty to eat once we sell off the spoils from the Traveler.”

Just keep moving , Fiona’s distant, disembodied voice had said. 

Sasha shook her head. “No! I won’t rest until I know for certain if Gortys’ signal brings us any closer to finding them.”

“Forget it, Vaughn,” Athena said. “Could you just sit here and do nothing if you were in her place?”

Vaughn lowered his eyes. “No. And believe me, I’ve been there.” He looked up. “Alright, let’s hitch up the caravan! You know, I haven’t seen inside since it became a space rocket.”

———————————

Private Gonner Maleggies and his companions in red led Rhys to the front entrance of Atlas HQ, and out to Meridian City. It was suddenly a lot darker than when they first arrived at the Board meeting, and Rhys wondered how short a Promethean day was. Then he glanced up and saw it was only because an asteroid had blocked out the sun. 

Still, the sudden onset of dark reminded him how tired he was. He hadn’t slept since he, Fiona and “The Stranger” made camp looking for Gortys’ energy chassis. He hadn’t slept soundly since well before that.

“For what it’s worth,” Gonner said. “I wish you luck. Atlas has fallen long and hard since General Knoxx’s day. It would be my utmost privilege to see the company restored to what it once was.”

Rhys mashed the heel of his hand into his weary cybernetic eye. “Huh, yeah, if only the Board saw that way. But thanks, Private.”

While Rhys proceeded to rub his real eye, Gonner clapped his shoulder. “No greater joy than duty,” he said again. The squad retreated into the HQ, and Rhys picked a direction and started walking. He considered his options. Requesting to use the comms tower was out of the question. He didn’t count on Director Alex Wormworth to approve it in four months—not after that faux pas upstairs. 

He could find the comms tower and hack in. 

He focused on his metal palm, now thoroughly stripped of his RHY5_WINZ program. That digital skeleton key lay scattered on the floor of Jack’s dilapidated office back on Pandora. Along with Rhys’ Hyperion ECHO-Eye. And his arm. And everything else those extensions of himself had contained.

He shuddered from the sudden chill down his spine and put the thought from his mind. Who needs RHY5_WINZ? he thought, clenching and unclenching his fist. He had the next best thing—the fingers that wrote the code to begin with. Sort of.  

He flexed his fingers. He’d just find that comms tower, slip into the system like a viper, and establish a link before the Directors caught on. Of course, that left the question of who he would even call. No one had come looking for him when Helios fell. Not even his uncle, who had both the Tourism and Mercenary Relations departments of Hyperion at his disposal.

So who could he expect to fly across the six galaxies to pick him up now?

“Hello! Yes, I’d like to place an order for a custom cake.”

“Gah!” Rhys brought his arms up. Then he realized the sudden voice in his head was an ECHO-Comm transmission. The voice was a mix of coarse and posh.

He relaxed and brought a finger to his ear. “Director Sampson? How did you get this number?”

“No greater joy than duty.”

Realization dawned on Rhys. He turned and looked where Private Gonner Maleggies had clapped his shoulder. There was a tracking device stuck to his jacket.

“That’s right. D-U-T-Y. Spell it out on top. Red icing.”

Whatever Sampson wanted to tell him, obviously it had to wait until the other Directors weren’t listening. Rhys played along. “Will this be cash or credit?”

“You’re going to have to stop moving, mate, you’re breaking up.”

Rhys stopped walking. “I said, will this be cash or—?”

“Right. Now listen carefully.” Sampson’s voice got quiet. “One of Wormworth’s exterminators rents a top-floor flat across the street from the HQ. Bloke’s got the best Atlas sniper rifle still in circulation. It’s the prototype… and its owner doesn’t mind doing an odd job for Wormworth now and again to keep it, and the flat. And you well and truly pissed Wormworth off up there, my friend. Almost as much as Hazeltooth.”

Rhys’ eyes darted to the top floor of the building Sampson described. Against the sort-of-night sky, he could only see a few windows with lights on inside. He blinked hard, trying by old habit to scan the windows. As usual, with the economy-grade yellow iris in his socket, he got nothing but blurry eyes. He took a few steps back.

“Is this a threat, or a warning?” he asked the voice in his ear.

“Let me ask you one question,” said Sampson. “Are you serious about returning Atlas to its former glory?”

Rhys closed his eyes and thought of the pieces of Helios burning as they littered Pandora’s atmosphere. Of his own steely fingers tightening around his windpipe as Jack snarled about what success looks like. Of the stock certificate in his pocket.

“Yes,” he said to the backs of his eyelids. “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”

“Good. Then I’m going to help you.”

Rhys opened his eyes and twisted his mouth in confusion. What was Sampson’s angle?

“We can’t talk here,” Sampson went on. “You see that shuttle bus to your right? The one with ‘Lazy River Land’ printed on the side? Get on it, and I’ll meet you there.”

“Meet me where?”

“Lazy River Land. You’ll see a Quick Change at the park entrance. Get something tourist-y, with long sleeves. Blend in. Then wait for me at the shaved ice wagon. I’ll be less than an hour.”

Then there was silence. Rhys plucked the tracking device off the back of his jacket. Its blinking green light slowly faded to black.

———————————

Down on the ground, amid the Traveler’s rubble, awaited a ramshackle caravan that had seen better days. Flanking it was a team of imposing Hyperion Loaders, standing attentively with their scuffed yellow paint glinting in the sun.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sasha noticed Athena putting her hand on the nearest Loader. 

“Thank you, Felicity. If there’s a part of you still in there,” Athena murmured. Then, with a press of the universal remote, she sent the Loaders away. 

“Resuming primary objective,” one of them intoned, with none of LB’s sentience. “Primary directive: guard the Children of Helios.” With that, they departed. LB and Gortys came clanking and wheeling, respectively, over to rejoin the crew. There was no sign of Zer0.

“What happened to the ninja guy?” Vaughn asked.

“He took a fragment of the Traveler and left a message.” LB brought a steely fist to his cycloptic eye-head to mimic clearing his throat, and recited, “ ‘What begins must end / Should lost become found again / Do give me a call.’ ”

Sasha frowned. Could have just cut to the point and told us ‘You’re on your own,’ she thought bitterly. She might have expected as much; Zer0 had done the same at Bossanova’s Raceway. He finished his job, and he moved on. Why expect any more than that?

She turned back and surveyed the caravan.

“Are we ready to hit the road again?” Gortys asked, bobbling around in between the others. “Everyone packed light, I see? Visited the facilities? Picked out your travel playlists? That’s important, when you’re on a road trip!”

LB approached the caravan. “Before the playlists are compiled, it seems some assembly on the ride may be required,” he said.

“It’s...” Sasha swallowed hard and forced a smile. “It’s not that bad, right?” She walked around the wreckage and looked it over. “I mean, if we just pick the glass out of the grill, duct tape the windshield, ding out the dents, and stop—uh— some of these fluids from leaking, it’ll still run. Right?” She gazed back to the others for reassurance.

As she did so, the caravan’s steering wheel fell off and clattered on the floorboards.

“I don’t think we’re going anywhere in this,” Vaughn said, biting his lip.

“Are you kidding? Springs sent this hunk of junk to space!” Sasha gave the caravan’s side a resolute nudge. “This should be no problem for her to fix, right Athena?”

The older woman scratched the back of her neck and glanced away. “Yeah, about that…”

“If it’s about money, you know I can pay. For real this time.” Sasha’s finger slid over the new shield at her belt. “Would this Pangolin shield cover it? It’s a Legendary.”

“It’s not that.” Athena shuffled her feet. “It’s just, well, Janey’s not in the shop today. She went to the Highlands to pick out our cake tasting samples.” She stared at the top of Sasha’s forehead. “Everything has to be just the way she envisioned it for our wedding. I wouldn’t be surprised if she takes awhile making up her mind,” she said. “So, I’d recommend consulting someone else for the caravan repairs.”

Sasha’s lip curled at Athena’s sudden shift in behavior. First, no one believed her about Fiona. Then, Cassius would rather go back to watering flowers than help. To say nothing of Zer0. And now this? 

“Well, I would sure hate for Fiona and Rhys’ disappearance to inconvenience your blushing bride-to-be,” she said to Athena’s feet.

Athena’s fists tightened. “I’m sorry, do you want to repeat that?”

Sasha gritted her teeth and glared into the gladiator’s eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll say it louder: I’d hate it if — ” she began, but Vaughn sprang between the two women, arms raised.

“Haha, I’m sure what Sasha meant was, you and Janey have already done so much, and far be it from us to keep meddling in your personal lives.” He laughed nervously. “It’s just that we—both of us—will rest a lot easier once we investigate Gortys’ signal.”

Athena released her fists. “I know. Losing someone is hard. I get it.”

“Losing my best friend once was enough for me,” Vaughn added. “And Sasha loves — ”

He stopped dead in mid-sentence. Sasha’s cheeks flushed, and she turned away to inspect the caravan some more. Look at that. Lot of dents and scratches on this thing, she thought.

“If there’s even a slim chance we could bring Rhys and Fiona back, it’s a risk we have to take,” Vaughn finished.

“Don’t worry, Vaughn. I won’t stand in your way of that.” Athena’s face softened. “As I was saying, before I was interrupted,” she glanced at Sasha, “there’s someone else I can call.”

Sasha blinked. “Oh.” She leaned on the side of the caravan and looked at her feet. “Good. Thanks, Athena. I’m—thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Athena retrieved her ECHO-Device from her hip. “And I mean literally: don’t mention it. If anybody asks, you didn’t hear about this from me, got it?”

“Fine.” Sasha gave a long sigh through her nose. “Not the first secret I’ve kept.”

Athena adjusted the ECHO and drew a finger to her ear. “Davis. You there?”

A young male voice emanated from her speaker. “Athena, mum! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m going to need an onsite repair.”

“You’ve called the right bloke, you have.” He had an accent similar to Janey’s. “Just send me the coordinates and I’ll bring the Buzzard in two shakes of a kraggon’s tail.”

“I’m at,” Athena glanced around oddly, then lowered her voice, “the Helios crash site.”

“Righto, better make it three shakes. Should I tell — ?”

“No!” Athena cut him off. “No, just get here with your tools, quickly and discreetly . I assure you, your compensation will be fair.”

“How ‘fair’ are we talking, then?”

“Wasn’t there a Tediore game console you had your eye on?” Athena asked. “Do this for me, and it’s yours.”

“That’s proper fair, I’d say. Provided you agree to play the first round of ‘Stupor Slass Bro-dudes’ with me.”

“Done.” Athena nodded once. “Who knows? I might even take it easy on you.” Sasha thought the gladiator may have even smiled for an instant.

“You won’t be disappointed, I guarantee it!” the boy exclaimed. “Pickle, out!”

Silence followed, and Athena’s hand relaxed at her side.

“Who was that?” Vaughn asked.

“Davis Pickle. A kid I met through Springs, back on Elpis,” Athena said. “You could say he’s like family to us. Sort of.”