Chapter Text
The Orbiter hummed at a low, familiar register—the kind of sound that settled into the bones after years of hearing it, so constant it had stopped registering as noise and started registering as home. Lights dimmed automatically as the ship aligned its trajectory, the corridors falling into that particular blue-grey hush that meant the navigation systems had taken over. Beyond the viewport, the starfield shifted, slow and indifferent, the way it always did before a drop.
Prep was already underway.
Shiloh stood at the Arsenal first, fingers moving with quiet certainty across the projection. Her Trinity frame waited in its cradle, pale and still, like it was listening for something only she could hear. She didn’t rush—never did. Whatever urgency the mission demanded, she metabolized it long before it reached her hands, so that by the time she was standing here, swapping mods with practiced ease, she looked like a woman doing something closer to prayer than preparation.
“Corpus,” she said aloud, mostly for confirmation. Mostly for herself.
Elijah glanced over from the adjacent console, where Vauban’s loadout hovered in segmented layers, data scrolling faster than anyone else in the room could track. “Shield-heavy. Tech units. I’d boost Magnetic and Radiation.”
“Already did,” Shiloh said, sliding a magnetic mod into place without looking up.
He almost smiled at that. Almost.
Micah didn’t look up either, but there was the faintest exhale of approval from his corner of the Arsenal—the kind of quiet Elijah had learned, over the years, to read as agreement rather than distraction. His Excalibur Umbra stood apart from the others, darker, heavier, less ornamental and more present, the way an old scar is more present on skin than the rest of it. Umbra’s sword rested magnet-locked at his side while Micah fine-tuned his melee configuration, thumb moving over the projection with the same unhurried focus he brought to everything he didn’t want examined too closely.
Michelle leaned against the rail nearby, arms crossed, reviewing her Mesa build with the kind of attention most people reserved for things that mattered. She flicked a glance toward Micah’s console anyway—she always did, whatever else she was doing.
“You’re leaning heavy on Slash again.”
“They bleed,” Micah replied evenly, like it was the only answer that had ever been necessary.
“So do we,” she said. Then, softer, in the register she used for almost no one else: “I’ll cover you.”
He nodded once. That was all it ever took. It had been all it ever took for longer than either of them had bothered to count.
Judah was already gone—at least visually. His Loki frame shimmered faintly at the edge of the Arsenal as he tested invisibility uptime, darting in and out of visibility like a bad habit he had no intention of breaking. “Corpus security grids are tighter on Europa,” his voice chimed over comms from somewhere behind them, cheerful in the way that meant he was already three steps into a plan no one had asked him to make. “I’ll ghost ahead, disable alarms before anyone gets excited.”
Josiah snorted as he locked in his Rhino, the plating sealing around him with a resonant thrum that shook loose dust from the nearest console. “You always say that like they won’t notice the moment I walk in.”
“They’ll notice you,” Judah said cheerfully, entirely unbothered. “They won’t notice me.”
Gala rolled her shoulders as Ember flared briefly, heat rippling through the air before settling into something more contained. She adjusted her mods with sharper movements than strictly necessary, the way she did most things when she didn’t want anyone asking why—Heat weighted high, crowd control secondary, no patience today for anything that required waiting.
“Corpus or Grineer,” she muttered, mostly to the projection in front of her, “they burn either way.”
Josiah glanced at her, the kind of glance that wasn’t quite a question but wanted to be one. “You good?”
She met his eyes without flinching. “I’m always good.”
He believed her. That was the problem, and it was a problem old enough by now that neither of them bothered naming it anymore.
Britney’s Octavia chimed softly as she synced rhythm mods, the beat aligning with squad telemetry in a way that made the whole Arsenal feel, for a moment, like it was breathing on count. “I’ve got tempo control,” she said, already halfway to the next console. “If comms get messy, stick to the beat.”
David, silent as ever, checked the edge alignment on his Ash’s blades, Slash-focused, clean, economical in a way that mirrored the man wielding them. Britney bumped his shoulder lightly as she passed, the kind of contact she reserved for people who needed reminding they weren’t alone in a room even when they preferred to be.
“You’re tuned too tight,” she murmured.
He didn’t argue. He rarely did, with her. He just eased the setting down half a degree, and that was answer enough.
Mary and Patience finished last, as usual—not because they were slow, but because they were thorough, and thoroughness had never once been rewarded with speed in this family. Harrow’s chains glimmered faintly as Mary adjusted survivability mods, murmuring numbers to herself the way other people murmured prayers, while Oberon’s configuration pulsed beside her, balanced between healing output and radiation damage with the kind of care that suggested Patience had run these numbers a hundred times before and still checked them a hundred and first.
Patience lifted her head, eyes soft but steady, and looked around the Arsenal like she was taking attendance. “Everyone ready?”
A chorus of confirmations followed, each one distinct enough to be a signature. Judah’s was a hum, half a laugh already loaded into it. Josiah’s was a grin you could hear before you saw it. Micah’s was silent—but his systems synced green across the board, and for him, that had always been the same thing as speaking.
Landing craft bays opened.
One by one, they stepped into their Lisets. Harnesses locked. Frames synchronized. The transition from flesh to Warframe was seamless—Void-light flaring, then settling into steel and power.
Atmospheric entry hit hard.
The planet below swelled into view—metallic Corpus spires cutting through ice and cloud. The Lisets screamed as they punched through atmosphere, then steadied, banking low over the landing zone.
“Thirty seconds,” Britney called.
The landing pads rushed up fast.
Hatches blew open.
The Tenno dropped.
They hit the platform in practiced silence—rolling, landing, rising in one fluid motion. Warframes aligned instinctively, backs covering backs, weapons already up.
Above them, the Lisets peeled away, engines flaring as they shot back into orbit, vanishing into cloud and starlight.
The hum of Corpus machinery filled the space they left behind.
Micah stepped forward first, blade igniting with a low, steady glow.
“Let’s move,” he said.
And together, they did.
EUROPA — VALAC OUTPOST
Faction: Corpus
Mission Type: Excavation
Environmental Hazard: Extreme Cold · Magnetic Interference
Enemy Units Detected: Tech Crewmen · Moa Variants · Nullifiers
Objective: Power and protect Corpus excavation drills. Retrieve Cryotic.
The HUD flickered to life as the Tenno advanced across the landing platform, translucent data panels sliding into place at the edges of their vision. Europa’s cold pressed in immediately—biting, invasive, a low hum beneath the armor as environmental systems compensated.
The ground trembled faintly beneath their feet.
Excavation site already active, the readouts confirmed.
A familiar voice chimed in, bright and a little too eager.
“Operator—oh! Operators! Ordis is detecting multiple Corpus excavation drills already deployed in the area.”
Holographic markers bloomed across the terrain ahead, outlining angular Corpus structures half-buried in ice, coolant vents steaming into the frozen air.
“These machines are designed to siphon Cryotic from Europa’s crust. Ordis recommends…strongly recommends…that you take it instead.”
Josiah cracked his neck inside Rhino’s frame. “He always sounds offended about it.”
“Ordis is deeply offended,” Ordis corrected.
“Additionally—Corpus shield frequencies are fluctuating. Magnetic damage will be most effective. Please do not allow the drills to be destroyed.”
A beat.
“The drills are expensive.”
Judah’s Loki shimmered faintly. “You heard the cephalon. Don’t scratch the equipment.”
“Try not to,” Gala muttered, Ember’s heat bleeding softly into the ice beneath her feet.
Shiloh raised a hand—not commanding, just grounding. The group slowed instinctively, tightening formation as they moved toward the first marked drill site.
“Judah, eyes on perimeter,” she said calmly.
“Michelle, overwatch when we hit the site.”
“Josiah—frontline. Draw them off the drill.”
Everyone moved without comment.
That was the rhythm.
The first excavation unit came into view—a towering Corpus drill, its core glowing an icy blue as it bored into the crust. Power conduits pulsed rhythmically, drawing energy from nearby cells already slotted into place.
Enemies were inbound.
“Contact,” Michelle said, already climbing to higher ground. Mesa’s regulators clicked softly as she settled into position. “Multiple units, west approach. Nullifier bubble in the back.”
“On it,” Micah replied.
Umbra surged forward, blade igniting as the first wave crested the ridge—Crewmen scattering as Rhino charged straight through the center, absorbing fire with a laugh only Josiah could manage.
“Excellent progress!” Ordis chimed.
“Cryotic extraction has begun. Ordis will monitor power levels. Please insert additional power cells when required—or the drill will stop. And that would be… unfortunate.”
Judah’s voice slid into comms, light but focused. “Alarms are still asleep. Let’s keep it that way.”
The drill’s timer ticked down.
Snow whipped harder around them as Europa seemed to push back, the planet itself testing their resolve.
The drill’s core flared brighter as its first cycle deepened, a low, mechanical thrum vibrating up through the ice and into their frames. Power levels ticked down steadily—predictable, manageable.
Until the Corpus adjusted.
Michelle saw it first.
“Power carriers inbound,” she said, calm and clipped. “East side. Three—no, four units. Shielded.”
On cue, a cluster of Corpus Crewmen crested the far ridge, bulkier packs mounted to their backs, glowing cells secured in mag-lock harnesses. They moved faster than the others, guarded tightly, fire concentrated outward to keep them alive.
Shiloh didn’t hesitate. “Priority targets. Don’t let them reach the drill.”
Micah was already moving.
Umbra surged forward in a blur of steel and Void-light, blade cutting a clean arc through the snow as he closed the distance. A burst of magnetic energy detonated against the lead carrier’s shields—Michelle’s shot, perfectly timed. The shield collapsed with a sharp crack, and Micah finished the job in one fluid motion.
The power cell clattered free, skidding across the ice.
“Cell down,” Michelle confirmed. “Covering.”
Judah flickered into view beside the fallen unit just long enough to snatch the cell, then vanished again as gunfire stitched the space he’d occupied a heartbeat earlier. “I’ve got one. Bringing it in.”
Josiah barreled straight into the next group, Rhino’s plating glowing as he shoulder-checked a Tech clean off his feet. “You’re not paying enough attention to me,” he called cheerfully, drawing fire as intended.
That opened the lane.
Gala stepped into it.
Ember’s heat spiked, controlled but fierce, flames curling low and precise as she swept them across the remaining carriers. The snow hissed and steamed; shields buckled. One carrier stumbled, another dropped to a knee—
—and David was there, silent as a thought, Ash’s blades flashing once. The second power cell hit the ground intact.
“Two more,” Britney said, rhythm syncing across the squad as Octavia’s pulse steadied their movements. “Keep them staggered.”
Daniel blurred past in a streak of Volt-blue, static crackling as he cut off the last carrier before it could retreat. A quick discharge, shields fried by magnetic surge, and the unit went down hard.
The area fell quiet for half a second.
Snow drifted.
Corpus reinforcements were already recalculating.
Shiloh moved to the drill, kneeling smoothly as she slotted Judah’s recovered power cell into place. The machine responded immediately, hum deepening as the timer reset.
“Power restored!” Ordis announced, unmistakably pleased.
“Excellent prioritization, Operators. Ordis calculates a ninety-seven percent increase in efficiency when hostile power carriers are eliminated first.”
Josiah laughed. “See? We’re being graded.”
“Focus,” Elijah said, though there was no real edge to it. He was already marking new approach vectors on their HUDs. “More carriers will follow. Corpus won’t stop feeding the drill.”
“And we won’t stop taking it,” Michelle replied.
Micah repositioned near the drill without being asked, blade low, stance steady—close enough to defend, far enough to intercept. Michelle shifted her overwatch to mirror him, angles overlapping seamlessly.
Old habit. Unspoken agreement.
The next wave surged in—harder, smarter, shields layered thick.
Judah’s voice slid back into comms, light but intent. “Same plan?”
Shiloh rose to her feet, Trinity’s systems flaring softly as she boosted the squad’s resilience. “Same plan,” she said. “Cells first. Always.”
The Tenno braced as the Corpus advanced again.
And once more, they moved as one.