Chapter Text
The Operator was not the best at taking care of themselves.
They could hardly be blamed; Ordis would never! All they knew was war, and all they did was fight. Indeed, Rav fought with a fiery passion for innocent lives across the whole universe, across planets and between dimensions. There were no breaks. They were always on the move, whether it was through the Orbiter or the Railjack with Cephalon Cy (no, Ordis was not jealous). It was admirable, and they were a hero—a legend.
But they shouldered their burden alone on their tiny human body, and the weight of it was finally starting to crush them. Umbra had left to aid the Stalker in his search for his warring children. The Helminth was hardly a decent conversationalist. The Lotus was always available on comms, but the Operator did not speak to her for any reason beyond assignments and intel; and even then, their tone toward her was stiff and standoffish. Ordis was there, he always would be, but he wasn’t enough. Rav essentially lived with dozens of Warframes in the Orbiter, and yet they were alone in a hall of statues, hurting in a way that Ordis did not know how to fix.
“Operator,” said Ordis one day, fretfully. “You must eat something. The physiology of humans dictates that you require nutrients every few hours for proper maintenance.”
Rav was kneeling at the navigation console, peering at the map and absently swiping through reports. “I’m not hungry,” they replied.
“I beg to differ,” said Ordis. “I have heard the sounds your stomach makes when it is empty. Ugh. It sounds like Helminth.”
Rav chuckled without much humor. “It does, doesn’t it?”
“If I could prepare meals for you, I would,” Ordis continued. “Next time we visit Fortuna, perhaps you might consider asking one of the engineers to attach some arms to me.”
“I’m fine,” Rav replied crossly. “You’re not my babysitter, Ordis. I can take care of myself. I did it back home, I did it during the war, and I can do it now.”
“And you’re doing a sh—” Ordis cut himself off with a fizzle of static and said, slowly, “Ordis would see you happy, Operator. Even if it requires my absence.”
He floated off toward the foundry. Rav did not watch him go.
They argued like this every few days, on repeat like a broken record (like him). Ordis eventually sought out Cy for help, as humiliating as it was.
“You must speak to them,” he urged. His warbly voice echoed throughout the vast, empty Railjack. “Unlike you or I, the Operator has to eat. And sleep. And talk to others.”
“They talk to you, don’t they?” Cy replied.
“Well of course, but—you know what I mean,” Ordis snapped. “Ordis believes that the Operator is lonely, Cy. Lonely in ways that a cephalon like myself cannot banish.”
“If you cannot,” said Cy, “what chance have I? I don’t know the Operator as well as you do, Ordis, but I know they value your company. So return to the Orbiter and be with them.”
“B-but Ordis does not know what to say! If the Operator does not communicate, how will Ordis know how to help? You are the most usele—” Ordis sighed and shook his head. He turned and floated toward the exit. “Thank you, Cy.”
Cy hummed, a deep sonorous rumbling that vibrated along the walls. “I wish I had a simple answer for you. Humans are anything but simple.”
“Agreed,” Ordis replied with a firm nod. “If only the Warframes could talk. Ordis could use the added company, as well.”
“If only.”
Back in the Orbiter, Ordis continued to worry. Rav had fallen asleep at the console, and Ordis was not large enough, strong enough, or useful enough in this tiny hovering block of metal to carry them to their room. After flitting from one end of the ship to the other, checking on the Orbiter’s systems (all nominal), he drifted over to the arsenal downstairs. Housed within laid dozens of upright pods, one for each Warframe the Operator had. It looked a bit like a mergoo’s nest, or, if he could wax morbid for a moment—a trophy room.
“All this, and the Orbiter is still quiet,” Ordis commented. Then he turned and went back upstairs.
//
The first to awaken was Gyre.
She stepped out from her pod and into the hall of the Operator’s vast arsenal. She turned her head from side to side, every tenth degree marked by the clicking of the gears that comprised her neck.
Where is the Operator? she thought, then promptly halted in her mental tracks. She was thinking, her very own thoughts in her very own mechanized voice. This was not Transference, for her internal voice did not sound like Rav. She turned in slow, deliberate steps, and moved her arms in the elegant rhythms of her dances, bound by the Warframe’s equivalent of muscle memory. It didn’t feel like the Operator mimicking (to perfection, of course) her choreography. She was in control.
This was Gyre; she was Gyre.
Anyone lesser perhaps would have panicked at suddenly being plunged into consciousness. Gyre did not panic. She was a scientist, in some muddled memory, and so she experimented. “Hello,” she said aloud, and noted that she could speak despite the lack of vocal cords or a mouth. She could see despite the lack of eyes. It was not as if she had miraculously returned to her original form, before she was shuttled off to the Zariman. She was a Warframe, a weapon that the Operator piloted and commanded, but now she was real.
“Is anybody else awake?” she asked, peering down the twin rows of identical pods that lined either wall. “Can anybody hear me? Operator?”
“Who is that?” a deep voice snarled as another pod hissed open. “Speak, intruder, and quickly. Death at my hands will be a mercy compared to what the Operator will do should they find you.”
“I am no intruder,” said Gyre, with some irritation. “And I will not be threatened by a walking infestation of maggots. Come out, Nidus.”
She had never heard Nidus’ voice, so how did she know with such certainty to whom she was speaking?
The second Warframe to awaken emerged from his pod on unsteady legs. He looked at his hands, then at Gyre. “This is not Transference,” he said.
“Clearly,” Gyre replied testily. “Unless another Tenno has made it onto this ship. Another theory is that one of us has been hijacked by an Ascaris. It would not surprise me if they chose you, given your proclivities for bloodshed.”
If a Warframe could snort, that was what Nidus did. The infested tendrils on his shoulders wiggled and writhed. “Don’t moralize, Lady Gyre. We all possess the inclination toward violence. It is why we exist at all.”
“My point is…”
But her argument was cut short by yet another pod opening, further down the left row. Gyre and Nidus shared a glance, then they both crept down the hall with caution.
“Hey, get back here,” came the voice of the third awakened. “Oh, no you don’t!”
Nidus pulled Gyre back with one of his disgusting tethers just in time for her to narrowly avoid the stampede of Sprodlings. They tumbled out of the pod, rolling and chirruping. Nokko leapt out of the pod and gathered them up one by one.
“Ah, good, the mushroom and his munchkins,” Nidus remarked drily. “What delightful companions I seem to have been stuck with.”
“Nokko,” greeted Gyre, pointedly ignoring the ill-tempered infestation at her side. “You seem to have taken to consciousness rather quickly.”
“Hm?” Nokko bundled the Sprodlings into his arms, where they immediately escaped again and clambered onto his head, shoulders, and hands. “Oh, yeah. The Operator’s still sleeping. They’re in for a real treat when they realize we’re all waking up.”
Gyre tilted her head. “You knew this would happen?” she asked.
“The Sprodlings told me,” said Nokko with a shrug. “How do you think we should break the news? Just wait down here until they pop into the arsenal? I know! We could all jump out of our pods at once and say, ‘Happy birthday!’ That’s a human thing, right? At least, I think I remember something like that.”
“I cannot imagine a worse introduction,” said Nidus flatly. He walked down the row of pods, observing those who still were dormant. “Will all of us awaken? Or were only some chosen? Why, and why now?”
“All pertinent questions,” said Gyre. “I will find Ordis; I worry that his…excitable nature will cause a bit of chaos.” But the moment she finished speaking, another pod cracked open. “Lua save us,” she said with an exasperated sigh. “Nokko, Nidus—let nobody leave the arsenal until I return with the cephalon.”
“You don’t command me,” said Nidus, at the very same time that Nokko said, “You can count on me, Miss Gyre!”
“You would leave me with him?” Nidus hissed at her, as Nokko and his Sprodlings ran off to greet the Orbiter’s newest sentient Warframe.
“Only because I do not trust you to keep the cephalon calm,” Gyre replied primly before she spun on her heel and exited the arsenal, leaving Nidus’s muttered curse in her wake.
She peered briefly into the personal quarters. True to Nokko’s and his Sprodlings’ word, Rav was fast asleep with several floofs surrounding them. A sleeping Rav was a rarity, she noted, though again she was unsure why she was so certain of that. She skipped the Helminth, as it would undoubtedly send the entire Orbiter aroar at the sight of a Warframe walking around of its own volition. She went up to the Bridge, where Ordis floated over the navigation console. His back was turned to her.
She recalled a gesture that humans sometimes did to get one’s attention and attempted to clear her throat. What came out instead was closer to the crunching of cogs being forced to turn against their natural direction. Ordis whirled around. “Oh!” he exclaimed. “Operator, you startled me. I thought you were still sleeping. We have not yet reached Earth’s orbit, so you may continue resting.”
Now that she was here, she found herself at a loss as to how to proceed without scaring the poor cephalon. “We have a…situation, Cephalon Ordis,” she said delicately.
“A situation? Ordis has not received any alerts from the Orbiter’s systems.”
“It is not about the ship,” said Gyre. “I…err, please do not panic, Ordis, but the Operator is not in the Transference chamber.”
Ordis wavered from side to side. “Operator, you are acting rather strange,” he remarked. “Ordis refers to himself in the third person, but humans do not often do this in verbal communications.”
“Because the Operator is not here,” Gyre insisted. “Myself and a few other Warframes have awoken from our pods. None of us feel the Operator’s influence. I checked the personal quarters myself; the Operator is in bed. Come see for yourself if you do not believe me.”
“That is impossible,” Ordis said, now jittering anxiously. “Warframes cannot…”
“Is it?” Gyre challenged. “Umbra moves independent of the Operator. He thinks, he feels. Why not us?”
“Umbra is a unique case,” said Ordis, although he sounded less sure of himself. “But—you claim others are awake. Which ones?”
“Nidus and Nokko. Perhaps more, as we speak.”
“Oh, no, no. Ordis must find the Operator.” He shot past Gyre like a wobbling bullet. She sighed and followed him out of the Bridge. It hadn’t gone exactly how she’d planned, but she was sure that Nidus would not have done a better job.
As expected, the Transference chamber was empty, no matter how many times Ordis fluttered about, searching every improbable corner. “How can this be?” he fretted. Still, he next went to the personal quarters and shouted, “OPERATOR WAKE UP THE WARFRAMES HAVE GONE ROGUE.”
“Damn you,” Gyre snapped, cupping her nonexistent ears with her hands.
Rav bolted up, sending their floofs scattering across the bed and onto the floor. “What?” they cried. “Jeez, Ordis, what’s wrong with you?”
“Look, look!” Ordis zipped over to Rav’s side, turning rapidly to face them, then Gyre, then them again. “Do you see what Ordis sees?”
“I see Gyre,” said Rav, getting up slowly. “And I see that I’m standing here.”
Gyre held up her hands. “Please let me explain, Operator.”
“And she’s talking,” Rav continued as they approached her. Their eyes lit up with intrigue. “Even Umbra doesn’t speak.” They tilted their head, searching her up and down. “I don’t see an Ascaris. So you’re not being controlled. By me, or by anyone. Is that right?”
“I believe so, Operator,” said Gyre with relief. Despite the cephalon’s panic, one could always count on their Operator to keep a level head. “I was the first to leave my pod. Nidus and Nokko have since awoken, too. Before I left to find Ordis, there seemed to be more on the way. Who knows how many of us are awake now.”
Rav crossed their arms. “So we’ll soon have five dozen sentient Warframes roaming around the ship?” they concluded.
If Gyre could blush, she would be on fire with embarrassment. “It…is a possibility that I’ve entertained,” she said delicately.
They hummed. “We’ll need more space, it sounds like. Are we still headed for Earth, Ordis?”
“Y-yes, Operator,” the cephalon warbled.
“Good. Let Kahl know we’re bringing company. Lots of company.” With that, Rav slipped past Gyre and waved for her to follow. “Come with me, Gyre. Let’s see who else is up.”
As Gyre trailed behind them, she could not help but ask, “You are not upset, Operator? Or concerned? At all?”
“Hm? No, not at all,” Rav replied with a gentle laugh. “If this was an attack, I’d either be dead or killing the rest of you by now. Besides, Ordis and I could use the company.”
They descended into the lower section, where they heard a few voices. “Hello,” Rav called out as they entered the arsenal. “Who else is here? Nidus? Nokko?”
A Sprodling bounded up to them and tackled Rav, who caught it in their arms with ease. “What did I say about—” Nokko skidded to a stop in front of them. “Oh. Hi, Operator. Sorry about that.”
Rav carefully handed the Sprodling back to its caretaker. “Good morning, Nokko. Or evening. It’s not like we keep time out here.”
“Who else, Nokko?” Gyre demanded.
“Uh,” said Nokko, freeing his hand to count on his fingers, “Dante, Nezha, Zephyr, Koumei, Ivara. So that’s eight of us.” Down the hall, as if to confirm their presence, Nezha and Koumei were shouting at each other. “Be right back,” he said as he ran back after them.
“At this rate, more than half of us will gain sentience by the time we reach Earth,” said Gyre with growing dread—not because she wished for her brethren to remain in stasis, but because dealing with Nidus and Nokko was already enough of a headache. Nezha and Koumei were bound to be handfuls, as well. Perhaps she could rely on Dante to maintain some semblance of order.
But what would happen if Garuda woke up? Or Uriel? Without the Operator to pacify them, would they be consumed by their bloodlust?
“You seem worried, Gyre,” said Rav.
“Of course I am worried, Operator,” she replied, more tersely than she intended. “Five dozen Warframes suddenly becoming self-aware, each with their own personalities and egos. Five dozen living weapons who have known nothing but violence and pain. Think of the consequences! We will unleash chaos in your ally’s camp, and possibly across the entire Origin System.”
“We have no guarantee that they will all awaken,” Rav pointed out. “Although, yeah, it is trending that way. But that’s why we’re headed for Kahl’s camp. There’s enough space there for everyone, so we’ll be prepared.” They peered at her with a knowing glint in their eye. “And Kahl’s dealt with Warframes before. We’ll be safe if anything goes wrong.”
“You speak as if you are a mind-reader,” Gyre commented.
“For a while, I was your mind.”
“A fair point.” She glanced down at Rav, who stood almost two full heads shorter than her. “I believe I have retained some memories of my…predecessor, Operator.”
“Really?” Rav asked with a thoughtful hum. “You’re not the original, though—uh, no offense, I just mean…” She waved away their awkward backpedaling. “Maybe there’s still a piece of the Warframe inside each neuroptics. Like their DNA. The important bits that make them who they are.” They eyed her curiously. “What do you remember exactly, Gyre?”
“I remember you,” she said softly. “And the other children. Before boarding the Zariman. You were so young then. I sometimes—we all—forget how young you still are.” She considered her next words and said, “It is not my intention to patronize you, Operator. Forgive me.”
“It’s alright,” said Rav, although they had become stoic and unreadable. “I sometimes forget, too. The Drifter calls me ‘kid,’ but it doesn’t feel right. We stopped being kids the moment we Void-jumped. Now, I’m just a soldier.”
“I am a Warframe, Operator,” said Gyre, with a sudden burst of passion. “It’s in my blood. War. It is all I have truly known. I am a weapon at your disposal. But you, Rav—you are nobody’s weapon, nobody’s tool. You are a child. A wonderful, brilliant, compassionate child. I will not allow you to remain a soldier for the rest of your life. I will rage and fight until I am broken to ensure a future where you may know peace.”
Rav looked at her, stunned into silence. “I…” they began, but at that moment, Nokko shouted for Gyre, and she whirled and joined her newly awoken family.
Perhaps it was a strange way of looking at it, but these Warframes were her family. Rav and Ordis were family. Even Helminth was a part of them (as their testy, irritable, ravenous pet). She had been awake for less than an hour, but her mission had already crystallized in her mind.
Rav would get their chance to be a child again, and grow up to be whatever they wanted, free of war, and horror, and pain. Gyre would rebuild herself a thousand times over to see it done.