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The Active Contact Defense system uses Warsat hull material to store a retaliatory charge.
In order to explain this, I need to explain Kessler Syndrome. As an Exo, I feel a duty to the machine to convey its original purpose. But first: ACD stands for Active Contact Defense. It is not an AC-DC Feedback Fence and it is not named for any work of pre-classical music. I am not winking. That is a malfunction.
Kessler Syndrome occurs when a planet's orbitals fill up with fast-moving debris, which strikes other debris and shatters it in a chain reaction. Soon you can't put up a satellite without it being shredded by a swarm of junk. To protect against debris, Golden Age warsats are shielded by a kinetic superconductor that transforms a punch into a charge.
Thanks to enemy action, we have a lot of downed warsats. With some tweaking, we can peel out the superconductor and produce a personal defense system. Like so.
Conflict Resolution Solution #3479: Leave them to rest wherever they may fall.
“Keep it clean. Your body. Your mind. Your armor. Weapons. Gear. Ammo. CRS #1: Keep it clean. Clean equals function. Clean equals focus. That's where it all starts. Skill matters. Training, practice, experience. All key ingredients. All valued assets as you balance death and glory on the battlefield. But once you're trained and ready for war. And once your gear is up to the standards of a proper, respected, walking, talking war machine. What comes next?”
“1177!”
“That's right. CRS #1177: Ammunition is your best friend. So what do you do?”
“Load up.”
“Load. Up. Get yourself a weapon that spits unending fire and stock up on ammo until your shoulders slump and your back aches. Because each round is a war all its own.”
—Lord Shaxx educating a gathering of Titans''
BRAINVAULT Sigma-ACTIUM-IX Cranial Dreadnought (Invincible Type)
Hello. We understand you require Real-Time Combat Instructives.
This is a BRAINVAULT Sigma-ACTIUM-X Cranial Dreadnought (Invictus Type). It is a fortress for your skull. Your skull is now a mighty bastion. You can break anything with your skull. The only limit is your spine. Relax. The lights will speak for you. Your hands are your eyes now. Look around. You find hand-to-hand combat relaxing. The lights will attract the enemy. Help them to relax as well. You will feel the effect of a CAREGRAVER Gamma-LYSANDER-IV Health Enforcer (Frontline Variant). Your enemies do not have a skull fortress. Their skulls are like meadows. Play in the meadows. Gather the flowers from the meadows. Gather them with electrokinetic trauma. Smell the flowers. Isn't that nice?
You are safe in your skullfort.
The phoenix that fights itself, then rises from its ashes stronger than ever. That is the Crucible.
What's the Crucible? Before the days of the City and the Iron Lords, it was a place to pursue vendettas. To battle for territory, and pettier reasons. The whole world was a Crucible arena. The Crucible today? To Cayde-6, it's a gambler's paradise. To Zavala, it's a resource sink where equipment goes to die. To Ikora, it's home—though she would never admit it.
Partial answers. The tactics and techniques that will save us in wars to come are birthed in the Crucible, during live-fire training. The Vanguard are so preoccupied with their own agendas they're missing the Vanguard of tomorrow rising right before their eyes.
Ghosts find Guardians. The Crucible forges them.
– Lord Shaxx
Starlight is your guide. No vacuum will contain you.
I'm on the ground, half inside Mav's Ward. Lucky for me, it's my head that's half in. The stars over my head are going out one at a time, but that could just be Taken goo blocking my sight.
This giant one-eyed nightmare we woke up is real unhappy to see us. This wasn't the plan—we just came here to rob him.
Luna's dry. The 'horn's dull. Mav's either laughing, or screaming for her life spraying lead everywhere. She's floating past Psions that won't stop splitting. STOP SPLITTING.
We're almost out of time. We have one shot.
So I pull out the bird and give this sucker the finger.
One red-hot glowing finger.
Whoever survives our passing does so only by our consent.
Near-gods must believe in greater gods. But every power is finite, every life shorter than it wishes.
Only an astonishing mind can truly appreciate just how tiny it is when set against the known universe; and how insignificant the known becomes when it is devoured by what isn't seen and can't be comprehended.
As darkness begins to claim their ragged souls, you look ahead to find a great power pouring out of you—a face of fire and golden light.
That blazing wonder, a gift from the great-eyed god, is their salvation. Or are you?
Perhaps you are the greater god now.
Mighty are they of the stormcloud thrones, and quick to anger, but bounteous to those whom they love.
“This is written that you may understand. The time of kings is long since gone from this world. Yes, their reign does linger—these shallow, frightened, aged men, clinging to their grand delusions of relevance in a world that has long since passed them by. But their reign is a lie, a fleeting charade that will crumble beneath the weight of their greed. In the end, though they may conquer the lands and seas and the fragile flesh upon which they trample, their empires will collapse and their graves will beckon. And the crowns of old will find new heads to bear the weight of their power. And the strong will be made to suffer as their weakness is brought to light.”
—Author Unknown
Nobody calls it that.
“It was a Warlock who first worked out that the fangs could be used as some kind of conductive amplifier when specific light frequencies were run through ‘em. I don't know the science. That's not for me. I just know they work. And in battle what works is what's best.
“Is it weird? Yeah. Maybe. Science fangs and space magic. But I've seen enough strange out there to understand normal ain't the norm. Anyway, the Warlock called ‘em ‘Bio-Conductive Trouble Breakers'. I call ‘em ‘Doom Fangs' ‘cause of the fang, which is obvious, and then there's the doom we tend to inflict on a situation.
“Plus it just sounds cooler.”
– Unknown Titan
Whether on solid rock or shifting sand dune, the inexorable Sand Eaters never slow their pace.
Ikora, I've done the best I can. Their language is moronic; I've had more interesting conversations with Titan recruits. Still, if true this is… enlightening. —Asher
File Fragment 783737902-1, recovered from Cabal Centurion corpse at Firebase Delphi
1: Deployment as planned. Still carry the honor silk from the dispatch ceremony. Proud to serve the emperor.
2: Word has reached us of the [untranslateable] Ghaul's assault on the Trappist system. Death to warlords!
3: The traitor [untranslateable] Calus has claimed another Primus. The Siege Dancers will not forget!
4: Skyburners in ruins. Dark King ascendant. We must hold this world for the emperor!
5: The Primus has given the order. We are to stand as long as we can against the [untranslateable] Ghaul. Glory to the one true emperor.
End of file.
"You will find the nightmares grow worse. Thankfully, you no longer have need of sleep." —Gallida Tuyet
I live what I teach. Every time I fire my shotgun, I reflect on our enemies. Every shell I leave in my wake is evidence of my meditations.
I know the forces that move against us. I have studied endlessly. I have transcended our libraries.
I listen to the whispers of my Hidden and I grow wiser every day.
I live what I teach, but I could not predict Ghaul. This is my failing, and I must answer for it.
—Ikora Rey, Warlock Vanguard
This Guardian armor was repurposed from old Exodus Black crew flight suits.
Captain's Logbook. Ship, if we ever figure out the date, would you backfill it here? Thanks.
We are stranded on an outbound Centaur. With every word I speak, we fall further from our sun. 7066 Nessus shouldn't be here, but there was no way to anticipate the way it pulled us in. Ship's guess is that our orbital momentum—what we'd call a four-vector, for the dimensions of space and time—was somehow folded away into six extra dimensions. Leaving us on a crash orbit towards Nessus…
We have lost all sense of time. Past and future are like up and down, and we would walk them if we could, back to a place before Nessus, but we will always be on Nessus, too. I don't know. I don't know. They are trying to understand us. They must think like rivers. We are now receiving our own distress calls. I sound calmer than I feel.
When the universe conspires, its enemies cannot hide.
Say again? You ask, are we alone here? You mean to ask if we are the only good that lives in the light of our sun, do you not? You mean to ask, do we have allies? Do we have distant allies, ignoring our plight, either too weak to fight or too afraid to show their faces?
I, too, have been cursed by these questions.
What if I told you that eons beyond the void lie worlds that do yearn to aid in our struggle? What if I told you there is a way to grant them passage into your mind, to let them guide your eye against our one true enemy? That they have told me that the dusk of the pyramid draws nigh? Would you believe me?
Fool!
"I see you."
I thought I was dead. Held my own for bit, but I could hear the Wizard wasn't alone and she'd be coming for whoever took out her spawn. It was just lying there, honestly. Looked like a standard old Outrider kit, but it had this rig, enough small diamond conduits to make me think it was something pulled out of those old Bray labs in the MNP. I don't just go putting things on my head, but I was desperate. Not sure what activated the thing, but sure enough there she was. I already had a lock on her, and once I engaged, there was nowhere she could hide.
Beware!
“I used to ride the Light all around the system, doing my best to stay busy and stay away. Well I can tell you, contrary to popular opinion—and from personal experience—shacking up in the City's got its perks. And without the others looking out for us, we'd be running around tinkering with pea shooters and trying to fly those clunkers from the Cosmodrome, looking like a bunch a' dummies.
“Look— the City needs you; you need it. I mean, have you seen the goods they're peddling these days? The ships Holliday's been putting up in the air? They got your back here.
“I'm hungry. Let's get some ramen."
—Cayde-6
"Remember, the universe is a chaotic system. This frippery won't protect you from the continuum." —Asher Mir
Eris,
I have scoured my library but found nothing on this “Nokris” of which you speak. I am sorry both for the delay and that I could not be of more help. Do you ever feel any affection for the creatures that changed you? I confess this weakness myself. In the shadow of the Pyramidion, I have sometimes felt a kind of craven admiration for the illimitable superior beings that suffuse my body. I can feel them move through my veins with purpose, magnetized to the intent of the Minds that have come to machinoform Echo Mesa. I have a sense of their desires. They have changed since I fell. And so, I am—if nothing else—a new variable in whatever grand equation compels them.
My arm grows worse. This morning, I cut my finger and bled radiolaria. I will redouble my efforts.
Truth in action,
Asher Mir
"You who seek the Forge: your journey will be long, but your destination is closer than you think." —Ouros
“Commander, as best we can tell, they're all gone. Somehow the Legion found their outpost, and the Hunters say Centurions still hold the ruins. This was the last text transmission we got before the signal died.”
—Sloane
“The fire burned within us. Not by choice, not because we sought the flame. But because there was no other way.
“When you stood before the Forge, there was no doubt. No fear. Not even anger.
“My order stood for generations. We held against the shadow, bearing a weapon that seared flesh and melted bone.
“And now we stand at the end. May history remember the Forge. Remember the Hammer. Remember the Sunbreakers.”
—Ouros, Third and Final Empyreal Magistrate of the Sunbreaker
"He is that which is an end. And he shall rise again" - passage from Of Hated Nezarec, a pre-Golden Age text.
"He is that which is end. That which covets sin. The final god of pain—the purest light, the darkest hour. And He shall rise again. When the guiding shine fades and all seems lost He will call to you. Fear not. All He offers is not as dark as it may seem. For Nezarec is no demon, but a fiend, arch and vile in ways unknown. He is a path and a way, one of many. And his sin—so wicked, so divine—is that he will never cower when dusk does fall, but stand vigilant as old stars die and new Light blinks its first upon this fêted eternity."
—Passage from Of Hated Nezarec
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