Earth - Cetus
After depositing a second Wukong in one of Lua’s many craters, the mercurial monkey piloted their RailJack vessel, an ancient space-worthy war relic from a conflagration fought in the firmament and long thought forgotten, to drop a third Wukong at the Drifter’s Camp before heading to one of the last surviving human settlements; Cetus, home to the Ostron people.
The humid air was hot and heavy with the pungent odor of sea salt, sweat, and blood as the rising tide sluiced at the rocky shore of Cetus’ beach that ran closest to its most identifiable landmark: a half-mile tall tower to the heavens. Rumor was it ran equally deep into the bedrock, lower chambers full of eldritch monsters and other equally implausible horrors told to Ostron children to keep them well-behaved.
The Tower of the Unum, or simply The Wall by ignorant outsiders, was home to a presence that the Ostrons kept in nigh-holy reverence, hidden away behind and within her walls at the pin-center of the universe, rationing out her prophetic secrets. The final assault on Earth by Narmer hadn’t been able to fully cow the Unum into submission, even after they had crashed one of their own mammoth Murex galleons from orbit into her, she continued to stand unbowed. Damaged certainly, even suppressed to a degree, but unbowed all the same.
Wukong released the dual control grips, stepping from the pilot’s sconce after the stabilizer harness had retracted with a quiet pneumatic hum, which handed over control of the helm to Cephalon Cy for their final approach to Cetus. This cephalon system was a digital personage who served during the Old War and was forgotten as a ghost ship in the vestiges of dark, cold space. The Orbiter’s own cephalon, Ordis, has uncovered the fragmented mystery and Cy was eventually reassembled and recovered to manage the systems of the Railjack where his vaunted experience and esoteric knowledge was invaluable.
“Wukong disembarking. Pressurization equalized. Dropping out of airlock.” Cy reported in a flattened tone, a sharp departure from Ordis’ light-hearted and conversational inquisitiveness.
The celestial chimp lightly tapped one end of his staff to his forehead in a parody of a military salute and stepped onto the entry/exit umbilicus seal, which unceremoniously spat him out into the sweltering air of Earth’s equatorial coastal region. As his fractured form plummeted towards the unforgiving depth of the ocean, he reached within and simply stopped in mid-air, cloudwalking and now invisible to even the most sophisticated sensors. With this ability, he could just fly to the top of the Tower and let himself in, much like his counterpart was currently doing on Lua, but decorum with the Unum had to be followed. If she didn’t wish to talk with him, he would abruptly find himself outside and possibly banned from further interaction. And his plan absolutely required her assistance at a number of stages so, again, decorum. With that decided, he descended quickly to the beach, reappearing in an almost imperceptible puff of displaced air, taking only the briefest of moments to enjoy a cooling breeze coming off the sea, kissing his faceted flesh as he turned his face upward to gaze at the very height of the Tower.
Aside from being the heart and home of the revered Unum, it was also one of the very last living towers within the Origin system that survived relatively intact from the collapse of the Orokin empire, aside from the recent damage during the Narmer campaign, and outside the Void.
With the mere consideration of that unimaginable place, at that very moment it would have been difficult to determine if the condensation that beaded on his obsidian skin was from the misting ocean spray… or fear.
The space simian shook himself out of his momentary reverie, rolled both of his shoulders to hopefully ease some of the chill that had trickled down his spine, and walked down the short length of the surprisingly inhospitable beach from where he had landed, the settlement of Cetus to his immediate right. Small open-walled tents made up most of the Ostron’s housing and market where, even at this significant distance, Wukong could hear the boisterous merchants calling out their various and myriad wares to be keenly haggled over and hopefully sold. On any other day, he would have walked through the length of the bazaar, captivated by its tantalizing sensorum, if only to be temporarily reminded of how things used to be. As if on cue, his keen peripheral vision caught the blackened remains of a burned down structure, surrounded by small, colorful trinkets of sorrow and remembrance for those lost during Narmer’s brutal occupation.
Never again, he reminded himself.
Best be about it then.
The mercurial monkey stepped out of Sol’s warm embrace and into the cool shadow of the Unum’s tower, turning to fully face the structure. There was a brief glint of light towards the very upper reaches of the Tower, perhaps just sunlight reflecting off one of its many golden and gilded surfaces, but no; Wukong abruptly vanished in an emerald flash, gone from the beach as suddenly as he had come.
Within a minute, the tide had washed his impressions in the sand away as though they had never been.
Apparently she’s willing to speak with me after all, he thought drily. Even though he had partially been expecting it, he still had been surprised at how fast it happened. What the space simian lacked in raw strength, and he wasn’t weak amongst his constituents, he certainly made up for with startling speed. Unsurprisingly though, he was in the upper-most chamber of the Unum’s tower, which still remained halfway exposed to the outside elements from the Murex’s collision.
“I know why you’re here,” the Unum’s presence reverberated throughout the entire structure, including Wukong, making him feel more than hear what she wanted to communicate. Coincidentally, the Lotus spoke those exact words at precisely the same time light-minutes away under the surface of Lua to a different, yet the same, Wukong. If only he believed in coincidences.
“Then you know what I need and how soon I need it.” he stated aloud, although he was absolutely convinced that if he thought it, she would have received it equally well.
Coincidentally, almost as though in response to his words, a white and puffy cloud passed overhead, blocking the sun and briefly dimmed the ambient light in the open room, except for a single golden ray that illuminated a large urn, intricately wrought with precious metal filigree.
Show off, he thought wryly to himself.
An unexpected wave of briney seawater splashed the celestial chimp in the face as he found himself back outside and standing on the small wooden pier reserved for those who wished for an audience with the Unum. The tide had just reached its high point, slapping against the bottom-side of the well-worn planks. He swiveled his head to the left and glanced behind him, confirming that the ceremonial urn had made the instantaneous journey outside with him before cutting his eyes right and up towards the skyline above the beach.
The unmistakable distinctive acoustic signature of a Grineer Skaut craft would have normally alarmed the folks of Cetus, especially considering that standard Grineer forces were just on the other side of the energy barrier supplied by the Unum to keep the Ostrons safe from the horrors that wandered the Plains of Eidolon. Yet their faith in her was absolute, and if it was indeed a threat, it would be subject to the Jade Light and atomized appropriately. So they continued their daily routine without anything other than a cursory glance at the craft’s ingress towards the diminutive pier.
The drab green military vessel entered into hover mode after it drifted to within a dozen paces from the edge of the pier, violent air currents whipping ragged gouts of seawater around it, and the back of the ship mouthed open to lolled out a reinforced steel gangplank.
Kahl-175 marched out from inside the Skaut, stopping before having to step onto the pier itself, only trusting his weight to the sturdy gangplank.
“Tenno.” he said automatically.
Features impassive, the space simian immediately repeated, “Wukong, Kahl-175. Ayatan are stars and the Tenno are-”
“Children of Zariman.” Kahl finished with a self-satisfied nod, a pleased expression creasing his craggy features.
Progress, Wukong thought. So there is potential here.
“Wukong said same thing earlier.” the Grineer tubeman stated, turning to look back up the ramp to where the mercurial monkey had been standing before he had debarked the Skaut.
No one stood there.
Kahl grimaced, furrowing his brow, and turning back to the pier. “Where…”
No one stood there either. Even the urn was gone.
With surprising deftness, Kahl spun around to the mouth of the hovering ship, the air around him alight with small rainbow reflections from the hot sun directly overhead and the scattered water droplets in the air.
Wukong stood there. With the urn.
“What’s that?” Kahl asked after gathering his tubeman-grade wits about him.
“A gift.”
At the far end of the pier where it met the sand, a small group of Ostrons approached carrying a impressively-sized swath of the Unum’s tower, cultivated from the lower levels that met the water line. It was an entirely common and accepted practice of the Cetus population for the Tower’s living flesh to be harvested and used as sustenance after it had been appropriately prepared, with the Unum’s permission of course. For them it was just another way that the Unum provided for and protected from the ravages of poor harvests and malnutrition. The portion that was being delivered up to the craft, however, could have fed the entire village for a month straight. And there was a second group of Ostrons behind the first, with an equally sized swath, both of which were delivered into the cargo space of the Skaut without delay, as ordered by the Unum.
The men and women of Cetus were very respectful of them both, nodding repeatedly and receiving instruction without question, especially the dark one with his obsidian skin whom had been received by the Unum earlier in the summer day, and returned to the beach where they were then told to provide a very specific amount of Tower harvest. As the workers were hastily retreating off the gangplank and returning to the pier proper, barely heard over the rising whine of the engines powering up to leave orbit and pneumatic closing of rear hatch, Wukong caught them whispering amongst themselves that the offworlders were blessed with an urn of the Unum’s precious Temple Kuva.