[url=https://www.ishtar-collective.net/categories/book-a-drifters-gambit]A Drifter's Gambit[/url] [i]""I've followed him for a short while now. Tracked his path since he turned up on mine. "He's not like them, but not far off—hard to trust, hard to know. He's seen more than most can imagine and done things most wouldn't dare. But he's always kept his distance—stayed far from the Light. "Why head City-side now? Why risk antagonizing those best equipped to cut his journey short? Can't quite say. I get the sense he's on the run, but from what? From who? There are Shadows in his past. Do they linger? Do they hunt? "Or is his desperation driven by other… concerns? "All I've seen, all I've uncovered—of him, of his long, winding road—says he's made enemies at just about every turn. Over centuries, that list grew real long. He's been comfortable on the dodge out beyond the Reef—ever-moving, ever-exploring, never concerned with the dangers riding his wake. "So, again… Why now? Why here? What's his play? More important… "What's his game?" [u]—A Renegade's Observations of a Drifter[/u] "The Drifter wasn't always my target. "In fact, he only came to my attention when he started running with them I'd call prey. "Before that he'd existed only as rumor—the strange Lightbearer who journeyed beyond the system's edge, the lone wanderer who was only a 'Guardian' by reductive modern definitions. He had a Ghost. He was touched by the Light. His motivations, though, were his own—some might say selfish, and I'd have to agree. In regard to the concepts of duty and devotion and using one's gifts for the betterment of humanity? Not his play. The City be damned. The Traveler be damned. The Light be damned. "Which makes his run to the Tower and his newfound benevolence all the more… curious. "I lost track of him when the Traveler fell silent. Could be that severed connection drew him back. If so, I doubt it's something he'd admit. Yet here he is—unwelcome, but with a gift for persuasion. I can't say it doesn't make me uneasy. "There was—so we're clear—a time I'd call him a threat. There was a time I'd look to end him as punishment for the paths he'd tread. But things aren't quite so simple these days. Ghaul taught us that. And while I still plan to punish those who have transgressed, I can also see the value in certain… risks. "This Gambit—the Drifter's strange little game—may just be one such. "It requires care and a keen eye to ensure the means don't consume the ends, but I got a feeling our new 'friend' might be a necessary catalyst. And, if not… "He sure makes for a fine cut of bait." [u]—A Renegade's Observations of a Drifter[/u] "I want to be clear: I do not trust him. "You get the sense he's working to mend that, sure, but the end game will reveal the truth of his intentions. "This con is a long one, friend, but if any are built to see it done—and see it done right—the Drifter is our man. So, we see it play out—his Gambit and ours. It may not be ideal. In fact, I'd say far from. It's just that… "I don't see another way forward. The Light is fragile but quick. The Dark, dense and slow. If we want to control the balance, tip it in our favor… if we want to confront those shadows who would see it shift further toward the night… we must play in the gray in-between. We must draw them out. "Many have fallen to this path. It's not one I tread lightly, but I've found the only way to best a shadow is meet it in the shade. "The Vanguard won't allow it—they're noble, but they're flawed. Frightened. Most Guardians wouldn't dare it—too many legends of heroes lost to such unpleasant pursuits. "But things have changed… "The Oryx slayers and their like have danced within Ascendant Realms. The nightmare legends of bonewalkers and nether worlds have been cast into the Light. Old fears are now trampled beneath enduring triumph. Now, if ever, is the time to step proud into the unknown and bathe it in our Light. "And if doing so draws the attention of enemies old and new… if we tempt damnation… so be it. We will stand ever vigilant and burn them all away. "Or maybe the Drifter pulls a double-cross and our end is met. No way of knowing. No way to tell. "I say we let it ride. Trust ourselves. Trust our instincts—our Light." [u]—A Renegade's Observations of a Drifter[/u] "By chance, he and I crossed paths in a… neutral setting. Didn't give me his name, just called himself a drifter. Told him if that's how it was, he could call me 'Pal.' He laughed at that, got comfortable. Got all kinds of open about where he'd been, what he was haulin'. Even dropped a tip on where an old friend of mine was hiding. I still wonder if he knows who I really am. "He told me he left the system as soon as he was risen. Not immediately, sure. Had to get his bearings, find a ship—get it fit, get it flying. But soon as, he was good as gone. 'Drawn to the outer,' he says. I can appreciate. "He says he's seen the deep side of Jupiter. Been to the Core Mines of Saturn. [u]Name drops old myths no one's heard—the Luvial Crux, the Shift Chasms Below Elios, the Fourth Tomb of Nezarec. Goes on about the Idols of Lower Sul, the Treasure of Exodus Prime, the Solar Engine of Dead Star-Six.[/u] "I think he's making most of it up, but he's got relics and etchings. He's got materials not of this system—odd metals, obsidian flames, thought engines, edible null cakes and a stuffed something that looks like a rabbit bio-fused with a cephalopod. He keeps all this stuff to himself—his 'gets,' he calls 'em. "If they're for show, they put on a great one. But to what end? The clutter of oddities he's got ship-side ain't nothin' compared to what he's haulin'—that big, black mass of nothing you ain't ever seen before. "He calls it an 'artifact,' but it's more than that. Just don't know what, exactly. He said he got far out as he's ever been. Said it was from a place cold enough to snuff out your Light. I ask him, was it Vex? Hive? Cagey as all, he said no, it was just 'other,' and it was powerful… maybe. "That was his qualifier: 'maybe.' "Why the hell bring it to the inner system then? 'Maybes' are trouble. But he's got an answer for everything. He says… "'Brother… maybes are where the real treasure hides.' "He could tell I wasn't satisfied, but I knew he wasn't lying. The chunk was 'other' for sure, and Ghost said its readings were off the charts, but abstract—unlike anything anyone had encountered. "Can't say that made me comfortable, but then the Drifter, with his easy manner and eager charm, asked if I'd ever met a man in black named Callum. "He was clearly changin' the subject, but he was lucky enough—or smart enough—to pick one I had interest in, and I could respect that." [u]—A Renegade's Observations of a Drifter[/u] "I knew Callum by another name—a hated name. "The Drifter had run with Callum's crew for some time. I get the sense he would've been one and the same as them—lockstep down sorrow's road—if they'd met sooner. "Hell, maybe they WERE lockstep. Maybe his Gambit was theirs. "Maybe the bait set when the Drifter first came to the Tower was for me and mine. Maybe all we were playing at was our own end. But all that's not worth the effort to dwell on. A path's been set. Best to walk it. If the turn 'round that final bend leads to death, all we can do is return the favor. "Drifter told me Callum had a spot—a hold he used all his own. Said his crew been runnin' separate jobs to keep me off their trail. Said they knew one-to-one they'd have a hard time walking away, but rolling together only increased their footprint, made 'em easier to trail. "Made sense. With the six of 'em—Callum's crew, I mean—spread out, each runnin' their own search for whatever it is they're searching for, gave me crossed signals. I'd hear conflicting stories of their deeds from one end of the system to the next, and I had a hard time keepin' up. "But this info—Callum's safe space—it was a lead worth a look. "Two weeks into a living hell, I thought Drifter'd fed me a line, maybe tryin' to kill two birds, one stone. There were signs of a Shadow's presence, but they were cold—old. I waited anyway. Shot me some Taken to kill the time. "The wait paid off. "Callum entered. Could hear him before I saw him—he was arguin' with his Ghost. I waited on the hope they'd spill goods I could use to track the others. No such luck. Their words were heated. Callum had gone too far. His Ghost was angry. I don't blame her. "It caught me that she always used his proper name—Callum—and not his other. She still cared. Still hoped. Then she screamed. "I drew and stepped into the light. "Callum had his Ghost in his left hand. It was silent. With his right, he had stabbed her through the optics with a sickly dagger—a tool carved from the jagged spikes fired from a weapon I shall not name. "The Ghost was dead, and Callum just laughed. I think because he knew what came next. "He and I had words. Told me I'd never kill 'em all. Then he dropped the shell and went for his shooter. "I lit my fire and painted him on the wall without another word." [u]—A Renegade's Observations of a Drifter[/u]"[/i] [b][u]Cont. to part 3...[/u][/b]