It was quiet. The crunch of red glass buried in redder sand sounded like old bones to him. Wilhelm wondered if his forefathers were buried on this cold rock. Scout craft had detected… what had they detected? The signal was not like a human’s nor an invader’s signature. It was like nothing picked-up before. Well, that wasn't true. The Traveler left that same mark on the instruments. But what would a sign like that be doing on the legendary “paradise” that was Mars? In the old human settlement, the Buried City? Kilometers deep inside the labyrinth of crumbling facilities and conduits that once were the life of the planet? He didn't know. This was a world event; something so big that Guardians from across the solar system, even advanced scouts past the world-moons of Jupiter, were coming in for. They had already encountered a Hive assault force, but it was shot-down before they even landed. Reports of Fallen gathering on the other side of the city were confirmed, and a Vex forward party had killed two Warlocks an hour ago. It seemed that all races wanted something here. He followed the massive dents Cabal make in the soft turf. Those led into the old entrance of Mars’s underground, the source of the signal. Twenty Guardians sounded behind him, veteran and geared for anything. A crackle sounded in his helm. “Wilhelm, the city block is secure. It’s time.” Humanity would not lose this lead. Not after losing so many others. Revival was their [i]right[/i], their inevitable destiny. And only a power like that of the Traveler would allow them to live again. “Guardians, move in. The Cabal have kindly opened the way for us.” Moving up the steps, in the blue of alien stationary lights, Wilhelm began his reclamation.