Last spark from the ashes

She nods, as she turns, grasping her smaller friend's shoulder just in case. "Get ready to find your feet."

The Exo's hand will be there to stop him falling when they drop onto the flagstones of the main courtyard. The controlled ship atmosphere is abruptly replaced with a rush of clear, cold mountain air, the close ship quarters with open space and - regardless of the hour - the echoing sounds of a busy headquarters. The courtyard sits on multiple levels, one side open toward the City. There's even a grassy lawn on which to sit and watch the world go by beneath the Traveler.

But on every other side are steps that lead to passageways and stairs to upper levels: the low-roofed hut where a gaunt service robot, rather less human-looking than Blaze, is busy sorting packages; the little tent closer to them where a robed fellow with blue skin is sipping his morning tea. There are banners everywhere fluttering from posts, marked with the geometric coat of arms that represents the Guardian classes.

Blaze has seen it much busier, but there are other Guardians going about their business. armored or cloaked or robed. There's a lot of weaponry. But there's laughter and chatter, too, greenery spilling over the walls, a gnarled tree spreading red-leaved branches over the young Warlock sitting among its roots.

"Welcome to the Tower, Steve." She gives him a bright look, Ghost sweeping his gaze around them. "Our, uh, real home."