Spacewalk Suit
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Spacewalk Suit is a Legendary Armor set introduced during the Episode: Revenant. It can be obtained from Vesper's Host.
Spacewalk Helm/Cover/Cowl
- "Tech|Direct|124| —ate through another container. What cleaning agents are safe to use? We can't afford another fume incident, István."
- — Helm/Cover/Cowl Description
Six days since arrival.
Metal groans. Power lines hum. Things skitter in the pipes.
Yaraskis picks her way through rubble with a double armload of scrap. She's finally growing out of Drekh scale, lower arms regrown all the way down to her talons, but she's still slight enough to duck through the smallest shafts of their new home.
An orbital station, ancient and damaged, but fixable, everyone thinks. The station hasn't been inhabited for a very long time, but Yaraskis catches herself looking over her shoulder repeatedly.
Her spine prickles as an eerie mechanical voice speaks above her head; some old message for Humans, Karrho said. Nothing to worry about. But… unsettling all the same.
It's a relief to get to the workshop. She kicks at the doorframe. "Scrap delivery."
Karrho is smaller than Yaraskis, still true Drekh. Even so, people pay attention to him because he hatched with eight eyes. That means he's handsome, one-in-a-million lucky. And he's sharp. He was in on the plan from the beginning. Yaraskis only got tapped because she's his egg-cousin.
Karrho gestures without looking up from his screens. "Put it anywhere."
The workshop is one of the creepier rooms on the station, in Yaraskis's opinion. It's filled with metal tables bolted to the floor. They had had to clear out a whole pile of empty Vex bodies before the room was usable. Yaraskis tries not to touch anything as she sets down her bundle.
"What are you working on?"
"Analyzing some old mechanical blueprints. If we can splice into the systems, there's as much to use up here as down on the surface. And there aren't any Vex up here. No Hive. No Lightbearers."
"No Kells," Yaraskis says firmly.
"No Kells." Karrho adds, "Plenty of Ether if these blueprints hold true, though. There's this machine. It's in two parts—one collects energy, one uses it. We just need the collector for the Servitors, and we're set for life."
He tilts one of the screens her way.
Ether for life, up here in the cold dark. It makes everything worth it, the overwhelming feeling of fear as they escaped from Europa, the careful navigation around the hazards on the station as they work to make it livable.
And yes, Yaraskis might get shooed out of engineering meetings she doesn't understand, but nobody will cut off her arms for insubordination.
She flexes her lower hands and leans in to study their future.
Spacewalk Gauntlets/Gloves/Grasps
- "Archival|Castor|231| —don't understand. We're all excited for successful code injection, but it's much too early for insertion into a chassis—"
- — Gauntlets/Gloves/Grasps description
Seventeen days since arrival.
Karrho is busy all the time talking to the Vandals and Marauders too big to even look at Yaraskis. They're working together to build an Ether refinery, using old human blueprints from the station. He rarely has time for Yaraskis.
Yaraskis would make a terrible engineer. In her cocoon she dreamed of being a Captain, not a priest. She fetches and carries and mops up the old stains nobody else wants to touch, making the station livable again.
Day by day, their home fills up with comforting noise: the pleasant creak of cable ties stringing platforms together, the thump-click, thump-click of footwraps and claws on decking, of the arguments between the only two crewmembers who understand Servitor code.
It's nothing like a good solid warren—but it's safe, and that's good enough. And once they have Ether flowing in, it'll be even better.
Yaraskis tries to ignore the station-voice as she tosses a rag into the machine that is almost an incinerator.
From behind, a hand yanks at her hood. She yells. Its owner dodges her return swipe.
Karrho. "I need to talk to you. Something is wrong. I can't find Paskir."
Paskir is another engineer, big for a Vandal. Big enough that his former Captain was eyeing him as a challenger, which is why he agreed to steal a Ketch with them in the first place.
"Maybe he got lost. Or stuck in some goo." Whatever the Humans did on this station, it involved a lot of… liquids. Yaraskis disinfects her hands at least five times a day.
"He was going to help me with the nuclear power supply and never showed up. And I heard something in the halls." At her look, Karrho adds, "Something big!"
"Anything big would have starved long before we got here. Just wait, I bet he got stuck in one of the zero-gravity areas and he'll call for help soon."
"You'll help me look?"
She hooks an arm around Karrho and pulls him away from the almost-incinerator.
"If he doesn't turn up with an embarrassing story in the morning, we'll all look for him."
Karrho loves engineering. He should be a Servitor's priest or a Splicer. Yaraskis wants to be his Captain, assign him to the priesthood. She wants to get so tall that her head brushes the ceiling, and her arms are long enough to wrap around the whole crew.
It's better to be here than with the Houses.
It has to be better.
Spacewalk Plate/Robes/Vest
- "Urgent|Tech|Helios|412| Someone call the boss. Call Central. We can't shelter in place here. Repeat, we can't—"
- — Plate/Robes/Vest description
Twenty-three days since arrival.
The Ether generator is taking shape, a big ringed shell set a safe distance from the hull, cradled in wiring. Their crew's three spinners are busy all the time making more cabling.
Except somehow it's too quiet. The older crew are a little snooty about Drekhs, and that's fine—but Yaraskis can't even find one of them to be snooty at her.
Paskir is still missing. She and Karrho hunted for him up and down the station for hours.
Nobody suggests going back down to the surface. They'd be killed outright. Their big plan—a hidden warren where nobody will ever bother them again—has to work.
Yaraskis sticks to the smaller, dimly lit corridors now, where only the Drekhs fit. She doesn't like the big, open ones with their flat, bright lights, reverberating acoustics, and the feeling that something is always watching her.
Karrho stays at his work. Yaraskis, ignoring her own, explores the station instead, hunting for their missing crewmates. She makes a tally as she goes, checking every corner of the station, and keeping an ear out for the barely audible whine of a charged scattercape.
A full third of the crew are… gone.
She hears a muted shriek, something under the flickering buzz of a dying light. Then the scrape of metal on metal. She hunches her shoulders deeper into her cloak against the feeling of being followed.
The scraping sound stalks her even through her shortcuts. She turns to look back. Still nothing.
She can't find Paskir. She can't find anyone. There's nothing to do but give up.
Yaraskis heads back to Karrho's workshop.
It's empty. Silent as a dead warren.
Karrho is gone.
Spacewalk Greaves/Boots/Strides
- "Research|Direct|132| Pull that log. If someone sends it up the chain we're all dead."
- — Greaves/Boots/Strides description
Thirty-nine days since arrival.
Ketches and warrens are creaky things. Cables groan, steps squeak, hammocks rustle. Ether-bright eyes should glow and blink in the comfortable dark.
Yaraskis had expected they would fill up the station, all of them, with repaired machinery and stolen comforts and familiar sounds.
All the station's sounds are lonely now. Even the station-voice would be a comfort, almost.
She hasn't seen Karrho in days. The remaining engineers only talk to each other, and the Servitors groan and bob in the air together in one nervous bundle.
And something is stalking the hallways.
It has eyes like an Eliksni, but they don't flicker like they should. They burn steadily, lit not by Ether but by something else. Even the Marauders tell her about it in whispers, so scared they ignore hierarchy.
Yaraskis feels its presence in her spiracles. She decides to head for Karrho's workshop. She can hide there.
Then a Marauder swings into view. His eyes are strange and he doesn't look at Yaraskis. He just says, "Come here."
She runs. Through the halls, leaping over platforms strung together, scoring her side badly on an unexpected twist of metal.
The missing crew loom out of corners, calling out as she runs past. She doesn't stop.
Till a voice calls her by name.
It's Karrho. He's braced himself in a corner of the ceiling near a broken vent grate that Yaraskis knows leads to the station hull. It's too small for anyone bigger than a Drekh.
She leaps. Hands claw at her ankles as Yaraskis kicks her way up the wall.
"This way," Karrho urges. They scurry through twisting passages, through the vents and under floors that long-ago Humans never meant for anyone to walk in. They run over wreckage, in and out of the gravity generators' pull, towards the Ketch. Maybe they'll be safe there. Maybe they can cast off and run.
"What's wrong with them?" Yaraskis asks, panting. Her heart kicks hard in her chest.
"Nothing."
Karrho stops on a dime at the vent's exit. Yaraskis's momentum takes her clear past him, into a wide room.
She looks far up into the bright steady glare of mechanical eyes. Filled with an alien light.
And Karrho pushes her forward into the waiting arms of the White Captain.
Spacewalk Mark/Bond/Cloak
- "Tech|Notice|42| All—use of the sample decommission tool is restricted to accredited researchers. If you need to contain something, call security."
- — Mark/Bond/Cloak description
Time is suspended.
All that remains is the appointed task.
The spinners craft towropes, powerlines, and all-purpose cable, hour after hour without rest.
The White Captain moves among them, her many limbs. She feels what they feel, knows what they know, as soon as they know it. She uses this information to align, and together, they build something new in this home they've found.
Every Drekh yearns for more arms than their Captain allows. Every four-eyed Eliksni looks with envy upon the eight-eyed. Every Kell and Archon raises their horns as high as they dare.
Now, together they are as no Eliksni before them. A miracle. A being of hundreds of limbs, lungs, eyes.
The White Captain gently touches the limb previously named Yaraskis. Her appointed portion of the great diagram flowers to life in her head.
Legs stumbling under her, she moves towards the station's prow. One limb may be unsteady, but their great shared body is strong.
Faint noises make no sense. Words she doesn't understand. The un-Eliksni babbling of a foreign mind.
The only mind that matters is the White Captain's.
Hands connect circuits and power lines. The diagram is beautiful but difficult to grasp. She searches for the right shape, the right configuration that will let power flow through its appointed channels.
The work goes on.
Until the hands tie off the last cable.
The eyes look up. The knees buckle in joy. The heart surges along the bright paths of the diagram.
Somewhere in the joined crowd, a single hand throws a single lever.
The mind rejoices.
Orange light flares to life in the cold dark.
It flares in hundreds of souls. Yaraskis is there.
Somewhere.
Appearance
- Destiny 2: Episode: Revenant (First appearance)
