"Confirmed, sir. Nearly one hundred percent of the Arcology is infested. And... we lost both teams." Zavala didn't turn to face Sloane. He just stared at the rise and fall of the methane oceans. "But we know our enemy now, Commander. We may not have our Light, but we have the advantage. Give the order, and we'll storm the place. Burn it all down if we have to. The Hive deserve nothing less." "I was a fool to come here. In the shadow of our worst enemy." He looked up to the hole in Saturn's rings, his back still to her. "I thought the strength of our resolve and the treasures of the Golden Age were more powerful than whatever fuels those... demons." Sloane hated hearing him talk like this, but it was the only way he seemed to talk these days. "You weren't wrong, sir. It may be the only place in the system the Cabal won't go. A perfect launching pad for us to strike back. We'll suppress the Hive, and—" "Pull them out. All of them. Get them back to safety, and post guards on our side of the bridge." "Commander—" "Dismissed."