Siegfried's feet touch down on a metal grate ten fathoms deep into the Leviathan, where snaking tunnels split into many different directions. The room is large, empty, and dark. He cycles through the night vision and thermal imaging on his helm, then looks up to his fireteam. He can see the shimmering Eliksni camouflage distort the shapes of his seven teammates as they descend the shaft above him on a carbon-weave line. He disables his own. In front of him sits the base of a robotic construct in the likeness of Calus. It is twice his height, and the bare mechanisms of its internal workings creak with age. Four Cabal Legionaries, two Eliksni Splicers, and a Praxic Sunsinger drop in behind Siegfried and deactivate their cloaks. The Splicers get to work establishing a connection with the automaton while the Legionaries make a perimeter at their back. Siegfried stands with them. The Warlock does not take their eyes from the automaton. "Splice… formed." One of the Eliksni turns to the Warlock and nods. The Warlock steps forward— "Thieves skulking through my Leviathan!" The automaton bellows with Calus's voice and forcibly bats away a Splicer with a metallic hand. They crash into the adjacent wall and crumple into unconsciousness. The second Splicer leaps back and takes cover behind a Legionary as the Praxic Warlock unleashes a volley of celestial fire into the construct's face. In response, a steely fist bursts through the fire-smoke and crushes the Warlock into the floor. Siegfried turns toward the Legionaries and shouts, "Contact!" The Cabal open up with slug rifles; munitions clang against the thick metal. The remaining Splicer aims for the construct's exposed machinery with their Arc pistol. Siegfried rushes forward, sliding to meet the automaton head on. He ignites in Solar flame and shoulder charges the construct into the chamber wall. He rolls under a retaliating fist and grabs the automaton's chassis, wrestling to spin its back to his fireteam. The Sunsinger gasps, alive again. They grab the unconscious Eliksni and take a position amid the Legionaries, shouting, "CONCENTRATE FIRE!" With one swift motion, the Praxic Warlock combusts brilliantly with Solar Radiance that emboldens the firing line of Cabal shooters and fills the Splicer's heart with courage. Heated slugs puncture and the Arc pistol finds its mark, shorting out one of the automaton's exposed knees. Slug rifles shred the construct's face as it crashes to the ground and frenetically crawls toward them, tearing metal from the floor with each scraping motion. The Titan raises a hand, and in a burst of fiery might, summons a Devastator's maul. He brings the maul down into the automaton's back, demolishing it and sending molten shrapnel skidding across the floor. Siegfried looks to the Sunsinger, then the rest of the fireteam. "Contact down… let's keep going."