They found Calogero in one of the Hangar's storage rooms, seated in a lotus position and surrounded by inert cargo loaders.

Basira and Hex exchanged glances. The two of them shuffled into the room and looked down at their fellow Warlock.

"Hey, Cal," Basira said gently. "What are you doing?"

"Through my Light I impose my will upon the universe," Calogero replied. "If I concentrate hard enough, I can reach out to the Traveler itself. It will whisper the underlying truth of existence directly into my brain, and I will sweep away the Black Fleet with a single well-aimed thought."

"Cal, are you crying?"

"No," he lied.

Hex elbowed Basira in the side and lowered her voice. "Be nice. Ikora revoked his Thanatonaut's license."

Basira sighed. "Okay, well, we're pooling our Glimmer to put down a bet for the Guardian Games this year. Are you in, Cal?"

"I gave my Glimmer to House Light," Cal said. "Currency isn't real. Light and Darkness are real."

"So are food and equipment." Basira paused. "…Cal, do you know how Glimmer works?"

"Don't worry about it," Hex said. "We'll offer Spider one of those old paintings you found. He loves junk like that. You know, art."

"How are we supposed to compete if Cal is busy going through… whatever this is?"

"I'm sure he's got his priorities in order." Hex set a hand on Basira's shoulder, urging patience. "Hey, Cal—what does the Traveler say about letting the Titans and Hunters win the Guardian Games this year?"

Calogero's eyes flew open. "The Traveler says to kick their asses."