Nine: Life as We Know It

The Forerunner capital of Maethrillian was magnificent, the epitome of all their race had ever created and accomplished. It was technologically beautiful beyond the Ark, beyond even the terrifying beauty of a Halo firing. It seemed far removed from the chaos that raged around it at the edges of the ecumene, perfect and orderly – 'all in ard.'

The Spire gleamed in the light put off by the star the artificial planet orbited. It was the center for the Forerunners' religion, the reverence of the Guardians of the Tower. Though not worshipped the same way Gods and gods were on Erde-Tyrene, Epheria and Selenica were still presented with tokens and offerings by pilgrims seeking enlightenment and wisdom beyond what their society could provide. John hated the very sight of it, a monument to the people who dragged him from his home universe, who made him a man trapped in the body of a monster. He wanted to raze it to the ground. The Spartan clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to do just that. His instincts delighted in the potential for destruction and glutted themselves on imaginary bloodshed in their cage.

He contacted Bornstellar and his ancilla directly. "We are approaching the Capital," he said in the young Forerunner's ear, turning away from the view, "We have been instructed to deliver you to-"

A slender, silver ribbon arched over their view of the planet as the fleet moved closer. Then another appeared, and then another. John called for Fenix to fire the side thrusters to change their angle of approach, and watched in swiftly mounting silent horror. What he originally believed to be orbital arches resolved themselves into a line of perfect circlets in space.

'No. No no no no no…'

'Halos?! Halos here?!'

'Even the Master Builder forbade such a thing!'

'The vision-'

'-thought we warned them against-'

John stood silent and still on the bridge of the Storm, staring in shock, awe, terror (and how was he ever going to be a true SPARTAN again if he kept feeling things like that). He had not been this close to one fully functional Halo since before he became a Gravemind, much less eleven. All of them were perfectly lined up in downstar orbits – Mendicant Bias had the twelfth – he is coming here, full complement of rings in the vision-

Reactionary fear and :preservation-of-self: surged forward. It was only his incredible self-control that enabled the Spartan to halt himself before he gave the order to retreat to the greater Ark, consequences be damned. Teeth clenched and muscles flexed under his armor as he warred with himself, eyes following the deceptively delicate arcs of the Array. [The moment Mendicant Bias shows himself, we are gone,] he commanded finally, [We'll save who we can, but we are our first priority.]

'Yes, Commander.'

"-tan? Spartan?"

"My apologies, Bornstellar," he said, forcing his voice into calm, "My attention was pulled elsewhere. We have been instructed to deliver you to a conciliar residence, where you may rest and take more substantial nourishment before the trial."

"What troubles you?"

[As perceptive about our moods as his mentor.] "You remember what we discussed about the Halos being gathered for decommissioning?" When he sensed the Forerunner's affirmation, he stated flatly, "This is the parking star that the rings have been ordered to."

There was a sharp inhalation from the other end of the line.

"You see why we are… concerned."

"Indeed." There were unmistakable traces of the Didact's imprint in his voice when he spoke. "Why are they here? Surely the High Council knows what they can do? Wouldn't another star have been more suitable?"

"They do." Etra brought up the records for him. "It seems like they are intending to collect Mendicant Bias' rogue Halo and hope to prevent the rest from following in his footsteps by keeping an exceedingly close eye on them." The vision flashed through his mind once more – five Halos preparing to fire on the Capital – his flesh shivered and contorted around him as if it was preparing to defend him from assault. "It's too late."

'The Capital's fate is sealed.'

'Countless generations – lost!'

'All of our knowledge, our history – is there nothing we can do?'

[If we fire on them, the Installations will defend themselves,] the Spartan said, [And we don't know which ones will turn against us. And we'd have to explain ourselves before the Mantle Court. You all know as well as I that prophetic visions, however accurate, are not a sound defense under Forerunner law.] He saw the first-form off from one of the docking bays on the flagship, even as they began preparing for emergency evac.

'Oh, aye,' Zenzeno, another Gultanr, snorted, 'They'll believe in temporal adjustment for Slipspace travel and telepathy, but they will not accept future sight by way of quantum mechanics in a court of law.'

'Hey, now…'

[No fighting,] John stated, [Forerunners have software capable of picking out the most likely possible outcomes for a given event, and like the Gultanr, it gets more inaccurate the further out you go. Is it so strange to believe that a biological being could do the same?]

'It's simple mathematics based on the Big Bang Entanglement and Quantum Experimentation Observation Models – oh. I see your point.'

'The what now?'

[Big Bang Entanglement and Quantum Experimentation Observation Models. The first is basically a theory that states before the Big Bang, all of the universe was a single point in – well, space that wasn't space as we know it. Therefore, in quantum mechanics, everything in the universe is "entangled" on some level. Theoretically, you could predict the actions of one thing based on something else entirely, or even change it on some level. The second is actually a proven concept – at least in the UNSC. Experiments on a quantum level will have different results if they are observed, compared to if the data is simply recorded and examined later. The predictive software is based off that.] John got the impression that everyone was staring at him with disbelieving looks on their faces. [What? I was bored. A few ancilla got me some pads out of the Domain for a bit of light reading. Before it, you know, crashed.]

'That is "light"?!'

Lautrec took over explaining from there, with some helpful input from a handful of Builders. 'The Commander is correct – those are the two core principles that the software operates off of, but there is also the theory that the observation or prediction of future events makes the most likely possibilities that much more difficult to avoid.

'For example, let's say that it's your first time in a certain city – erm, the human city "NYC" – and you're trying to avoid to "Times Square" for the "New Year's Ball Drop." You don't know the streets very well, so there are any number of routes you could take to get there accidentally, even when you're trying to avoid it because of the crowds, and any number of ways you could actually enter the Square. The way you inadvertently take determines what you see and in what order you see it once you get there. Same concept.'

'So do we do that?' Zenzeno asked as he and L'Toress transferred a cargo module of infection pods from one gondola to another within the ship, 'Detect the entanglements?'

'That's the way the software works.' Elenasto took over for Lautrec. 'With your people, it's probably something more akin a spider's web – you detect the vibrations of the future through Time's web as you advance along it.'

'I see…'

They were all futilely trying to disconnect, distance themselves from the massive loss of life that they could all :feel: growing closer with every passing moment. Some of the Infected were ill. John himself had developed a splitting migraine that was, at most, numbed by the painkillers his armor provided.

And below them, the supreme Mantle Court plodded on with the swearing in of its councilors and ancilla, unaware of its own impending demise.

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The moment Mendicant Bias' rogue Halo appeared in-system, the fleet fired all guns at it, with the only exceptions being the Blast and Aura Falls. Those could not be safely discharged so close to the Capital, though they would have gotten the job done in one hit.

The rampant ancilla seemed to have expected an immediate assault, not necessarily from them but from someone. His Sentinels were already swarming about over the ring, and moved to absorb the attacks. Most of the damage done was superficial at best, and what little that wasn't, was not enough to halt the Halo's progress. It moved through the thin haze of debris, the pale clouds of splintered metal and earth billowing out behind it like a train – or a funerary veil.

Their instincts were screaming at them to flee with their tails between their legs – he who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day – but John pushed it aside for the moment. [Bornstellar!] he shouted over the chaos running rampant through their minds, [Someone raise me Bornstellar! If the Ur-Didact really is gone, he's all we've got left! I'm not leaving him here to die!]

'Hailing…'

[Thanks, Úvë,] he said, [FireRain, get out of here. Without weapons, you're a sitting duck.]

'You don't need to tell us twice.' That was Areana, the head of the fleet's Lifeworkers. They, along with the Mavalt and a handful of Lituni, were responsible for the health of the personnel, as well as the resources they needed. (In reality, everyone kept track of everything, but it made outsiders feel better to think that the elderly Lifeworker monitored how much food they could afford to dole out before it became absolutely necessary to restock or raise production, rather than doing inventory of the fleet's weapons, from ceremonial hand blades to the Blast and Aura Falls.)

The Darkest Hour provided cover fire while the massive supply ship jumped to Slipspace. The Fleet of Shadows, at least, had implemented something like the Cole Protocol, requiring any transition into Slipspace to be a jump away from Forerunner installations before they could reroute to their real intended destination. The FireRain jumped in the general direction of "dead space," the emptiness beyond the edge of the galaxy, before changing trajectory and aiming for the Ark.

'Bornstellar is on the move, Commander,' Astar piped up, 'It seems that he encountered a shard of Mendicant Bias inside the Capital, but the Didact's imprint was able to open up an escape route.' She brought up a map of the relevant area and highlighted the path he was taking.

[Have a transport ready to pick him up.]

'Already on its way.'

[Good work,] he told her, then turned to the others, [Status?]

'The Librarian's portal has just opened,' Fenix stated. A second panel materialized in front of John with security footage showing the Slipspace gate edged in threads of hard light. 'A fortress-class warship is preparing to decelerate out of it.'

[Head towards it,] John commanded, [Pick up any non-contaminated transports leaving the Capital without diverting from that course, and slow to one quarter speed to give them time to reach us.]

'The Sentinels?'

[Destroy any belonging to the rogue Halos,] he said, even as the rings began to separate into two distinct groups, [Leave the others alone.]

Astar hailed for attention. 'Bornstellar is away,' she confirmed, 'I'm coordinating with his ancilla to bring him to us. He has six councilors and a handful of Warrior-Servants with him.'

'So few…'

[More like so many,] the Spartan said, though his tone was gentle in acknowledgement of grief, [Only myself and five others escaped from Installation Zero-Four with our lives. And that was without the Flood having a Contender-class ancilla on its side.] If anyone noticed that he included Cortana in that count, they didn't comment on it.

In minutes, several Falco-class transports had docked with the Storm, including Bornstellar's, leaving the Infected free to split. Just in time, too – four of the five rogue Halos had formed up around the Capital, scant moments away from firing. The reactors redlined, engines firing at almost twice recommended full speed toward the Librarian's portal. They jumped-

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The Control Room of the Ark was quiet and still. Even the faint hum of its systems dissipated into greater silence. It seemed to ring in the ears of the lone occupants of the room.

John sat with his back to the control panel, forearms resting on his knees, heels braced against the step below him. The Didact himself was on the bottom level, at the foot of the magnificent rose window. Both warriors were looking out over the Foundry, bathed in its bloody gold light, painted in the colors of a war dawn. They were observing the ships in geocentric orbit above the Ark. Most were warships. All were packed to the brim with evacuees, survivors from every race the ecumene had ever encountered. Even the Fleet of Shadows was full, mostly with Gultanr. No one cared about "planetary purity" at this point.

At last, the Promethean spoke, eyes still on the Foundry. "There is no peace left," he said, shoulders sagging as the weight of all his years came down upon him at once. Doubtless, his ancilla had delivered the final totals of survivors, as well as an estimate of the number of lost. "No place where the parasite cannot reach.-"

now the gate has been unlatched, headstones pushed aside – corpses shift and offer room, a fate you must abide

"-You both were right about it all."

"It's too late, Didact!" John shouted at the Warrior-Servant, naked despair on his face, "It's too late. The High Council let the Flood spread too far in your absence. They buried their heads in the sand and convinced themselves that there was no danger because they couldn't see it."

"Let us hope the final measure is not too late." Step by step, the Warrior-Servant trudged up to the control panel, passing the Spartan as he went. For a moment, his hand hesitated over the golden activation switch, made as if to withdraw and change his mind, go down in a blaze of glory. Then, with a heavy sigh, he pressed down. "It is done," he announced, more to himself than to his companion in the chamber or the multitude listening through his ears, "By my hands. The pyrrhic solution is ignited. All I have left is the quiet of space to lull me to sleep." He tilted his head back, closed his eyes. In the barest whisper, to the soon-to-be ghost of his wife, "I will dream of you."

All around them, machinery never before used was coming online with soft hums and running systems checks. One by one, the holograms of the Halo rings in the chamber began to glow brighter as their real-world counterparts responded to the Ark's command.

"I feel no peril."

The primary supraluminal communications array received its instructions and broadcast the authorizations for the Halos to begin the final stages of their firing sequences.

John felt something wet on his face. He touched his cheek – his fingers came away dry – then his lips. This time the appendages were wet with red blood. He snapped his helmet back on to prevent the fluid from dissolving into spores and contaminating the greater Ark, modifying the shields around his hand to do the same.

"No pain," the Didact continued, unaware, "No remorse. Is that normal?"

Two hundred and fifty thousand light-years away, the Halo Array received final authorization. The energy at the center of rings built and built, then changed color from gold to blue. In an instant, they unleashed a wave of pure light that washed over the whole of the Milky Way.

And with it, every life in the galaxy was snuffed out, like a candle by the wind. When they received confirmation of the firing and the subsequent "success," the Didact sank to his knees and rested his forehead against the display.

in this hour of victory, we taste only defeat

Over thirteen billion years' worth of history and biological diversity – gone in barely an eye blink. The Librarian had had ten thousand years to index every species she possibly could get access to, but even the great Lifeshaper and her assistants could not scour the galaxy with a fine-toothed comb.

And now those species that were missed were gone for good.

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A/N: Thus ends the Forerunner era. Finally. Until Silentium comes out. Up next is a brief interlude in which the Spartans get used to working alongside the Infected, and then it's on to the years on Earth. Review if there's anything in particular you want to read about.