Ten: Quarantine

"So – erm, Ferial? – joined you after that?"

"Indeed she did." John gave the slightest roll of his eyes when the former Primas Uperbia gave a sweeping, sarcastic bow. "She took advantage of the Great Cataclysm and restructured the government of the Gultanr-the few who lived, at least. Most of them committed planet-wide suicide before the Flood arrived in the Milky Way."

A few of the Spartans flinched.

"So what happened to their bodies?" Halsey asked softly, "Were they all buried?"

"In a way, yes." The rogue tapped a finger against his thigh plate. "Everyone who chose that path gathered on Corasetti l. After they were all dead, we… we glassed the planet at their request. "He ignored the tensing of the other warriors, the soft gasps. "We were reluctant to completely glass it is so they kept to their primary population centers with the exception of their capital, Oirë Cálë, 'Eternal Light.' It now serves as their mausoleum."

"You couldn't have let them decay naturally?"

"No one wanted to risk their ability falling into the hands-tentacles of the Gravemind." His gaze was distant. "Could you imagine it- an enemy Gravemind with the power to predict the future? The Forerunner High Council was on the verge of voting for Composition when the Gultanr chose their own pyrrhic solu-" His head snapped around, ears pricked to listen to something they could not hear.

"What is it?" William-043 moved a little closer to their rogue brother. A handful of Spartans had gone for their weapons when he had reacted so suddenly. He was more like them than many of them had thought he would be; they had been instantly able to recognize the alertness for combat readiness.

"Quarantine has been broken." John was on his feet, heading for the edge of the base." There's a confirmed Flood presence on the Shield World Requiem."

"Shield World?"

"Requiem?"

"After the firing of the Halos, the Didact once again entered a Cryptum." A transport broke away from the swarm around the Fleet of Shadows. "Requiem is where his Cryptum was stored. The Flood won't actually be able to infect him, but the Shield World also houses several capital-class warships and the Didact's own fortress-class destroyer, the Mantle's Approach."

"Oh dear."

"Quite right." The officer chose to forgo the gate a hundred meters away in favor of vaulting over the fence that ran around the perimeter. The transport had settled down on the dusty plain beyond the base.

"It will be good for a future alliance if this is a joint venture, Supreme Commander," Halsey said through the chain links, fitting her tablet into the crook of her arm.

John turned to give her a look. "Are you suggesting that I once again go gallivanting across the galaxy with the other Spartans in tow?"

"The repairs to the Forward Unto Dawn have been completed," said the doctor, "and the Infinity was just put into service. It doesn't have to be just them."

The rogue Spartan blinked at her, unimpressed. "Are you suggesting that I once again go gallivanting across the galaxy with a not-insignificant portion of your fighting force in tow?"

"Perhaps we should take this up with Lord Hood," Fred interceded.

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"I think it's a great idea. "

For a second, the look on the Commander's face said "Are you fucking serious?" Then he composed himself. "Lord Hood, the reason I suggested the Spartans come to the Ark was because neither the Sangheili nor myself could directly access the systems of the Cartographer or the Firing Center. The Librarian had me locked out at my own request, in case I ever went rogue."

"Is the Didact's Cryptum the same way?" the Fleet Admiral asked, lacing his fingers together and resting his elbows on his desk. The hybrid and his entourage had managed to catch him planeside.

"No," he said, "It opens from the inside. There is an interface that I or any one of my crew could use to communicate with him, wake him up to get him to start the unlocking sequence. It just needs someone on the outside to start the process." He shifted slightly. "I knew, in general, what was going to happen on the Ark. With this, we're essentially flying in blind, to territory where the Flood has already established foothold."

"…So you're worried about us."

John pursed his lips, then admitted, "Perhaps just a little."

'Ha! "Just a little," my ass!'

[Quiet.]

"Hell-oooo! We are still here, you know!"

It was Epheria and Selenica, come back among them. The Guardians of the Tower had disappeared sometime between the Spartans' escape from the Ark and their arrival on Earth via the express lane, no doubt to keep their Shards from overblown contact with ONI spooks. Thought they had reappeared briefly at the memorial service for the fallen outside of Voi, they had not stayed for long, barely long enough to say hello and pay their respects.

Now the two Shards housing the Guardians were about four times their previous sizes, though they were still made of the same multicolored, multifaceted material as before. Epheria crossed her arms with a sound like tinkling crystal.

"Where were you two?" John asked, a thoughtful frown creasing his forehead.

"Out gathering Shards." The dark-haired Guardian did a little pirouette. "There were only a few we could reach without actively revealing ourselves, so we're still pretty small." Selenica settled for turning in a circle rather than mimicking the dramatic actions of her co-Guardian. "And we're not going to let any of you die until we retake the Tower."

"And then we're free to drop dead?"

"Ain't nobody got time for that!"

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"I can't believe Lord Hood stationed you all on the Dawn and the Infinity, and sent them with us."

"And how is having the galaxy's foremost frontline fighters coming to the Didact's aid a bad idea?"

"You mean aside from the fact that he still hates humans?" John rubbed a temple. "He was willing to work with me because I had information he needed, and there was only one of me. I don't know what he'll do when a veritable army of humans and other assorted aliens show up on his doorstep."

Upon learning what was going on from the aforementioned Fleet Admiral, the Arbiter had elected to send the Shadow of Intent to join their rescue party. Before they had returned to Earth, the Infected Forerunners had had words with the population of Sangheilios, and though still reluctant to accept that their gods were as mortal and physical as they themselves were, even the loyalists had finally agreed to maintain at least a ceasefire with humanity. There were still a few hardliners who resisted the change, but for the most part, they were ostracized.

"So," Serin asked at some Watchers assembled their new Forerunner Class Thirty-Eight armor around them, then layered on the combat wrap, "are you telling us that if he attacks us, we're on our own because you won't choose between us?"

"No," the hybrid said immediately as he moved to test Cortana's armor a short distance away, "If it ever comes to that, I will always choose you over him. I am simply unsure how many lives it would cost to take him down – or if I'm willing to pay that price." Nodding to indicate that he was finished, Cortana sidled out of the way to allow the Spartan to test Fred's armor. She still stayed close, thought. [I know this is going to hurt you,] he projected to her over a COM channel, [and make you angry, but I need to know if you need help controlling your emotions during this mission. – Please, be honest with me.]

The AI had scowled imperiously and was about to snarl at him that she was fine when she realized that he was trying to gauge her reaction, see if he needed to force her to let him help. All of her anger drained away, leaving only fear over her loss of control behind. 'Why am I still like this?' she asked him, reluctantly letting him into her coding so he could implement a few strings that would dull any strong negative emotion, 'I thought you all fixed me.'

[Spark,] said John, taking her hand, [We weren't able to stop you from going rampant. What we were able to do was stop it from killing you – right now, at least. As time goes on, there might be more errors, but so long as someone finds them in time, you'll be fine.]

The rogue Spartan's lines of code felt slippery and organic inside her matrices, like a dewy spider web overlaying her thoughts. It did nothing to inhibit her – yet. She smiled up at him. When he returned the smile, she could see the same traces of bitter sadness in his eyes. 'Why are you working so hard to save me?' she whispered, 'I'm broken.'

[If you're broken, then I guess I'll have to help you pick up the pieces.] He sensed the Infected withdrawing to give them a moment of relative privacy. [Astar, Hrívë, Úvë, Etra, Fenix – they're all rampant, too. Have been for a while now, but because we all have treated them as real people, and with respect, they haven't turned into Spark.]

'Don't let me become like him.' Cortana leaned against his chest, fingers curling into some of the articulation points on his armor.

[I won't.] John gave her a gentle squeeze, mindful of his amplified strength. [I promise. And you know me. When I make a promise…]

The AI smiled and let her eyes close. 'You keep it.'

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The Flood had apparently hijacked a Covenant ship yet again and slipped away from the Ark once the Infected had revealed themselves and charged into battle en masse alongside the Spartans. The Installation's Sentinels had harried it all the way to Requiem, taking out the ship's engines and many of its weapons systems. The parasite had put up an admirable fight before the ship had crashed into Requiem's outer shell, punching a hole in it and letting it get inside.

And everything had gone downhill from there.

"So how are we getting inside?" Rear Admiral Jacob Keyes asked, chewing on the end of his pipe, "I don't think we want to take the same route as the Flood."

"There's a gate, about an eighth-turn around the planet from the crash site," the Infected Spartan told the commanders of the other ships, "but we won't be taking that route. The Storm will open up a pinpoint Slipspace portal to these coordinates. We'll retrieve the Didact first, then worry about the Flood."

"But these are inside the planet, close to the core!"

"Requiem may look solid," he explained, signaling Hrívë to send the relevant data to Keyes, his daughter on the Dawn, and Shipmaster 'Vadum, "but it's actually an outer shell with about five miles of buffer space before the inner shell begins. Both are only about as thick as a Halo ring. Inside that inner shell is the Didact's Cryptum, surrounded by a stay field. We'll need to shut down the two beams generating the stay field before we can access the Cryptum, and no, James, it can never be just that simple. The good news is that we've taken control of Requiem's internal defense systems, so there shouldn't be anything in our way. Operative word being 'shouldn't.'"

"In theory, everything works," Miranda said.

"Exactly," John nodded to her, "so let's be ready for anything. What's say we split up to cut down on time? Each of you takes one pylon, and the Fleet will split up and cover you?"

"This does not require the presence of Reclaimers?" asked Rtas, in Standard for the benefit of the uninfected humans.

"Not this part, no," he told the Sangheili, "just someone strong. The beam pylons have a manual override. It's when we get up to the Cryptum that things get a little tricky about DNA."

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The transition into Requiem's core went smoothly – too smoothly for the Chief to be comfortable. The Infected had taken control of the local Promethean Knights and Crawlers, and directed them to focus exclusively on the enemy Flood. Thought the digital beings themselves could not be overtaken, there was plenty of wildlife on the planet for the parasite to feast on.

The beam pylons were shut down one right after the other. Now that the interference was gone, the two groups were able to portal to the broadcast relay and meet up near the interface. "Stay sharp," John warned, laying his hands on the contacts, "If there's one thing we know by now, it's to never underestimate the Flood."

And then he was in. [Didact-cáno.]

'Spartan,' was the slightly sleepy reply, 'What news?'

[Requiem is under attack by the enemy Flood, sir. The parasite escaped from the Ark and crash-landed here.] He shunted the data through the interfaces. [A strike team of humans, Sangheili, and Infected are here to help neutralize the threat.]

'Humans.'

[Mostly Spartans, cáno. Captain Keyes – now Rear Admiral – and his daughter are here, and a complement of Marines and ODSTs.]

The Didact grumbled unhappily but yielded. 'Beggars cannot be choosers,' he grunted, 'I shall begin the release sequence.'

John opened his eyes. "Back up!" he commanded, "The Cryptum's been sealed for seventy-five thousand years. The breaching of the seal is going to be explosive." The Infected were already scattering. The Spartans and the Sangheili followed them, taking cover behind Forerunner structures in the area.

It was just as he said. Even behind cover, the shockwave knocked them off their feet and sent them skidding back several meters. The Infected had crouched down on one knee, shoulders hunched inward with their forearms up to protect their heads. The Forerunner structures around them rattled.

Then the allied Flood were back up on the main pathway fast as lightning, weapons in their hands but lax, not aiming for the massive spherical Cryptum. The plates on the sphere began retracting upward, exposing the seemingly molten inner core. More plates slid up and away, allowing a slowly rotating circular platform to slide out of it.

One the platform was level with the path and the contacts, the pillars both protecting and imprisoning the Didact flared and opened like a blossoming flower, enabling him to rise. Like the Infected's, the plates of his combat wrap glided up and attached themselves to their proper places on his personal armor. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms and legs as they did so, making sure that it didn't pinch. Then he turned to face them.

None of the humans were quite sure what they expected. Hearing that the Forerunners were thought to be a brother race made them believe that they would look something like them. Seeing the similarity yet diversity amongst the Fleet of Shadows' Forerunners reinforced that belief, but nothing could have prepared them for the Didact.

He wasn't exactly ugly, but he wasn't handsome either. Save for a mohawk-like patch of short brown hair on the top and back of his head, he was bare of any facial hair. His eyes were glowing orange, and in the poor lighting, the strange "swellings" on the sides of his head appeared to be similar in color. Two small tusks – his canine teeth – extended slightly over his bottom lip.

His eyes roved their ranks. "/Such a display of force, Commander,/" he said, the translators in their armor whispering his words to the Spartans and Sangheili, "/One would think you didn't trust me./"

"/As you worry for your shield-brothers, so I worry for mine,/" John said, bowing slightly to the Promethean commander, "/The Mantle's Approach has been cut off by the Flood. Your Knights await your command./"

"/The Flood is truly here then./" The Didact stepped off the floating platform and onto the path.

"/It is,/" the Spartan confirmed, "/When its vessel crashed, it punched a hole in Requiem's outer shell, small enough to be environmentally inconsequential, but large enough for it to get inside./" He turned his head just enough to meet Cortana's eyes. She tapped into the planet's systems, and generated a hologram of the shield world, marking the Flood's point of entry and present spread on the inner surface. "/If we move now, it can still be contained without necessitating a complete planetary overhaul./"

"/Agreed./"

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The Flood had taken the dock where the Mantle's Approach was stationed, locked inside the inner shell of Requiem. It was not possible to glass the area without fusing the locks shut for good. They could cut the ship out later, but that would take time. There was also the possibility of the extreme heat warping the ship permanently.

"We just can't win, can we?"

"Apparently not."

"That was a rhetorical question, Chris." John shook his head. "Looks like we're going to ground."

"We'll get you down there," informed Selenica, "You just worry about what weapons you're going to take with you, and how you plan on getting the Flood off the Mantle's Approach."

Gramlek escorted the Spartans and Sangheili to the armory. The Chief turned to Cortana. "Are you coming with us?" he asked her, brushing a few strands of synthetic hair out of her eyes.

She shook her head. "I'm still not stable," she said, saddened. It hurt her pride to admit as much. "I might compromise you."

"Then I have another mission I want you to oversee, with Hrívë. It's just as important." He briefed her on what he needed and turned command of the MoonBlade over to her. Then he went planetside with the others.

"Where is your ship going, Spartan?"

"The Ark, to see if any more ships escaped. That way we can track them down."

The Didact accepted that answer and turned away to lift his weapons. He was almost comically larger compared to them, easily a head and shoulders taller than even the largest Sangheili.

A few of the Spartans looked over at their shield-brother. He drew a sharp slash across his throat to warn them not to talk about it, as the ship jumped into Slipspace high overhead. They returned to their mission, falling in behind the massive Promethean and letting him lead them out onto the battlefield.

Fighters rushed overhead, carpet-bombing the largest knots of enemy Flood in front of them. The Chief was able to confirm the presence of a proto-Gravemind as they ran towards the space dock. It felt like a vague pressure on his mind, not as distinct as the other Gravemind, but still noticeable when he was paying attention to it. They didn't worry about its combat forms getting in behind them; they were all going to secure the ship and get it off the ground, hold it long enough for the Didact to maneuver his Cryptum inside, then warp back onto their respective ships. The capital-class warships were not their priority at the moment; they were halfway around the inner shell, untouched.

In theory, everything works. In reality, everything goes to hell in a handbasket. The proto-Gravemind had (barely) managed to seize control of the local defense turrets. The automated guns forced them all to split up down separate halls in the ship, and in mixed groups. Fortunately, the ancilla of the Fleet of Shadows were able to keep the COM channels open. "Okay everyone," said Astar over their collective local channels, "Find a spot to hole up for a few minutes so we can map out your locations."

John, who was with the Didact, half of Blue Team, and three Sangheili, cycled another round into his scattershot. They were backed up into a passage with a dead end, which solved the problem of finding a location that was easily defensible. Unfortunately, they were beset upon by wave after wave of angry parasitic life forms. His choice of main weapons proved to be invaluable there, disintegrating the combat forms so they could not be reinfected by the multitude of "Flood spiders" scurrying about. Fred had taken up a similar weapon once he saw what it could do, as had a Sangheili by the name of Ruka 'Vadum, a sibling of Rtas. The three of them were down on one knee in front, blasting away at the Flood. The Didact and the other Spartans and Sangheili were firing over them with suppressors and light rifles, though the Promethean commander had a concealed incineration cannon for emergencies.

Flood form after Flood form fell to their combined might, though it got quite hairy when they ran low on ammo, which happened several times – more times than any of them were comfortable with. At last, the waves abated. [Astar.]

A map appeared on their HUDs, even the Sangheili's. It showed the layout of the Mantle's Approach, with indicators showing the locations of all the allied fighters. Theirs was green, the others were blue. The indicators were scattered all over the upper half of the ship, primarily around the edges. Then a red line traced out their shortest route to the control center. [Thanks.] "Didact, this is your ship; you know it best. Should we all follow this route as a group, or split up?"

The Spartan could :feel: the Forerunner weighing his options. Split up and hope that even if one group gets detained, the other makes it? Or stick together and use superior firepower to overcome obstacles? The Promethean answered, "We'll stay together unless it becomes more expedient to split up."

A few Knights portaled to their position as they prepared to move out. They were from the Storm, carrying additional ammunition for the strike teams. Their insect like characteristics brought the Yam'ee, the Drones, to mind, making the Spartans flinch and the Sangheili tilt their heads as they examined the digital beings.

The Forerunner led the way to the command center, gunning down every Flood form foolish enough to cross his path. The Spartans and Sangheili could see why he had risen to the top of his rate and earned the respect of the Chief – he was efficient as a leader and as a warrior. Their team – designated "Alpha Team" by Etra, who had taken over for Astar – was the first to reach the command center-

-where the proto-Gravemind had taken up residence. Its guard of combat forms leapt at them, hissing and screeching at pitches that could have shattered glass. The team scattered, Fred lobbing a frag grenade into the Flood's midst. Half of them turned into flying alien animal body parts. The other half charged them again, slashing at their shields with bone claws.

The Chief caught one such slash on his shielded forearm. He slammed his opposite foot down on the former great cat's other paw, making it scream in pain and try to withdraw. Then he drew his combat knife. The infection pod in its chest yielded to the hard light edge with ease, sending Flood guts gushing over his hand. He threw the limp corpse away, crushing another smaller combat form under its weight.

The Spartan shook the fluids from his arm, looking around for more targets. The Sangheili had gone toe-to-toe with the infected equivalent of a liger and torn it apart. They were now doing the same to another one, roaring, their plasma swords cleaving through flesh and bone with no resistance whatsoever. His Spartan brothers had finished off the other combat forms and had taken up squishing or shooting the infection pods as they swarmed through the room. The Didact was also done with his opponents. Now he stood before the Gravemind, examining it behind his visor. The Promethean turned to look at him when he called his name, standing back out of the way when John gestured. The Spartan darted forward, jammed two pulse grenades into the Flood's flesh, and then backpedaled as fast as he could. It got him out of the blast range in time, but when the bunching of corpses exploded from the inside, it covered him in a thick layer of Flood guts and slime. "Not. A word."

The Didact turned his head away. He was notorious among the Forerunners for not having his emotions on display. John resisted the urge to give him a good kick. Instead, he turned to the main displays. [Anything?]

'We have locked the ship down, Commander,' Etra assessed, 'Rudimentary at best, but it's taking everything we've got just to keep what's left of the Gravemind contained inside the ship, the slippery bastard. Looks like you're going to have to do the heavy lifting.'

"Commander?"

John's eyes opened, only then realizing that he had tensed up. There was a reason why he never "dove in" in a combat zone. The other Spartans had noticed his concern – the equivalent of a total flip out for one of them – and gathered around him, mirroring his worry. He didn't need to see their faces to know that – alternate universe or no, they were his family, and he knew them as well as he knew himself. "The enemy's still in the system," he said, "I'm going to have to stop him the hard way. I need complete cover to do so."

Fred took command from there. The Spartans fanned out across the room, covering every entrance. With the Didact personally guarding him and the other Spartans watching his back, the Commander stepped up to one of the control panels, laying one hand on an input sensor and the other on an output.

He was instantly swamped by information. His mind rendered it as a flashing, angry sea of Forerunner symbols. His shields went up. His Infected helped him to filter the information, the "sea"-level lowering until the last of it trickled away.

The Spartan was "standing" on a "street" made of glowing green Forerunner symbols, like in The Matrix. The buildings around him were also made of the same green data streams, representing the specialized systems in the Approach. The Chief lifted his hands, a nasty virus in the form of a suppressor appearing in his grasp. Together, he and his Infected began systematically clearing out the "buildings" one by one, stripping down any "subroutines" the proto-Gravemind left behind. For one brief instant, John's instincts made a push to escape his control, appearing in the rendered programming of the Didact's ship. John grabbed it by its shoulders and slammed his armored knee into its gut, stunning it and making it choke. That was enough of a lapse for him to force it back into its cage, where it raged and screamed at him.

What little of the proto-Gravemind still existed fled before their advance, continuously changing the systems it was hiding in until they trapped it in navigation. John and a few of his top close-range fighters slipped in and sealed the system behind them. Each armed with a different virus for a weapon, they began to search the "room."

The room itself reminded the Spartan of the times when he and his followers had mapped out the Flood's advance on a three-dimensional hologram of the galaxy. All of the known solar systems were there, about the size of an average human's palm, with a navigational grid overlaying the whole thing. It was like he was a giant, walking through space.

A malformed tentacle lashed out of the darkness of the map room. A hard light combat knife – another virus – rendered itself in the Chief's hand. He pinned the tentacle down while Ursoen fired into the darkness toward the tentacle's point of origin. There was a squeal of pain, but the proto-Gravemind did not stop trying to free itself.

With the speed of a thought, the warriors drew their hard light swords and hacked the Gravemind apart.

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John opened his eyes to find that three hours had passed. The majority of the assault team had made it to the bridge. The rest were out scouring the ship with an army of Knights and Crawlers, eliminating the last of the Flood resistance onboard. The footholds it still had on the surface could be dealt with easily once the Approach was away. Cortana and Hrívë had returned, their mission a success, as the Promethean's ship lifted off at the Spartan's direction. As the gates closed behind the ship, the Fleet moved into position and began grid-glassing the infected areas. That was the only reason John had had his ships outfitted with "inferior" Covenant weapons – the directed plasma streams were very effective against localized Flood infestations.

The Didact and a contingent of awed Sangheili went to retrieve his Cryptum. John set the Approach into a geosynchronous orbit with easy access for the Forerunner, then bolted for the MoonBlade, locking down any information outlets that were not relayed through the Infected.

The ship had some new cargo.

The Spartan touched the side of one of the machines, eyelids drooping partway as he tuned in to the low hum of its systems, only now disturbed after a hundred thousand years of nothing. It felt happy to have companionship. He patted its side. [Don't let the Didact know we have them,] he commanded, voice quiet but brooking no argument, [Let him think the Librarian destroyed them.]

'Yes, sir.'

Cortana stepped up next to him. He smiled faintly at her, and pulled her into an embrace with his free arm.

And the Composers hummed away serenely before them. All of the Infected shuddered to think of what the Didact – or worse, ONI – would do now if they got ahold of even one of the ancient machines. They had to be kept away, far away from all of them, but they knew of no safer place than with them, where they would always be under guard.

'Spartan.'

[Didact.] The warrior immediately blocked out his knowledge of the Composers, pretending he was quieting the voices of his Infected so he could focus his complete attention on the Promethean.

'Has your veri brought news? The good kind, I trust.'

[Indeed she has.] He gave the AI a gentle squeeze. Cortana had gathered the necessary data from the Halo Array while Hrívë focused on extracting the Primary Composer from Installation Zero-Three, and the Secondary Composers from the Composer's Forge. [This ship was the only one to escape. Thank the Goddesses it crashed here, where we could detect it. Otherwise it would have been the Human- and Forerunner-Flood Wars all over again, and we would have been cosmically screwed.]

'I notice you seem more amiable toward our religion-that-is-not. What changed?'

[Well, you see, what happened was…]

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[…and then we detected the Flood and came here.]

'That certainly explains a lot.' John watched from a distance as the Approach opened up to admit the Didact's Cryptum. It was impossible to tell what exactly the Forerunner would do when he was in full control of his ship once more. He seemed to be tolerating the presence of the humans – for now. To protect against any potential attacks, the warrior had arranged for the Dawn, Infinity, and Shadow of Intent to do hard docks with the Fleet so that the warriors who had gone to ground could simply walk back onto their respective ships via bridges of hard light between the hangars. The much larger – and much more heavily shielded – Forerunner ships were serving as physical barriers between all of them and the Didact in case of emergency.

'Slipspace rupture detected in Requiem's airspace!'

[Assessment.]

'It's the Forerunners, sir! The ones who left – they've returned!'