Nine: Escalation
"And then she was destroyed?"
"Yes, sir."
"You're certain?"
The debriefing was just as painful as he'd expected it to be. He'd been standing before the Board of Review for over two hours, having his actions intimately examined by the officers of the Board. As he'd requested, Cortana had made their conversations about the Parallel and what he'd learned there into normal battlefield chatter or simply eliminated them entirely.
John hadn't adequately prepared himself to return to the UNSC's invasive probing and oversight so soon after his fiancée's death. Fortunately, Lord Hood interceded before he could say something he'd regret. "General Strauss, I fail to see the reason to press this point."
"Cortana is one of the UNSC's most valuable assets," the other officer answered," That she was adrift in space unprotected for four years-"
The Chief wasn't about to let that stand. "She was not unprotected." The Spartan resented the implication that she was, that he couldn't have woken in time to protect her.
"What of the Didact? Your helmet-cam footage indicates he was killed…" one of the other officers began.
"I saw him fall into a Slipspace fissure."
"But you did not see a corpse."
"No, sir, General Hogan," he replied, "The kill was not confirmed. His armor was undamaged. It's possible he could have survived."
"Well, that makes the New Phoenix story harder to sell," said Hogan.
"If it's something that could happen again, you mean," Strauss clarified.
"Yes. With no confirmed kill – well, stranger things have happened."
"Master Chief, your assessment?" Lord Hood requested.
John was silent a moment. How much could he tell them? How much should he tell them?
American but Amerishouldn't
"The Librarian's imprint indicates that there were originally a total of seven Composers," he said at last, "now six." He might have been infected by the Flood and operated independently for a hundred and ten thousand years, but that didn't mean he was going to leave them unprepared for another assault. "They were removed from the Didact's care after he abused their power. The one that was destroyed was the Primary Composer, but the others are capable of functioning without it. It simply had the greatest power and scale of Composition."
Two of the officers settled back in their chairs with low groans. Lord Hood rubbed a hand over his face, but General Hogan and Admiral Osman (former SPARTAN-019) leaned forward. "So you're saying you think this could happen again?" Hogan asked.
"It's a possibility, sir. As you said, stranger things have happened."
"Does the… imprint… give the locations of the other Composers?" Osman asked, "If possible, we need to secure them." She looked calm, rational, but John could sense her desire to have even one back under ONI's control, to give them dominance over human and alien invaders alike.
"No, ma'am," the Gravemind lied, "Only that the place they're stored is called the Composer's Forge. It's where the Prometheans are made from the people who've been Composed." It was a highly-classified location, but the Librarian had entrusted it to him. He had, in turn, sent it on to his Infected and told them to secure the Composers before they even though about coming to get him.
Nep'Thalia was currently in charge, and she was not happy about it but acknowledged the order and altered their course.
"A pity," said the ONI chief.
The officers continued to debate tactics before finally dismissing him. He used the opportunity to contact the Fleet once more. [Status?]
'All systems green, Commander. We're en-route to the Composer's Forge, but less than one Earth-standard hour ago, the ecumene reported an incursion on the surface.'
[The Ur-Didact?]
'Unknown, but likely. The Slipspace fissure opened up near Installation 03 to upload the people of New Phoenix into the Composer's Abyss. If he fell through and survived, it's where he would end up.' He sensed Nep'Thalia turn her attention away briefly. 'The Galactic Council has pushed through an emergency promotion for you so the Ur-Didact's supporters can't prosecute you when you kill him. Congratulations, Imperial Commander.'
The Spartan groaned softly. [And how is that supposed to help me?]
'There's a very obscure but watertight amendment to one of the ecumene's laws that dictates a superior officer is authorized to execute a subordinate if they have proved themselves to be a threat to the sanctity of the Mantle. It was put in place after the second Didact killed one of his lieutenants for doing target practice with a Fortress-class vessel and inhabited worlds. Given the state of New Phoenix, I believe the Ur-Didact qualifies.'
John sighed. [Acknowledged. Anything else?]
'The remote firing mechanism of the Greater Ark has been disabled, but the entire installation has been given over to us.'
[I was under the impression that it had been destroyed.]
'No, merely severely damaged. We completed its repairs around one thousand Earth years after the Great Cataclysm, but we were forced to replace the ore mine of the core after it was depleted. Also, we received a gift from Epheria and Xo'ar. It's – well, you have to see it to believe it.'
[A gift.]
'Yes, sir.'
[Uh-huh…]
'It's nothing bad, we promise.'
"Master Chief, do you have a moment?"
Lord Hood. [We'll talk more later.]
'Affirmative, sir.'
"Admiral Hood, sir," the Spartan acknowledged, "Of course."
"My apologies for the… lack of professionalism in the room back there," said the officer, jerking his thumb back toward the room where the rest of the top brass were still debating alternatives, "A lot of heads are spinning right now, and, well… Very few of our top brass seem to possess the skill of keeping their mouths shut until their brains have figured out what to say."
"Not my place to comment, sir."
The admiral chuckled. "I wish it were, John," he answered, "I wish it were." He waved for the Chief to follow him and continued, "You're home now. We could finally make an officer of you – you'd have admiral without much of an argument from anyone."
"No offense, sir, but 'the Admiral' doesn't have quite the same ring to it."
"Was that a joke, son?" The officer was surprised but pleased. "Didn't think you had it in you." He led the way into another briefing room. "Listen, we've got a problem. I'd appreciate it if you could advise a team."
"Of course." The Spartan already had his suspicions what it would be about, but he held his tongue and let the man explain.
"Ivanoff was established to study Gamma Halo," Hood said as he logged in to the system and brought up a variety of holograms, "There was a science team on the ground when Didact attacked Ivanoff yesterday. The team was escorted by Spartan Black, who reported the all-clear on the Halo."
"Black Team still operational?"
"Until an hour ago." The admiral initiated the playback of an audio file. "No images to go with the audio, but they describe assailants appearing from nowhere…"
"Prometheans."
"Sounds like."
"I should go with the team you're dispatching to Gamma Halo." 'Maybe I can lock the Didact out of the system.'
"You just got back. I'd prefer you take a moment to catch your breath."
John knew that, understood that the officer wanted to give him time to mourn for Cortana, but the universe didn't stop for anyone, not even grieving Spartans. His missed her badly, but he could compensate for her loss on the battlefield. "The Prometheans should be contained to Requiem," he responded, "If we're encountering them somewhere else, I'd like to see it firsthand."
Hood sighed but allowed it.
-------------------------------------------
The rest of Blue Team were waiting for him in the hangar, and greeted him as he approached. "I never thought we'd see you again," said Kelly with a hint of a smile. Fred and Linda were pleased as well, and shared her sentiment.
The Chief swiped a "Spartan smile" on his helmet, then said, "Admiral Hood asked that I act as an advisor for your mission."
"Just as an advisor?" Fred repeated, frowning, "You told the old man you're coming with, didn't you?"
"That a problem, lieutenant?" John raised an eyebrow behind his visor.
The other man grinned. "If you hadn't I'd have ordered you to come along myself."
The other members of Blue Team quickly recognized that there was something off about him, something more than the Librarian's modifications and Cortana's death. He didn't really make any special effort to hide it from them while they traveled to Installation Zero-Three, but neither did they make an attempt to address it.
"Gamma Halo science envoy respond," Kelly called over all open channels when they came in range in their Longsword. Ivanoff itself had been trying continuously, but they still had to cover all their bases. John listened over all bands as he guided their Longsword past the station. "I repeat, this is Spartan Blue calling Gamma Halo science envoy. Do you copy?" After another minute, she said, "Nothing, Chief. No response on any band."
"Keep trying, Kelly." The Gravemind tapped into the ring's systems and scanned for human lifeforms. The Halo confirmed that the science team had been there, studying the Composer's Abyss, but the Didact had crashed nearby. When he'd recovered from his fall, he'd woken up and killed them all.
He sighed softly. 'Should have tried to kill his mind,' he thought, 'Anything would be better than more death.' He guided the bomber in towards the ring. "I'll put us down near their last coordinates."
The four Spartans fanned out and began moving toward the science team's camp, sweeping the area with their weapons. Ever the eagle-eyed Spartan, Linda spotted something and called, "Chief."
"What is it?"
"Tracks." She dropped to one knee and spread her hand for a size comparison. "Is there wildlife on this ring?"
"There shouldn't be," he responded, moving closer, "Crawlers. At least that's what Cortana said they were called."
"Tracks come from the north, head south," she reported.
"The science team is south," the infected Spartan said, "We'll check there first." He took point and led the way through a short canyon. At the bottom of the wash was a cluster of tents and other facilities, all seeming deserted.
"Awful quiet down here," Fred murmured as they drew closer.
He was right. Nothing moved in the camp, save what was stirred by the hot, dry wind that swept down the canyon.
The warriors split into pairs, John with Kelly and Fred with Linda, and checked the camp. "Chief," Kelly called, "Corpses."
"Ivanoff science."
The bodies laid where they'd fallen, still lax, rigor mortis not yet set in. Their faces, though, were twisted with panic and fear, showing the state in which they had died.
"Blue One."
"Go ahead, Fred."
"John… I found them. I found Spartan Black."
More brothers- and sisters-in-arms dead, murdered by the Didact. John knelt down next to the bodies to retrieve their dog tags, answering Fred's question about the Crawlers' capabilities with a "No. This is something else."
The Gravemind led them back up out of the canyon, saying, "Kelly, send Ops a sitrep. Science and Black are dead, unknown assailant. We're investigating."
"On it."
"Everyone on me. Let's find the origin of the Crawler tracks and-" Something flickered over his visor, something in a familiar shade of blue, but it was gone just as fast as it had come. John blinked sharply, degaussing his HUD as he squeezed his eyes shut and reopened them. Then he tensed up, putting the flicker aside as his "anticipation" picked up on the approach of an enemy. The phantasmic image of a Promethean Knight appeared before him and slipped into a fighter's stance. "Incoming!"
He'd only detected one Knight, but a total of four materialized around them, one for each of the Spartans. "Weapons free!" the hybrid shouted, already firing on the insect-like machines.
One by one, the Knights broke apart under the Spartans' fire. When no others appeared to be forthcoming, Kelly called out the all-clear. The Chief let out a long breath and consciously slowed his heart rate, forced himself to calm down. "Linda, the Crawler tracks."
"This way." She took point, and led them to a depression at the head of the canyon. There was a Forerunner mounting platform at the bottom. "Looks like they came from down there," the sniper reported, "This is where the Composer was buried before Ivanoff dug it up."
'Embrace your inner white people in a horror movie and go check it out!'
[Settle down, Ferial.] But John hopped down into the void anyway, the other Spartans sliding down with him.
"Everything's perfectly smooth down here," said Kelly as she walked over to him, "Armor telemetry doesn't show anything – wait. I've got eyes on a tunnel, northwest side."
The Chief acknowledged her and signaled them all forward. He paused at the top of the stairs leading down into the tunnel, and lifted his new suppressor before descending one step at a time, the rest of Blue Team following close behind.
The Composer's Abyss was not a place he enjoyed visiting. In the Parallel, he'd entered it a whopping grand total of once and then refused to do so ever again. Psy-active Forerunners could detect the thoughts of other sentient biologicals, but as a (technically) technopathic Gravemind, John could sense the consciousnesses temporarily stored in the Abyss, awaiting processing. He could sense the fear and confusion turn to rage and hate as they were tortured into the Promethean mold, twisted and reprogrammed to the needs of the Forerunners.
Once in the Parallel. And now again, here, in the Origin.
It was even worse than the first time. The stored personalities cried out for justice, for him to save them, to stop the Forerunner machines from shattering their minds and rebuilding them as fractured versions of who they had been, but it was already far too late. Now, because of his augmented abilities, John had new capacity to sense and share their pain – the price of power.
There was a portal open at the far end of the processing center, undoubtedly a trap, but he took it anyway to escape the horror of the Abyss. It would feature prominently in his nightmares anyway, but he had no desire to add more fuel to the fire.
"We're not on the Halo anymore."
"No, Kelly. Forerunner portal system." He carefully pinged the local systems. There were on AC 339-45 b, better known as the world housing the Composer's Forge.
Of course they were, because nothing could ever be fucking easy for once.
"We could be anywhere in the galaxy, John," Fred said as they advanced.
The Chief made the executive decision not to tell them the planet's name in case ONI ever got a hold of the Janus Key. He knew for a fact that the planet, colloquially known as Boundless, was listed as a minor civilian world to conceal the Forge, and would therefore be of little interest to the higher-ups. "As long as the portal's open, we have a way home," he said simply, waiting until he sensed the local systems register the Didact's presence before moving forward.
"It's a city," said Fred, "Forerunner architecture."
"There's a light in that tower."
"So whatever killed Spartan Black is probably there."
"Or whoever." John jumped down into the city, scanning the local systems for a subtle way in.
"'Whoever?'" Fred repeated, "John, is there something you'd like to share?"
"The hit on Earth," he reminded them, "The attack on Ivanoff."
"You think the Didact is here?" Kelly asked, "You said he was dead."
"I said he could have been eliminated," John corrected. He led the way to the Avenue of Composition, where the six Secondary Composers waited.
He didn't get close enough to one of them to touch, to take control, before the Didact arrived behind them. The Spartan whipped around and lifted his suppressor as the others did the same.
"You tread, humans, abomination, in the Composer's Forge," said the Forerunner. In his hand he held an Index.
John smashed through the Promethean's mental shields. The Didact's mind was even more twisted and corrupted than in the Parallel, the span of time since the Primordial's attack setting the damage in stone, and his mind had continued to grow around and out of that flawed foundation.
There was no hope for him.
"Weapons free."
"Predictable," the Didact snarled, using his constraint field to throw the Spartans backwards, "See that which you fear… and attempt to kill it, even when your nightmare has already won."
Knights, Watchers, and Crawlers began spawning all around them and firing on the humans. It was playing havoc with the Gravemind's ability to track his targets – there were so many of them, too many – but he kept shooting anyway, flinching at the data bursts he sensed when they broke apart under the Spartans' onslaught.
"Oh – oh my. This is quite unacceptable. We had an agreement, Didact," said 859 Static Carillon, the Monitor of the Composer's Forge, as he zipped down from above, "You have manufactured more of your Knights in direct violation of our compact."
"They will dispatch to Requiem soon enough, Monitor," the Promethean responded, directing the techno-organics forward, "and your Installation will be silent once more."
"This is not about the quietude of the Composer's Forge!" the ancilla snapped, "These Prometheans are abominations! Tortured souls, encased against their will-"
The Forerunner grabbed the Monitor. "So quickly you accuse me of violating our agreement. Where is your portion of this bargain?"
"A-a-arriving now, Didact," Carillon stuttered.
Overhead, a Forerunner Slipspace portal opened, and a Halo – Installation Zero-Three – moved through. The Didact took one of the Secondary Composers and departed for the ring, leaving the Spartans to fight against wave after wave of Knights and their entourage.
The Monitor zoomed over to them. "Hello, Imperial Commander and humans. I am 859 Static Carillon, keeper of the Composer's Forge. It is here where the Composer was designed and built.
"And congratulations on your promotion, Commander."
"/Thanks,/" John grunted in the Forerunner tongue, hoping the AI would take the hint, and kicking a Knight away with enough force to break it apart, "/My fleet is on its way to secure the Secondary Composers, but the Didact has taken one./"
"/Oh, he has an entire Halo now,/" the ancilla informed him, obligingly switching languages, "/He is repairing it, you see, from damages caused by humans, if he is to be believed. Although he seems to blame humans for rather a lot… I understand you have some disagreement with the Didact?/"
"/That's putting it mildly,/" the Spartan replied, shooting down the Watchers that were trying to reconstitute the Knights, "/He killed millions of humans-/"
"/Ah, so you do know the origin of these enemies you fight./"
"The Knights – they're the citizens of New Phoenix?" John unintentionally switched back to UNSC Standard. It hadn't occurred to him to ask how fast people could be processed into new Knights – it had been less than 48 hours since the New Phoenix Event. Surely it would have taken more time than that?
"These humans are freshly Composed," said Carillon, "and therein lies my complaint. Their memories are being added to the whole, as was, of course, the plan when the Composer was being built. But they also bring terror. They bring fear. They bring rage and confusion. This is unacceptable. Equally unacceptable to you, I imagine, is the knowledge that once the Halo is repaired, Didact intends to fire it near your wards' home world. He will burn their kind from the universe."
"We need to get back to the portal," John called to the other Spartans, "Beat Didact to the Halo."
"Please understand, I do not care about the Human-Forerunner War," the ancilla informed them, bobbing along next to them, leading the way back to the portal, "It raged centuries before my inception. In may well rage now, and for many centuries more. Erde-Tyrene can burn, and while I will sigh at the loss, I will not care. What I do care about is that he broke our compact. He brought his abominations here. He violated the sanctity of my home." The ancilla turned to blast away a few of the Knights leading the pursuit.
"Can you deactivate the portal once we're through?" John asked, turning to cover the other Spartans as they moved through the ripple.
"I'll see what I can do," the AI replied, "But enough talk! You must hurry! Go! Stop the Didact! I will keep these monsters at bay!"
As the Spartans reappeared on the Halo Installation, a great shadow fell over them. "He's moving the Composer into position! Double time, Blue!" the Chief called, and scrambled up the side of the depression after the rest of his team.
The Didact was already there. "Still you persist in surviving," he growled, and threw the other three Spartans away.
John pulled out his combat knife and blocked his signature so he could sneak up on the Forerunner from behind. He tried to go for the Promethean's throat, but the other sensed him at the last possible second and moved enough to avoid a fatal strike. The knife still sank hilt-deep into his eye before he grabbed hold of the infected warrior and forced him away.
"Consistently, the opportunity to eliminate you is presented. Yet foolishly I refuse," he said, "No more." And clenched down on his helmet.
I remember now. I remember my name, my family, my home. And I remember the game. We played it every day, and I never lost. The game… Once, it was the only thing I could remember about the life I had before I met Doctor Halsey.
Since then, I have experienced entire lifetimes of combat. Through a hundred and ten thousand years of war and peace and war again, I have always known my fate. I knew someday I would die in battle.
But it is not this day.
The UNSC might not have had Forerunner-level armor, but it was going to take more than the Promethean's physical strength to crush what armor he had. John used the opportunity presented to strike again. The Didact had put up even stronger mental shields this time, but as before, he was no match for a fully-powered Gravemind. John plowed through the barriers, then dug a million sharp claws into his mind and ripped.
The Forerunner screamed in pain and dropped him, jerking backwards even as the rest of Blue Team began firing on him. The Chief struck again, shredded another part of his mind to keep him unbalanced, but his armor was still adapting to their shots. The Didact knocked them all away, and this time they stayed down. Even Spartans could only take so much.
The Promethean pulled the knife from his eye socket and advanced on the Gravemind, stumbling and slurring, "We're done here." John had ruined part of his motor skills.
"I agree wholeheartedly."
Static Carillon blasted him in the back, causing him to lose his grip on both the knife and the Index and fall to the ground. "He is disabled for the moment. I am initiating emergency teleport. You must quickly regroup."
The Forerunner vanished in a spiral of golden light.
"Ow," Kelly hissed, rolling to her hands and knees, then pushing herself upright through sheer force of will, "Linda, you okay?"
"Battered, bruised, but I'm alive," she replied.
"Okay, John, talk to me."
"Ears are ringing," the hybrid grunted, shivering a little as his accelerated healing fused bones and sent torn tendons and muscles squirming back together, "Armor's power cycling. Just a second longer." At last, he got to his feet. His helmet had withstood the force of the Didact's assault, but the visor glass had not, disabling his HUD. Not that he really needed the visual when he could infiltrate his armor directly and see it in his mind's eye. "Helmet's fused on," he said, giving it a tug, "Going to take a torch to remove it."
"But you can operate as is?"
"Not much choice."
"If you are going to fight a Warrior Servant, you must not give him the opportunity to attune his armor to your weapons!" Carillon advised.
"Where is the Didact now?"
"I suppose I must admit I have intentionally committed a severe tactical error… I have placed him in the most secure location on the Halo."
"The Control Room."
"Quite."
"Why would you-" Kelly began, before the Monitor cut her off.
"It was that, or watch him finish slaughtering you. The Commander might survive, but the rest of you would be dead and he would still reach the Control Room. I have expedited the inevitable by skipping the preventable."
John spotted the Index on the ground and walked over to pick it up. "You said the armor had adapted to the weapons. I know a weapon he can't adapt to."
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"…too simple. There is something I do not yet comprehend."
"/You're right./" John approached the Promethean through the blast doors.
"/Where are your wards?/"
"/They went ahead to our ship,/" the Spartan answered, "/This is between me and you./"
"/You carry no weapon./"
"/I am a weapon,/" the Gravemind reminded him, "/and I carry yours./" He lifted the Index. "/I thought we might take a moment to talk./"
"/Diplomacy? From you?/"
"/You killed my veri. You killed millions of humans. You tried to kill me. Earlier you said that when you 'see that which you fear and attempt to kill it,' did it ever occur to you that maybe you feared humanity?/" He walked past the Didact to the Control Panel. "/You lost your children in the Human-Forerunner War and your sanity in the Forerunner-Flood War, but that doesn't excuse your actions./
"/I've tried to put you out of you misery with blades, guns, explosives, by knocking you into Slipspace… and none of it works./" He inserted the Index into the panel. "/But I bet this does./"
"/You would fire the Halo just to eliminate me?/"
"/If that's what it took,/" John affirmed, "/But then Carillon reminded me that would also kill all life within twenty-five thousand light years, so he suggested a better plan./"
"/What game are you playing, abomination?/" the Forerunner demanded.
"/Two-step process. The Halo being activated turns off the safety protocols,/" he answered, moving over to the doorway to brace himself, "/allowing Carillon to eject panels of the Halo, even if they have active lifeforms currently on them. And since all of the mechanisms are localized to this panel, it's only a small-scale firing of the system./" John held on tight as the g-forces began to increase with their fall toward Boundless.
His flesh crawled with revulsion and instinctive fear at the rising hum of the Halo, but Carillon was true to his word and pulled him out before the ring killed him.
Yet in the place between places, after dematerialization but before re-materialization, he heard Cortana's voice.
:John…:
"All went according to plan," the ancilla reported when they appeared on the Spartans' Longsword, "There were severe gravimetric anomalies following the ring ejection. Had I not taken a moment to stabilize the ring, it would be lost." He turned to the Gravemind. "The Control Room's sensors indicate that you were successful in your endeavor, Commander. The Didact is no more."
He sighed. "Thank you."
"No, thank you," the Monitor replied, "After endless years overseeing a dead facility, I have found new meaning through you. Goodbye, Commander, Reclaimers. I take the Halo now for repairs and safe hiding."
"/My fleet holds the Greater Ark now,/" John said quickly, before the ancilla could disappear, "/If you will take the Composers to them, they will repair the ring for you and let you take it wherever you might wish to go, so long as you do not fire it./"
"/Hm… I believe I will do that. Thank you for the offer, Commander./"
"/I'll let them know you're on your way, then./"
The AI vanished in the golden spirals of Forerunner teleportation.
"Wait, where is he taking the Halo?" Fred asked, "Where's he going?"
Then the ancilla teleported them, too.
-------------------------------------------
"We don't know where it went, Admiral Hood."
"Chief, you sound like you think you failed. You got the Didact. That's a damn fine day's work."
"I suspect it is safest to call him 'contained.' There may be other Forerunners who feel the same as he did."
Lord Hood waved it off. "How about you? You okay, son?"
"Sir, yes, sir."
"Well, I'm ordering Blue Team to take some R&R."
"Sir?"
"You've had a rough couple of years, John-"
'A couple?'
"Take off the armor. Kick up your feet. Relax."
'The universe waits for no Spartan, sir.' As he left Hood's office, he contacted the fleet. [Nep'Thalia.]
'Sir.'
[Sorry, but there's been another change of plans. Static Carillon should be on his way to the Greater Ark with the Composers and a damaged Halo, Installation Zero-Three. Take custody of the Composers and repair the ring for him, then let him take it where he wants as long as he doesn't fire it.]
'Affirmative, Commander. When will you be joining us?'
[Whenever I can.]
-------------------------------------------
/ONI EYES ONLY
/TRANSCRIPT DATE: REDACTED
/CONVERSATION MEMBERS: REDACTED
REDACTED 1: Hood's freaking out. He just heard 117 reassigned himself.
REDACTED 2: Heh. Hood's always the last to know these days. Poor old man.
REDACTED 1: What's he doing?
REDACTED 2: Chief? Exactly what the psych eval said he'd do. Refusing to stop. Taking one mission after another.
REDACTED 1: Something's gotta give, right? He can't keep doing this to himself forever.
REDACTED 2: Yeah, but if he wants to destroy himself... hell, who's going to stop him?
I will not stop. Not until my task is complete.
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The soft hum of the Forerunner ship was alien, yet familiar, like his own heartbeat. They were station-keeping over Maethrillian, preparing to open the portal to the Lesser Ark. The beacon had come in just minutes ago, yet the entire fleet was ready to go – they were just waiting on everyone else. The Capital was essentially emptying itself of combat personnel, all of them coming to the aid of the advance team under assault.
John passed through a hatch and stepped out onto a snowy plain. He could see mountains in the distance, rising up toward the cloudy artificial sky overhead.
There was a pack of morolaath lying down a short distance away, curled docilely around a dark-haired Forerunner who appeared to be petting them. She lifted her head as the Spartan approached, looking up at him with familiar, intense blue eyes. "Are we ready to go?" she asked, her voice smooth and human now, still recognizable.
"Just about. Are you ready?"
"Always." She grinned up at him, and he smiled in return.
John jerked awake in his sleeping quarters, panting heavily and soaked in a cold sweat. The other Spartans woke when he did, but remained silent as he swung his legs off his bed and sat there, head drooping.
"Cortana…"