Eleven: Galaxy's Requiem

The Fleet arrived at the Lesser Ark and started a flurry of activity, transporting all of the alien species down to the station. There was no telling if the Flood would follow - and there was no point in keeping them onboard when there was nowhere left to go.

The ships wove through the Halo Array, suspended over the Lesser Ark as one day Zero-Four-B would be again. The installation was almost completely automated - no one had seemed to think it would be necessary, would revert to being the primary Ark - but there were still a few of the Librarian's Lifeworkers here to take custody of the remainder.

The Mantle's Approach arrived not long after, three other small ships following in its wake.

There was no sign of Audacity.

Winterspell connected with the Didact at once. He already seemed to anticipate John's question. "The humans on Omega Halo were lost," he said, "They have gone to Erde-Tyrene to retrieve those that were left. I am told there is one last keyship; they will send us all they can find. But they have left you…"

The data came quickly. The Librarian had left them her imprint, her memories, the wisdom of thousands of years as an ancilla of sorts. At once she was shunted to safety in storage alongside their other ancillae, but there was no corresponding imprint from Shadow.

Yet even as it happened, there was a transmission - the Librarian and Shadow-of-a-Sundered-Star, claiming a cure with one last component from Erde-Tyrene. From Earth, far from the Lesser Ark.

"'See how they bait their trap?'" John said, quoting the Arbiter's words from so long ago - and so long from now, "They are buying us time. We can't let it go to waste."

The Didact nodded in agreement and sent the order to deploy the rings - and to send the Gargantua-class transport to the Librarian. Its pieces would become the Portal Generator under Africa, buried for a hundred thousand years.

Activity continued in the Fleet, but it was automatic, unconscious, because all of them watching through only a few sets of eyes as the Portal opened. One by one, the rings - smaller, more efficient, their energy radial rather than directed - moved through to their stations.

After the last one passed out of sight, the keyship arrived, carrying the last humans from Earth. They hoped it would be enough.

If John's memories held, it would be.

-------------------------------------------

At the Didact's request, John descended from the Storm to join him in the control room. The hall was empty this time, unlike the last time he walked it - and the next time. There was no telling what the future would bring; he and the Fleet had not yet decided what to do about the Covenant.

There hadn't really been any time to decide.

The Didact stood at the very back of the hall, looking out over the Foundry through the rose window Miranda's Pelican smashed through. When the Spartan stepped off the light bridge and onto the platform, he turned to face the human and took note of how John was squinting into the light of the Foundry, his face pained.

He raised his eyebrows in question, and the Spartan grimaced. "Headache. It started after we left the Greater Ark. Déjà's trying everything she's got, but it's just…" He shrugged, then winced when the gesture aggravated his headache.

Then the Array reported that it was detecting pre-echoes of the Firing - that even though the doomsday button had not yet been pressed, the rings had already been lit - pre-echoes that the Fleet's personnel were detecting as well, which their flesh was conveying to them the only way it could.

A fucking killer migraine.

For a moment, the Didact was overwhelmed by grief. He buried his face in his hands and turned away. But then he took a deep breath and turned back, ascending the steps to the control panel.

The universe said it was already done. What else was there to do?

For the first time in its history, the Fleet was completely silent, all eyes watching through John's. The Didact stopped in front of the display, then sighed and pressed the button.

The holographic rings lit up, energy beginning to build. The pain in their minds exploded for an instant, then dropped off sharply, and the vision replaced it.

The Librarian and the Ur-Didact stood sans armor at the foot of Kilimanjaro, overlooking the finished Portal Generator. It had been completed, its systems had come online just in time to tell them of the lighting of the Array.

The Librarian let out a long breath and turned to the Ur-Didact, who gathered her in his arms. She looped her own arms around his neck, and they pressed their foreheads together, breathing each other's air.

The world went white.