Twelve: The Cleansing of Darkness
The Infected murmured amongst themselves as the ship descended from the sky. John watched in silence as swarms of Sentinels ascended to meet it, steering it to the dock. His attention was mostly on that, but he spared a moment to glance at all the others present - mostly Forerunners, but a few humans, too, including one that the Didact seemed to know. A Florian - one of the "hobbits" of Indonesia; their species had long been extinct by the time humanity reached the stars again.
He decided not to mention that, instead refocusing on the ship as it landed. It did so with a boom, and a door at the bow opened to release Mendicant Bias's AI core. The Sentinels pulled it from the ship towards the waiting tomb.
As it was lowered into place, the Didact said, "Ancilla 05-032 of the designation Mendicant Bias, you have colluded with the greatest enemy of the Mantle."
"Those who pass judgement should first judge themselves," the Contender returned. Its voice was still smooth and androgynous, not distorted by the Gravemind's long influence; the Spartan wasn't sure why he'd expected it to be different.
"A sin to fight a sin," the Didact answered, "a lesser evil to fight a greater one. That is the choice I was forced to make. You had no such excuse; you brought matters to this point."
"Why was I spared, then?"
"You are brought here to be sentenced. You have not been immediately destroyed because you may yet be needed. Your intimate knowledge of the Flood makes you invaluable, should it return, but we can never trust you, never again allow you any latitude. You will be entombed here, your processes locked, frozen into a single thought for all eternity: absolution. Should you be needed, you will be reawakened. Should there be no need, you will be buried here until the end of Living Time."
"Then I will serve as a monument to your sins. That is what you wish for."
"I wish only for the Mantle to be upheld."
John raised a faintly disdainful eyebrow at that. Really? Still this talk of the Mantle? 'Guardianship for all living things lies with those whose evolution is the most complete' - more like it lies with those whose destructive power was the greatest. It had been seized from the Precursors, and once they had it, the Forerunners held on with both hands and utterly crushed anyone who dared to challenge them.
Until the Flood came to take it back.
"I am penitent," said the Contender, "I know that what I have done cannot be forgiven. I will accept my stasis with grace and await a time when I might redeem myself."
"Aya, so shall it be," said the Didact, and he signaled for the burial.
"One thought for all eternity…" Mendicant Bias sounded almost wistful. "Atonement."
The tomb sealed, turned black, and was covered by sand.
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Humanity was the first species to be reseeded on their home planet. John watched from orbit over Erde-Tyrene - over Earth - as the various subspecies were released onto the surface, as the Didact said farewell to the humans he had known while he was still no one but Bornstellar Makes Eternal Lasting. Despite the fact that the Flood had been eradicated, the Didact still insisted that the Fleet escort the Lifeworker ships as they deposited their charges on their respective planets.
John didn't see the point - there was no longer a threat, so why? - but he agreed anyway. No sense making enemies here at the end of things.
The last of the Lifeworker ships lifted off from the surface, aiming for the Portal. The Generator itself was already completely covered, and once they went through, the Portal would close, and remain so for a hundred thousand years.
They still hadn't made a decision on the Covenant. He was tempted to wait, to see what really caused the Prophets' genocidal campaign and counter it - or better yet, assassinate Truth, Mercy, and Regret before they could gain power and declare war. He had no wish to become like them, to eradicate an entire species just for existing, and much of the Fleet was inclined to agree.
(He had no wish to become like the Precursors, like the Forerunners, like the Flood.)
The Fleet escorted the Lifeworker ships into the Portal, before and behind, and that was the last time he saw Earth for a long time.
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After that, the reseeding switched from sentimentality to practicality. Humans first had been deliberate; the Forerunners had felt that it was only right that the Reclaimers be returned home first. John didn't care one way or another, but neither did he gainsay them.
But from there, it was practicality all the way; the furthest species, then the next furthest, on down to the San'Shyuum, whose home world was, interestingly enough, one of the closest to the Ark.
The Fleet personally dropped off their member species, starting with the Gultanr. John and Ferial went down to the surface with the new Primas Uperbia, an ash-gray Gultanr by the name of Ievaeth. "I imagine we will be seeing you again at some point," she said, tucking her hands into the sleeves of her robes as they walked, "Possibly even sometime very soon."
"Oh?"
"Indeed. Our world is the home of the halgengei."
"Oh my God those fucking worms; they're like crack, I swear."
Both Ferial and Ievaeth laughed at that. "Indeed," said the Primas Uperbia, "Once we are reestablished, we will be glad to trade with you for them, although it will be some time before we can do so on equal footing."
"I wish we could give all of you back what you'd lost."
Three hundred and fifty years was a long time. Much of the planet had been reclaimed by nature, so even the Gultanr were essentially starting over at the beginning like all the others. By the end of their culture, they were second only to the San'Shyuum in terms of advancement - all of them behind the Forerunners, of course. But there had been others, as well; the Tuavan had had powered flight, and the Saavaasi had been preparing for their first spaceflight when the Librarian came.
Ievaeth waved him off. "We appreciate the sentiment, and while I'm sure there would be many eager to demand recompense for the ecumene's… everything, I am not one of them. This is as good a chance as any to begin anew, but we can't do that if we are clinging to what we've lost and insisting on reparations."
"Very wise," Ferial agreed, inclining her head to her distant successor, "You will lead our people well. May the gods grant you clear sight, sister."
The two dragons bowed to each other, and then Ievaeth bowed to John, who returned the gesture. Then she set off through the grass to join her people, who were setting up camp on the shores of the valley's clear lake. These were the children of those eggs and nestlings and younglings given into the Librarian's care, but even though they had never known anything but shelter in the Forerunners' shadow, they were still well prepared to resume life on their home world.
The Spartan hoped they made it.
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The Lituni were after the Gultanr, and their planet's biomes seemed nearly as varied as Earth's. Much to John's surprise, the Lituni - despite being furry cat-people - were native to the rainforests near the mid-latitudes, and they ran around in delight in an afternoon rainstorm that rolled overhead as they were released from the dropships' holds.
"So more like tigers than any other cats."
"Indeed." Azizura tilted her head back and retracted part of her helm armor to let the rain pour over her. When John did the same, he noted that the planet's petrichor had a distinctly different smell from any other planet he'd been on. Was it natural or something from the Lifeworker solutes for the Halo Array?
Azizura and her memories seemed to indicate it was natural. Still, the Spartan thought it was weird that petrichor smelled like chocolate on this world.
The Mother Purr - the matriarch of the local clan, so ancient that she couldn't even walk on her own - waved them over, and shakily embraced her sister one last time. "Be well, my dear," she rasped, "Don't let this human get you all in too much trouble. The Gultanr are right to say that all of you have a part still to play in the Strings of Time."
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The Saavaasi were next.
"Is everything on this planet trying to kill you?!"
"Pretty much." Atheos rolled almost like an alligator and slammed his long tail hard enough against the thing's head that it fell to the ground, stunned, for just long enough that John was able to cut off its head with his plasma swords. "Hence the reason we insisted on our people being armed when they were returned."
The Lifeworkers at least had known how dangerous the planet was and assented in a heartbeat, then worked to persuade the others. The Saavaasi had been granted the use of titanium - ordinary titanium, not whatever the Forerunners used for their constructs - to make all manner of blades in anticipation of their return to their home planet.
The first dropships had been attacked by a herd of what looked like rhinoceroses with shark teeth.
"I hope you aren't offended when I say I don't think we'll be coming back here until your people leave it."
"Not in the slightest. This planet is hard on all its inhabitants."
"Then why the fuck did your people want to come back?! The Lifeworkers offered them other planets - any other planet."
"Earth is humanity's home, but Reach is yours. If you had the chance, would you go to Earth - or would you go home?"
That was fair. "Still, Reach isn't fucking space Australia."
"I'm sure it has its moments."
"...maybe."
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The Tuavan were after the Saavaasi, and John had never in his life seen such enormous trees. Even Hyperion on Earth wasn't nearly so tall, or so it seemed. The Tuavan immediately hooked their claws in the bark of their trees and scurried up the trunks to the branches high above, whereupon many of them leaped and spread their wings to glide to the next branch and the next tree. Most vanished swiftly into the forest, glad to be home; the Forerunners had tried their best, but even with all their skill, they hadn't been able to duplicate the Tuavan's environment close enough to make them truly happy.
Still, some stayed behind to bid farewell to their Infected fellows - Qe'rid and Qi'krith and all the others. These were the flock leaders, and they all carefully rubbed noses with the Infected Tuavan, and even John himself, as a gesture of farewell.
The Spartan had to kneel to do it with the last of them; she was full grown but tiny, barely half his height. Despite her size - and also her youth, as the youngest flock leader - her eyes were old with wisdom; all Tuavan had their telepathy, but only the Xixi clan truly shared minds akin to the Hive. When the flock leader no longer had the strength to leave the nest, they chose a child to tend to them and hunt for their food, and in exchange, they shared their wisdom mind-to-mind. This young one carried the memories of… who knew how many of her people in a line unbroken for generations.
"Be well, Warrior," she said, her voice young and yet so very old, "The world is not yet done with you."
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The Adonte were last. The "Grays" of human legend, they were native to an almost resort-like world - or what humanity would consider resort-like. Very calm, very placid, very rich, little to no inclement weather or disasters - well-suited to produce such a calm people, devoted to intellectual pursuits. They bade farewell to the Infected, same as all the others, but they did not waste time on sentimentality, instead heading off in search of the necessities; food, water, shelter.
It made John grin, just a little. He liked that kind of practicality.
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Ievaeth - Ee-eh-vah-eth
Azizura - Ah-zee-zoo-rah
Saavaasi - Sah-vahss-ee
Atheos - Ath-ey-ohss
Tuavan - Too-ah-vahn
Qe'rid - Keh-reed
Qi'krith - Kee-krihth
Xixi - Ksee-ksee