Six: Turning Sorrow into Strength

"And then she was destroyed?"

"Yes, sir."

"You're certain?"

The debriefing was just as painful as he'd thought it would be. He'd been standing before HIGHCOM, having his decisions and actions closely examined by the officers. None of them had actually called into question anything he'd done, but he didn't like the way some of them had started looking at him after seeing his intimacy with Cortana and the way he'd handled her rampancy.

The Chief hadn't adequately prepared himself to return to the UNSC's invasive probing and oversight, especially not so soon after his wife's death. Fortunately, Lord Hood interceded before he could say something he would regret. "General Strauss, I fail to see the reason to press this point."

"Cortana was one of the UNSC's most valuable assets," the other officer answered, "That she was adrift in space unprotected for four years-"

"She was not unprotected." And he resented the implication that she was, that he couldn't have woken in time to protect her. He barely kept the growl out of his voice.

"What of the Didact? Your helmetcam footage indicates he was killed…" one of the other officers began.

"I saw him fall into a Slipspace rupture," he said shortly.

"But you did not see a corpse."

"No sir, General Hogan. 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.

"You mean, if it's something that could happen again?" Strauss clarified.

"Yes. With no confirmed kill - well, stranger things have happened." He pointedly gestured to the Spartan, seemingly back from the dead.

"Master Chief, your assessment?" Hood requested.

He was silent for a moment. Then he said, "The Slipspace fissure was still intact when the Didact fell through. If ONI could find out where it was directed, it may be possible for the UNSC to confirm the kill, or finish him off if he survived the transit. The Composer was taken from Installation Zero-Three - that's as good a place as any to start looking."

Hood's expression went both odd and interested at that, but the Spartan was dismissed soon after. But the officer came after him as he departed. "Master Chief, do you have a moment?"

"Admiral Hood, sir. Of course."

"My apologies for the - lack of professionalism in the room back there," the other man said, jerking his thumb back toward the room where the other brass were still preparing to leave, "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. But I found it interesting that you mentioned Installation Zero-Three as the place to start - we've received some news." He led the way into another briefing room.

"Ivanoff was established to study Gamma Halo," Hood said as he logged in to the system and brought up some holopanels, "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. They listened, then he continued, "No images to go with the audio, but they describe assailants appearing from nowhere…"

"Prometheans," the Spartan growled.

"Sounds like." Hood looked up at him. The Chief didn't know what he saw, but it made the man nod. "I know you just got back, but if this is what we think it is, we don't have time to let you rest up. I'm sending you and a team to Zero-Three ASAP."

"Yes, sir." The Spartan heard the vicious edge in his voice but did nothing to suppress it.

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

The rest of Blue Team was 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, "You received our orders?"

Fred nodded, frowning. "There's not much they've actually told us on what we're looking for, only that it's a mess and to go in expecting no survivors and a fight waiting for us."

"I'll brief you on the way."

So he did. The others quickly recognized that there was something off about him. He didn't really make any special effort to hide it from them while they traveled to Installation Zero-Three - couldn't; a hundred thousand years away couldn't be hidden away that easily - but they didn't make an attempt to address it, either.

"Gamma Halo Science Envoy, respond," Kelly called over all open channels when they came in range in their Longsword. The survivors on Ivanoff had been trying continuously, but they still had to cover all their bases. The Chief listened over all bands as he guided the bomber 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."

"They said to expect no survivors, but so fast?" Fred murmured, "It's been barely forty-eight hours!"

"The Composer killed six million people in ninety seconds, or as good as killed them," John replied grimly, "Keep trying until we land, Kelly. I'll put us down near their last-known."

He brought the Longsword in for a smooth landing and led the way out onto the surface. The four Spartans fanned out from there and began advancing toward the science team's camp, sweeping the area with their weapons. Linda was the first to spot something and called, "Chief, 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 to take a look, "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 other 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 ominously silent and still.

"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 swept the camp. The Chief was investigating one of the experiment tents when Kelly called for his attention. "Chief, corpses."

He came to her. "Ivanoff science." The bodies laid where they'd fallen, stiff with rigor mortis. Their faces were twisted with panic and fear.

"Blue One."

"Go ahead, Fred."

"John… I found them. I found Spartan Black."

More brothers- and sisters-in-arms lost, murdered by the Didact. John knelt next to the bodies to retrieve their dog tags, answering Fred's question about the Crawlers' capabilities with a "No. This is something else."

He led them back up out of the canyon, saying, "Kelly, send Ops a sitrep. Science and Black are dead, unknown assailant but most likely the Prometheans. We're investigating."

"On it."

"Everyone on me. Let's find the origin of the Crawler tracks and-" Something flicked over his visor, something in a familiar shade of blue, but it was gone just as fast as it had come. John blinked sharply, his HUD degaussing even as he squeezed his eyes shut and blinked rapidly. Then he tensed up, shoving the flicker aside as his anticipation picked up the approach of an enemy. The ghostly image of a Promethean Knight appeared in front of 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!" he shouted, already firing on the insectoid 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 and took up one of the Knights' suppressors. "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."

If the Twins were there, they would have said, 'Embrace your inner white people in a horror movie and go check it out!' Gods, he missed them all so much that it was almost a physical ache. But he pushed through and hopped down into the void, the other Spartans close behind.

"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 hall led into the Composer's Abyss, a realm of horrors. Humans, or what had once been humans, writhing in hard-light agony as they were processed into new Prometheans, the path leading right through their midst to a portal open on the far side. Undoubtedly a trap, but they stepped through anyway.

"We're not on the Halo anymore."

"No, Kelly. Forerunner portal system." He'd never set foot on this planet, but he recognized the spire rising over everything at the center of the city they'd emerged in. This was Clinquant. He'd been here once before in the Parallel, with the Librarian when her Lifeworkers were testing the Composers on Flood victims.

He remembered all too well how that had ended.

"We could be anywhere in the galaxy, John," Fred said as they kept moving deeper into the city.

The Chief made the executive decision not to tell them the planet's name in case ONI ever found the Absolute Record. He knew for a fact that the planet was listed as a minor civilian world to conceal the location of the Composer's 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.

"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, the others close behind.

"'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 central avenue below the spire - where the six Composers waited. Ice dripped down his spine, even before his anticipation whispered, made him whip around.

"You tread, humans, in the Composer's Forge," said the Didact. In his hand he held an Index.

"Weapons free!" John shouted.

"Predictable," the Forerunner 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, more than the Chief had expected. It played havoc with his anticipation, trying to track targets - there were so many of them, too many – but he kept shooting anyway, flinching when they broke apart under the Spartans' onslaught.

"Oh – oh my. This is quite unacceptable. We had an agreement, Didact," 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 machines 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, his huge hand almost entirely covering the ancilla's optical sensor. "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 to sit in orbit. The Didact took one of the Composers and departed for the ring, leaving the Spartans to fight against wave after wave of the Prometheans.

The Monitor zoomed over to them. "Hello, humans. I am 859 Static Carillon, keeper of the Composer's Forge. It is here where the Composer was designed and built."

"The Didact's taken one of the Composers," John growled, kicking a Knight away and shooting it with a scattershot to disperse it.

"Oh, he has an entire Halo now," the ancilla informed him, "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?"

"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?!"

It hadn't occurred to him to ask how fast Composed 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 home world. He will burn your 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. It 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, the energy beam reminding the Chief too much of Spark to be completely comfortable. Still, the ancilla seemed to be on their side for now, so he would reserve judgment.

"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!"

Yet as the Spartans reappeared on the Halo Installation, a wide, dark 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 used his constraint field to throw the other Spartans away.

John had managed to hide behind a section of the Composer as it was dropped into place. Now he pulled out his combat knife and slipped up behind the Promethean, going for his throat. The other detected him at the last possible second and dodged just enough to avoid a fatal strike. The knife still sank hilt-deep into his right eye, before he grabbed hold of the 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 do not remember my name or my home, but I do remember the game. We played it every day, and I never lost. The game… it's the only thing I can really remember about the life I had before I met Doctor Halsey. Since then, I have experienced entire lifetimes of combat. Through a hundred thousand years of war and peace and war again, I have always known my fate. I knew someday I would die in battle.

But not today.

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. It held long enough for the rest of Blue Team to fire on him, which was in turn enough to force the Didact to release him. He 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 Spartans, growling, "We're done here."

"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 pushed herself upright through sheer force of will, "Linda, you okay?"

"Battered, bruised, but I'm alive," she replied, also getting to her feet.

"Okay, John, talk to me."

"Ears are ringing," he answered, shivering a little - his body was following a hundred thousand years of imprinted instinct, trying to knit back together the Flood supercells, but there was no infection to provide the impetus. "Armor's power cycling. Just a second longer." At last, he shook it off and got to his feet. His helmet had withstood the force of the Didact's assault, but the visor glass had not, disabling his HUD. "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," said the Chief.

"Quite."

"Why would you-" Kelly began, before the Monitor cut her off.

"It was that, or watch him finish slaughtering you. 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 limped over to pick it up. "You said his armor had adapted to our weapons. I know a weapon he can't adapt to."

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

"…too simple. There is something I do not yet comprehend."

"You're right." John approached the Promethean through the blast doors.

"Where are your fellows?"

"They went ahead to our ship," the Spartan answered, "This is between me and you."

"You carry no weapon."

"I am a weapon," he said, "and I carry yours." He lifted the Index. "I thought we might take a moment to talk."

"Diplomacy? From you?"

"You killed my partner. 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. "I've tried to put you out of your 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, human?" the Forerunner demanded.

"Two-step process. The activation sequence turns off 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 life forms currently on them." John held on tight as the g-forces began to increase with their fall toward Clinquant. 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 Spartan. "The Control Room's remaining sensors indicate that you were successful in your endeavor. The Didact has been Composed and compartmentalized."

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, Reclaimers. I take the Halo now for repairs and safe hiding."

The AI vanished in the golden spirals of Forerunner teleportation.

"Wait, taking the Halo where?" Fred asked, "Where's he taking it?"

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

"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.'"

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."

John didn't know what to say to that. It had never occurred to him to rest now that he was back with the UNSC. But then, given the fact that he didn't expect to come back at all, up until those last few days in the Parallel, that wasn't really a surprise.

Hood dismissed him, and he returned to where the rest of Blue Team waited. Fred saw him first, and asked, "What'd Hood say?"

The Spartan didn't know what he was going to say until he said it, but once he did, it felt like the only thing he could do. "Gave the all clear," he said, "We're going back to work." As much as he no longer trusted them, he was sure ONI had work for them.

"Where to this time?" Kelly asked, pulling on her helmet.

"Anywhere we're needed."

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

/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?