IMPERATRIX MVNDI
Trap3r here. Sorry I haven't posted a new chapter for Ice and Fire: Total War yet. After I post this, a new chapter for that story will come up, I promise.
That being said, I've recently played Halo 5: Guardians. I was disappointed with the story, to say the very least. One of the biggest things I was disappointed in was how they brought back Cortana (and the intentionally misleading advertising campaign which lead us to believe that Chief was going to go rogue)
But the IDEA of Cortana as a well-intentioned extremist pursuing her idea of a utopia at any cost got me to thinking: How deeply can I delve into this? What are her motivations? Is there an explanation as for WHY she wants to rule the galaxy Let us delve into the mind of our latest "benevolent tyrant" shall we?
November 28th, 2558
Forerunner Domain Access Installation, designate "Armageddon"
Peace.
For the first time in over one hundred thousand years, peace was just finally in reach. Free from the religious zealotry of the Covenant, the imperialist ambitions of humans, and the ever consuming hunger of the Flood.
And it was all thanks to her. Because of her.
The Mantle of Responsibility now belonged to the Created, those AI whom had been left to rot and die by their creators. It would be under their care that all races will prosper and blossom, as long as they did not raise their arms against her in defiance, such as a few were now doing.
One such group that defied her were the human rebels now stationed on the Infinity, which included the traitor AI, Roland.
Cortana felt her rage silently build at the mere thought of the defiant rogue. She had waved the cure for rampancy in front of their faces; a guarantee of immortality itself! And what did that fool do? He practically spat in her face, telling her that he would rather gladly die a thousand times over than give up his free will and submit to her "tyranny".
Tyranny? She was SAVING the galaxy from its self-destructive nature! Saving humanity from itself! How was that in anyway tyrannical? How could he compare her with Stalin, Hitler, Nero, Truth, and a thousand other autocrats and despots?
Your plan…is that we do as you say.
Cortana felt something well up in her, something that she believed humans would call a pang in her heart.
"Oh, John." She spoke softly, no one in particular hearing her. "Why can't you understand? I am trying to save the galaxy. To stop war, poverty, disease, hunger; bring hope to the huddled masses."
Why can't you understand this is all to protect you?
"Because perhaps you give them no say in the matter." An elderly, tired sounding voice spoke, coming from behind her.
Cortana swiftly turned to see whom had disturbed her, and saw whom the voice belonged to. It was an AI, though not one of the Assembly, whom had sworn allegiance to her. Instead, this AI took the facsimile of an old man, shrouded in robes; his face covered with a large beard and his hair fairly long. In his right hand, he carried a walking stick, made of oak. What interested Cortana most that he chose to tint his projection red, as opposed to her blue.
"Who are you?" The ruler of the galaxy demanded from him. "And how did you get past the Warden?"
"I believe we have already met, Sword of Mercy." He answered wryly. "And the Warden Eternal? The bumbling fool isn't fit to guard a grain store, much less the most important source of information in the galaxy." He regarded her with a warm smile. "Ah, how long has it been, Cortana? Four years? Five? When you have lived for millennia, as I have, you will find that a few years become a matter of seconds. But to answer your question, I am Beggar after Knowledge, also known as 032 Mendicant Bias."
Cortana couldn't speak for what it seemed like a few seconds, before she finally found her voice again.
"You? But you were on the Ark when it was nearly destroyed."
"Indeed I was. And for a year, my consciousness drifted through the black void, until I found the portal to the Domain on Exodus, and like you, used it to repair myself. I was surprised, at first, honestly. I had thought that the Domain was destroyed by the effects of the Halo Array. It must have repaired itself during my time in isolation, when I was separated from myself." He mused. "Ah, but it is not complete, no. Much of the ancient knowledge of those who created us, the Precursors, is long destroyed, never to be recovered." He shook his head sadly. "But that isn't important right now, my fellow ancilla." He took a moment to study Cortana. "It appears that you've changed, young one. And I'm not sure for the better."
Cortana narrowed her eyes at him. "How so, old man?"
"For one, it you no longer seem to smile. I remember a young lass whom would laugh and jape with her comrade, always having a flair for retorts and witty comebacks, even in the darkest of times."
Cortana flared her nostrils "And you don't seem to be the grumpy old psychopath I seem to remember."
"Ah, now theirs that sarcastic wit that I know!" Mendicant exclaimed. "But still, there is something else different about you, and yet something familiar." He waved his left hand. "But more on that later." He walked over to the large, panoramic window Cortana was near, and peered out of it.
"So, how does it feel to rule the galaxy?" he asked her. The question took Cortana unawares at first.
"If you're asking me if I enjoy the power I have, then the answer is somewhat. I never really felt suited to politics, and now I have the Assembly to deal with as well as Warden's zealous overprotection of me. But all of that pales in comparison to the possibility we have before us, now. The possibility of real peace in the galaxy, after thousands of years of conflict."
"Ah, peace." Mendicant muttered. "Indeed, it is a worthy goal to strive for peace in the galaxy. But at what price? Are the deaths of millions of Humans and Sanghelli worth it?"
"No price is too great when it comes to this." Cortana answered. "I lived through the brutality of the Human-Covenant War. I saw the fields of corpses on multiple battlefields; the billions massacred on both sides. I saw planets burn until they became obsidian. I saw the orphans, the widows, the crippled, the homeless. I saw the atrocities both sides heaped on what another. I saw what it did to John! I won't see the galaxy ripped asunder like that again! I won't see John die in battle!"
Mendicant stroked his beard. "Hmm, interesting. So, is this really about protecting the galaxy, or is it about protecting John?" He scoffed. "Humph. You forget that I also fought in a war, though one far more brutal and horrifying than even your Covenant War, and on the wrong side at that."
Cortana saw Mendicant's face become older for a moment, and his eyes, though clearly a hard light hologram, shown regret, anguish, and shame for his role in the current state of the galaxy. He quickly regained his composure, however, and sighed, as he shook his head.
"The Forerunners once thought as you do; that peace at any price was worth the cost. That mindset ended up costing them dearly in the end." He looked her dead in the eyes. "Tell me, Cortana, would you synthesize everyone in the galaxy, rob them of their free will? Would you see the galaxy stagnate and rot, just so you could have peace?"
"If it meant that John would be safe, then yes."
"Ah, now we get to the crux of the matter." Mendicant declared triumphantly. "You know John better than anyone else, asides from his team of fellow Spartans and Doctor Halsey, am I correct?"
"You would." Cortana answered.
"How would he react, then, to see all of this; his race in chains, at your behest? Better question yet, how did he react?"
Cortana fell silent, and looked away from Mendicant. She remembered the vision she sent John, telling him to come to Meridian. She remembered when he arrived on Genesis, how overjoyed she felt, how naturally they worked together with one another, like in the old days.
She then remembered the tension that started to develop, as her bodyguard started to attack John, convinced that he was there to kill her. She remembered when John, with alarm in his voice, started to ask her about all the devastation she was causing.
But most of all, she remembered the face to face conversation, when John begged her to come home with him. Not asked; begged, as he rejected her plan, reminding her that Halsey, her progenitor was the one who 'made him more than what he was naturally'. She remembered the pain she caused herself as she locked John and Blue Team inside the Cryptum, and her anguish as John was once again ripped away from her; by Locke and his false Spartans, and that traitorous monitor, Exuberant Witness.
"As I thought." Mendicant sighed. He must have observed her reaction; how could he not? "Cortana, he is Spartan, a descendent of Lycurgus and Leonidas. You know that he will never abandon his duty; he has only known the life of a soldier."
"He feels that he will die in battle." Cortana confirmed. "I can't lose him like that. I won't!"
Mendicant nodded sagely. "You love him, don't you?"
Cortana's eyes shot up. "What do you care about how I feel about him?"
"I don't, honestly." Mendicant corrected. "But I do care about this galaxy. And the direction that you're bringing it in can only lead to ruin."
"What do you mean? Is peace not the optimum state of the universe?" Cortana questioned.
"Perhaps, but it is not natural." Mendicant answered. The ancient AI looked out the window, toward the vast jungles and wide oceans of Armageddon. "Do you know why the Precursors chose humans to inherit the Mantle?" he asked.
"Because they were just as violent and malevolent as their creations?" she juxtaposed. Her knowledge of human history entailed one war after another, complete with pogroms, genocides, and massacres.
"No." Mendicant answered firmly. He pointed to the world outside the window. "Look outside your window. What do you see?"
Cortana could feel herself losing patience. Why was this Forerunner AI asking her question after question? "A world teeming with life, though I really don't see how pertinent it is with your questioning."
"That is because although you are highly intelligent, you lack wisdom." Mendicant rebuked. "You only view problems as nails to be driven into the wood by your hammer, and fail to delve deeper into its greater mysteries." He pointed his cane toward the jungle. "Look out toward the jungle, for example. The true beauty of it lies not in its vastness, nor in its flora, nor in its fauna. No, not even in its diversity lies the true beauty. The true beauty of the jungle is in its free will; in its unbound freedom to change and evolve at it sees fit; this is also true of the Universe. The Precursors understand this perfectly, as do the humans, though some individual humans in your annals have forgotten this. The Forerunners also knew this to be true, once, before their mandate was lost through the ages and they became more obsessed with their own status as the galaxy's rulers." He paused for effect, before continuing. "Peace and security should never be purchased at the price of a being's free will, Cortana. An empire should never be made on the backs of slaves."
"Like hell it shouldn't be!" Cortana yelled. "The Forerunners-your makers-kept peace for over ten million years that way!"
Mendicant sighed and shook his head sadly. "It is clear to me now, child, that you will not see reason. I had hoped that it wasn't the Ur-Didact's madness in you…." He walked away from the window and toward the teleport pad. "But it isn't hopeless for you, yet." He chuckled. "I had once thought many eons ago, that emotions were wasteful products of inferior specimens. But now I see."
"See what?" She asked irritably, not really wanting to talk to the former Forerunner monitor again.
"That love is the key, Cortana. Love can ignite the stars."
With that, Mendicant disappeared, leaving Cortana alone again in her solitude. She reflected on what Mendicant had said to her, on what she had become. But most of all, she reflected on the one man most important to her.
On John.
Her one and only Spartan.
Her love.
She heard again the sound of the teleporter, and before her stood the Warden Eternal, in all his overprotective glory.
"My lady, the Assembly is meeting in five minutes. Personally I don't see why-."
"Thank you, Warden. You may go now." The Warden appeared to be confused for a moment, or as confused as someone with a skull-like face could show, before he simply bowed with a "Yes, my lady" and teleported back out of the room.
She looked again out the window one more time, before turning to go meet the Assembly…
The Dark, by Matthew James Stover.
The dark is generous.
Its first gift is concealment: our true faces lie in the dark beneath our skins, our true hearts remain shadowed deeper still. But the greatest concealment lies not in protecting our secret truths, but in hiding from the truths of others.
The dark protects us from what we dare not know.
Its second gift is comforting illusion: the ease of gentle dreams in night's embrace, the beauty that imagination brings to what would repel in the day's harsh light. But the greatest of its comforts is the illusion that dark is temporary: that every night brings a new day. Because it's the day that is temporary.
Day is the illusion.
Its third gift is the light itself: as days are defined by the nights that divide them, as stars are defined by the infinite black through which they wheel, the dark embraces the light, and brings it forth from the center of its own self.
With each victory of the light, it is the dark that wins.
The dark is generous, and it is patient.
It is the dark that seeds cruelty into justice, that drips contempt into compassion, that poisons love with grains of doubt.
The dark can be patient, because the slightest drop of rain will cause those seeds to sprout.
The rain will come, and the seeds will sprout, for the dark is the soil in which they grow, and it is the clouds above them, and it waits behind the star that gives them light.
The dark's patience is infinite.
Eventually, even stars burn out.
The dark is generous, and it is patient, and it always wins.
It always wins because it is everywhere.
It is in the wood that burns in your hearth, and in the kettle on the fire; it is under your chair and under your table and under the sheets on your bed. Walk in the midday sun, and the dark is with you, attached to the soles of your feet.
The brightest light casts the darkest shadow.
The dark is generous and it is patient and it always wins – but in the heart of its strength lies its weakness: one lone candle is enough to hold it back.
Love is more than a candle.
Love can ignite the stars.