STRING 32
Earth calendar – estimated 97,449 BCE…
(Compiler note: neural physics is still barely understood as of this date, as is the technology or nature of Star Roads. Our closest match so far has come from the technical minutia of speculative String and Twistor-based theories in theoretical physics – material that slipspace travel confirmed only partial details of. The following records, denoting the reappearance of the Didact, are compiled from several shipboard records uploaded to Ark terminals…)
His fortunes having plummeted significantly, Faber-of-Will-an-Might was now commanding a small group of frigates and harrier-type support ships, operating on the fringes of enemy lines. He had been able to draw together a number of his remaining allies to help form the seed of a new potential power base, but this had proven very limited, and the increasingly hostile nature of the region made it hard for him to operate with impunity any more. Bereft of many other options, he had quietly negotiated for a letter of marque from a discreet Forerunner Princep (compiler: Admiral) in charge of a fleet, and offered to serve as a kind of privateer, leading an irregular force. Their main duty was to locate crippled but still infested Forerunner vessels, cleanse them of Flood contamination, and restore them to working battle order if possible, to shore up defences elsewhere. Such would also hopefully increase their chance of acquiring useful intelligence that could shore up Faber's future position, and a possible long term road back to prominence. A drawback of this was that Faber soon became more focused on data retrieval than on fulfilling the entire terms of his mandate, and so some ships received only superficial examination, whilst others were quietly 'disappeared' – with the intent of reworking them into his own private fleet later. The unfortunate result was that some 'decontaminated' ships turned out not to be so thoroughly decontaminated at all, putting retrieval forces at risk later – to say nothing of future crews assigned to relaunch them.
Despite this, the work kept his still loyal supporters occupied and focused, and over a year into these efforts, they came across an old Forerunner cruiser speeding straight toward their small blockaded line, sited on the outskirts of a 'Burn' – a quarantined, largely destroyed sector of the galactic rim, one dotted with wrecked vessels and devastated worlds meant to starve any Flood that tried to re-occupy them, much as Mendicant Bias had advised in his strategy reports nearly fifty years ago.
Locking onto the flanks of the cruiser, the vessel that had found it engaged torsion beams and slowed it to a near halt, allowing sentinel robots to make a closer inspection. This confirmed an earlier assessment that the vessel was completely unarmed, but also revealed one lifeform within under some kind of sedation, corresponding to the shape and mass of a Promethean warrior of high physical and mental advancement.
When Faber himself examined the details and became confident this was in fact the Didact, he ordered him isolated and transferred to one of his private research centres, one of a number of facilities either not exposed to the original governing council, or not investigated and locked down, prior to the destruction of the Capitol and the loss of so many of the council members.
In this particular case, it was the venerable storage centre known as the Clinquant, the so-called Composer's Forge, a small world covered over in metal surfaces, and with old-style cities spread over certain sections, surrounded by limited parkland and ivy, clinging to certain structures, dangling above occasional transparent windows set high into the structures. Within one of these vast buildings, Faber confronted his old adversary once again, being put through decontamination and investigative scans.
"So, Faber, what do you intend to do with me this time? A mind-wipe, maybe? Mental-conditioning; renewed imprisonment – or just a summary and private execution?
"Perhaps none of those, depending on the circumstances, old warrior: my fortunes have plummeted since we last met, but then, so have all of ours. Forerunner space collapses further with every month, and the worlds we can effectively defend and blockade have shrunk from over a million to a mere thousand or so. Much as I may find it distasteful, I have to admit that, as a species, we may need your help more than I need some form of satisfaction for past offences…" Faber replied, employing his most honeyed words in some time.
"Past offences," the Didact said, chuckling aloud. "Ah, Faber, always you remain so consistent, so convinced of how all galactic affairs revolve uniquely around you – and yet, after all I have recently endured, I find it comforting somehow, and sufficient to let me pity you. Having had first-hand experience with the Flood, I concur with you that I can still be of great use to our people, and if possible, I would like to rejoin the fight. Your people can find nothing wrong with me?"
Faber hesitated. "You are displaying some signs of… recent mental trauma, but appear to be fast recovering, and to have already regained significant focus and control. Your new armour systems do not appear to be compromised, and are maintaining you well, considering: but for the sake of general security – and my own peace of mind – I must inquire of what happened to you over the period of your…"
"…Involuntary exile, Faber? One that you once again initiated, and very directly this time?"
"You must know forthwith that I do regret it – I acted hastily, in wanting to contain you, a former adversary, and remove you to somewhere you could not do me damage. And after me escape from the Capitol, I needed, ah…"
"Leverage, I think, is the word you are searching for?" the Didact replied, with a curiously detached expression, almost uncaring of the past and any difficulties it had burdened him with. "I quite understand, old… friend. Faced with looming death or imprisonment, one often falls back upon old patterns, old strategies. Myself, I have recently seen that ours will not avail us much longer… my last encounter with the Gravemind saw to that."
"A Gravemind? A Flood hive leader, one of their coordinating strategists?" Faber said with sudden alarm.
"I suspect their overall strategist, no less, and it would seem, the same being you attempted to imprison on your wretched Halo construct, a place, I am informed, of misery inducing experiments and assorted follies connected to our joint creation, Mendicant Bias."
"And this Gravemind left you… alive? Unassimilated? Still able to pose a threat to it, as well?"
"That is the worst of it – it toyed with me, dragged in my prison vessel like a fish in a net, informing me of the futility of resistance, and conducted a personal interview, whilst I lay surrounded by its vessels – and not just those, but older constructs as well. Assemblages just as you spoke of to me, many millennia ago – tools of the Precursors, now partly reactivated. It sees itself as the heir to their original great work, and will enforce compliance on all species to accomplish it. And it sought to convince me of the utter futility of resistance – that I was not worth even eliminating or absorbing. In truth, I am still not sure if he intended I ever be rescued, but he seemed entirely unconcerned with the prospect – and that frightens me, Faber, it frightens me no end."
"And yet – you seem so detached, unconcerned…"
"Numb, some might say. But I assure you, he was not successful in breaking me. I learned more of his intent, his obsessions, perhaps…"
"He?" Faber inquired.
"Gender is more or less irrelevant when discussing such an entity, but to me, at least, it presented a persona I would describe as male, for want of a better word. And when discussing an enemy, I prefer to be able to grasp their mind and personality as close to my own terms as I can – as he sought to do to me. He systematically examined and dismantled all my old military stratagems and accomplishments, threw much of my old accomplishments back into my face – emphasised how they were all codified and accounted for, now. That even many of my loyal warriors had now become part of the hive, and had given him a window into my mindset – to say nothing of the personal betrayal of Mendicant Bias…"
"My agents inform me Mendicant was recently captured by Promethean forces led by a certain Manipular of your acquaintance…"
"Ah – Bornstellar; then some good has come out of this, and we may yet thwart the ultimate aims of this abomination…"
"And former god?" Faber interrupted fretfully.
"I do not currently see them as gods, Faber: first intelligent species in this galaxy, more likely, and perhaps, closer to the source. First to discover neural physics on a grand scale, and through that, perhaps, to know the mind of the creator; but after that, something seems to have gone wrong. Conflict, disagreement, division, call it what you will – and then one, at least, cast out, to seek future vengeance. But it has weaknesses I believe I can still exploit, an overall plan he does not wish to deviate far from – one that involves us, and the humans, as well…"
He still sees himself as the hero, Faber reflected. Or perhaps, desperately clings to that image, in the face of possibly mind breaking horrors. But dare I return him to his battle?
"The Primordial has plans for the humans, and to use them for his own future ends. It spared them from the Flood before, and I believe, may do so again. This I am already factoring into my future plans. Many of my shield worlds may already be compromised and destroyed due to the treachery of Mendicant, and it is imperative I return to Requiem and re-establish contact with the network as soon as possible, to assess what resources remain to me, and if I can mount a rearguard action or daring strike into the enemy lines, perhaps even to catch it unawares. And if Requiem is no longer existent, I instead request the use of the Absolute Record, to attempt the same strategy."
"To my recollection, the region containing Requiem still appears to be holding out against attack, so this may be quite achievable," Faber replied, still wary of what the Didact's long term intentions might truly be. Perhaps revenge, against all of his brethren who had slighted and disgraced him, and sent him into that fresh hell he had somehow escaped?
Top of the list of targets of such vengeance, probably being himself…
"And if I may contribute," he continued, "I am prepared to put my Halo weapons at your disposal, with the consent, of course, of whatever remains of the Council. I know some have apparently escaped, yet they do not know the capabilities of the Array to near the same familiarity that I possess, so…"
"No!" The Didact responded flatly, coldly - a trace of anger, but not yet, rage. "I will not be making use of your cursed Array, Faber. I have seen into the heart of our adversary, and doing so would only prove him right about our unfitness to wield the Mantle. He would take that case, perhaps, to any of his surviving brethren, as proof that he was right. We will have violated the Mantle, and destroyed parts of the galaxy's own living network – its own subtle mind. And I remain convinced it is expecting us to use it, somehow. No, I shall assemble a new army, instead, and make the case that our guardianship still holds, that we can beat him at his own game…"
The Didact had been speaking faster and faster at this point, and Faber wondered if he was seeing a vast and powerful intellect – one he had often feared – breaking down under the strain. Locked in denial, perhaps, and pursuing an impossible act of defiance, a self-willed obsession to somehow turn the tide of the war singlehandedly?
In light of that, it was beginning to look prudent to arrange for the Didact to get where he wanted to go, and begin his suicidal last stand, whatever it might be. Or maybe, possibly, he would succeed?
Either way, Faber was sure he wanted to be far away from the front lines of whatever the Didact was planning. Last stands had a way of quickly pruning some of the best minds, where caution and contingencies might keep some pocket alive, somewhere.
"I am prepared to take you to Requiem, if it still stands, then," he responded carefully, as calmly as he could. "I will make my own separate case to the Council of how I can contribute, if it intersects with your plan, for now, at least. If you fail, though, I will advance my own remaining contingencies."
"To any who will listen to you, I assume. You are a consummate politician, Faber, but I fear even you have run out of friends by this point. Still, they may yet see some use to you – and you may dream of some return to power if you wish. I do not begrudge any of us a few fantasies at such a dire time as this. But I think it would be wiser to cast your fate upon the Mantle, and adherence to its deep principles – even if much of our leadership remains clueless about what they may mean on a deeper level…"
"I'm… sorry?"
"I have been drawing my own conclusions, of recent. Perhaps someday I shall tell you more. For now, please convey me to my fortress, and we shall speak further…"
Within days, the old frigate arrived at a distant star system out toward the (Compiler: Carina arm?) region of the galaxy. Orbiting a distant yellow sun was a metallic ball, the size of a middle scale terrestrial world, lined with grooves, plates and dim lights. Requiem, in the (Epoloch) system, was made up of a hollow metallic shell surrounding a landscaped interior globe, with pits sunken into it for housing starships and munitions factories of varying size, with a further hollow interior in the central core. An artificial sun lit the first interior layer's oceans, mountains and deserts, doing the work of a genuine full size one, with mirrors to reflect light further.
The frigate took up position outside of one of the circular entrance portals set into the outer 'hull' of the planet, which had irised open in order to admit ships or teleportation beams.
Faber and the Didact remained in the control centre of the ship as it approached, sealed in privately together – although the Didact suspected heavily armed guards lay just outside the door.
"I am grateful you conveyed me here, Faber. But I must now confess one more bit of information I have had cause the recollect. The Gravemind revealed one of our star systems recently has fallen to Flood assault, and thought it would have some significance to you…"
"Which?" Faber said, stopping dead.
"One of your personal holdings, out in Path Kural…"
"What… no, impossible…" Faber said, gasping for breath. He wrestled with the main communications panel. "Establish a direct link to that system immediately...!"
Within a minute, a connection was made through wavespace, a similar but more compressed form of slipspace, to the planet in Path Kural – the very system where Faber had evacuated his long absent family to, shortly before his trial. A holographic display triggered, opening directly into Faber's mansion on that world…
Almost everything recognisable of it was gone now: misty clouds of Flood spores floated in the air, above ossified furniture and grimy tables, some festooned with mushroomlike growths. Shambling Flood combat forms came into view, and in the centre, as the view panned, a clump of forms amalgamated together, forming a hub.
"Beloved – my children! ANYONE!?" Faber wailed, all pretence of control and decorum now gone. The doors cycled, and guardsmen came within, standing to stiff attention nearby, in case of active threat.
Then a voice issued from the display, deep, resonant, and quite terrible:
"They can still hear you, Faber – but through me. We exist together now – many corpses, but sharing one grave – united in slumber…"
"Monster! Obscene, unfeeling abomination – destroyer of lives…" Faber rasped quietly, erupting into fearful, heaving sobs.
"Yet you may see them again, may… entwine with them, old Builder. Do I take life – or give it? Who is victim, who is foe? You have set your own people on a path that will likely lead to the destruction of all life in the galaxy, all because you and your fellow leaders dared to claim to know the dictates and intention of the Mantle. And yet I work to fulfil them, even now. You can continue to fight, but in doing so, you'll destroy everything, and your hope of reuniting with the minds I hold now within me. Listen to them now…"
Feverishly, Faber seized a mental interface headset, connecting to broader channels, and listened to the cries, in stony, motionless silence, with the holodisplay now terminated.
Finally, when the Didact judged that Faber could hear no more, he removed the headset, carefully, almost respectfully, but not in what could be said as tender.
"This is what it has all led to, Faber. It is desperate and ruthless now – he, all of them, the hive, will fight dirtier and crueller than before, to goad us, or force us into a corner…"
"I'll kill all of them… wipe his worlds clean of his repellent filth…"
"And we will still lose. This was his pre-emptive revenge," the Didact replied, standing up. "This is what you have done, with your Halos, Faber. In this hour of dwindling choices – this is what you and your Halos have wrought…"
The broken Master Builder suddenly drew himself back up to full height, turning on the warrior commander.
"Leave this ship, Didact – never darken my sight again. Guards…"
At his command, the nearby soldiers turned.
"Escort this – person – down to his planet, and then we will leave. If he resists, incapacitate him – kill him, if you must."
The guards assumed positions around the Didact, who did not resist, but turned to follow, leaving Faber behind them, cloaked in shade and sorrow.
The Didact materialised within Requiem, and was funnelled further down via its teleportation grid, into the command deck of his immense flagship, the Mantle's Approach.
Reverent warriors and ship crewmembers turned meet him deferentially, awaiting his every command.
"Inform all within Requiem that the Didact has returned, to once more take control of the Promethean forces here – and with new strategies and a resolve as terrible and unyielding as those of our foe, we will triumph in this struggle, whether it cost us everything we have left to give. The Flood shall NOT achieve victory!"
"Aya…"
"Aya…"
The chants rose around the massive citadel sized deck, soaring above in buttresses and alcoves, cathedral like. Voices filled the eaves and echoed back and forth.
More and more warriors poured into the room, entering via standing portals from locations around the Shield World, from its very deepest depths to its soaring, floating towers, high above the rolling hills they overshadowed.
"Prometheans, I have led you for thousands of years, and if these will be our last days, then let us make them worthy of song. But I have also determined that old tactics will no longer avail us. Our forces are not invulnerable to the Flood, and it has a myriad of ways to take what is arrayed against it and turn it to its purposes….
"This will, however, now change. I require some of you to volunteer for a procedure, a chance to become new and merciless weapons against our most diabolical foe. It will require great sacrifice, but to you also, will flow great honour.
"With my armour's computer systems I have commanded entire legions, guiding and directing and coordinating them. But we must go still further, if we are to triumph. And now, I believe I know how…"
Rapt and silent, the hordes of the Forerunner's finest warrior corps anxiously awaited the word of their new destiny.