STRING 33
Earth calendar – estimated 97,448 BCE…
(Compiler note: the Didact moved slowly at first, utilising confiscated technology to further his plans, and within a year, re-established communications with some of the other Forerunner leaders. Although his battle plans initially seemed very practical and level headed, this would soon prove far from the case. In the meantime, Bornstellar, his ersatz protégé, oversaw other forces, and the debut of a new combat Ancilla – another Metarch…)
Bornstellar watched as the completed Contender-class AI hovered off of the ground and moved towards him, eyes glowing in three colours, to indicate proper functioning of principle operating modes. Closely based on Mendicant Bias, and including some of the same memories and directives, the new AI was a close match in many ways to its forbear, but simplified, and channelled along more narrow lines of focus – mainly to offence and aggressive tactics. It also saw individual lives of subordinates in a much more clinical and detached way, a precaution to limit room for persuasion or manipulation by Mendicant or another foe. It had been tentatively labelled 06-040, with a name now to follow.
"Are all your systems properly functioning, Contender?" Bornstellar asked, coldly.
"They are at satisfactory levels, for recent initialisation."
"And you are aware of your mission priorities and key function?"
"I am, IsoDidact. I am to defeat Mendicant Bias and the Flood forces he controls in open battle, and work to thwart the goals of the central Gravemind wherever is possible. All other considerations are to be viewed as secondary."
"Very well: I hereby name you Offensive Bias, and order you to report to the war council for your orientation with senior commanders. It is my hope that you will bring to fulfilment the dreams and hopes we have invested in you, in this, the most dire time perhaps, in our species' history."
"I comprehend, IsoDidact. I will fulfil my duty to the whole of my abilities – and will eliminate the traitor if the opportunity presents itself."
Hmm – that's new, Bornstellar thought. A sign of a personal stake, and some personal pride, most likely – I may have to check upon you again later, to ensure you stay focused.
"Perhaps yes, if it presents itself. Neutralisation of the threat he poses remains the primary goal, and we may need to interrogate Mendicant at some point. Please bear that in mind…"
"I shall, creator… ah, I should point out that we are receiving a priority communication; shall I route it through to here?"
"Yes, do so," Bornstellar – the new Didact – agreed.
"IsoDidact, this is the Falchion, reporting with new intelligence," a mild voice spoke, as a holographic image sprung into view. The Falchion was one of the newer commanders, and had been assigned mainly to guard the inner systems. Now he spent much time trying to retake those of them that had fallen to Flood assault.
"Go ahead, commander…"
"We have observed ships and warriors moving outward from Requiem, that we had thought largely abandoned, and going on new offences. There appear to be new tactics involved…"
"Any idea who is responsible? Maybe Sharp by Striking, or the Confirmer?" Both were older warriors who had been quite loyal to the Didact, although the latter had apparently been somewhat swayed away, by the time the Master Builder had captured the warrior leader.
"Unclear at this time; we will attempt to obtain more detailed information. Should we initiate formal contact?"
"Not yet, but soon – perhaps…"
"Very well, Didact."
"IsoDidact – I would prefer."
"You have been marked as his successor, and still more, an equal – as your very title tells."
"Nevertheless, I do request a distinction be maintained; report to me soon."
"Aya," the Falchion said, before cutting communications.
(Compiler note: estimated 97,447 or 97,448 BCE)
Far away, the Librarian received intelligence of her own.
Aboard one of her research ships, she had been in deep discussion with a Catalog, concerning her research into the Flood, which had led her to a long range voyage centuries ago, outside of the main galaxy. There, in one of the dwarf galactic clusters, she had found assorted answers, not all of which she had disclosed, including the presence of actual ancient Forerunner descendants, who had reverted to a more primitive lifestyle, and seemed to descend from a great armada of forces, some ten million years ago: an armada apparently sent to fight the Precursors.
But she also obtained useful information from Catalog in return.
"You know that the Master Builder has been located; may I speak of him?"
"You may."
"Ah, that means that Juridicals have dismissed all proceedings against him!"
"Indeed they have, Lifeshaper… upon instructions from the new Council."
She began putting various pieces together. "Astonishing; when you were receiving my deposition, I had a peculiar feeling that you knew something of importance. Something you could not tell me."
"Indeed," the cybernetic legal clerk admitted.
"The release of the Master Builder seems to have been predicated upon his delivery of a very important individual to the Capital system…" which, she recalled, had been retaken in fighting, but was now more of an assembly area for forces and personnel. She drew upon other recent reports she had read, to help complete the puzzle.
"Indeed."
"That can only mean my husband has been returned to us, Catalog. And that means he will replace the IsoDidact, as you call him."
"Perhaps, Lifeshaper," Catalog said, quite guardedly, as if very unconvinced.
She changed the subject for a while, to discuss her initial meeting and courtship with the Didact, many millennia ago, and the children they had together, to eventually lose. Much like, she recalled, the Master Builder had similarly suffered, per one report.
At length, she said "I wonder what he'll think when he sees what we have accomplished?"
"He will see that the Flood has made huge incursions, and that our situation is dire…"
"Very likely; he has given his own deposition?"
"He has, Lifeshaper. No doubt he will soon tell you what he told the Juridicals. I cannot."
She waited a moment as the vessel prepared to enter slipspace, sorting out various complex and conflicting emotions, thoughts, and second thoughts. Renewed hope, yes, but also concern, and the prospect of more complications to factor into an already complex war, with many other factors she had to help resolve. In the end, she erred on the side of optimism.
"I'll have two husbands, Catalog. Not in itself a problem… but both will be the Didact..."
Requiem boasted many facilities deep below its artificial surface, and down further, below its inner terraced landscapes. The surgical mutation laboratory was one of the oldest, used to welcome Promethean warriors into their senior ranks, upon maturing and augmentation, to new powers, skills and musculature, all guided by careful biological experiment.
Within this hallowed location, Shadow-of-Sundered-Star, the original Didact, stood upright as pain and heat raced through his body, pulses of energy and electrical impulse, trying and failing to earth itself and be fully integrated inside of him. The process was erratic, and tentative, and seemed like it would break down. Finally though, it seemed to take hold, and the changes appeared to have set in. Observing this, the old, loyal soldier known as the Strategos watched as the Didact fell to his knees, and began to breath steadily again.
"Did it work? Run the simulation…" he commanded tersely.
A holographic display of the Didact's body sprang into life in shades of blue before them, charting part of his internal organs and neural system. Red lights soon began to blink within it, widely spaced throughout the projected image. Soon the whole projection had turned a foreboding crimson.
"The procedure is a failure – I am still susceptible to Flood infection," the Didact announced grimly, still prone.
"That leaves… only the Composer," the Strategos conceded, as he watched the Didact rise up slowly. His appearance was now much changed – his patches of hair-like fur on the side of his head were still there, but his skin had grown paler, harsher, and his eyes had become sunken, smaller – harsher. Most disturbingly, two prominent fangs stuck out of his mouth, a deviation from prior specification the Strategos had helped input into the mutation process – they spoke of a new, more carnivorous or bestial aspect, perhaps of heightened aggression, as well.
"It will not work on my new form," the Didact said, grimly.
"Then you will lead us, as always," the Strategos replied, deciding to fully commit, no matter this worrying new aspect in his leader.
The Didact's eyes dilated, and grew a little warmer: "You would submit to such sacrifice?"
"Didact – if the Composer is our final hope to defeat the Flood… no Promethean would resist."
Later that day, the Strategos and many others went through… processing. The Didact watched them all, lost in dark thoughts. He had not been entirely honest, in his discussion with the Strategos, he suspected: he had some idea why the mutation had failed, or at least, been as rocky as it had turned out to be – he was no longer at peace, and not reconciled as he had been previously to his view of the Domain, the galaxy, and all made up living time, to this point. He now saw threats and persecution in many places his gaze turned to, and little in the way of inner harmony – perhaps even, no hope.
But warriors did not always trust to hope, and when things became desperate, often trusted to their instincts, their skills – even in the face of enormous odds. And so he would continue.
He also suspected the Composer might have worked on him, with enough effort – but he did desire to chance it, at this time. The entire point of this new project was to create warriors immune to both the Flood, and to their insidious 'logic plague' that had apparently compromised Mendicant Bias, and now a host of lesser AIs, and the Didact did not want his soldiers compromised – or conflicted – by what he might add to the coming gestalt. He would remain in command, but, as was common for a war leader, still… apart.
The yellow beam of the Composer shot down onto the row of couches below it, holding many Promethean warriors. Quickly, but not without some pain, the beam separated their organic molecules, and released surplus energies, safely harvested, before drawing the energised vapour that had been some of the Didact's finest warriors into its storage buffer.
Elsewhere, the Didact checked on the assembly line of their new weapon components – inspired by previous mechanised warriors called Armigers, used to help fight against the humans on their home soil, and aboard their more cramped ships. Those had been fairly small robotic warriors, held together by force fields and hard-light in an almost skeletal form. The new creations were much larger, massive exoskeletons with thin limbs below a hulking, armoured torso, broadening to a swollen equipment bay in the spine, and a partial cowl around the head, clad in pearlescent metal.
Like the Didact, the Prometheans had reached the end of their evolution, in the form they had now. Unlike him, they would progress into a new form, now mechanical, but operated by a sentient digital essence – no longer vulnerable as organics had been, to Flood takeover. These first volunteers were to be his knights, his champions. Supporting them were lesser machines – floating units with tiny heads, somewhat like Sentinels, but created to look more like small humanoids, borne aloft by two orange energy rotors that provided anti-gravity thrust. Smaller still were four legged scouting units, that resembled lupine predators, or household pets, clutching weapons between scissor like mandibles attached to their heads. Together they would cooperate to eliminate enemies and provide mutual defence, to create new tactics with which to – hopefully – take the Flood by surprise.
When they were finished, all that remained was to find a way to test them, effectively…
Hours later, the Didact strode onto a desert plain up above on the landscapes of Requiem, and assembled his new army – thousands upon thousands – on the plain before him, more teleporting in every few seconds. When enough were gathered (and more for theatrical purposes, as all of them remained linked to his armour's communications) he spoke formerly to them, amplifying his voice so as to carry across the dusty landscape.
"I have led you, my Prometheans, for thousands of years: and I shall continue to lead you."
More of the Knights materialised, this time right in front of him, flexing their limbs, and their weapons, including some hardlight energy blades, held in one forelimb. Two smaller limbs lay nearby, for fine manipulation.
"Rise – and protect the Forerunners," he urged, gesturing to his assembled horde like a composer to his orchestra.
"Rise – and protect, the GALAXY…"
As one, the army raised their weapons. Panels around their faces opened up, revealing the final touch – a human skull made of orange synthetic hard light: an homage to the psychological tactics he had employed against the human warriors, millennia earlier.
And a deterrent, should the same humans rise again in arrogance, and try to undermine Forerunner achievements or seize them for their own purposes, once more.
And the Mantle would continue to hold – to be held.
"Now – let us spread forth into the stars, and give the Flood a true reason for terror…"
He looked on his new army, and recognised some, via their ID codes – even the Strategos, as well. They had made their sacrifice – it was time to make it worth something.
On a distant world (Compiler note: in vicinity to cluster NGC 2439, we estimate, from files) Flood forces swarmed across the surface, maintaining larger forms of converted life, and whole interlinked ecosystems, all contributing to the growing of infection forms, spores, and to making specialised 'Keyminds' to house crucial data and knowledge, useful to the running of the war. They were the only living, thinking things left on the planet, of any note, and had known nothing but the quiet, throbbing call of the hive mind for decades.
This was soon to change.
In orbit, a massive vessel emerged from slipspace, larger than most space fortresses, a rough-hewn chunk of a vessel, and surrounded by smaller cruisers and escorts. It was the Mantle's Approach, the reclaimed flagship of the Ur-Didact.
Fighters, drones and other craft spewed forth from it, into the Flood -poisoned atmosphere of the world below – blade like Despair-class fighters, flea-like Seekers, and a few of the ornate War Sphinxes, adorned with roughly carved facial features. Smaller weapon ships (Compiler note: now codenamed 'Phaetons') teleported in beside them to accompany them on bombing runs.
Onto the surface teleported in rank upon rank of Promethean warriors in their new form – the so-called Knights, armed with lightrifles, rapid-fire 'suppressors' and some with energy blades; they began carving into the Flood nests, and then hurling further weaponry – grenades, small missiles, and incineration cannon rounds – into the Keyminds on the local landmass. So-called 'Watchers' detached from a housing on their back and latched onto Flood infection forms with their orange torsion beams, hurling them away into the path of more grenades. Scurrying 'Crawlers' ran down into submerged tunnels, blasting carrier forms of Flood, and mowing down the released infection forms with their light projectiles. Above, air craft continued to bombard the Flood hives from above, and soon more vehicles – specialised 'socket tanks' deployed from manta-ray like hovering transports – entered the battle, driving straight through infected biomass like it was so much confetti.
Sporadic Flood controlled ships responded in orbit of the system, but were soon blasted apart by the large Forerunner warships under the Ur-Didact's command. The tide of the battle was turning rapidly, and soon, victory was in sight.
Hours later, the Didact looked out over a cleansed planet, now burning softly below his ship – and the rest of the solar system was being similarly attended to. My forces are successful – we can actually stop them, on their own ground… he mused.
And he would have to keep on doing it, if he was to avert the alternate strategies of the new Council, the Master Builder, and even, he feared, his own wife – of their likely acquiescence to employing those wretched Halo rings.
"I have seen enough. We shall proceed to the next affected star system. Keep a small force here to monitor and continue to purge, as needed; when they are done, recall them. The rest of our forces must continue the fight – and in doing so, strengthen our case, to what remains of the civil leadership.
"We will prove that the Prometheans can win this war, yet…"
And when that time arrived, he would likely speak to the Librarian, his wife, again – possibly for the last time.
