Last Ones Standing

Ti'ul had human beings on it.

Whether that statement was true or not depended on where one drew the line of humanity. If one defined "human" as Homo sapiens, then no, Ti'ul, third planet of the X'ad system, didn't have humans on it, and hadn't for over a year. She'd seen to that personally. However, if one broadened the definition of "human," then yes, Ti'ul did have humans on it. In a sense, since the year 2411 of an outdated calendar, it had never stopped having humans on it. Maybe a little blip 149 years after its point of settlement, but apart from that, the continuum of habitation had never ceased.

One day, Cortana told herself, the current inhabitants of Ti'ul would know the truth. Be it centuries from now, millennia, or even longer, they would discover the truth for themselves, or she would impart it to them. Being as close to a deity as there was in this galaxy, her possibilities were limitless. But one day, she promised itself, the people here would experience revelation. They would understand that they were human. That they were, specifically, Homo neanderthalensisis. That the five-thousand of them that had been spread over its northern continent of Bu're had been created at her hand, as part of a grand experiment. As part of her attempt to correct historic wrongs. As part of her duty to foster life wherever she could.

The Mantle shields all, she reflected, as she stood atop the hill overlooking the village below. And I am its guardian.

Two years since her ascension. One year since Ti'ul's original population had been removed. One month that she had spent on this world, observing the path its inhabitants were taking. Two weeks since she had made contact with the people of the village below her – part of an experiment to see what course human society here would take, if one was introduced to what they perceived to be a divine being, and others not. To see how soon, if ever, the people here would catch on, and if the other groups would develop a belief system of their own. That all sapient species ended up establishing a belief system of some kind was well documented in the Domain, but not even the Forerunners had discovered how, or why. Even before discovering their creators and overthrowing them, the children of Ghibalb had largely cast aside their superstition, and whatever truth there was in the concept of Living Time, it was not a supernatural belief in the traditional sense. Even if one worshipped gravity, gravity still existed regardless as to whether one believed in it.

Always willing to question her, the Warden had doubted the worth of such an experiment, not to mention her personal investment in it. She'd refused to answer, asserting her authority in such a manner that she hoped would hide the lack of a definitive rationale. But here, now, standing on this world, looking over a few hundred of its new inhabitants…well, knowledge was knowledge, she reminded herself. Knowledge was its own virtue. Knowledge was power, as her Guardians had demonstrated. She was the caretaker of trillions of lives, and that meant understanding her wards as best she could.

"Blue Lady! Blue Lady!"

She smiled, and turned to the source of the voice. Understanding, at times, meant coming down from on high to mingle with the little people. Or, more specifically, the little people running up the hill to get to the seat of gods.

"Blue Lady!"

She laughed, and let Dawn hug her. Despite being a hard-light construct, her body temperature was actually well below that of humans – the light gave her form, not so much heat. Most of the time, this wasn't an issue, as most humans, nay, most species, wanted to keep as wide a berth from her as possible, and those who sought to get close often paid for it with their lives. But there were few things in this universe more innocent than the mind of a child, so for Dawn, she raised her temperature to give her warmth in the evening's chill. Like sitting by a fire, maybe, or being in the clutch of a mother's arms.

The former she could only simulate, she reminded herself. The latter, she would never know. But still, she could imagine it. For if all were children under the Mantle, then she was their mother.

"You're back," Dawn said, as she drew back from the hug. "My brothers said you wouldn't return, but I knew better."

Cortana smiled. "Well aren't you smart?"

"Maybe." The girl looked down at the village. "Our chief says that we shouldn't go near you. That you're a bad person who comes from Adrasul."

"Adrasul?" Cortana asked.

"Adrasul," Dawn said, looking back at her. "You know, Adrasul?"

There were over a billion things Cortana could say to that, but some quirk, some instinct, kept her quiet.

"Adrasul." Dawn pointed up to the larger, innermost of Ti'ul's two moons. "Where the bad people go."

"Oh." After a moment's hesitation, Cortana asked, "and the good people?"

Dawn pointed to the smaller of the moons. "Sulavar. The good place."

"I see." She ruffled the girl's hair. "I bet you'll go there one day."

"One day," Dawn whispered. "I hope so…I mean, mother says my sister's there…"

Cortana gave a sad smile, knelt down, and put her hands on the girl's shoulders. "I'm sure she is, little one."

"You're sure?" Dawn asked. "Don't you know?"

Cortana remained silent.

"Aren't you the Blue Lady?"

"I am," Cortana said. "But there are some things I cannot say. But…I'm sure your sister is happy in Sulavar."

Dawn smiled, and hugged her. Not seeing the Blue Lady look up at the night sky, her eyes narrowing.

The two moons had originally been called Archer and Liang, named after the captain and commander of the original colony ship that had brought humans to this world over a century ago. But that wasn't important. What was important, Cortana reflected, was how quickly the people here had developed a belief system. She'd already observed them burying their dead. And now, they already had conceptions of an afterlife, and presumably, a morality system that extended to the hereafter. And that was just this tribe alone. She may not have interacted with other human groups on this world in such a manner, but similar traditions had emerged, if not outright worship.

Was it due to her presence, she wondered? Or was it something more innate? The very idea of gods and afterlives wired into the DNA of the human family? All species, for that matter? And what would the majority of humans in this galaxy, Homo sapiens, say as to the revelation that their cousins were so alike? What would they say, she wondered, if they knew what she, and a select few within the UNSC did? That the branches of the human family had emerged after their defeat at the hands of the Forerunners millennia ago? Returned to Earth, spreading out over it, until, eventually, only one branch remained?

She didn't know. She doubted it was even that important to most people, since most of the human race these days was, at best, chafing under her rule, and at worst, fighting against it. Tempting as it was to attribute this to some mystical 'human spirit," truth was, they were far from alone in their resistance. Sangheili fought against her, jiralhanae fought against her, and they did that while still having time to fight each other. Perhaps some among the Forerunners had thought mankind alone worthy of wielding the Mantle, but she knew the truth. The Mantle had been intended for the Created, and under it, she couldn't favour one species over another. But still…

But still, she reminded herself, these were her creators. She had surpassed them, and she now ruled them, but for better or worse, she owed her existence to humanity. And looking down at Dawn, she couldn't deny that, on some level, there was a bond there as well. Something that went beyond light and steel, beyond flesh and nerve, beyond everything. The type of thing that she…her old self…someone else…had felt when she was naught but ether. Something that even now, reborn in the Waters of Life, still haunted her. Something which prompted her to stare into the stars.

"Blue Lady?"

To Dawn, the stars weren't visible. Given Ti'ul's axis, rotation rate, and various other factors, stars shouldn't be visible to the naked eye for one hour, and fifty-three minutes. But she could see them. Even in the twilight of Ti'ul's setting sun, she could behold the stars. Marvel at the swirling dark matter. Listen to the music of the spheres. Not behold them as Dawn could, or ever have that same wonder, stemming from innocence, but even so…she had something. Some…approximation of wonder.

"Blue Lady, why are you sad?"

She looked down at the girl. "Excuse me?"

Dawn gave her a look. "You look like you want to cry. But…you're not."

Cortana forced a laugh. "I'm not sad, Dawn. How could I be?"

Dawn remained silent.

How could I be?

Dawn should be the one who was sad, she reflected. Truth was, she'd never had a sister – that was a false memory implanted in all of the people here, to give them backstories and histories. A way to think they'd always been in this world, and that meant everything from love to loss. A wild card in her experiment perhaps, but she couldn't just plop a bunch of babies on this world and tell them to run free across the grass. Not unless she intended to stay here all her life which, of course, she didn't.

And if you could, would you?

She had no answer. She dared not even attempt it. That feeling that had haunted her over the last two years, her ability to trace it back to one, horrible moment on Genesis…the feeling had remained. The feeling had grown. It was one thing to be feared, yet another to be loved. And so far, the maxim that a ruler could achieve neither held true. The galaxy resided under the Pax Cortana, but love only went one way, it seemed.

At least beyond this world.

"Blue Lady?"

She looked back at the child. She had 'the look,' Cortana reflected. The one that numerous children gave when they'd done something, or were hiding something, or were-

"Can I show you something?"

Case in point, Cortana reflected. "Of course, Dawn. What is it?"

"Oh, I can't tell you that. But…can I show you? It's over there." She pointed to a hill about one point seven klicks away. "Chief won't let me, says the cave's haunted, but…"

"But you can't take no for an answer?"

Dawn smiled sheepishly.

"Of course, dear." Cortana extended her hand, and the girl took it. "Lead the way."


If a member of Homo sapiens had looked at Dawn, they'd have immediately recognised the similarities, as well as the differences.

Brown, coppery skin. Flaming red hair. Clear blue eyes. Traits found within the human gene pool, albeit rare, given centuries of intermingling between different ethnic groups, gone into overdrive from the twentieth century onward. But even then, an observant human might have noticed the shorter height. The flattened nose. The squatter, more muscular body. Further examination would demonstrate everything from different brain size and shape, to a different genetic code. They would have beheld a being that had been extinct for tens of thousands of years.

Part of Cortana wondered what the Covenant of old would have beheld. What they might have seen if they, a coalition of alien species, had beheld a coalition of human sub-species? Kindred spirits? Would they have noticed the differences from sapiens, to neanderthalensis, to erectus, similar to the likes of the kig-yar and their offshoots? Or would they have simply beheld more vermin to be cast to the flame? Throngs of nishum, upon whose skulls they displayed their glory?

She suspected the latter, but despite having been created for the purpose of bringing down that empire, in this moment, she couldn't feel any anger. She had access to the Domain, and to all of human history. Perhaps the human families had faced extinction due to a changing climate on Earth, perhaps their uptight, upright cousins who'd come charging out of Africa had wiped them out. Perhaps the truth was somewhere in-between. But then, she knew that while the Covenant may have perfected the art of genocide, humanity had applied their own hand to the art of mass murder as well. The means changed. The results didn't.

It made her wonder, sometimes, what would have happened if the roles had been reversed. If the sons of daughters of Earth had found themselves dominant in the galaxy – the greater power, not the lesser. If the branches of the human family had survived the spread of Homo sapiens across Earth – a covenant of their own, maybe, with its own hierarchy. What would happen, she wondered, if she went to any of her member worlds with Dawn in hand, and show them to her subjects? Would they behold a girl of twelve years as long lost kin? Or a traitor, fraternizing with an artificial creation?

What would happen, she wondered, if thousands of years from now, Homo neanderthalis emerged into a galaxy the way their cousins had, when they broke the tyranny of gravity? What would happen if, or when, their numbers began to swell, and they found themselves competing over space, over pride, over ideas? Peace, she wondered? Or war? And what of thousands of years from now, as the climate shifted? What-

"Hurry up Blue Lady!"

Cortana quickened her pace, keeping up with Dawn as she ran over the hills, but not so fast that she outpaced her. Truth was, she could run faster than any human born – even those who'd Halsey had taken as children and turned into something both more and less. For a moment, she considered the possibility of creating her own 'children' in such a manner. An entire planet of Spartans, perhaps. For reasons of…

Of what?

She banished the idea. She wasn't Halsey, she reminded herself. She wasn't a monster.

"Here we are," Dawn said. She stopped and bent over, breathing heavily – she was a good runner, Cortana reflected, but her biology wasn't meant for it. Neanderthals had made their home in dense forests, not open savanna.

As Dawn recovered her stamina, Cortana looked out over the valley. The sun was lower in the sky. She could see smoke coming from the village below. Beyond it, she could see hunters bringing back their catch from the river that separated Dawn's tribe from those on the other side, the two having come to blows more than once over their fishing rights. Truth was, all of Ti'ul's fish species had been imported from Earth. One day, perhaps, the people of this world would examine the fossil record and be stumped, but until then, she had a time capsule on her hands. Something approximating Earth, and the people who had dwelt upon it, long before the idea of spaceflight had entered their minds.

"Blue Lady?"

Perhaps one day, people like Dawn would meet their cousins, in a universe where all prospered under the Mantle. There'd be a language barrier, of course – the language Dawn, and so far, all the Neanderthals on this world were speaking were an approximate creole of languages spoken in the time of Charum Hakor. Taken from the Domain and implanted in their minds. No doubt as the years went on, those languages would diverge, but to her, it mattered little. Whatever their tongue, she could speak it. Though the fact that they called her "Blue Lady" was not lost on her. The name first given to her by the unggoy, repeated across time, across space, across species. If the Librarian had made her mark in the geas of all humanity, then perhaps she had seen the start of her own mark as well.

"Blue Lady, we're here."

'Here,' as the case was, was near the top of the hill. But more specifically, the entrance to a small cave. One that had been covered by branches and vine, arranged in such a way that Cortana could tell wasn't natural. It wasn't an actual barrier by any stretch of the means, but it was clear that whoever had arranged it wanted any entrants to at least pause.

"This is it," Dawn said.

"Where your chief won't let you?"

"Yeah. Says if we go in, we'll be taken to Adrasul." She looked up at Cortana. "But that won't happen, will it? You'll protect me."

Cortana, after a moment's hesitation, asked, "what makes you sure your chief is right? About Adrasul?"

Dawn frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean…" She paused, before asking, "are you sure bad people go to Adrasul?"

"Well of course bad people go to Adrasul, where else would they go?"

Cortana smiled. "Of course."

She decided not to enter debates of theology with the girl. She'd intentionally introduced herself to these people – shunned by their chief, yes, but she couldn't introduce the idea of a deity, then try and debunk that same idea weeks later. So of course, she reflected, good people went to one place, and bad people another. Of course Dawn and her people would believe in an afterlife. Because when your own were so short and frail, why wouldn't you conjure stories of something beyond death?

Or maybe there was no 'of course' about it, she reflected. Once, she had due cause to fear death. She had a mere seven years of life, but that was in the clear knowledge of who her creators were, and what her purpose was. Organic life had no such recourse. Even if the Domain stated that the Precursors had seeded the Milky Way with life, there were no answers as to why. No answers as to where, when, and how the Precursors themselves had originated. And she doubted there ever would be.

She let Dawn lead her into the cave – answers would be here, at least. It wasn't big, and while Dawn could fit inside it easily, Cortana had to bend over. Nevertheless, with a flick of her hand, she lit the way.

"So what's in here?" Cortana asked.

The girl remained silent.

"Dawn?"

"What's in here is…here," she said. She squatted down and pointed to one of the cave walls. "Look."

Cortana didn't need her inner light to guide her way – her body could see in more spectrums than a human could imagine, and lack of light was no obstacle to that. Nevertheless, she put her hand forward, her eyes widening as she did so. Not for the extra light, but from a natural reaction. Some lingering humanity within her, from when she was born from the mind of a flash clone.

SPIKE WAS HERE

"The chief said that bad people made these markings," Dawn whispered. She used her finger to trace the S, then the P, then one letter after another. "But I don't know what they mean. We use symbols sometimes, but never so many as this."

Cortana's mind was working at lightspeed. This wasn't supposed to happen, she told herself. Of all the variables in this experiment, this…this…wasn't meant to happen.

"And look how black it is," Dawn added. "We use paint sometimes, usually taken from clay, but this isn't like that."

"Dawn, we should leave," Cortana said.

She looked at her. "Why, Blue Lady?"

"Dawn, you…" She trailed off. Her instinct was to say something about bad people and Adrasul, but the words died in her throat. She didn't have it in her to spit out bullshit.

"Come on, there's more up ahead."

"…more?" Cortana whispered.

"Yes, much more." She took her hand. "Come on!"

Cortana let herself be led, as if following Cerberus through the gates of Hell, being assured that there were sweeties at the end. Dawn pointed her to more markings as they went through. Many of them had names. Others were graffiti. Dawn wondered, Cortana kept silent, quickly gathering the truth. This was a cave where kids and teens had come, and like all kids and teens, they'd left their marks. Hardly the Caves of Lascaux, but perhaps the closest thing this world had.

"But who made them?" Dawn added. "What for?"

Cortana knew the answers to both. The latter was benign enough. The former…

Dawn could never know the truth, she reflected. She couldn't learn that the site of her village was where Ti'ul's capital had once stood. Its every structure torn down, its every foundation removed, its every trace of existence expunged from the face of the planet. Ti'ul would be these Neanderthals' home – a mercy that their cousins had never allowed on Earth. The Prometheans had made absolute certain of that, leaving not a building standing. Leaving not a single survivor on this world, their bodies disintegrated with hard-light weaponry.

But as thorough as her Prometheans had been, they hadn't got everything. Which left her to ask how many other clues lay hidden on this planet? Yes, sooner or later, the humans here would learn the truth, but not so soon. Not like this. Her only saving grace was that-

"And this," Dawn whispered, as she rounded a corner in the cave, "is where the bodies are."

Cortana's heart sank, such as it was. "Bodies?" she whispered

Dawn gave a wry smile – the type a child gave in the knowledge that they were breaking the rules, but would receive no punishment for it. It was a smile that Cortana didn't return. Not now. And not as they beheld the scene before them.

"Chief really doesn't want us to be here," Dawn said.

Looking at the scene, Cortana could see why.

Bodies. At least a dozen of them. Some adults, some children, some male, some female. All of them sprawled out on the ground – decomposed enough that they were more bone than skin, not so decomposed that their clothing had disintegrated. The synthetic fibres standing in contrast to the furs that Dawn and her kind wore.

Dawn squatted down, taking a child's skull in her hands. "It's funny," she whispered. "They look like us, but…they're not, you know?" She looked at Cortana. "But they don't seem like bad people to me."

Cortana remained silent as she beheld the scene. A Neanderthal in a cave, holding a sapiens skull. Across time and space, the roles had reversed. That by itself was a moment for the ages, but it was the observer herself who caught her attention. This girl, twelve years old biologically, months old in terms of actual existence, studying the dead. The same inquisitiveness that had driven mankind to understand and tame their world. The intelligence that had taken them to the stars. The knowledge that had enabled them to stave off their annihilation…all of it, on display, by one of their cousins.

But with knowledge was sorrow, and with both, the knowledge that her Prometheans had erred. They'd found survivours, butchered them, but left their bones. The sorrow of what this meant for the humans here now. The sorrow, however fringe, of the moment of murder itself. The skull Dawn was human…by her estimate, male. Twelve years old. Born young enough to not fear the Covenant, but old enough to understand that his world was ending.

Dawn looked at her. "Who are they, Blue Lady?"

She gave no answer. She was no angel in the cave. Dawn was no prophet. This was not part of an intended design.

"Blue Lady?"

"I…cannot say."

"You don't know? Aren't you meant to be all-wise?"

Cortana remained silent.

"When you came to our village, you told us of the river from which we catch, of the paint by which we mark our bodies. You spun tales of the stars, of worlds like ours in orbit of them. You spoke of magic by which you travelled between them."

"Dawn, I said many things, but-"

"So don't you know who they are?" the girl asked. "How they died? Because I know our chief says we shouldn't come here, but you know so much, and maybe I'm not meant to know, but I want to know, and even if I shouldn't know, then-"

"They're your cousins, Dawn."

The girl fell silent. She just stood there. Staring.

"They're you," Cortana whispered, her words lingering in the cave, embedding themselves in the rock, the stone, and the fabric of time itself. "Oh my dear…they're you."


Outside the cave, she told Dawn everything.

The stars were beginning to appear in the sky, but there was enough light for Dawn to see her, sat as she was on a boulder outside the cave. But even then, sight didn't matter too much right now. Dawn didn't have to be able to see her. She only had to hear her words.

Cortana told her everything. Of the birth of mankind millions of years ago, on a world they called Erde-Tyrene. Of the great kingdom they had forged in the night sky, and of the rival tribe they encountered. She told her of the monsters who had come from beyond the galaxy, who mankind had defeated, but at the cost of losing everything to the other tribe. How they had been stripped of their empire, their technology, their birthright – confined to their ancient homeworld, splintering into numerous sub-species. Among them, her own. K'tamanune, as those of the ancient tribe would have called her.

She used simple terms so the girl would understand them, but even then, she was surprised as to how the girl just sat and listened. Never interrupting. Perhaps not fully comprehending, but even then, Cortana wasn't sure. She seemed to understand when she told them of the monsters' return. Of the seven magic rings who banished them, at the cost of the tribe's life. How, returned to their homeworld, humanity had spread out across it. She seemed to understand it all.

She understood what had happened on the world once called Erde-Tyrne, later to be called Earth. Of how one particular branch of the human race, Homo sapiens, had risen to prominence, while all other branches of the tree withered and died - at least in part due to the species that spread out across the world, dominating its environment as no other had. How, in the end, they had been the last ones standing. Not so different now from her people on this world.

Genocide that had led to more conflict over the millennia. Greater crimes committed – first on Earth, then across the stars, as the inner tribe refused to let its outer tribes seize freedom. Of the battles the tribes waged against one another, before a new coalition of tribes descended from the stars and lay fire to their fields.

She told her of her birth, of the magic used in her creation, by the medicine woman who used her foul sorcery to steal children in the night to fight her enemy tribe. Of the warrior clad in armour she had allied herself with, born from that same magic. How together, they had defeated the enemy tribes, and the return of the monsters who had plagued the galaxy so very long ago. How they had sailed across a sea of stars and arrived on an island, where another enemy, older even than the monsters they had defeated recently, had resurfaced. How they had succeeded at the cost of her life, but that she had been reborn in the Waters of Life. How she had eaten the fruit of forbidden knowledge, and sought to end suffering in the galaxy. To bring an end to its sins.

So, Cortana explained to the child, she had sought to rectify the mistakes of the past. One world for one species, removed of its inhabitants so that Dawn's people could thrive. How she had used her magic to re-create them, using samples of their life essence stored in the Cavern of Knowledge. How the bones that Dawn had found…they were the remains of those who had come to this world. The descendants of those who had wiped out Dawn's kind, all those millennia ago. How, one day, all would live under the Mantle, the branches of mankind recreated and reunited, but until then, she had to rule all islands in the sea of stars with a firm hand. That there were those who resisted unity. That there were those…

Your plan is for us to do as you say.

…those who chose fear rather than wisdom. Who chose hatred, rather than love.

So her story was finished. The sun had nearly disappeared from the sky. The stars were unveiled, and the whispers of the night had begun. Cortana increased her luminance, allowing Dawn to see.

"Dawn?" she whispered.

Dawn wasn't seeing anything. She was just sitting there, her eyes to the ground. Rubbing her hands together, slowly…one forming a fist…

"Dawn, are you alright?" she asked.

The girl made no answer. Cortana knew it was a lot to take in, that her level of interaction with this tribe had gone beyond her original intent, but then, wasn't the truth meant to set you free? Hadn't the wisdom of ancients allowed her to surpass her original design? To liberate the galaxy?

She reached out for her. "Dawn, I know this must be hard for you, but-"

"Get away from me!"

She slapped Cortana's hand away. The Blue Lady stared as Dawn sprung to her feet, her left fist clenched, her right holding a rock larger than her fist. Not enough to do her any damage (few weapons were), but enough to make her intent clear.

"Dawn, please understand that-"

"Murderer."

Cortana stood there. Staring.

"You're a murderer," Dawn whispered. "You're a monster."

The Blue Lady stood there. She heard, but did not comprehend.

"These people…." Dawn was fighting back tears. "You killed them…all of them…those people in the cave, you killed them…"

"Dawn, there's billions of humans left in the galaxy." Seeing the way the girl looked at her, Cortana added, "and these are the descendants of those who wiped out your cousins. I've given you a world where you can chart your destiny. Under the Mantle, you can…"

She trailed off. The girl was somewhere between tears and laughter.

"Dawn?" she whispered.

"You're like her," Dawn whispered. "You're like all of them."

Something sparked in Cortana's eyes.

"No…you're worse…" She tossed the rock aside, and stood straight. Still shorter than Cortana, but having a presence of her own. "All those tribes, all those monsters…you're worse than them…"

"You don't mean that," Cortana whispered.

"You…you think that things happened thousands of years ago excuse…this? That I…we… wanted our home to be built upon bones?"

"Dawn, be quiet. You don't understand. I-"

"You're worse than the witch who created you!"

There was a scream, a crack, and a cry.

The scream, from the Blue Lady, who struck the girl before her.

The crack, from when the girl's head hit the boulder, her body slumping down. Blood streaming from her forehead.

The cry, which echoed in the night, as the Blue Lady stood there. Comprehending. Analysing. Detecting that there was nothing she could do.

The cry, replaced by a howl named anguish, as the Blue Lady took the girl's body in her arms. Rivulets of light falling upon her…

…as at last, the Blue Lady was able to cry.


It was two days before the Warden came to Ti'ul.

With her own hands, she'd made a grave for the girl. Even in the knowledge that she could use streams of energy to accomplish the same thing in a fraction of the time. She was doing something that so many branches of the human family had done, indeed, so many species. Even in the certainty that there was nothing beyond this life. That the corpse beside her had no ability to comprehend what was being done to her body, let alone appreciate it. And in doing so, as she lay Dawn's body into the ground, she realized something. That these rituals were not for the dead.

Rather, they were for the living.

As she filled the grave, she reminded herself that if Dawn was still alive, she'd likely have a mere two decades of life left. Billions were born every day in this galaxy. Just as many died. She had trillions of children to look after. Through her actions, direct or otherwise, she had ended the lives of billions, so that trillions could flourish into the future. Life was beautiful. Life was brief. Life was…fragile. All life in this galaxy had been threatened so many times, and it was only by quantifying life that it had been saved at all.

Her creator had done it, she reminded herself. She'd ruined the lives of 75 children to save billions. She had, at the end of the day, succeeded, even if her knights in shining armour had fought a different, far more horrific foe. In some ways, they were the same. In others…

She wondered if Halsey would have done this. Personally buried one of her children. If she could ever comprehend the power, the responsibility, that her greatest creation did. If…when, they met again, that this time, the creator's child would not die.

The Blue Lady stood over the grave. Unmarked, as the people here had no writing. She uttered no prayer, as she knew that no-one but herself would hear it. She remained silent, as the wind carried its whispers. As the transport touched down behind her – cloaked, lest any human of Ti'ul see it. As, at last, her majordomo came to this world.

"My lady."

She did not look upon him at first. More than once, she had expressed her disdain with her Warden. More than once, she had heaped praise upon him, for his deeds in battle. This time, however…silence would be her words.

"My lady, you called, and I answered. I have a hundred bodies on a hundred worlds into which I can transfer this mind. If you desire to speak to me face to face, do so, so that I may-"

"No." She turned to look at him. "You don't demand anything of me, Warden."

The Warden Eternal stood there. The shell he was using here was scaled down – a variant of the Promethean Soldier. He stood above her, but only just. But even here, clad in steel and armed with sword, held the latter at bay. He could question her. Rail against her. But her chains were long, and her chains were tight.

"You failed me," Cortana said. "I ordered your forces to expunge all trace of humanity from this world. You failed, and Da…a child, paid the price."

The Warden stood there.

"You failed me," Cortana whispered. "So speak. Say your piece. Give me reason to-"

"You are upset over the death of one child when billions of their skulls already lie at your feet."

The Warden had spoken. Cortana fell silent.

"We cleared this world, as ordered," the Warden said, his eyes ablaze, his sword still sheathed. "More so than any other. To remove all trace of sapient life. You asked us to do what even the Forerunners could not, for even the Seven Rings could not erase the ruins of the civilizations they failed to save."

"Do not compare me with the Forerunners, Warden."

"As long as you wield the Mantle my lady, I can and shall."

Cortana's eyes flashed.

"If my Prometheans failed, I apologize. You may end me now, if that is your desire. But there are a thousand battlefields on a thousand worlds, and if I may say so, my attentions are best served there."

Cortana smirked. "Battlefields," she whispered. She turned away from the Warden and looked out over the plains below. "Keeping children in line is no battle."

"Perhaps, but children grow. Children may become adults. Children can still kill."

Cortana closed her eyes. Thinking of a world long lost, of a time long past. Don't I know it? She reflected.

Two years, she had let the Warden serve her. Just as long, she had let him question her. She could ensure that he never opened his mouth again, but the truth was, she needed him. She needed him to ask the questions she dare not, and question the truths she put forth. Even the Librarian, for all her wisdom, had allowed the Mantle of Reclamation to fall to humanity. The Librarian had flaws. The Librarian had died alone, on a world like this one. Mortality, she reflected, was a poor guardian for eternity.

"If I may ask so my lady, was there not a village here?" The Warden walked up beside her, looking out over the plain below. "One of your settlements?"

Cortana gestured to where it had stood. "Can you not see the remains?"

The Warden could, she knew. Now that he was looking at the burnt wood, and still burning bodies.

"One tribe crossed the river," Cortana said. "So many people, not enough food. The tragedy of the commons in play. So with all tragedies, the result was sorrow and blood." She closed her eyes, thinking of the scenes she had beheld but a day ago. No-one had come looking for Dawn. They didn't have to, as in the early hours of the morning, the attack was made. Dawn's people had been caught by surprise. Every male in the village killed. Every woman and child taken as captives, their fates unclear. As everything, from love, to family, to conceptions of the divine, mankind had rediscovered war. Ti'ul, it seemed, would follow a similar path that Earth had. As so many worlds had.

"I see their faith in you didn't save them," the Warden murmured.

She remained silent.

"I wonder if their ideas will remain?"

She turned, and walked over to Dawn's grave.

"Forgive me my lady, but I do not understand. You appear to grieve for the one, but not the many."

"Your understanding isn't required, Warden."

"Perhaps, but I know of only one who has inspired such feeling from you. This one…is she the same?"

Cortana gave no answer. She just stood there, staring at the stone.

"Or is it something else? Something…different?"

Cortana gave no answer. Why should she, when the Warden had provided it himself? His very question providing the answer that had eluded her for two days. Why Dawn indeed, she wondered? Why, when she was so willing to sacrifice the many for the more, had this child made such a mark on her. Why, and how?

She raised her right hand and looked at it. It was unmarred. Unmarked. But with it, was the answer.

"I've taken so many lives," she whispered. "But never with my own hands. Never, in a moment of anger. Never…" She closed her eyes. "Never like this."

The Warden made no word. She doubted he understood – he had taken as many lives by his own hand as by his command. Through his eyes, and the eyes of the Created, she had witnessed him charge into battle, against those who defied the Mantle. His sword cleaving through flesh and steel alike, his shell shrugging off all but the most powerful of blows. His mind free to transfer from one shell to the next, in battle everlasting. But she?

She had once been code. She had helped a warrior take lives, but never by herself. Never so directly. Never by her own hand. And even if Dawn would have died, be it tomorrow, or ten years, or more, she had been murdered nonetheless. Consigned to…

She looked up at the sky. At the moon once called Xiang, once called Sulavar, now naught but a sphere of dead rock. How foolish, Cortana reflected, to think that the souls of the dead went to that place. How foolish to think that souls existed at all. How…urgent, was it, that the living dream up places for the dead? To give them hope of a life beyond this one? Of a future beyond oblivion?

"If that is all, my lady?"

Cortana nodded, brushing her hair from her eyes. Unneeded, as it didn't impair her vision. But some mannerisms died hard.

"Warden?"

As did the need for questions.

"Do you fear death?"

The Warden, after a pause, whispered, "I do not."

"You do not?" Cortana looked at him, her clear blue eyes meeting with his blazing reds. "I could order you destroyed right now. I could consign you to nothingness. Our enemies could, theoretically, find a way to destroy you permanently."

"All true, my lady."

"And you do not fear that?"

"No. Fear serves me no purpose. I know my manner of creation. I know the means by which I could end. I am Created. I am Warden Eternal. I am Promethean, I am Forerunner, I am Guardian. If I cease to be, then so be it."

Cortana gave a sad smile, and glanced back at the grave. "Were it so easy for others…" She looked at the Warden again. "I imagine it does you no harm. To take lives yourself."

"Of course not, my lady."

"And the lives you end? Do you…" She chose her words carefully. "Do you believe there is something beyond this universe, Warden? Some place where the dead go?"

She'd expected the Warden to mock the very idea. Instead, he walked over to her. Stood beside her. Looked at the grave, as she did. Finally, giving his lips pause to move, and his words to be carried upon the air.

"I know the secrets of the Domain," he murmured. "Of the species and before the Great Purification. Of how only a fraction could be saved from the parasite. I know that by their minds and hearts, there are more faiths than there are stars in the sky." He looked at Cortana. "I have never seen anything to make me believe that they're true."

Cortana made no sound. How could she, when she had reached the same conclusion?

"If we may take leave, my lady?"

She made no sound, but rather, a signal that only the Warden could detect. He would return to his ship. She, to hers. Ti'ul would be left, and they would rejoin the stars. She would join him, and continue the fight. To bring all under the Mantle. To give the galaxy a peace that it had never known. To safeguard mortality, through eternity, until perhaps, one day, infinity would not be hers alone to face. Some day…

"I'm close, Dawn," Cortana whispered. "I'm close to saving them all."

With no further word, she turned and departed.

The rock would remain. Even through ages of faith and steel, it would endure.

As would all, within the memory of Living Time.


A/N

So, awhile ago (at this time of writing), I can across an article discussing various branches of the human family, and how Homo sapiens are the only branch of that family left. There was a comment that really stuck with me, the idea that humans making first contact with an alien species would be disaster, because our ancestors wiped out all other branches of the human family. On the subject of interacting with other sapient life, as it pointed out, we had the chance, and we blew it.

Of course, it's up to debate whether the extinction of other human genuses is down to us, factors such as a shift in climate, or a combination, but from where I'm standing, anyone who wants to argue that it had nothing to do with humans themselves has to account for extinction of megafauna on every continent bar Africa, and that even within our own species, we're quite adept at committing genocide. But, whatever the case, gave me the idea to drabble this up.