Am I not the Didact, in truth, in my mind? Am I truly less? How could I not foresee that this problem would rise so quickly to the level of a crisis in command?
But I have. The sum of a fight among equals, or with a superior, is to allow the other’s strength to put him where you want him. There is one personality who may yet unite us all … if he plays his new role well. A tremendous risk, that.
A new voice from outside the circle breaks the pause. The strongest among us has arrived.
“You can’t fault this new Didact. I outwitted his original twice before, you know.” The Master Builder’s slighter figure enters the Cartographer behind the single projected Halo, and for a moment he is cast in shadow. “I forced him into exile, practically sealed him into his Cryptum, and when he returned from that exile, I lured him, hooked him like a silly fish—and sent him to an even darker fate. I ask you, who’s the greater strategist?”
The Master Builder joins the circle, then moves to the center, his penetrating black eyes searching all with benign amusement. He lingers on my face only for a moment, with a sidelong after-glance. “If anything,” he says, “this new Didact is a sharper and more capable character, certainly now. As for the other … The old Didact and I have just had a brief visit. Whatever business he has here will soon be completed. He already makes preparations to leave.”
“We desperately need a strong central command!” Bitterness announces. “And we need it now!”
“I believe it’s obvious who that commander must be.” The Master Builder has resumed his characteristic bravado—but something is missing. Something has hit him very hard—and left a mark in his demeanor. He struts and shrugs out his arms, as if preparing for physical labor. “Tell them, Bornstellar-Makes-Eternal-Lasting. Tell them how I knew we’d all be here, doing precisely what we’re doing now, many years ago. You were there, after all.”
I do not hesitate to give him his due. “The Master Builder tested Halo on Charum Hakkor,” I say. “With startling results.”
Faber moves around the circle, examining the commanders with some, but not all, of his old, wicked energy. “Long ago, while overseeing Halo field design, I had a suspicion—an insight—that the Halo’s energies might also nullify neural physics. That insight was proven brilliantly correct. When the Halo fired, tuned to my select energies, it destroyed all Precursor artifacts in the system. Serendipity, perhaps. Or brilliance. You decide.
“But fair is fair. After my test, and its unexpected consequences, I made the mistake of gathering up the timeless one, the Primordial—the last Precursor, so it later claimed. An incredible scientific specimen, I thought. I did show caution. I imprisoned the Primordial in a stasis field. Yet, somehow it got loose again—clever thing—and provoked an unfortunate dialog with Mendicant Bias. Our first example of an ancillary infection, and a rather dire one.
“For that I am entirely to blame. All my triumphs were shunted aside by the revolt of Mendicant Bias … whose design and creation I share with the Didact. Let us not forget that! Our servant turned against us. I became an outcast. A failure.” He forestalls unvoiced objections with a raised arm and splayed fingers. “And yet … what a discovery! And herein lies our last hope in this awful war. We still hold the one weapon which is capable of stopping the Flood—this Halo.”
He continues to pace restlessly around the circle, as if hoping to draw forth encouragement, justification. I tell myself, silently, how much I hate this Forerunner.
“The original Didact was wrong, I was right. But it takes his duplicate to finally listen to reason.” He glances again in my direction. The weakness is almost blatant. “These Halos were specifically tuned to fire a linear blast of energy which disrupts and ultimately wipes out neural physics, destroying both the Flood and its Precursor weapons. With it we will bring unparalleled destruction upon our attackers, putting an end to this war once and for all.”
He looks back to the commanders. “But if we fail here, know that another Ark has already been created,” he says, “and from it more efficient, smaller Halos. They form a weapon array far more powerful than even this ring.” He points to the lone holographic Halo. “When these newer Halos are spread throughout the galaxy, they will form a network capable of purging all sentient life. These are our last defense. Without them, the galaxy will be dominated by the Flood. But we must not let it come to this.”
His look seems to cut the air. “A few of you have been Warrior-Servants. Brave, honorable, and yet the heirs of those who committed the unspeakable crime that began this madness. A crime against our creators. Remember that in your long dreams, when you confront the Domain.”
Suddenly, Faber’s armor slumps; his energy seems to dissipate. “But know this. The original Didact was impressed by a Gravemind to serve as messenger. The Gravemind was aware of my activities, purging infected Forerunner vessels and restoring them to service. It sent the Didact my way … deliberately, with a message.”
“What message?” Bitterness asks.
“My family, my wives and children, went into their own exile. They relocated on a system in Path Kural, now part of a Burn. All have been gathered by the Flood. All have been made part of a Gravemind.” His face contorts. He shouts around the circle, “My wives! My children! Addressing me from within a Gravemind, taunting me, accusing me! Through my enemy! If we carry out our designs, they say all will die, and nothing of value will be left to me. The Didact actually took pleasure in delivering this message. ‘This,’ he says, ‘is what you have done, with your Halos.’”
Bitterness bows not in submission, but in joined grief, before the Master Builder. “Our sorrow is with you,” she whispers.
“All sorrow is with you,” the Examiner affirms.
I stand my ground, but this is the support Faber sought, the support he needs. He looks up. “Who better to understand our task, then? I would give anything to have been wrong, I would give everything not to be a Forerunner in these times. As I live and breathe, I am sickened by the truth—sick at my core. Yet by order of the remaining Council, sadly reduced, I have resumed command. The galaxy is ours to lose.
“Let’s put an end to our hideous mistakes. But when we’ve survived, when we’re finished with our awful task, forced on us by the iniquity of Warriors ten million years ago—who among us will ever be able to face the Domain?”
None of the others meet his haunted eyes. Deliberately, I avert mine as well.
“Who, Forerunners?” he cries, then pushes through and departs the Cartographer.
The commanders stand in respectful silence, then turn, as one, toward me.
“The Master Builder’s fate is here. And so is ours,” Examiner says. “Someone must go to the other Ark and prepare for the unthinkable.”
My task is now clear.
“The Graveminds know they still face a tremendous threat,” Bitterness says. “They know of the existence of the greater Ark. But they may not yet know the whereabouts of the lesser Ark. You must go there and take command. The Flood cannot be allowed to claim victory. They must be stopped, if not for our kind, then for others who may come later.”
The commanders look out beyond the image of Halo and Ark, toward the great dim spread of stars that is our galaxy.
The star roads are coming.
We can all feel them.
STRING 30
THE LIBRARIAN AND THE UR-DIDACT
MY HUSBAND … HAS become a child again.