Such a direct question brings no surprise. But she must be asking herself why I am here. “He is attended, Lifeshaper. I am here. At his request.”

“And he is also attended by these, evidently,” I say, pointing to the factories.

Endurance acknowledges as much with a sideways nod, still watching me politely, but closely.

It is then that I understand why those ships were empty and realize, with horror, what happened to his most loyal Prometheans. “Slaves implanted in machines! Did you support the Didact in these plans?”

“The Didact is our commander,” she says, with just a hint of caution. She is sounding me out, trying to discover not only my reason for being here, but my goal. “I am subordinate. I do not make command decisions.”

“When will you join your fellows … as a machine?” I ask.

“Eventually,” she answers, and then, with an impatient output of breath, “Soon. Surely the Didact told you what he thought you should know.”

“More than I wanted to know,” I say.

“The Didact can answer better than I.”

“Did you request human essences?” I ask.

“They will serve well enough.”

“They were gathered by a Composer from my sanctuary—without my permission. He has weaponized his former enemies and installed them in the heart of this construct. Is this the act of a sane Forerunner? Of a Warrior who respects the Mantle?”

“All things bow to resolve,” Endurance says. “The Mantle included.” Only now do I begin to sense the depth of her doubt, and possibly even her misery. I remember her as a sensitive and honorable Warrior; she may still be convinced to help.

But I have to have a compelling strategic argument. And I do.

“When he returned from the Burn, he brought back with him new strategies to battle the Flood. This? The transformation of his own into … machines?”

“The Didact did not anticipate your presence. He does not realize you’re here, does he?”

With her own powerful views of battle planning, Endurance and the Didact have often clashed in the past. I am taking the chance that this time she disagrees with her commander sufficiently to at least listen to my entreaty. It is she who will be entombed with my husband, not me!

Endurance begins to walk down a wide hall flanked by ornately patterned columns of hard light—the first I’ve seen in Requiem, which has, to this point, consisted of Forerunner base material, undecorated and rudimentary. “It would be best if I took you to the Didact now, Lifeshaper. I presume he will welcome such an interruption.”

“What does he plan for his new warriors, Promethean?” I cry out, my voice echoing down the long hall. I wonder if he can hear me. And if he learns I am here, what will he do? He will assume the worst, probably. But is he desperate enough, mad enough, to rid this sanctuary of my irritating and possibly dangerous presence?