“The Didact believes that humanity was a threat that should have been dealt with from the very beginning.” Now she appears most troubled, most reluctant to continue. “He will begin a program to eradicate all suspect species. Purge all dangerous planets. Wipe the galaxy clean of threats. Never again allow the galaxy to rise up against Forerunners.”

The phrasing—as if the entire galaxy in itself is a threat—is hauntingly familiar. The clarity of expression; the perversion as well as the demonic purity.

“That isn’t the Didact I remember—the most noble of warriors throughout all the ecumene,” I say. “Surely you recognize the dark nature of that approach. Do you support him in this—heart and soul?”

“He is the Didact. He is commander.”

“He is broken.”

“The ecumene is broken, Lifeshaper. The ecumene discarded Warrior-Servants—”

“And does that mean all life deserves to suffer, to be extinguished—leaving only Forerunners? Is the rule of the Mantle without meaning?”

The last shell of her reserve is cracking. “There is meaning—and there is duty, Lifeshaper.”

“Which duty foremost?”

“The Mantle. Always.”

“Then the best thing we can do for the Didact … is to stop him, force him to reason. The Cryptum.”

“Another exile, Lifeshaper? And what about your duty to him?”

“This is not my Didact, Endurance. This is no longer my husband. Is he the Didact you knew so well? The Warrior who would have been your husband—had he not chosen me?”

This pierces her. The reserve shatters, and her anguish at this wound long since crusted over, but never healed, is heartrending. Warriors do not reveal their emotions thus, not lightly.

Unfair. Unjust.

Necessary.

“You knew?” she asks.

“I offered to set him free to return to his rate. He declined.”

“Such was his love…” she says sadly.

“Together, we can save him,” I say. “We are the only ones. And we must save him. In his present state, or anything like his present state, he must never be allowed to control Requiem or to unleash these Prometheans.”

I have now played all my cards. My deck is empty. I have to rely on the honor and honesty and ultimately, the Warrior wisdom of a female of another rate whom I once bested, who does not like me, who deeply resents me—and has for thousands of years.

* * *

I now go to Mantle’s Approach. The Didact is making final preparations there to transfer his command, and all of his ancillas, to Requiem. How much has my husband failed to foresee, to prepare? Is it possible he cannot conceive, even now, even in his madness, perhaps because of his madness, that I am capable of betraying him?

I am escorted by a single monitor, which Endurance has placed at my complete disposal.

“I need to evaluate the Didact’s health and prepare his security,” I tell it as we flow along down the ship’s central access corridor.