This brave and catastrophic act should have forever changed Forerunner strategy. Jat-Krula became a sobering object lesson taught to Warrior-Servants at all levels. There was no such thing as an impregnable defense.

Yet if I were to believe this former Warrior-Servant, what had once been old and outmoded was again novel and exciting—ignoring the deadly lessons of history.

“We’re ruled by idiots,” I murmured.

“It gets worse,” Sharp said. “The Master Builder seemed to believe that by demonstrating the force of the Halos, out in the open, the Flood—by which I suppose he meant Graveminds—would see we were willing to suffer total destruction rather than defeat.”

That could explain what had been done at Charum Hakkor. A tactical demonstration—like threatening to cut one’s own throat if an aggressor came too close. Jat-Krula … combined with suicidal intent.

I felt my skin grow hot. “Madness!”

“I warned them,” Maker-of-Moons said quietly.

I could not absorb all of this for many minutes. Maker did her best, with Sharp’s help, to bring the ship back to cruising power. But multiple systems failed just as they were engaged.

We were overtaken by the vast weave of reawakened star roads, spinning and churning like serpents in a huge nest—the graceful and haunting structures of our deep past now made fell and horrifying. The tangle looped around Uthera, deftly avoiding intersecting the planet. Then, incredibly, the planet itself began to crack and shrink, as if squeezed by a huge fist. The resulting shift in our orbit thrust us farther into the mass. An entire planet was being destroyed—just to draw us closer.

“This is the way Precursors moved stars,” Maker whispered.

The ships escorting the tangle were near enough to reveal their outlines. I recognized roughly four classes of vessels. The newer designs were unfamiliar, but they were all Forerunner.

“Channels for communication still open,” Catalog said. “There is still time left for testimony.…”

“Oh, shut up,” Sharp said.

I had to look upon this fate as one way—not the best way, to be sure—to learn what was really happening in our galaxy. The others, I decided, should try to make their escape, if such was possible, while I offered myself as bait. I at least had the consolation of knowing that my imprinted duplicate was capable of handling most of the challenges I might have faced, had I survived. Some part of me would live on, free and unmolested.

“Can the stasis bubbles be re-energized?” I asked Sharp-by-Striking.

“The ship should be able to generate that much power. But why—” And then he understood. “The bubbles leave no sensor profiles. We could blow up the ship and still survive. They might not capture us … right away. Or even know we exist.”

“Lost forever in orbit,” Maker said.

“Better that than part of a Gravemind,” Sharp said.

“I wonder,” Catalog said.

“Go,” I said.