That left us with the choice that already seemed most obvious. Forerunners had come here in force to react to an extreme challenge—or to exact some form of vengeance. Then they had abandoned their ships. Had they sacrificed their own lives in the process? If the challenge they faced had involved the Flood, or what the Flood might once have been …

All possible. But if Forerunners were still here, they were well hidden.

We chose an outlying group of seven vessels and cautiously approached. The flotilla did not respond, even when we were easily within threat range. It consisted of two first-order ships, each about a five kilometers long—dwarfing Audacity—and a number of sixth- or seventh-order ships, four hundred meters in length, slender dark hulls, possibly logistics support or interdictors designed to protect the two larger vessels.

We had no idea what sort of arms they had once carried.

Audacity continued closing. We came within a kilometer of one of the sixth-order vessels and kept station in a negligibly higher orbit.

“No response,” Audacity said.

Chant and Keeper continued to focus on the near ships, refining whatever might be gleaned from immediate light.

Nothing significant. No change.

My ancilla and I had been together for over two thousand years. On this journey, I had requested that it express low-level running commentary on our situation, including crew behavior.

But now—it surprised me. For the first time in decades, it suddenly appeared in personified form, blocking my view, and requested my complete attention.

“Statistical analysis of long-range entanglements may have found life in a nearby system,” it said, and revealed a star about ten light-years away, little more than a slow-burning orange blot in the middle reaches of the Spider. “Three small, rocky worlds and one very cold icy giant. Life only on the innermost world—very faint. Ambient surface temperature so close to the star allows liquid water for all of that planet’s orbit. Oxygen, methane, sulfur compounds, the slightest hint at this distance of chlorophyll.”

“What sort of life?” I asked. “Surely not technological.”

“No. The nature of combinations point to a highly unusual circumstance.”

“Unusual in what way?”

“Organically active, but with uniquely Forerunner profiles. No other genetics.”

“That’s all?”

“Our search has been thorough. There are no other organic signatures within the Spider or all of Path Kethona.”

Beyond curious! Life arises wherever there is the right chemistry and an outflow of energy, a wet haven that radiation can warm before fleeing to the darkness of space. A cluster of stars this great should have thousands of organically active worlds, from ice-wrapped moons to rocky planets to self-warming gas giants. Yet Path Kethona—but for one system—was dead.

In a way, that made our job easier.… But it also disturbed me. If the faint traces around the small orange sun were purely Forerunner, then it seemed most likely whatever lived there descended from those who had arrived ten million years ago.