Peace Comes

        Why did it have to come to this?
        Didact and the ring’s monitor, 343 Guilty Spark, began the long walk into the control station of Installation 04.  The thin glass floor reflected his own grim expression back at him.  The more he thought about it, the more he began to accept the fact that the Forerunner were fated to live this day moment they had encountered the Flood.  The parasites numbers combined with his own people’s arrogance –a fault he himself was most certainly not exempt from- were the two variables that had led them down the path to the events currently taking place.
        They were all but doomed, and every Forerunner, whether they wished to accept it or not, knew this to be inevitable.  Perhaps a few would survive in the shield worlds, maybe even the Ark, but their numbers would be so thinned.  Even then, there would be little room for hope.  
        They had paid for their over-confidence in their own blood.  All they could do now was what had to be done, and pray that it would be enough, that the next great civilization to take up their mantle and inherit their technological knowledge would forgive them for their mistakes and their sins.  Hope was nowhere to be found, but it was all they had.
        When he learned that Mendicant Bias had betrayed them, that he had turned to the Flood, he had been enraged.  As time passed however, as their final moments were slowly creeping to a close, his aggression faded.  As was previously stated, the Forerunners were doomed the moment the war began; it just took them too long to realize it.  All Bias had done was accelerate and inevitable conclusion.
        Even now, the last remnants of their fleets were battling with the help of Offensive Bias to give him time to light he rings, to take their final revenge on their hated enemies before the product of their own genius claimed them.  They would not give the Flood the pleasure of making them into their sick puppets; they were born Forerunner, and they would die Forerunner.  They had all disgraced themselves in life, but Didact liked to think that they would find some redemption in death.
        The last of the doors slid open, revealing the control room.  The holographic display of their great construct circling the mighty gaseous planet shined like a semi-transparent jewel in the dim light.  He had always found dark yet humorous irony in that they had taken so much effort to make such a deadly and heinous thing so very beautiful.  One would never know it was a weapon beyond all other weapons without being informed beforehand.
        Didact took a deep breath. “This is it Spark, I now truly stare my final moments in the eyes.”
“That is quite illogical Commander, the term ‘final moments’ refers merely to just that; moments in time.  There are no organic components included.”
        He manages a smile.  “Well, I suppose there is one positive to this chaos.  At least you will have eons to finally understand what 'play of words' means.”
        “I suppose so Commander, but I should hope I do not need to remind you that time is indeed of the essence.”
        “Yes…it is,” he nodded.
        Once again, Didact slowly stepped forward.  Many men would say that he was made of stone.  That only the greatest of Forerunner would willingly step towards their own demise.  This was far from the truth.  The reality of the situation was that Didact was terrified; terrified and also remorseful.  Remorseful that, in these waning minutes of life, he could not hold his beautiful wife, or have his son by his side.  No, on second though it was better this way.  Such reminders of better days would only deter him from what he knew had to be done.
        With a shaking and loose grip, he placed the Index in the control slot.  The ring was now active; the beginning of the end had come.  
        “The ring is now initiating its initial charge.”
        Didact nodded.  “Then soon this nightmare will be over.”
        “I do have some good news; it seems Offensive Bias is successfully holding off Mendicant.”
        “Good, the last thing we need is interference from him.”
        While the ring began its charge, Didact looked at the portable screen in his hand, and decided to read over the latest message from his lovers designated world.


My work is done. The portal is inactive, and I've begun the burial measures. Soon there'll be nothing but sand and rock and normal ferrite signatures.

You should see the mountain that watches over it. A beautiful thing - a snowcapped sentinel. That's where I will spend what time is left to me.

Did I tell you? I built a garden.  The earth is so rich. A seed falls and a tree sprouts or a flower blooms. There's so much... potential.  We knew this was a special place because of them, but unless you've been here, you can't know.

It's Eden.

I have to stop transmitting. The thing is listening. Its thinking dead are babbling - laughing through every channel they can find.

Be proud. The Mind claims victory, yet it still doesn't suspect. You've outwitted it, my love. And now you can destroy it.

But you cannot save me.


      Bittersweet words if he had ever heard them.  She wanted him to take pride in his last ditch effort, but all he could feel was shame.  He had failed her, failed everyone.  He had let down his entire race, and he was a fool.  It was only fitting that he light the torch that would burn away his own people.  With or without the rings, he had condemned them all to death.  In a way he was like Mendicant, just accelerating the inevitable.  The comparison left a bad taste in his mouth, but he knew it to be true.
      He had tried his best to save her, but she was too stout of heart, too giving, too damn stubborn for her own good.  The trait had unsurprisingly passed to their son Filial.  He was a good man, and also refused to hide away from the Flood, instead choosing to die with honor with his brethren despite having the opportunity to enter the shield worlds.
      It pained him, but after his message explaining his reasoning, he felt pride well up inside his pounding chest.
      

Father,

I hope this message finds you well and helps you understand my decision. Today I leave the only world I have ever called home, not for glory or suicide as you have indicted; but to spare the hands of another Father's son.

"Had we acted sooner; had we acted more decisively..."

Living in the past is a luxury none of us can afford. We must learn from it, but we cannot live there. It is impossible to plan for the now - the present is ever fleeting. The future is where we must live - the future is what we must plan for.

I do not look to trade my life in order to preserve our past, but to secure the future--and if not ours, then the future of some culture yet to come.

Isn't sacrifice in the interest of others what you spoke of as being so noble? Should I have allowed another to bloody his hands while I remained safe behind a shield of privilege?

You raised me better than that.

Filial Devotion
      
      
      Ultimately, it seemed that Filial would perish with the rest of his family, which made Didact’s heart ache, but deep down he knew he’d never be able to stop him anyway.  His mind was made up, and there was nothing that could deviate that boy from his path after he’d set himself upon something.
“There is no peace left. No place where the parasite cannot reach. You were right about it all. Let us hope the final measure is not too late,” he murmured.
       Didact looked up at the holographic screen, breaking away from his thoughts for a moment to take in the now.
      “Spark, what’s our progress?”
      “The ring has already begun its primary charge; the weapon will be ready to fire within three minutes and five seconds Commander,” he answered mechanically.
      His life now measured by three minutes.  How could he spend these last moments, was there anything of importance he could do?  
      Wait, of course there was, he had just done it. Here he was, about to commit the greatest act of genocide in recorded history, Forerunner or otherwise.  All that was left now was to wait. “Spark, may I ask you something?”
      “Of course Commander; considering the fact that your premature termination is only moments away, I believe I am obligated to fulfill any request you may ask of me.”
      He always did have an odd way with words…for a monitor.
      “I am a fool for asking you this, but I am curious.  If it were you Spark, if you were in my position, would you do it?  Would you fire the rings, knowing full well what would happen?”
      The construct floated stationary for a second, almost like he wasn’t sure how to answer.
      “Of course Commander, the Flood are threats to all life, not just the Forerunner.  Many races have been successfully cataloged and secured; life will again inhabit this galaxy.  I believe that the existence of life as a whole would far outweigh the Forerunner civilization alone.”
      He chuckled.  “Not the answer I was hoping for, but it was what I was expecting.”
      “I apologize Commander, but it is the logical conclusion.”
      “Yes it is Spark, but try and think it over once I’m gone, and once the Reclaimers come to inherit this place and all others like it, tell them your answer whether it be the one you just gave me or not.  You may change your mind in the years to come.”
      Again, the construct floated laxly for a moment.  “That is an unlikely eventuality Commander, but I will honor your request.”
      He grinned. “Thank you, Spark.”
      The timer was now displayed on the screen.  Only a minute left, he now literally got to watch his own life tick one second at a time to the end.  He brought up his screen tablet again and accessed the images file he had stored there.  Didact accessed a picture very dear to his heart, the last time his family had ever been whole.
      He smiled as happier thoughts and memories flooded into his mind.
      “It's done. By my hands. The pyrrhic solution is ignited. All I have left is the quiet of space to lull me to sleep. I will dream of you,” he whispered as his eyes came to his wife.  They then slid to his son.
      ‘Both of you,’ he thought.
      As the last closing seconds counted down, his fear left him.  No, not just his fear, but all his sorrow and remorse.  His regret washed away from his conscious, and all he felt was an odd euphoria.  
      “I feel no peril,” he said, in a calm voice simultaneously filled with awe.
      He placed the tablet on the floor then stood up straight again, closing his eyes and holding his chin up high.  Just about now, the computer would ask him to enter the reversion code to deactivate the process.  Only a few short seconds ago he would have jumped at the chance, but he knew now without a shed of doubt this was how it had to be.  Their time was, quite literally, up.
      “No pain. No remorse. Is that normal?”
      The last thing he felt was a wave of comforting warmth, until finally he felt nothing at all.
      Peace had finally come.