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It just hurt to think that she would never talk to the real John again. In a few minutes, though, it wouldn’t matter. She seized the memory—the illusion—and took final comfort from it. Where would she wake within the Gravemind? What would she recall? Would she be free of rampancy somehow in that existence, like the descriptions of Heaven? She couldn’t stop herself from being consumed now. She was almost curious to find out more about death.

“It’s going to be lonely in here,” she said. “But at least he won’t take you too. Don’t forget me.”

“That’d be kind of hard.” It was John’s voice, even more vivid and real than that of long-dead Lance Corporal Yate. Reality meant nothing now. She was . . . comfortable with that. “And he’s not taking either of us, okay?”

The visor came closer. Cortana made a final effort to shut down whatever systems she could to leave her higher functions focused on assessing the environment around her.

There was little of High Charity’s system left functional, but the sensors gave her enough feedback to determine that there really was a human-sized solid object in front of the podium, and that it was emitting certain EM frequencies.

There really was a man in armor leaning over her.

He’s real. It’s John. It’s really him. Oh, he did it—he did it, he came back, he kept his promise . . .

“You found me,” she whispered.

John tilted his head slightly. She hadn’t wanted him to see her in this state. She was still so close to system failure that she might not make it after all. But if she was going to sink farther into that unknown oblivion, then at least a familiar face—shielded in a visor or not—would be the last thing she saw, and it would be real.

“So much of me is wrong . . . out of place. You might be too late . . .”

John seemed unmoved, as always. Cortana was certain she knew better.

“You know me,” he said. “When I make a promise . . .”

“. . . you keep it.”

“You’ll be back to normal soon. Don’t worry.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Good as new, in fact.”

John was lying. If she’d been embedded in his neural interface at that moment, she’d have detected the galvanic skin response and raised heartbeat. But she could hear the faint change of pitch in his voice. And she knew how badly damaged she was. He had to be able to see that too; he put on that same reassuring voice she’d heard him use with comrades bleeding out their lives on the battlefield.

But seven minutes, seven hours, seven years—whatever remained, Cortana would be more than satisfied with it. Eternity and all the data you could eat weren’t worth a damn if you didn’t have the right company.

“I’ve looked into it,” she said. “The abyss. My abyss.”

“Okay.” John transferred her to his suit. She could have sworn she felt him wince as they interfaced. That told her more eloquently than any diagnostic that something was irreparably wrong with her. “Take a long look. But you won’t fall in. I’m here now.”

She already felt some relief, probably because she was free of the Gravemind. When you were composed of pure thought, then confusion was agony, but certain reality was a soothing balm. “I’m lucky to have you.”

“No,” John said. “Remember—I’m the lucky one.”

“So you are,” she said.

CONNECTIVITY

______________

Theirs is a connection,

deeper than circuitry

Beyond that of man and machine

deeper still; the electric flash of synapse

It is bound in destiny; fortified in trust

deeper than blood

greater than love

Theirs is a union

the “Demon” and the goddess

the warrior and the intellect

Built for destruction

Created for war

To deliver peace; through force and fire

Against an enemy from beyond the stars

Advanced and devout

In their wake; only glass

and the echoed screams of the dying

Threatened by oblivion;

Tested by the promise of eternity

Yet they remain;

these two as one

Somewhere, out amongst the vast cold of the universe proper

They journey forth, into the unknown

This princess, of light and reason

This weapon,