"These AI, they all come from somewhere. They are all based on a person. Our Alpha was no exception."

He wakes up in a cold sweat exactly nine hours and seventeen minutes after Epsilon's creation. Washington is slated for implantation the following afternoon, and Doctor Leonard Church knows in his heart that the procedure will be a disaster.

"Leonard, I'm going to be late."

Better if she had been. Better if someone else could have made that sacrifice, though no matter his actions, he has no right to demand it of anyone but himself. That is why he needs the Alpha.

But, of course, the Alpha is the crux of the matter.

"Leonard, I have to go now. Don't make me hurt you."

Damn the Insurrection. Damn the rebels and the malcontents, and damn the UNSC for giving them no other options. And above all, damn the Covenant for giving him a window to believe that this could possibly be excused. But humanity's future was at stake, and excuses take second fiddle to the threat of extinction.

"Alpha—" he begins, but then he remembers that his better half is offline. "F.I.L.S.S."

"Yes, Director?"

Bless FILSS. Or maybe damn her, too. Another of his creations, another crutch he will carry with him to the end. The Counselor won't stay forever, he knows that. Aidan Price is far too conniving and self-interested, though his curiosity will no doubt keep him around for some time longer. FILSS, though—FILSS will be with him until the day he died, and he isn't sure whether to be grateful or despondent.

A pause. "Never mind, FILSS. Just make sure I'm awake in time for Agent Washington's implantation tomorrow."

"Agent Washington is scheduled for implantation today at fourteen-thirty, Director, but I will remind you to be ready later."

"Thank you, FILSS. You may log off now."

And the Director of Project Freelancer lies awake and counts his sins, one hand pressed to his opposite wrist as he waits for the sky to rise and fall atop him.

"Sincerely yours, the former Director of Project Freelancer, Doctor Leonard Church."