“If there’s no Consortia anymore – where did you come from?”
Althea looked up at Traejan.
“I told you, the Palmyri Century.”
“If the Palmyri survived then–”
“You don’t understand,” she snapped back. “They’ve blocked themselves off to survive. They are nothing like the Consortia was. They will never come. If any of them knew I was here, what I’ve–”
Free their world from the Macro, from fear, from violation, death, and ultimately – extinction. The punishment that the Office of the First would enact for such an attempt, such a crime–
“You can’t imagine what they would do to me.”
Quarantined, broken, tortured beyond recovery. Body destroyed, mind agonizingly stripped layer by layer by layer.
“No Consortia,” he swore, then turned to frustration, turned to Kyso. “What the hell have we been doing here? What the hell was the point of all this?”
The old man shrank back.
“I didn’t – I wanted…”
“All these anna…” Traejan turned away staring off at nothing, voice trailing off like the white puffs of his breath, into the cold blackness.
“I’m sorry,” she told them, trying to express her regret. “Traejan, Kyso, this isn’t what I wanted,” she tried to convince them. “Please believe me.”
Past the two men, a sliver of light appeared – a glint of dawn, pale lavender against the indigo sky.
The three of them stood in darkness, the sound of the wind blowing around them; but Althea could feel something around it, beyond it – a vibration, hint of a growl in the distance.
Althea, Dorian began urgently. The corpore is closing on your position!
She looked to Traejan, to Kyso. They hadn’t moved, just stared at each other. She felt a blast of cold through her memsuit, shivered violently.
It’s coming, he raised the volume of his warning. It’s accelerating!
What was she going to do about the men?
She had carried the components up to an open platform with three hundred and sixty degree exposure, which had the option of an escape rout, a deep shaft she could run for, dive into for protection. There was no telling how large the corpore would be. The time it would take, to get the lifter started…
She whispered under her breath acceptance of Dorian’s warning, brought herself back to reality. They were near the end of the path. From here on in it was kill or be killed. No time left for apologies, no time left for frailty, Traejan and Kyso would have to find what protection was available within a running distance. Althea wiped her eyes, forced herself back to practical thinking, force the shaking in her hands to strength.
She turned back to Dorian, to the jury-rigged multiplexer, the holograph radiating from his case. She crouched down to tap instructions onto the dynamic fields, smiling for a moment at one worthwhile piece of information. The response codes were matching experience. All was as well… as it could be. She made quick adjustments as the strength of her signal fluttered. The implants were working, better than hoped, but their design was still mostly alien to her. From here on in, it was going to be trial and error.
Althea wiped the hair from her eyes, stared out for a moment into the lightening sky. The clouds in the distance swirled. It was out there. It was coming. It was huge. Based on the expansive wake of the cloud front - still so distant from her – the thing had to be titanic.
The wind came up again, blowing the loose snow around them. Lights flashed on the display, drawing her attention back.
“Can you see that?” she heard Traejan ask.
She didn’t turn away from the display; figures were constantly drifting in and out of optimum. The corpore’s system’s complexity – protection – was greater than she had anticipated. Already it was questioning the data she was sending it. It had cause; she was the destroyer this time.
The wind shifted directions. Data refusals began to rack up. Pay attention! Althea worked furiously to correct her mistakes - her attention lapses – struggling to keep up. The thing’s trajectory altered.
You must come to me. This is what you are looking for. You need to investigate. You need to come here!
