“Tell me what you are going to do,” Traejan kept pestering her. “What’s going to happen now?”

She felt torn – between an overwhelming weariness, the demand of her body to drop where she knelt, the continual draw of the Macro, the dead and dying carnage behind her – and the undeniable beauty ahead.

Althea reached down, grabbed a handful of snow. She rubbed it roughly over her face, feeling the sharp cold, wetness, hopefully rubbing the dirt – the taint – off. Feeling fresher – cleaner – she pulled herself up from the communication block, stood back, looked over at him. Traejan was closer than Dorian wanted, but she was beyond bullying him.

“What’s going to happen now?” She held up two fingers for him, “one of two things.”

She pursed her lips, looked ahead at the smoking wreckage, then sidelong at him.

“I succeed,” she told him, dropping a finger. “I destroy the Macro, and you will all be free, no longer imprisoned on the ice. You’ll be able to rebuild your world.”

She took a deep breath, dropped the second finger.

“Or I fail,” and nothing would ever matter again, “and the Macro survives, the constructs come, soon… and do what they will.”

“I thought you said–” he began.

Would he never stop questioning her?

“I say a lot of things,” she replied tiredly, then tried to calm herself, be fair to him. “All right?”

He scowled at her.

You only have a seven left, Dorian warned.

“Macros can be destroyed,” she continued, starting to gather the lines to connect to Dorian’s case, glanced back at the man. “I’ve done it. But understanding them… knowing them… I’m not honestly certain I’ll be able to destroy this one. Maybe the ones before were weak – maybe I was strong. There’s still so much I don’t understand.”

She brought her hands up in a gesture of helplessness. There was no further she could go with the confession, the admission. What more was there to say? Althea knew she wasn’t remotely in the proper state of mind for the interface.

“It’s hard,” was all she could add. Althea wondered why she was telling him at all. She would have told Kyso; Traejan was all that was left – the only human being who could hear her – maybe the last.

He stood there quietly, she supposed; pondering her words. She shivered, feeling an intense moment of desire, pushed it out of her mind again.

“You destroy the Macro?” he mused. “You said you access its code?– break into it.”

“It’s much more than that. It’s a total immersive interface; I create a conduit – its codestream, its logos floods my mind,” she began, recalling the wonder.

“Perceptually – for me – I enter its logos, its mind,” she continued, pointing out the devastation around them, “This all goes away. The codestream will draw me to its center. There’s no other way. I couldn’t avoid it if I wanted to.”

She knew any discussion in language was inadequate, but her voice must carry the weight of what she felt, what she knew – the light, the beauty. It called. It demanded.

“The code is so compelling, magnetic. Once I get deep enough, once I’ve gotten past all its defenses, I’ll let the corruption loose.”

It was as close to the truth as she was willing to share. She didn’t want to give him any reason to stop her, or interrupt her.

“You need to know a few things,” she continued. He was still here. Maybe he could forgive her – if he could see her as human – contrite. Then he might not remember her as a callous monster, a murderer. She couldn’t see empathy in his face his eyes, but hoped it was in him, that he was capable of sympathizing – especially now.

“I wish things had turned out differently, I wish I had been here five anna ago, ten, thirty,” she let the grief again flow though her, raw emotion choking her words. “I wish no one had to die, you have to believe me. I will do my best to destroy the Macro – for you – for everyone. That was my intention all along”

He nodded, but didn’t smile, or offer comfort.

So be it.