The Promethead

Unappetizing was the kindest word she could imagine for what the Makani brought to her: tough dry meats, dry stringy vegetables, all tasting rancid, tainted, sour, acidic, or chalky. On top of that, her lack ofNANcontrol deprived her of important information. Was she getting the necessary nutrition – the needed minerals, compounds? Considering the behavior of her NANs in healing her, Althea doubted it very much. The attrition her networks must have already suffered, would suffer, without the hope of regeneration, worried her greatly.

With no way for her to her control their progress, the NANs seemed to be choosing randomly where to work on her and when. She had to endure sudden, overwhelming pain, nausea, lost strength and just as sudden blackouts. Though all the episodes were brief, they were unnerving, an ongoing weakness Althea did not want to display to the Makani men. She could not be ready to offer them her agenda until she had a semblance of control over herself. So… Althea demanded privacy – under the cover of the sensitivity of her nantech and rights of a Consortian, a Legionary.

Traejan protested repeatedly, but Kyso was able and willing to persuade him to respect her wishes. She would be happy to answer their questions when she was stronger – which she repeated, would be soon.

It took five whole Makani days for her to feel a decent fraction of herself – before she could sit up without shaking, without effort, before she could walk the few steps to the room's only window, without fear of her legs giving out from under her – to rub away the thick coating of frost and at last look out at the frozen world beyond. The bleak, threatening landscape, however, only served to remind her how precarious her situation was.

Whatever this place was, it wasn't any kind of hospital, could never have been. The thick but dirty carpeting of the floor, delicate detailing cracked and chipped by time. The complex must have been quite sumptuous before the Macro invasion. She ran her fingers over the roughened surface of the windowsill, reminding herself civilized Makan was two hundred anna gone. This was now the harsh world Kyso Densca and Traejan Edos knew. She was going to have to be sure that she told the men the right things and learn quickly how to survive here.

By that day's evening, she was ready, waiting for them to return. She still felt feeble, vulnerable – but impatience compelled her. Althea arranged herself on the bed to project as much strength as she could, regardless of how she felt. When they came in, laden with the latest meal, instead of asking them to leave it, she held up a hand to stop them and motioned towards the room's chairs, bade them stay while she worked through it, engaging in small talk. Once her plate was empty, she started the real work.

"I can't begin to thank you, for what you've done."

She offered them a smile; saw the response reflected in their faces. Kyso an echo, Traejan, still troubled, only offered a brief flash of teeth. Their clothes now had minimal patches, and were cleaner – an obvious attempt to dress up for her – it showed she was having some impact on even their most basic decision-making.

"I'm feeling much better now." She made her voice as warm and confident as she could.

"I'm glad," Kyso replied. "You do look much healthier."

The confirmation buoyed her. She took in a deep breath, turned to Traejan, who still eyed her with distrust. That expected, she kept Dorian under the blankets – hidden – but still able to perceive the exchange.

"I'm very sorry for what I did to you Traejan. It was unacceptable," she told him, watching for his reaction. She put her hand to her head, the side where her NANs were centered, it was still tender. "My head injury, it did rattle my brain, somewhat."

He replied with a brief nod, his hard expression softening.

"It must have been difficult," she continued, glancing from him to Kyso, then back, "carrying me from the mirror port, across…"

Kyso reacted automatically, strongly. "You're Legionary," he stated. "No matter the effort, we could have done nothing less."

At the edge of her peripheral vision, she could see Traejan roll his eyes.

"I'll admit, though," Kyso continued with a little more humor, "I wasn't at all sure you would survive the trip."

She gave the older man a smile. Then turned back to Traejan, who nodded in agreement.

"Is it true then?" Kyso asked. Her puzzlement must have shown; he clarified, "has the Consortia come back to us?"

Traejan's impatience wouldn't let her answer. "Why did it take you so long? We've been left alone here, at the mercy of the constructs. Oneness, it's been two hundred anna!"

She'd grown accustomed to that invocation, but it was still difficult for her to respond to. She couldn't help but lower her eyes, break contact. She forced herself took back up, to gaze back into the pain radiating from his dark amber eyes.

Accept it. Reflect it. Use it.

"So much was lost," she told him, voice low with sincere grief, regret. "More than you can imagine."

She waited for a moment, then tried a smile to offer him hope.

"But… yes," she added, brighter. "The Legion Consortia survives… still."

That made them clearly happier. She let that sink in, then continued.

"Do you know exactly what happened to your world?"

"We were there," the older man told her. "We saw it."