The Promethead

"You're saying, we find any bot or flyer, somehow hold it still without it killing us – because it has to be active – of course," Traejan shifted in his seat a bit, Kyso's formal dinner forgotten in his challenge, "long enough for you to load in your corruption code."

She looked up from her almost empty plate, shook her head.

"Not any tech. Most simply won't have the bandwidth capacity I'll require. I need something like a major communications station, from before the fall. You might call it a Mass Systems Access Gateway… Trinary Nexus Eye… Global Transmission Facility…"

Traejan was amazed at the total ignorance of her statement.

"There are no GTFs," he told her. "Not on the ice. The only place we might find one will be far south of the Ice Line, if it wasn't scavenged by the mechs decades ago."

He speared a fungus on his plate, ate it whole, swallowed, glared back at Althea Ram, right into her unflinching brown eyes.

"It would take weeks, months to find, if any still exist. I can't think of anyone who's survived that kind of search. The mechs are merciless on their own ground."

He gestured to include Kyso.

"We have been down there," he added.

Althea didn't seem impressed by his statement. Kyso offered a glance of disapproval. Did the man think they should be dishonest with her?

"And we don't even have any effective weapons, defenses," Traejan added. "Not anymore."

"I don't need weapons," she told him, her plate now empty. She pushed it away from her, towards him. "I just need access."

Traejan could only stare at her in astonishment. Kyso cut in again.

"The closest sizeable ruins are maybe ten days south of the line," he offered, lightly, as though it was reachable.

It was too much for him. Traejan stood up, over the table, over Kyso, over her.

"Spending a day down there is dangerous enough," he shouted at her. "Ten would be… suicidal!"

The woman stared up at him, gaze holding his, steely, unwavering.

"Traejan!"

They both looked over at Kyso. He had risen to his feet as well.

"I think dinner is over. Why don't we retire to the lounge, for drinks?"

Althea nodded slowly, rose from her chair, smiled at the old man.

"Thank you for the meal, and for everything, Es Densca." She turned to Traejan, still smiling. "Es Edos."

Traejan forced a polite grin. Kyso hustled over to him.

"Just walk her over there and make sure she is comfortable," he urged Traejan in a low tone. "Please, for just a few minutes, can you cut it?"

"I'm just telling her the truth."

"Then… just try to be at least a little conciliatory," Kyso insisted. Then mouthed; shut the streck up! He turned to Althea, spread his arms. "I'll get us all something to drink. Why don't you let Traejan show you the view? If your favorite colors run to white and blue, I'm sure you'll enjoy it."