Traejan stopped, turned a light on to see the man’s face, the strained expression.

“What about the others?” Traejan wondered. “What happened to the alarm?”

Kyso looked away, back out the tent flap. Traejan walked right up to him.

“There was supposed to be an alarm Kyso!”

The old man turned away, shook his head.

Traejan grabbed his coat, left the tent. Outside there was no sound – no sign of activity. They all should be in a frantic rush to pack up – get out. He turned back to Kyso, who had moved with him.

“Where is everybody?!”

“They aren’t coming,” he told Traejan, started to shake his head. “She said it was necessary – there was no other way.”

What has she done?!

“Althea!” he shouted. Fear made him shake. He turned back to Kyso.

“What did she do? What did she do?!”

He turned to leave, turned to search, but Kyso grabbed his arm, holding him back. He shrugged it off, stared accusingly at the old man.

“It’s not what you think,” Kyso told him, desperation in his voice. But… by the look of horror on the man’s face, she had done something terrible.

“She showed me the devices – the transmitters – the Macro’s nantech.”

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“What transmitters?”

“You don’t have to see it,” Kyso told him, voice high and commanding. “Now we have to leave,” he demanded, grabbing Traejan’s arm again, pointing to the lifter resting a few meters to the right. Traejan pulled his arm away, walked off, glancing around. Nothing moved but the shadows of tent fabric. There was no noise but the drift of a quiet breeze. Althea – her tent was only a few steps away. But she wasn’t there. He tried the next,Goa’s

Traejan stared in shock at what he saw. Blood stained the snow byGoa’s head; the man’s skull had been smashed open, brain and blood mingling in the dim light. The man’s body was twisted, his bloody face a rictus of pain. Kyso moved beside him. No one was going to die, she’d insisted, she’d repeated.

“It’s not…” the old man began softly. “Traejan…”

“Bloody streck,” Traejan choked on the words. “He’s strecking dead; he’s had his brain ripped out. What am I supposed to think Kyso?!”

He ran between the other tents. It was all the same – all the same horror – all the same bloody mess. He called Altheas’ name, called it again. Where was she? Where was that damn woman? After the last tent, he turned to Kyso, who stared dumbly, apologetically at him.

Traejan angrily listed the dead in front of the man, finishing with: “They are all dead! Why she do it? Why did she kill them all?”

“It’s what she had to,” he insisted, voice sounding older than ever. “They were implanted; they were tools of the Macro. They were transmitting our location, receiving instructions…”

“Transmitting?!” he demanded to know. “Transmitting what? Receiving what?”

Kyso only shook his head.

“Where is she?” Traejan demanded to know. He continued to try to break through to the man. “Where is Althea?”

Kyso responded, but only after Traejan grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him.

“Higher up in the city,” he confessed. “She said she needed open air for the transceiver.”

He grabbed Traejan by the collar pulled him close. Shocked by the man’s sudden show of strength, he didn’t resist.

“She told me to find you and leave – get as far away as possible,” Kyso told him harshly. “The mechs are coming. It’s too dangerous.”

“Where?” Traejan wanted to know, pushing him away – looked around wildly.

“Away,” Kyso told him. “Back to the Ice Line.”

“I meant, where is she?” Traejan corrected angrily. “Where is Althea Ram?!”