“I’ve done enough!” she insisted.

You have to ensure that he is not a threat, Dorian told her. To you, or Kyso.

Kyso had followed her, watched every death, every one, the look of horror never leaving his face. How could he forgive her if he saw her do same thing to Traejan?

“Get the lifter ready,” she ordered. “I’ll get Traejan.”

She crept into the tent he shared with the older Consortian, approached as he lay sleeping on his mattress. She pulled out her projector, adjusted the settings. If Traejan woke up, it was unlikely he would react as violently as the gregga’s would have. A low powered shot was enough to lock him in REM sleep, put him out for the few fives she would need. He twitched when he was hit, but that was all.

She knelt over his now unconscious body, searched for the implant point. She couldn’t find one… anywhere.

“There’s something wrong here,” she told Dorian, pulled out his case, activated the holographs. “There’s no sign of surgery.”

The close scan revealed significant differentiation from the others. There was no solid core. What kind of implant did he have?

“This isn’t like anything I’ve seen before.”

It is still an implant.

“Is it sending a signal,” she wanted to know. “Is it responding?”

There is no apparent response.

“Is this a Macro implant at all?”

Oneness, she could have killed him like the others.

It does not match the construction we have seen, Dorian agreed. But it is still a risk.

If it wasn’t a Macro implant, it was a risk she was willing to take, gladly willing.

When she entered the lifter, she found Kyso struggling with the starting mechanism. He looked back at her, a confused look on his face.

“I thought you were getting Traejan,” he asked. “I need his help with this.”

“Traejan has an implant, in his head” Althea told him. “Did you know that? Do you know what it is?”

He stared at her for a moment, then nodded.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Yes…” he started. “But–”

“What is it?” She demanded to know.

“It’s cognitive,” the man finally forced out. “He’s had it since he was a child. It’s not– You didn’t–”

“No,” she told him quickly. “But he’s not going to wake up for a while. I can’t help here, I have to construct the transmitter. Get him, get the lifter running and get out of here. I need you to be safe.

Once the corpore was destroyed, she could call them back. Have him stand by – watch over her. It would… it could work. It must work.

Decided, she headed towards the platform above the lifter – a wide plaza well exposed and high enough for clear transmissions.

Now here she was, sitting on the platform, the transmitter in front of her, unfinished. Kyso hadn’t left. Traejan hadn’t left. She hadn’t even finished the final tests, hadn’t confirmed the Macro was receiving her signal.

Traejan was still refusing to go, standing across the platform, in the cold, cold wind – demanding answers. With Kyso watching, doing nothing, he continued to rage at her.

“It’s time for you to tell me the truth!” Traejan shouted at her. “This isn’t a strecking Consortia plan, and you’re no legionnaire. Who sent you? Who the hell are you?”

Kyso cut in, tried to pull him back.

“Traejan! Enough.”

Althea gave the old man a grateful glance, turned back to Traejan’s defiant stance. She almost thought the younger man would back down as he looked at her, back to Kyso, to her.

“No,” he refused, pushing Kyso out of the way.

“You’ve been keeping this from us all along,” he accused. “Why should we believe you now?”

“I didn’t lie to Kyso when I told him the constructs are coming. I didn’t lie when I told you I wanted everyone to live.”

What did he want her to do? Make the universe into what it wasn’t? Make this world what it wasn’t? Undo what she had done?

“Then tell me what you did lie about!”

“Traejan!” Kyso shouted.

A corpore had acknowledged the signal. It is coming.

She didn’t want to risk them, wanted them to leave, wanted them to be safe. How was she going to do that? What would make them leave?!

Maybe the truth will set them free.

“What I lied about…” she started, gathering the courage to say what she had been holding back – the truth she was afraid would make them recoil from her, refuse to help her – the truth that could destroy the hope that they had held onto for so long.

She raised her blood stained fingers.

“You want to know why I have to get so much blood on my hands,” she raised her voice, lifted by the depth of hatred, horror, anguish.

“I lied about the Legion Consortia Galacium,” she told them, watched the shock of understanding appear on both of their faces, “I wasn’t part of a rescue or restoration mission.

“The Consortia was destroyed by the Macros,” she continued. “It’s gone. Those who are left… Are too afraid to do anything but hide. No one is coming. Not now. Maybe not ever.”

The last words fell out of her mouth like faint breath.

Althea, a primal corpore is on its way.

She had to blink to clear her vision, blurred despite the harsh, bright torchlight that bathed them all. Traejan and Kyso were still standing around her. Althea looked up at the younger man. Pain – confusion – filled his face as he tried to process what she had told him.

“That can’t be true,” Traejan demanded.

She turned to Kyso, who stepped back from her, shaking his head.

“It was the whole galaxy. Nothing could destroy–”

She felt deflated, felt all her life had drained out. The horrible truth she had withheld was finally out. Hopefully they could understand why she had hidden it from them, forgive her.

“I lied to you,” she admitted, “because I didn’t think you would help me if you thought there was no one else was – that there was only me.”