Kyso broke through the circle, passed the pair.

“Althea…” he held out his hands, as if trying to decide where to start ministering to her wounds, looking over her bloody clothing, exposed flesh. Traejan looked around at the others. They knew what happened, regarded Teffa and Obe with various combinations of disgust and irritation.

“Damn fools,” Nur bek Nur muttered.

Althea pushed Kyso aside gently, then strode forwards through the snow, feet dragging, pushing the white up in puffs. The strong winds whipped her black hair violently about.

“It seems that some of you think that this expedition is just a free shot at some easy trilium,” she told them all, the blood on her adding a terrible vision to her words.

“Teffa and Obe certainly did,” she made a move towards the two. They shuffled back defensively – toward the others – towards him.

“They were going to take all your trilium and leave me dead,” she added in a loud voice. “What do you say?”

The men looked at each other. Enos pulled out a weapon, a pistol. Teffa stopped, pulled at Obe – trying to hide behind him, stared at the others, Traejan too – in fear.

“They’re gonna die,” he continued, raising the weapon.

Traejan turned back to Althea.

What are you playing at?

By the time he had turned his gaze; she was standing beside the two, an open palm held straight at Enos. The man hesitated, lowered the gun a bit, looking confused.

“No,” she told them, standing confidently. “No they aren’t.”

“Stupid,” Goa muttered. The others echoed the sentiment.

Traejan looked at Kyso. The old man shrugged.

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“You are on a job here,” Althea’s sweeping gesture encompassed the lot of them, “Don’t you forget that! I asked for six, I need six – I need all of you – including them!”

Her sweep ended with fingers pointed at the surprised pair.

“Anyone who wants to kill them,” she continued, “will have to come through me.”

Traejan pulled his eyes away to look at the others. They weren’t taking action against her or Teffa or Obe; they were taking in her speech, just listening, staring.

“Listen, you want to kill each other–” she walked right up to Enos reaching. He pulled his gun away from her “–or anyone else, you’re free to try – after we’re done. Is that clear?”

She looked around at the group. They slowly made their agreements, either nodding or vocally.

“Good,” she said, with a frightening smile augmented by the blood on her exposed neck, clothing. “Everything goes well – we’ll be at the city by tomorrow night.”

The others started to agree, turned away, entertainment for the night now over. Traejan watched her turn to walk over to the pair, who cowered from her, but didn’t run.

“Are we good now?” she told them as they hugged each other, stared at her.

“Yes…” Teffa stuttered in response, the man nodded rapidly.

Then the two stumbled away into the dark. Althea didn’t follow them; Traejan moved up to her. She turned to him as he approached. He couldn’t believe what he’d just seen.

“I warned you,” he told her. She returned a hard stare. “Are you sure you are all right?” he added, still shocked. “That’s a lot of blood. How much of it is yours?”

She lifted a hand to her throat; there was a mark, but no cut. Had her Consortia nantech saved her again? She suddenly looked… tired, unsteady, as she stood there, as the snow continued to blow around her.

“Most of it,” she admitted. “They needed to see it, needed to see we’re the same.”

She looked back at the direction the couple had gone, the direction of Obe’s tent, turned back to him.

“They won’t be any trouble now,” she told him. “Too banged up…”

She swayed again in the wind.

“I’ll need something to drink,” she asked. “Do you have anything strong?”

In the relative warmth of the lifter, he watched her swallow half a jar of their strongest, used the rest to dab the blood from her neck. The fabric of her vest, the suit underneath, absorbed the blood stains as he watched, in moments were as clean as she was.

“What are you trying to do here?” he wanted to know.

She looked back at him, eyes calculating.

“I’m trying to ensure we can destroy the Macro,” she told him. “Not everything is laid in our laps. There are always obstacles – of one form or another.”

Traejan glanced toward the lifter’s doors.

“And out there?” he wanted to know.

She stared at him.

“I was…” Althea closed her eyes, then opened them, appearing unsettled and undecided for a moment, finishing with quiet resolve, “improvising.”