“But don’t feel bad,” he added. “You used us all quite well. An excellent performance, for this day and age.”

“It wasn’t a performance!” she protested. “I wanted everyone to survive. I wanted you to survive, I needed you for more than this…”

“You are too kind,” he replied, “but you don’t need one like me.”

She shook her head, touched his cheek. She hadn’t done well, not at all.

“You’ve seen me, girl, I’m not any good to anybody anymore. I haven’t been for anna.”

She breathed out the final, horrible truth, refusing his words.

“I needed your help,” she told him. “The Macro isn’t even destroyed yet!”

“Then finish it!” he commanded, staring past her, through her. His words slurred, voice was getting more ragged. He had another coughing fit, spitting out more blood. How much longer was he going to hang on?

“The light was very bright,” he continued, weaker, “I’d never seen anything so bright, or heard thunder so loud. You have a gift for pyrotechnics. The rest will come with a little more practice.”

She shook her head again at his joke, appalled by his weak chuckle. If only she had told him earlier – admitted her failures, her mistakes, her goals, her dreams. He would have understood, would have joined her – wouldn’t he?

“It was such a wonder,” he breathed. “After all these anna, to witness such fireworks again.”

He began raving, drifting in and out of coherence: rambled about desire, oneness, dreams, sex. It only served to remind her of what was ahead, the reality of the Macro’s codestream pulling powerfully, despite his horrible image; she could feel it, envision it, desire it.

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The brilliant power that would fill her, the touch of–

She shook herself out of the fantasy.

Not now!

She wasn’t going to leave him to die alone. Althea took his burned hand again, held it tightly. She was not even sure that he could feel it anymore, but she hoped he did, hoped it wasn’t causing him more pain.

So happy, he mouthed. It made her start to weep again.

“But you’re going to die!” For nothing, nothing, nothing at all.

Exactly when I needed you – you are going to be dead.

“I’ve lived… I’ve lived long enough,” he confessed, then coughed again. “One oughtn’t outlive their civilization.”

She sniffed back tears.

“What are you waiting for?” he demanded, voice sharp, lucid. She stared at him, mouth open, shocked by his sudden hard tone.

“Hanging around a dying remnant,” he commanded. “Don’t you have anything better to do? Don’t you have a beast to destroy?!”

“You believe I can?”

“You blew up a city,” he told her, voice fading gain. “How hard can the rest be, eh?”

“I can’t–” she started, choking on the words. “I have to stay here – for you.”

“You truly want to do…” he was struggling on the words now. “…something for me”

“What?” she bent closer to hear, smelt the burned flesh, the stink of blood and pus.

“What is it?” she wanted to know.

“Take him off this… damned planet,” he whispered to her. “Somewhere…”

Take him? Traejan?

“Take him…” He was so quiet now; she had to lean in very close to make out his whispers. “Someplace warm… and safe… and… good.”

She pulled away. There were no safe worlds out there for him, no good worlds. Traejan was not–

“Give him a chance,” Kyso forced the words out, as though reading her silent objections. “He’s a good boy – loyal – always has been. Kaelin would tell you. He doesn’t deserve to die here…”

She released Kyso’s hand, stared at him in disbelief.

“Do…” The blood dribbled out of his mouth, his head fell back. “Will you…”

She felt the warmth in her go away, the cold creeping back in.

“Kyso…”

“Girl…” he breathed out his last word. She shivered in the cold wind.

There was a scrabbling in the snow behind her. Althea didn’t turn. It could only be Traejan. She felt herself tense, her hands tightening into fists.

“Kyso!”