“They expected that, didn’t they?”

“Of course they did!” Althea almost expected him to pound the table, but Kyso calmed quickly. “We always expect constructs of some sort. They were prepared for them – but it all went to hell. Trae wasn’t exaggerating, when he told you. South of the Ice Line. You make a mistake… You attract attention…”

She gave him a moment, broke it when he didn’t continue.

“And since then, did you try to find out what happened, for yourself?”

“I – we argued about it, but… it’s just too dangerous,” Kyso rejected the question. “Jossick and Felda left, Traejan started spending all his time in his games.

Pain, loss returned to his expression, his voice.

“And I… I dreamed of what was.”

He suddenly brightened.

“Until the portal alarm,” he finished warmly. “Until you came.”

Adulation she didn’t need. She decided to steer the conversation back to Traejan.

“He never got past her death, then.”

“He didn’t,” Kyso told her, pain returning. He tried to clear the strain, the memory from his face, his expression, with a wipe of a hand.

“But that’s changed now. He just needs to see it.” He smiled, pleased – hopeful. “The Consortia is still out there. We have hope again.”

His glee made her queasy, but she couldn’t give up the lie – not yet – and was it truly a lie? The Palmyri Century remained. It could still count, couldn’t it? Seeing how he was watching her, she brightened herself up, gave him a smile.

“You’re looking better every day,” he told her, easing her fear that he suspected the truth she was holding back.

“Mostly recovered. Thanks, to you. Still have a bit of a headache,” she told him, rubbing a temple. “But it’ll pass… I hope.”

He looked at her again with frank appraisal.

“I should say your nantech helped you recover as much than we did.”

She had to agree, her toughness, endurance, ability to heal, was due to her NANs – much of her knowledge and experience – earned by others.

There was only so much a single person could do. Without enhancements, she’d have to trust people – maintain it constantly, or risk betrayal – again, and again.

“Well, my nantech does help” she admitted. “It’s dangerous out here. The kind of work I’ve had done – it’s necessary.”

“Out there?” Kyso stretched a hand to encompass the whole world. “I can’t imagine a world more dangerous than this one.”

“Trust me,” she said, adding a little humor to her voice, continuing to test him. “There are worse places out there than Makan.”

“Our mirror port collapsed on you,” he replied quickly, playing into the game, then returned to that appraising look, “in case that head injury of yours has robbed you of the memory.”

She didn’t suppress her laugh. It felt good – right. She mimed her headache again.

“Oh… I remember,” she began, concentrating to get her tone, her performance right. “Arrivals can be dangerous, but if someone hopes… knows that Consortia will return, however long he feels he’s been abandoned.”

She held his gaze, softened hers – kept eye contact.

“My mistake,” she admitted, “I didn’t expect the ice, didn’t expect the resonant effects of the power surge.”

She offered him a warm smile.

“But someone had set an alarm and they were still listening – and despite the risk they crossed a frozen wilderness, pulled me out of that ruin – and brought me back to their home, helped me recover.”

Finishing, she could see the appreciation lighten up his eyes, his face, his whole posture.

“Some could say that you are just lucky,” he said, humble response covering suppressed emotion.

Very lucky.

“Yeah… I am,” she agreed, looking in his sparkling eyes, filling her voice with a warm, serious tone. “Sometimes.”