“You must not interfere at all,” she instructed sharply. “Do not touch me, or attempt to rouse me. If I succeed, you’ll know it. A fleet of corpore won’t show up. Do you understand? Any interference could break my connection, concentration, would be disastrous.”

He nodded, and then frowned.

“What’s going to happen once you’re done? Will you–”

She cut him off.

“Do you understand what I said?” she asked, growing frustrated with him again, “what I told you – or not?”

The expression didn’t leave his face, but he nodded again.

“Yes,” he agreed. “I understand.”

She hoped he meant it, started rummaging through her pockets. There was one last thing to do before committing to her final act. Pulling out the last of her nanomeds, Althea searched them, retrieved two ampoules – of only four she had left. Two should be enough to keep the damage to a minimum. She handed them to Traejan.

“Take these,” she told him. “There’s enough ambient radiation around here to kill. You’ll need it to survive.”

He turned them over in his hand, looking them over, then looked back at her.

“Swallow them,” she insisted. He looked back at her.

“What about you?”

She shook her head. She might be vulnerable, in her condition. What did it matter?

“I’ll make do. Are you going to swallow it or not?” Seeing he was still delaying, she pulled out another, broke it, swallowed the oily textured liquid – glanced sharply at him. “It’s not poison Trae.”

Reluctantly, he followed her example.

“Now, move off,” she told him, gesturing. He started backing away. “I need space to do this – and remember what I told you. A few more fours. That’s good.”

He moved maybe a two sixes away, sat down on a stump of wreckage. She turned back to the core.

Motivated, compelled by desire, she was finished the tests in beats. Physical connections were strung along the fibers from Dorian’s case to the core. Special hardware and software locks protected him from the main connection, protecting his code’s integrity. He would be safe, regardless of what happened. She pressed the installation sequence starter – and there it was, the alluring, Macro interface laid, out before her.

Althea eased down, legs crossed, spread out Dorian’s reactive fields, activated the connection. The Macro’s encoded interface beckoned. She held tightly the cold metal in her left hand ran a finger over the entry symbols with her right, glanced back at Traejan. He had crossed his arms – stared at her – but hadn’t moved closer. Turning back to the interface fields, she pressed down with her index finger. They multiplied, brightened.

“Oneness,” she breathed, looking on the beautiful intricacy of the gateway into the Macro’s codestream.

“Is that you?” she whispered in wonder. Before her, the interface finished coalescing – at full connect. “Are you ready?”

Two of her fingers brushed the swirl, and brief flashes of code erupted in her consciousness, memories perfectly replicated in her mind, the stream, drawn up by the permanent nanowires running from her fingertips to her visual cortex. Althea pulled the fingers away – shocked and afraid.

No! Not yet! Not yet…

She pulled her hand away, rubbed her forearms together, feeling electric pinpricks all through her right arm. She was too eager, jumping the gun; frightened by her own desires. She must not – must not! – open the gate before she was mentally prepared.

Is there a problem?

She shook the stray code out of her thoughts.

“No,” she told him, half-smiling, the spikes had been like a forbidden treat. “Hardly.”

She was almost ready, feeling another shiver course through her body. The tips of her fingers were tingling with anticipation.

“There it is,” she announced, her minds eyes deciphering the code before her – the open gateway becoming perceptually three-dimensional. “How much time do we have left?”

Double six.

She nodded, felt herself beginning to tremble.

Are you ready?

“Oh yes.”

I will be here for you.

“I know you will,” she told him. “You always have.”

I will welcome your return.

“Of course, I’ll be back soon,” she told him.

She told him what she wanted to say, what he needed to hear, but felt the growing pang as she looked at the dancing codes. Remembered what it had cost to get here. Despair and ecstasy wound together.

“Dorian,” she began uncertainly. “It’s…”

I will wait for you, he asserted.

Did he believe that she was not coming back, did he suspect? …Was she not coming back?

“I won’t give in Dorian,” she tried to assure him. “I can’t give in.”

Thoughts of Kyso, all the rest, the blood… all that guilt ate at her resolve. Had Kyso made the best choice? Giving himself up to the burning light?

“But I have to–”

You mustn’t give in.

“No,” she whispered. “I have to destroy it.”

Of course. Hurry.

She nodded, gripped Dorian’s case hard with her left hand, flexed her right, pressed it into the interface field projection. Feeling the tingle flow through her fingers, into her wrist, up her arm, along her neck. She couldn’t suppress an appreciative sigh.

“I will,” she promised. “Dorian?”

Yes, Althea?

She held her breath for a moment, let it out, tried to put the words together.

“This is–” she began, her voice falling to a whisper, “time to let me go.”

She didn’t give him time to respond, time to question. She keyed in the entry sequence, felt the brief shock of electromagnetic resistance, the burst of glorious light blast into her waiting mind – let the beautiful, beautiful codestream in.