Margulis… from your winter ashes, there has sprung a field of flowers. Conceived by me, germinated for deadly purpose.
You used to dream of old Earth, didn’t you? Bathed in gold and solemn blue. I intend to reclaim it now, from the spores and the ruin. It came to me, like a proverb: fight poison with… poison.
Cure this sick horde with the greatest of plagues.
I will call her… Saryn.