Margolis... 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.