crashing down into one sweet moment, like the thunderous release of a pent-up summer storm.
“Okay. I can’t breathe,” I say finally, laughing, tearing away just enough to look around the room. The Director and the other Thermopylae Team Blue members are greeting the rest of the Normandy crew, talking breathlessly, hugging, laughing and clapping each other on the back. The joy of being alive, seemingly unharmed, is overwhelming. That they’re safe. That there’s still hope.
Gradually, voices quiet. Calm slowly settles over the room. I hadn’t seen Soren come in, but now notice he and Rhinehouse standing, heads together, and, to my astonishment, Rhinehouse actually has his arm around Soren’s shoulder. Soren’s introducing Bear who smiles timidly, looking out of place. Now, Rhinehouse, bless his cranky soul, shakes Bear’s hand and tells him, Welcome to the Resistance.
The Director catches my eye and smiles, and I nod in return. She's a quiet, intimidating woman and I’ve never been comfortable around her. She’s not much taller than I am, but she exudes a fierce intelligence, set by an angular jaw, barely-there brows in a graceful arch, and a charismatic glint in her sparkling, narrow eyes. She was my mother’s friend—back then I knew her as Cillian Oahu—but was always all business with me. Since joining the Resistance, I've only known her as the Director. It seems to fit.
Adrienne clears her throat.
“With high hopes of your arrival, we’ve prepared a celebratory feast.” She nods at the Normandy operators, who begin setting out plates and forks. “We’ve got a boar roasting in the oven and Zoe’s breaking out her dandelion wine from last summer.”
Zoe does a little happy dance to everyone's cheers. Adrienne holds her hand up again. “There’s plenty of food to go around, and I know you all are in need of nourishment. But before we dig in, I’d like to share a moment of silence in honor of your safe arrival and to keep in our thoughts those who have not returned to us yet—and those who will never return to us again.” A lump lodges in my throat, and I clutch my father’s hand, lean on his shoulder, and close my eyes. The room goes quiet for a moment until Adrienne raises her glass and says, “Let us always remember to set a place for friends old and new.”
Soon the table in the center of the room is laid out with enormous bowls of dried fruits, wheat pilaf, and roasted vegetables. Two of the Normandy workers pull a giant pan out of the oven and the smell of the sizzling roasting boar fills the room.
The next few moments pass in a blur of happiness. Plates clatter and knives are passed around, and everyone’s words seem to mingle in the air like summer fireflies. I barely taste my food, I’m so relieved. I can’t seem to think at all. I sit with my father on one side, Eli on the other. For a brief moment, it seems everything is right with the world.
Then I notice the Director across the room, a fork poised in midair, her mouth set in a frown. Her eyes are creased and worried. She turns and whispers something to Adrienne, at her side, but Adrienne shakes her head.
“Dad,” I whisper, “what’s wrong?”
He shakes his head, as confused as I am. An uncertain silence seeps into the room.
“Where are the others?” the Director asks. She doesn’t have to raise her voice to make herself heard. Eli, at my side, looks at me briefly before responding.
“When we were at the rendezvous point, waiting for your team, we took out the hovercar we used to flee the old city. But we were attacked by drones almost immediately, and the hovercar was totaled. We realized we would put ourselves in danger, traveling in a large group through the Wilds. So we split up. Firestone took Vale, Kenzie, and Jahnu and headed to Waterloo. We came here.” He hesitates before finishing the story. “We should have heard from them. They should have arrived there before we got here. But we haven’t heard
“Okay. I can’t breathe,” I say finally, laughing, tearing away just enough to look around the room. The Director and the other Thermopylae Team Blue members are greeting the rest of the Normandy crew, talking breathlessly, hugging, laughing and clapping each other on the back. The joy of being alive, seemingly unharmed, is overwhelming. That they’re safe. That there’s still hope.
Gradually, voices quiet. Calm slowly settles over the room. I hadn’t seen Soren come in, but now notice he and Rhinehouse standing, heads together, and, to my astonishment, Rhinehouse actually has his arm around Soren’s shoulder. Soren’s introducing Bear who smiles timidly, looking out of place. Now, Rhinehouse, bless his cranky soul, shakes Bear’s hand and tells him, Welcome to the Resistance.
The Director catches my eye and smiles, and I nod in return. She's a quiet, intimidating woman and I’ve never been comfortable around her. She’s not much taller than I am, but she exudes a fierce intelligence, set by an angular jaw, barely-there brows in a graceful arch, and a charismatic glint in her sparkling, narrow eyes. She was my mother’s friend—back then I knew her as Cillian Oahu—but was always all business with me. Since joining the Resistance, I've only known her as the Director. It seems to fit.
Adrienne clears her throat.
“With high hopes of your arrival, we’ve prepared a celebratory feast.” She nods at the Normandy operators, who begin setting out plates and forks. “We’ve got a boar roasting in the oven and Zoe’s breaking out her dandelion wine from last summer.”
Zoe does a little happy dance to everyone's cheers. Adrienne holds her hand up again. “There’s plenty of food to go around, and I know you all are in need of nourishment. But before we dig in, I’d like to share a moment of silence in honor of your safe arrival and to keep in our thoughts those who have not returned to us yet—and those who will never return to us again.” A lump lodges in my throat, and I clutch my father’s hand, lean on his shoulder, and close my eyes. The room goes quiet for a moment until Adrienne raises her glass and says, “Let us always remember to set a place for friends old and new.”
Soon the table in the center of the room is laid out with enormous bowls of dried fruits, wheat pilaf, and roasted vegetables. Two of the Normandy workers pull a giant pan out of the oven and the smell of the sizzling roasting boar fills the room.
The next few moments pass in a blur of happiness. Plates clatter and knives are passed around, and everyone’s words seem to mingle in the air like summer fireflies. I barely taste my food, I’m so relieved. I can’t seem to think at all. I sit with my father on one side, Eli on the other. For a brief moment, it seems everything is right with the world.
Then I notice the Director across the room, a fork poised in midair, her mouth set in a frown. Her eyes are creased and worried. She turns and whispers something to Adrienne, at her side, but Adrienne shakes her head.
“Dad,” I whisper, “what’s wrong?”
He shakes his head, as confused as I am. An uncertain silence seeps into the room.
“Where are the others?” the Director asks. She doesn’t have to raise her voice to make herself heard. Eli, at my side, looks at me briefly before responding.
“When we were at the rendezvous point, waiting for your team, we took out the hovercar we used to flee the old city. But we were attacked by drones almost immediately, and the hovercar was totaled. We realized we would put ourselves in danger, traveling in a large group through the Wilds. So we split up. Firestone took Vale, Kenzie, and Jahnu and headed to Waterloo. We came here.” He hesitates before finishing the story. “We should have heard from them. They should have arrived there before we got here. But we haven’t heard
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