"Why're we here again?" one of the boys whined, pulling his ratty coat close to his thin body. "It's cold."
"Shut it, Finch," their guide snapped. "'Turo told me to get some of the kiddies, so I did. You keep your whiny trap shut, 'specially in front of him. He don't like kids that ask too many questions."
The boy fell into disgruntled quiet and the group picked its miserable way past the dirty slush of ice in the alleyway. Even though the day was still early the passage was dark, overshadowed by all the tall buildings around them and grimed with years upon years of pollution and dirt.
Anelle pulled her own threadbare coat a little tighter as the group moved. They had been pulled out of the warehouse room where their group of kids slept and told that Arturo wanted to see them. He had taken over the Tenth Street Reds the year before, she knew that much, and he had a nasty reputation. Things had changed in the Reds since then – the guys who came to take what the kids had earned or stolen that day looked scared and some of them didn't come back.
The new ones who took their place were a lot meaner, bad tempered and quick to lash out when they didn't put up enough stash from the day. The kids were going a lot hungrier than usual, which was saying something, and more than normal were sporting bruises and broken bones. More of the kids were dying this winter than normal.
It was just the older kids today, the ones that were bigger and tougher than the rest. There were a couple of the girls there but mostly boys. She wondered what Arturo wanted with them. It wasn't the first time the older kids had been dragged out and only a few of them came back after and those never talked. Anelle was more curious than scared for the moment – their guide Jarrod had been one of the street kids a few years back and everyone knew you could move up in the Reds if you were sneaky or strong or just useful somehow. Moving up had to be better than staying in the gutter where they were.
She'd always been one of those street kids. Not like some of them who came in off the streets after running off from daddy who hit them or momma who drank or did drugs all the time. Anelle had never known her mom or dad. She only knew her name because that's what everyone called her and who knew who had started it. They did that sometimes, with the kids they found that couldn't talk yet or didn't want to talk, just named them something and it stuck. Maybe someone had done that for her. Or maybe she had been one of the babes who got dumped on the doorstep with a name pinned to her clothes. That seemed more likely, since she wasn't named something like Sunshine or Sparrow or something like that. It wasn't like it was important though, and she'd rarely given thought to who her parents were because it just didn't matter on the streets.
The ragged group came to a door in the alleyway and Jarrod rapped on it in a peculiar pattern. The door came open and he marched them past armed men up the stairs to an open room. The man sitting in the chair in the middle of the room had a lean, hungry look about him that made Anelle instantly wary. He looked like a predator, the way the rats sometimes looked when they got hungry enough to try and take a bite out of one of the kids.
"These're them, 'Turo," Jarrod was saying. "Oldest and strongest of the kiddies we got left."
They were lined up in front of the keen-eyed man who studied them, sometimes ordered them to open mouths or stick out arms so he could see or feel them. Sometimes he nodded and the kid was taken away by a pair of armed goons, other times he shook his head and moved on. The girls got a different looking over. Anelle had to bite her lip and force her fists to unclench so she wouldn't hit him and get them all into trouble. The girls that passed their inspection got led off in a different direction - they looked scared.
Finally, Arturo got to her. When he looked her over she met his gaze and didn't back down. She wasn't afraid of him.
"This one's spirited," he drawled, smiling at her. "Too much for the whorehouses maybe? I don't know if we could make an obedient bitch out of her." He put a calloused finger under her chin to tilt it up, studying her face. "Pretty under all that dirt, I think."
He gave her what he probably thought was a charming smile. "I happen to like spirited women. I could save you from the house, make you one of my women. Wouldn't you like that?"
Anelle looked at him in disgust. "I'm no man's whore," she said levelly, slapping aside his hand.
His eyes flared cruelly at that and he motioned for the men who had taken the other girls away. Jarrod stepped up first. "Wait." Though he swallowed nervously when Arturo fixed his glare on him, he continued on. "She'll be wasted down there. She's smart, quick, she's the one who broke Maurice's nose the other month. Bare fists."
Arturo waved for his men to pause and leveled another look at her, as if giving her permission to explain herself. Again Anelle held his gaze coolly. "He was picking on the girls, trying to make them do things they didn't want to do. I stopped him."
"Maurice is a big man," he said, consideration in his voice.
"Slow," she countered. "I'm faster."
"Fine," he said. "Take her down to the lines. Anton's bunch." Arturo gave her a hard look. "Maybe a few weeks on the front will convince you to accept my offer, if you survive and don't get that pretty face marked up. I'm a generous man, after all." He turned away, apparently dismissing them all. Jarrod and the other men led Anelle and the boys who had passed inspection down another flight of stairs. She didn't know what happened to the ones who hadn't, or what would happen to the other kids she had left behind, the ones she used to look out for. They'd have to get by without her now.
Jarrod fell back to walk beside her as the group moved on. "You're an idiot, y'know that?" he hissed. "Almost got yourself killed, or sent to the whorehouses for the rest of your life. You don't speak to 'Turo like that, nobody does."
"Maybe more people should," she shot back. "I'm still here, aren't I? Where are we going, anyways?"
"East side. 'Turo's started a war with some of the other gangs, wants their space. He's got plans, he says, for making the Reds big someday," he replied. "We're losing people on the fronts though, so 'Turo's gone recruiting in the kids. Sends 'em in first, so's the older guys can pick off the people who shoot the kids."
"Doesn't sound like a good way to stay alive," Anelle remarked.
Jarrod shrugged. "Some're lucky. Couple have made it through a few fights now. Most die early though."
Anelle nodded. She wasn't going to be one of the unlucky ones, not if she could help it. She pushed dark hair behind her ears, back out of the way. "If you're so scared of Arturo, why'd you stand up for me back there?"
"I seen you fight," he answered. "And I seen what you did to Maurice too. Figure I stand a better chance of making it myself if you got my back, rather'n the rest of this lot."
They made their way through winding back alleys and dirty side streets to another vacant building, filled with litter with a scant amount of light entering through dirty broken windows half-covered by boards. Jarrod led them up several flights of dark creaking stairs to a room dim-lit by antique helium lamps. A number of men and women were sprawled on ratty couches and unidentifiable lumps of furniture.
Along one wall, tables were lined with neat piles of an assortment of weapons, ammo, and armor. Jarrod steered them towards that wall and on to where a grimy man with sharp eyes lounged along an old leather couch, arm flung around one buxom woman's shoulder while another sat across his lap.
"These're them, Anton," Jarrod announced. "The new kids that 'Turo sent over."
The man he named Anton pushed the woman out of his lap none too gently and stalked over, eyeing their group with a discerning eye. "Scrawny lot. Arturo's getting desperate." He came to stand before Anelle and raised an eyebrow. "And a girl? More desperate than I thought. Unless she's here for…other reasons?" He ended that with an arch grin. Anelle steeled herself, prepared to sock him if he tried to touch her.
Jarrod intervened again. "She's good for a fight, Anton, promise."
"Is she now?" he mused. "We'll see 'bout that." He picked a few items off the side tables as he led them down to the dank basement where the remnants of a few old mechs were pinned to the wall.
"Here," he said, shoving something cold and hard into Anelle's hands. He gestured to one of the mechs. "Have at it."
She looked down at the pistol in her hands. She'd never held a gun in her life, much less fired one. But no one could grow up on the streets without seeing it done at least, so she pointed the pistol at the mech and squeezed the trigger. She hadn't expected the recoil so after the first shot the rest went wide. Even so, the sharp ring of metal on metal announced that she had hit her target with that first shot.
"Hmph," Anton mused. "Not half bad." He corrected her stance, showed her how to aim, and motioned for her to try again. This time three shots found their way into the old battered mech. Anton took the pistol from her hands then, shoving it into the hands of the next boy and on down the line. A few of the boys managed to hit the mark, though most it seemed were shaking too badly to hit anything but the wall.
"You know what to do with these," Anton told Jarrod. Those boys who had failed to hit a mech were led away to another room. There were, of the group that had arrived, only four of them left and Anton had soon divided them again. Anelle found herself unceremoniously pushed into a room with a number of older Reds.
One of the men, a thin balding fellow, scowled. "What're we supposed to do with this runt?"
"Fit her up," Anton ordered. "Show 'er the ropes, she's a natural. Arturo didn't put me on the front for wasting talent." And with that, he was gone.
The man scowled again and shoved an overlarge vest at Anelle. "Put that on then, if that's what Anton wants. Might stop a shot or two. Anton can go screw himself if he thinks I'm giving his pet any of the good stuff though." She shrugged on the heavy material, noting that the balding man had much more expensive-looking armor on. When she was done, he handed her another pistol. "You know what to do with one of these?" She nodded. Copying the others she picked up a belt and crude pouches with ammo and strapped the whole assembly on.
The group filed out of one accord, slipping out of the building and squeezing into a rusty vehicle riddled with holes which wove through the maze of streets and back alleys to some unspoken goal. No one seemed particularly talkative, but eventually Anelle worked up the courage to speak to the man beside her. "What're we doing out here?"
"Expanding," the man said tersely. "Arturo wants us out of the slums by winter's end, but the Sharks are putting up a fight. We're supposed to push them out."
They were to be on the front lines of an inter-gang war then. The kids tended to stick to known territory on their thieving or begging missions – it didn't do to accidentally cross into some other gang's territory. That was a good way to end up dead or worse. Even in their own territory it usually wasn't safe to be out long past dark and definitely not alone.
Anelle had rarely been this far away from what passed for home. She'd never been outside the physical area of the slums themselves. And she'd never been in a fight with more than her fists. She'd pulled the rusty old pocketknife she kept in her pocket out on a guy once, but that had been enough to take the fight out of him. This was new territory in a lot of ways. She could admit it was a little scary but when was life in the slums not a little scary? She tightened her grip on the pistol in her hand.
The vehicle came to a shuddering stop on the side of the street and as silently as before its occupants filed out. From where they were the sharp report of gunfire could be heard though Anelle could see no obvious fighting. Their nameless squad leader led them along a narrow alleyway and through a door. In the storefront they entered the sound of gunfire could be more clearly heard.
"Yer fin'ly here!" A rather fat man taking cover behind a low shelf spat. "Took yer long enough. I 'spected you half an hour ago."
"Anton thought we needed to fill out numbers in the teams," the balding man grumbled. "Everyone should just about be in place now."
"Good," the fat man replied. "Those idiots 'cross the street think we're holed up here for the fun of it. They won't be 'specting a team around back."
"Soon's they're gone, we push as far as we can and pin down whoever we find there," their leader finished, nodding.
"Arturo says we take as much of this neighborhood as we can," the other gang member said. "Sharks hold it now, but some other two-bit gang is moving in on the other side too, so's keep an eye out."
Beyond them the noise of the gunfire shifted. Few shots entered the store they had occupied anymore and instead seemed concentrated across the street. Sooner than she had expected, the shots died away. The street flared as a red flare was tossed out into the street from the broken windows of the storefront.
"That's our signal then," balding man said and he led their team out and down the street. The difference between this neighborhood and the slums was dramatic. The buildings were no less run down. There was just as much refuse and dirt in the streets, but the towering buildings overhead were behind them and it was so much brighter in their absence. None of the buildings on the other half of the street reached more than a few stories. It was a little dizzying to see so much sky overhead.
Their group had moved over a street and about a block down when the first shots were fired. Anelle followed the more experienced members of the group in diving into the nearest shop for cover. The surprised and indignant man she took for the shop owner had barely enough time to begin expressing his outrage before a bullet from across the street caught him squarely in the back.
The man crumpled where he stood. It wasn't the first time she'd seen someone die, nor was it the first time she'd seen the result of a violent death. Those two things were a fact of life on the streets. It was the first time someone had been shot in front of her though. She stood in place, stunned, for a moment until one of the men shoved her back behind some of the shelving with a curse.
"Don't stand there gaping like an idiot, girl, unless you want a bullet too. Them or us, doesn't much matter to me." he growled. He pushed her further back. "Get back there and stay outta the way if you wanna stay alive."
Finding herself effectively shut out from the firefight and not entirely certain that she wanted to or could participate anyways, Anelle scooted further back to look around the little store. There were unfamiliar things along the shelf walls – little people made of plastic or cloth, small creatures that she couldn't imagine really existing and a number of other things she'd never seen before. A small noise from behind another shelving unit drew her attention.
She found a woman and her son crouched at the back of the store. Upon seeing her they cringed away, the woman thrusting the boy behind her. "Please, please don't hurt us," she begged. "We won't say anything, just let us go."
Anelle motioned for the woman to be quiet and snuck over closer to them. There was no telling what the other Reds would do with them. It wasn't like hostages would matter to the Sharks, but these were just people who had the rotten luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"You shouldn't be here," she whispered. She needed to find them a way out.
"Will you let us go?" the woman asked, tears in her eyes. "We were just here to pick out a toy for Jonathan's birthday…"
Anelle looked around, spotting a door that likely led into the back alley, like the other store they had been in before. She checked back around the shelving to make sure the other Reds were still occupied, then motioned for the woman and child to join her. "This door should lead outside," she said quietly. "Get out and go before anyone…"
"And what did you find, little rat?" She turned around to find one of the Reds, standing there with a measuring look upon his face.
"It's nothing," she said quickly. "Just some people, and they're leaving. They don't need to be involved."
"That's where you're wrong, runt," the man said, greed in his eyes. "There's no such thing as people who aren't involved. If they're well enough off, you get ransom. If not, well, they work the ransom off themselves."
The Red grabbed the woman by the arm. "I got some ideas on how this bitch can start 'working' it off too," he said with a lewd look in his eyes.
The pistol was out in Anelle's hands before she had even consciously thought of it. "Let her go," she gritted.
The man laughed. "Or what, you'll shoot me?"
"Let her go," she repeated grimly.
The thug laughed again. "Go on then, shoot me. Or I'll take her right here and now and let the others have a go. Looks like we'll be here awhile anyways. Need something to pass the time." He tightened his grip on the young woman's arm; she cried out while her son clung to her leg.
Then mother and child staggered away as the Red fell to the floor with a bullet in his head and the gun in Anelle's shaking hands was hot, the noise of the gunshot still ringing in her ears. She had never killed before. To save a pair of innocents, she had pulled the trigger and she was not sorry. But the noise of the shot would draw attention and things would get much worse if she didn't get them out now.
"Come on," she said, unable to hide the tremor in her voice. She moved back over to the door and pulled it open, motioning for the family to go through.
"What the hell is going on back here?" she heard an angry voice yell, then everything began to move so slowly. The crack of gunshots filled the air, she saw the mother push the boy towards her as the woman fell.
"Save him," she mouthed, even as her eyes were already dimming with death. Anelle fired a few haphazard shots in front of her hoping to make whatever Reds were there duck back under cover. With her free hand she seized the boy, shoved him through the door, and slammed it shut behind. She grabbed the boy's hand even while he screamed for his mother, pulling him along as they ran for their lives down the alleyway.
They ran blindly down the alley, not even sure if there was any pursuit yet. Anelle didn't know if the Reds would abandon the skirmish against the other gang to go after them, but she doubted they would let the killing of one of their own go unanswered. The boy behind her was sobbing with every breath but there was no time to let him catch his breath or come to grips with the reality that his mother was gone. She kept him moving, helping him up when he stumbled, which was often. He was just a little boy though. She knew they couldn't keep this up for long, not with bigger and stronger men possibly behind them.
She ducked them into several alleyways, hoping to confuse any pursuit. Anelle might not have known the area, but she knew streets and was willing to take the risk that there was a general pattern to them. Finally she slowed to a halt, straining to hear anything past the rapid thud of her heart and their harsh gasping breaths. She heard nothing – not the pounding of footsteps or the calls of the men or the sharp ring of bullets. If there had been pursuit, they might have had the fortune of losing them for the time being. The next thing to do then was hole up in a place where hopefully they wouldn't be found so that they could rest a little. Then she could come up with what to do next.
The boy had crumpled to his hands and knees as soon as they stopped to gasp for air, his face wet with tears. Anelle noted with concern that one of his pants legs was dark, soaked with blood. She bent down to examine his leg, discovering a long furrow along the outside of his left leg. One of the bullets in the spray that had killed his mother must have grazed him. The injury was ugly, but she had seen what bullets could do to a body on its way out. Had the blow been just a little more direct the boy might have already bled to death from the damage. Even so, he was in a great deal of pain and it was clear that he just couldn't run anymore.
"Hang on, I'm going to bandage that up for you," she told him, tucking away the pistol that was still in her hand and taking off her threadbare jacket. She regretted the loss as she cut the jacket into strips with her rusty pocketknife. Thin as it was it still provided some protection from the bitter cold, but this child needed her now and she needed to stop the bleeding. She tied the bandages up as tight as she dared while still keeping some circulation in the rest of his leg. The boy just stared at her in dazed confusion during her ministrations.
"We're going to find a place where you can rest and get warm now, okay?" she told him. "What's your name?"
"J-J-Jonathan," he stammered, rubbing at his eyes with one mittened hand. "Where's my mom?"
Pity stirred her heart for the poor boy. Though she'd never had a mother to lose, she was sure it was an awful feeling. "Your mom had to go away, Jonathan," she told him gently. "My name's Anelle, and I'm going to look out for you now."
She looked around the alleyway. "We need to get out of here. Do you think you can climb up on my back so we can go? I know your leg hurts."
He sniffled a bit but nodded. Anelle helped him stand and when his arms were about her neck and hers under his legs, they started down the alleyway. Despite the heavy vest she was still shivering in the cold but the boy's proximity kept at least some of her warm. She kept an eye out for buildings that looked abandoned as they traveled. Eventually she found one that came open when she pulled.
"I want you to wait here for me," she told Jonathan, kneeling so he could get down. "Tuck yourself in and be very quiet. I'm going to look around and make sure it's safe. If you hear trouble though, I want you to run, don't wait for me. I'll catch up with you."
The boy nodded solemnly. "Promise?"
"Promise," she agreed. Anelle drew the pistol out once more, settling its weight in her hand again. She pulled the door open and slipped inside as Jonathan crouched in his hiding place. The door opened into a windowless room piled with trash. The windows in the store front beyond were boarded over, confirming her guess that the place was unoccupied now and had been for some time.
After checking that the place was safe, she retrieved Jonathan and pulled the door shut behind them, making sure it was closed securely so it wasn't obvious that they were inside. She settled Jonathan into a corner and sat next to him, wrapping her arms around him to keep him warm.
"We'll stay here for a bit so the Reds can't find us," she told him.
He nodded and snuggled closer to her warmth. "Anelle?" he whispered.
"Yeah?"
"Is my mom going to come back?" he asked.
"No," she told him truthfully. "But she didn't want to leave, I know that."
"It's my birthday today," he said in a very quiet voice. "Momma said I could get a toy."
Anelle felt a bitter, heavy weight in her chest. Birthdays didn't really mean much to kids on the street, but she knew that no one should lose their mother on their birthday. "How old are you today?" she asked since she couldn't think of anything appropriate to say. Consolation seemed pretty useless.
"Six," he whispered. "Momma said I was a big boy now."
"You are a big boy, Jonathan," she told him. "Big and very brave. Your momma would be very proud of you." He sniffled again and snuggled closer but didn't say anymore.
Anelle took advantage of his quiet to think a little on the turn the day had taken. That morning she had been one of the Reds, a kid but a member nonetheless. Now she was on the run from her gang. On the streets a kid without a gang to back her up wouldn't be alive for much longer, but she couldn't bring herself to regret her change in status though, not with this little boy at her side. It hadn't been right, what they wanted to do. Nothing was worth a kid like Jonathan getting hurt, not when she could stop it, not when he couldn't look out for himself. There was something in her that couldn't just stand by when something so wrong was going on. She couldn't even bring herself to regret killing that Red. He hadn't left her any choice. It was what had to be done.
Eventually, the growling of Jonathan's stomach and the pangs in her own forced her out into the streets to scrounge them up some food. Traveling a few blocks as fast as she could, she found a part of the neighborhood that hadn't yet been completely chased away by the gang wars. She kept a close eye out for any Reds in the street while digging through a few restaurant dumpsters but saw no sign of her former gang anywhere.
Jonathan looked askance at her offering when she returned but hunger eventually persuaded him to eat what for Anelle was a feast. There weren't many places bothering to sell food in the slums anymore, and the food sucked at most of them. Even those few places had started to lock away the trash to keep the kids and other scavengers out. Some of the bits she'd found today had even still been warm, and that was unheard of. Burnt maybe, but warm was what mattered since she didn't dare try to make a fire. The taste was, to her, unbelievable even if Jonathan made faces at the burnt bits.
Jonathan fell into a fitful sleep once he was warm and relatively full. Anelle like always slept lightly, never at more than a doze and always alert for any noise or gut instinct that might signal danger. The boy next to her began to toss and mutter; a hand laid on his forehead revealed a fever. Anelle had seen a lot of kids die from untreated fevers. On the streets, it was deadly. But this kid didn't belong on the streets. She needed to find someone who would get him some kind of help.
From the lack of light coming through the boarded windows, it was probably night by now. Her instinct said that night for a pair of kids was dangerous, but they were out of the slums proper and the sooner she got Jonathan help the better. She considered leaving him here to scout out a place on her own but then he would be here all alone and he wasn't in any kind of shape to run if trouble found him. If there was one thing life had taught her, it was that there was always trouble on the streets. She didn't like it, but the best bet was to hope that things were safer here and take him with her.
She roused Jonathan enough to get him on her back again. Once his arms were securely around her neck she slipped back outside into the cold night. Once outside though, she hadn't the slightest idea where to go. Despite her earlier foray, the area was still completely foreign to her. Anelle knew she didn't want to go back towards Reds territory, whether real or disputed, but beyond that any direction was as good as any other.
A strange sight caught her eye – a twinkling light above the buildings farther off to the east, something she had never seen in a life spent in the perpetual shadow of the sky-tall buildings. There was something strangely…hopeful about the sight, in a way she couldn't even begin to explain. But it was as good a reason to choose a direction as any, so she threaded her way through the alleyways always heading towards that light.
She kept an eye out for some place she could take Jonathan, though she wasn't quite sure what to look for. Some place open, to start with, with lights and warmth. It might have been better if she could read the signs, but there was no fixing that now. The places they used to steal old medical supplies from always had the same symbol affixed nearby though, so maybe she could look for that.
Several blocks had passed and the journey had been surprisingly quiet. It almost lulled her into complacency, especially given how tired she was and the fact that she had gotten one of her first full meals in a long time that evening. Still, there was enough of the wary street rat awake in her to instantly realize something was wrong when they crossed into an open street intersection.
Anelle dropped and threw herself over the semi-conscious Jonathan as the bullets began to fly overhead. She hoped that the heavy vest she wore would stop at least a few of the shells, though she hadn't much hope of that. She waited any minute for the impact that would kill her or Jonathan or both of them, but it never came.
She heard a man's voice call out over the roaring in the air. "Dammit, there's a pair of kids out there!" The next thing she knew she was pulled up and hustled across the street by an armored man who had scooped up Jonathan's prone form as well, shielding them from fire on one side with his own body. Flashes of blue flared in the dark but miraculously no bullets touched them.
"What the hell are you two doing out there?" he growled angrily when they were back behind his line of men, who continued firing their way across the street. "You almost got yourselves killed! The streets are no place for kids right now. Where are your parents?"
Anelle was too stunned by the turn of events to even register his questions. "Who…how did you do that?"
He laughed, anger dissipating as his teeth flashing briefly in the street lights under his helmet. "What, this?" he asked, rapping on his chest armor. "State of the art stuff, Alliance has been working on it for years. Kinetic barriers, do a pretty good job at stopping bullets, at least for a little while. What I want to know," he said, growing serious again, "is how you did that."
She blinked in confusion. "Did…did what?"
"One of you two had your own barrier going there for a bit, only thing that saved your little butts," he answered. "But I kind of doubt that the Alliance has been passing these things out on the street and your gear isn't exactly up to date. Although that does kind of beg the question as to why you have gear in the first place." He gave her a measuring look that she didn't know how to answer.
Another armored figure approached them, holstering her weapon as she went. "Bastards broke off and ran, lieutenant," the soldier reported. Anelle was surprised to hear a feminine voice from under the helmet, confirmed when the woman removed her helmet. "Do you want us to pursue?"
"How many are left?" the man, the lieutenant?, asked.
"No more than a dozen, sir," the woman replied. "They split off in quite a few directions though. It'll be tough to chase them all down."
"Organize the men into squads then. They don't go too far out though, I don't want them walking into an ambush," he instructed. "Once we secure the area we'll decide what to do next. I want a few men here though."
The woman looked at her assessingly. "Are these the two you pulled off the street?" She turned to look at Anelle. "What's your name, kid?"
"Anelle," she replied, a little unsure.
"What're you doing out here, Anelle? You should be at home, in bed, not wandering the streets," the woman said.
"My…friend, Jonathan, needs help," she said, indicating the boy still in the lieutenant's arms.
"Really, sir? You didn't even wonder what was wrong with him?" the woman asked in a withering tone. She looked back towards Anelle, a crooked eyebrow inviting an answer.
"He's got a fever," she supplied. "His leg got hurt earlier."
The lieutenant looked over at the woman. "You good to take care of them, Michaels?"
"Yessir, I got this," she affirmed, taking Jonathan from her commanding officer.
"I'll leave you to it then, chief. You'll have a couple of men in case there's any trouble. Radio if you need something," he said. Then he was off, yelling orders to his men as he walked away.
"What say we get the two of you warm and get something to eat then?" Michaels suggested. She looked around for a moment, then yelled "Corporal! The boy needs medical attention. See if you can find someplace warm for him." The soldier saluted, moving off to do as ordered.
He returned a short while later. "There's a little café over here, chief. Some of the glass around the door shattered in the skirmish earlier, so we wouldn't exactly be 'breaking in' if we used it," he reported, sounding a bit sheepish.
"Sounds good enough." The woman gathered up Jonathan in her arms and followed the corporal to his find, Anelle trailing along close behind. The corporal cleared enough glass away to maneuver the door open for them to enter.
The chief picked out a cushioned booth in the back to lay Jonathan down on and motioned for Anelle to scoot in on the other side of the table. Anelle had never seen a place so nice, though Michaels muttered about it being a dump. "Lopez, you think you could find something for these kids to eat, and maybe something warm to drink?"
"Aye aye, chief," he said, and disappeared off into the back of the store.
"Alright, let's take a look at Jonathan's leg, shall we?" Chief Michaels said, throwing on a cheery expression that Anelle could see right through before examining the boy's leg. "That's not a bad bandaging job. Was it you who did it?"
Anelle nodded in response. "Well," continued Michaels as she spread a thick substance over the uncovered wound, "we're going to put this stuff the scientists call 'medi-gel' on his leg, and that will help stop the bleeding and make any infection go away, okay?" Keeping her tone conversational, she asked, "Now Anelle, why are you the one bandaging his leg? Where are your parents? And how did Jonathan get hurt in the first place?"
Experience told her to be wary, but her gut told her that these people were okay. No one in the Reds would have run into the middle of a firefight to save their own mother, much less a couple of stranger kids. There was something different about these people that was beyond anything she had ever experienced. She decided to trust them, at least a little.
"Jonathan's mom is dead," she told the older woman. "They were in the store when the Reds came in, and they shot his mom. I don't know if he's got a dad. Jonathan got hit in the leg before I could get him out."
"Poor kid," the woman murmured as she rebandaged his leg. "Hell of a day for a little guy. What about you? Were your parents there too?"
Anelle squirmed a little, not really wanting to answer. These people were fighting against the gangs. If they found out she was one of them, or used to be one at least, what would they do to her? "Not my parents," she said evasively. "Who are you guys?"
"We're Alliance marines," Chief Michaels said. "Seems the gang violence has been escalating here recently. So the Alliance sent us to help, work with the local authorities and show the populace that we're a good thing, looking out for earth and all that. Not everyone thinks so, you see. I bet you could help us out a lot if you told us what you knew about the gangs."
"W-why would I know anything about them?" Anelle stammered.
Michaels shrugged. "You seem familiar with them, that's all. Plus, you're not exactly dressed like a normal teenager, with that bullet-proof vest and that pistol you're packing."
The corporal came in at that moment with mugs of something steaming hot and a laden plate that he set down in front of them. He set the lot down, sketched a quick salute, then made his way back outside with his fellows. Michaels motioned for Anelle to try some. She was a bit surprised to find herself ravenously hungry, despite her earlier meal, so she tentatively took a bite of one of the objects on the plate. For the next few moments afterwards, she reveled in the taste of food that better than anything she could have imagined, something that was hot and not burned or half-rotten or left over from someone else's meal.
Michaels' voice interrupted her reverie. "You poor thing, you've never even had something as simple as hot chocolate and cookies?" Anelle flushed, unhappy that it was apparently so easy to tell by her face but the other woman just sighed. "Look, I can tell that you're a nice girl and that you don't belong on the streets any more than this kid does," she said, motioning to Jonathan. "If you got mixed up with the gangs somehow, then maybe we can do something to help get you out. You could do something better with your life than that."
"Why does it matter to you what I do with my life?" Anelle asked incredulously, wary and suspicious of a stranger's motives.
"You can't be any older than my kid sister,' the soldier replied. "And I couldn't stand the thought of her being mixed up in this crap."
"But I'm not your sister," Anelle protested.
Michaels shrugged. "No, you're not. But is it is so hard to believe that someone might just want to help someone else who's in trouble?" She looked pointedly at Jonathan's sleeping figure in the seat next to her. "Why're you helping him?"
"I…I don't know," Anelle answered with a frown. "I just had to. It didn't feel right not to."
"You've got a good heart, kid. Nothing to be ashamed of," Michaels said with a smile. "So will you let us help you?"
Anelle considered the strange woman before her and her question. More than anything else in the past day, Michaels turned her worldview upside-down. She had always known she was a little unusual compared to the other kids on the street. Most of them would throw each other out a window if it meant getting another bite to eat or a warmer place to sleep. Looking out for the littler kids and making sure they got something to eat before you did was not only unheard of, it was simply insane. No one could survive like that on the streets. But she just couldn't help it. And Michaels and these Alliance marines proved that there were other people out there who did the same thing. It was mind-boggling.
Before she could nod her hesitant acceptance though, the door to their sanctuary flew open. "Chief! The lieutenant's on the radio, we've got trouble." The marine pushed the radio into the woman's waiting hand.
"Michaels here, sir," she reported. "Petrovsky says trouble?"
"I need you and your men down here, now," the voice on the other line rasped. "We're pinned down, these thugs have way better weaponry than they should."
"Aye aye, sir," she answered. She hesitated for a moment, then reactivated the radio. "Sir, what about the kids? We can't just leave them here." Silence answered her. Michaels appeared to make her mind up about something. "Lieutenant, requesting permission to escort them someplace safe myself, sir. The others will rendezvous at your location immediately."
There was a short pause before the radio crackled again. "Double-time it, chief. We're at the corner of Sims and Madison."
"Yessir, thank you, sir." She managed to give the impression of saluting over the radio. Michaels turned back to the man who had brought her the radio, the one she named Petrovsky. "You heard him. Take the others and support Hannigan. I'll join you as soon as I can." The man saluted and ran out of the café.
Michaels turned back to Anelle. "You ready to go, kid? I need to find you two somewhere away from this mess."
Anelle nodded. "Where are we going?"
"I'm not exactly sure." The marine frowned slightly. "I think I saw a shelter of some sort when we came through earlier. We'll try there. At the very least I can get you into safe territory. Safer than this place, anyways," she finished ruefully.
Michaels slipped out of the seat and pulled Jonathan back into her arms. "It should be safe, but can you handle that sidearm of yours if we run into trouble?"
Anelle nodded as she slid free herself. She wrapped the leftover cookies and stowed them in one of the pouches on her belt at the chief's instruction. The trio headed out, back into the night cold.
"See that light, over there?" Michaels indicated the direction with a jerk of her chin. Anelle nodded – it was the light she had seen earlier, that she had used as her own guide before. "It's a star, pretty sure it sits over a shelter we passed. I thought it was gaudy at the time…useful now."
"Is that what stars look like?" Anelle asked as they walked.
Michaels looked over in surprise. "You've never seen a star, not even a picture?" Then she shook her head. "No, I guess you wouldn't. And the city lights cover up the real things, don't they?"
"Have you seen one? A real star?" Anelle looked curiously at the older woman.
"Yeah, a couple," Michaels replied with a smile. "One of the best parts of being Alliance military, I think. Getting to see the stars."
"I'd like that," Anelle replied wistfully. The stars had to be nicer than earth.
Michaels gave her a thoughtful look. "You should consider it, maybe. The Alliance, I mean," she added in answer to Anelle's puzzled glance. "Be a helluva lot better than living out here, don't you think?"
Anelle shook her head. "Why would they want me? I'm nothing, just a girl off the streets."
"A lot of marines are 'just kids off the streets'," Michaels told her. "Just think about it. It'll be a few years before you're old enough anyways."
The girl shrugged noncomittantly. They continued their brisk walk in silence until Jonathan began to stir in Michaels' arms.
"Momma?" the boy murmured sleepily. Michaels knelt, still holding on to the boy while Anelle bent down next to them.
"It's me, Anelle," she said. "This is Chief Michaels, she's helping us." The boy looked at the marine with wide eyes.
Michaels smiled at him in return. "How's your leg feeling, Jonathan? Better?" He gave her a small nod in reply.
"Jonathan?" Anelle caught the boy's attention again. "Think you're strong enough to let me carry you again, so Chief Michaels can rest a bit? I've got some cookies if you're hungry, too."
The trio continued on again when Jonathan was settled again, dropping crumbs down the back of Anelle's neck as he munched on a cookie. That freed the older woman to use her own firearm, which she kept a wary grip on as they progressed down the streets, always heading towards the bright star above the buildings.
At last they reached the building from which the star shone. "Here we are," Michaels declared triumphantly. "Good Shepard Shelter, I knew I'd seen the sign."
"They misspelled the name," Jonathan protested faintly, his small face frowning in childish consternation. He'd been very quiet throughout the journey. Anelle hoped that speaking up was a sign that he really was feeling better. "That's not how you spell 'shepherd'."
Michaels laughed as she rapped on the door. "Right you are, my boy. You're a smart kid." She hit the door a few more times when no answer was forthcoming. Finally, the door cracked open.
"Whose there?" a woman's voice called out.
"I'm an Alliance soldier, ma'am," Michaels answered. "I need to get back to my squad, but I've got a couple of kids here that I'm hoping you can take in."
The door opened wider and a tiny woman stepped out. "Let's see them." She looked critically at the boy and girl standing before her, taking in Jonathan's bloody and bandaged leg and the gear that Anelle had gotten from the Reds.
"You'll both need baths and fresh clothing," she said crisply. "Come on then, it's cold. Get that boy inside."
"Much appreciated," Michaels responded. The marine turned to her former charges. "You two take care of each other, okay? And Anelle, think about what I said before. I think you'd make a good soldier." She gave the two of them a friendly salute, then she was gone, back to the squad that needed her.
The little woman let them watch the soldier depart down the street before ushering them inside. Once there they were scrubbed down thoroughly and clothed in worn but clean clothing. Plates and cups were set before them, and over their late meal their host introduced herself.
"I'm Sister Mary Therese. I've been running the Good Shepherd shelter for the past twenty years, against the advice of all my friends," she said, smiling faintly.
"The sign's misspelled," Jonathan pointed out around a mouthful of food.
"Don't speak with your mouth full, dear," she chided gently. "And yes, I know. Some of my former residents wanted to surprise me with a new sign for the building. They were very sweet, but needless to say, spelling wasn't their strong point. It was a nice gesture though."
Her fond smile disappeared as she returned to a business-like attitude. "The rules here are pretty simple. No drugs, no drinking, no picking fights with others. You stay clean and you can stay here. We work, we study, and…" she added, her smile returning, "we look out for each other. I don't ask questions about what you did before, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. We trust each other here."
It was a life completely different from the one she had known before. Anelle found herself liking the idea.
"Think you can do that?" Sister Mary Therese was looking directly at her. Anelle nodded without hesitation, and the sister smiled warmly in response. "Good. I'll show you to your rooms then. We'll get things more sorted out in the morning."
-~0~-
"Anelle? Will you come down here, please? There's some people here to see you." Sister Mary Therese's voice called up from down the stairs. Anelle set down the book she had been working her way through and uncurled from the window seat in the girls' room, upsetting the several cats who had chosen to nap next to her. The older woman's voice didn't have that strained catch to it like it did when there were troublemakers downstairs, but she tucked her pistol into the back of her pants, underneath her jacket, anyways. It wasn't at all unusual for gang members to come by, demanding "protection money", and frequently they'd come looking for recruits, Anelle in particular. She'd turned more than one group away, some at gunpoint.
She made her way down the stairs to find two uniformed men standing before the elderly caretaker. The teenager paused briefly to study the newcomers before they noticed her approach. One was a tall, skinny fellow who squinted despite the glasses he wore. The other was shorter, more stocky, but he carried himself with confidence and Anelle didn't miss the rifle slung over his shoulder. Neither one bore a threatening countenance, however, and Sister Marie's face was concerned, but not frightened. Anelle moved down the rest of the stairway, purposefully making some noise to draw their attention.
"Ah, there you are, dear," the sister said upon her arrival. "These gentlemen have been asking about you. They say they're from the Alliance." Anelle regarded them curiously – there hadn't been Alliance soldiers here in the three years that she'd been here, not after the squad that had been sent to deal with the gang wars.
The tall squinty one spoke. "You must be Anelle then. I'm Dr. Conrad and this is my associate, Corporal Genetti. The sister has told us a little about you. She said you were brought here a few years ago by an Alliance marine, along with a young boy?"
Anelle nodded. "Chief Michaels, yes."
"And the boy?" the man who named himself a doctor arched an eyebrow.
"Jonathan's not here anymore," she replied curtly. The little boy had never recovered from that first horrible winter, when he'd been orphaned and wounded all in one day.
The squinting man considered that information for a moment before speaking again. "Do you know what a 'biotic' is, Anelle?" She shook her head in answer. "They're people with special abilities. Telekinetics, they might have been called in the past. We have reason to believe that either you or Jonathan might be one."
Anelle looked askance at the man. "Why would you think that?"
"Biotics happen when people are exposed to something called 'element zero' while their mothers are pregnant," the doctor explained. "The only known element zero exposure here have been fairly recent, but there have been a few in this region in the past two decades or so. Conceivably then, either of you could have been exposed at the proper time."
"So you're checking every kid under the age of twenty who happens to live in this area?" Anelle said skeptically.
"Heavens, no," Conrad laughed. "One of the interns was sifting through some Alliance reports and found mention of an unusual occurrence, a kinetic shield without the use of shielding equipment, buried in an old file. We knew there were a pair of children involved and that they were relocated elsewhere in the area. Beyond that though, we had very little information."
When Anelle still looked puzzled, he explained. "You see, biotics are capable of generating barriers with their minds, no extra equipment necessary. Well, except for amps, but we'll get to that. We think that what those soldiers saw was a biotic barrier. Created by one of you two.
"What we'd like to do," the doctor continued, "is take you to one of our facilities, for testing. There are ways to tell if you have biotic potential that we can train. If you do, the Alliance is always looking for biotics to join and we'd be glad to help you enlist as soon as possible."
Anelle threw a glance towards the sister. She had no idea what to think of the offer. Sister Mary turned her piercing gaze upon the two Alliance men. "What would be involved in this testing?" she asked, one eyebrow raised inquiringly.
"Some scans, a few tests to see how much existing control she has if there proves to be positive eezo nodules in her nervous system," the doctor said. "Entirely non-invasive and relatively painless. If she does indeed have biotic abilities, we can talk about surgical implants that will help her control those powers. It would be entirely paid for by the Alliance, presupposing that she agrees to enlist once she is of age. The current implants are quite safe, I assure you."
The older woman turned her gaze back to Anelle. "This is entirely up to you, child. I know you've considered the Alliance in the past – this could be a very good opportunity for you."
"The best," Conrad affirmed. "The Alliance is the only place where biotics can utilize their unique abilities. They would be wasted anywhere else."
Anelle hesitated. The chance to find a life away from the slums, away from the constant pull of the gang life, was incredibly tempting. But leaving also meant leaving this place and the people who lived here – the often-changing populations of boys and girls looking for a better life and the woman who cared for them.
Sister Mary Therese apparently saw the conflict in her ward's eyes. "Will you excuse us for a moment, gentlemen?" She led Anelle to a room off to the side.
"You're afraid of leaving, aren't you?" The tiny woman didn't wait for an answer before continuing. "This place was here long before you arrived and it will be here afterwards. Don't short yourself on a good future just because you think we need you, girl. I didn't teach you to be so conceited."
Anelle blinked at the reprimand but nodded in reply. "I'll…keep that in mind, ma'am."
The Alliance doctor gave her an inquisitive look when they returned. "Okay," she said. "I'll at least go for the testing."
The man beamed. "Excellent! Corporal Genetti and I will wait while you gather your things then, and we will escort you to our facilities. Testing itself will take a day or two and should you opt for the biotic implants, we would prefer you stay a little longer for observation afterwards."
"Do we have to do that now?" Anelle asked dubiously.
"The sooner the better," Conrad replied. "The most efficient method is to implant at puberty, as soon as biotic potential becomes apparent. You're past that, obviously, so we'd like to do the surgery as soon as possible to maximize your biotic potential."
Anelle looked back over her shoulder at the woman who had taken her in and given her a new start at life. "You'll feed the cats while I'm gone?"
The woman rolled her eyes mock-anger. "You and your stray cats. Of course I will."
"And you'll take care of things while I'm gone?" Anelle asked quietly. "Especially yourself."
"Of course, dear," she answered, smiling fondly. "Don't worry about us, we'll be here when you get back."
-~0~-
The tests weren't like anything she was expecting. It was frustrating to fail time and time again; 'move the ball' had become 'move the pencil' and now she was down to 'move the pin'. She frowned in concentration, determined to make that pin move. But nothing happened.
Anelle growled in frustration and threw her head down onto her arms on the table. They were never going to let her into the Alliance military now. She couldn't even move a stupid little pin.
"Don't worry." That was the laboratory tech who was overseeing her testing.
Anelle looked up at her. "You said I had those…'nodules'. I thought you said I could do this."
"You do. Not many biotics, even the strong ones, have any kind of conscious control over their abilities without training and even then most need amps," the tech explained. "Just give it one more try, the way we showed you. If nothing happens, we'll stop and talk about your options."
Anelle sighed again, shoved the hair out of her face and resolved to try one more time. She narrowed her eyes in concentration, chewing on her lower lip a little as she imagined the pin rolling across the desk and focused all her will on making it reality. Nothing happened. And then, almost imperceptibly, the pin moved, just a fraction of a centimeter. She almost jumped out of her chair in surprise. "Did you see that?" she exclaimed.
"Try it again," the tech said, encouragement in her voice. Anelle concentrated again, the way she had before. The pin quivered briefly, then visibly rolled. It didn't move far, but there was no doubt that she had moved it and with nothing but whatever strange power those nodules allowed her to command.
"I did it!" she cried, exhilarated. "I…whoa." The room swam for a moment, exhaustion crashing down around her. It felt like she had tried to move a mountain, not a tiny little pin.
"Whoops. Here, drink this." Anelle felt hands steadying her in her seat and something pressed into her hand. She lifted it unsteadily to her lips and drank, grimacing at the awful taste.
"Ugh, what is that?" she asked, making a face.
The tech laughed at her. "Energy drink. Biotic abilities take a lot of effort, especially at first."
"So I have them then? I'm a biotic?" Anelle asked.
"Most definitely, and I suspect you'll be a strong one," the tech confirmed. "Sit there and rest a bit and I'll bring Dr. Conrad back in. He'll want to talk to you."
Anelle finished off the horrid-tasting concoction in her hand then laid her head back on the desk to await the doctor's return. She looked up again when she heard the hissing of the door opening and shutting, signaling his entrance.
"Miss Cho informs me that the testing went quite well," Conrad said without preamble. "I can safely say then that the Alliance would welcome you into our ranks, without reservation. Have you given it any thought? We could get your implant surgery scheduled right away and the Alliance will take care of all the costs."
Anelle considered it for a moment, then realized that she had decided long ago. She wanted to see the stars, to be away from the vortex of the gang life that would either draw her in or kill her if she stayed too near. She wanted the opportunity to utilize all of whatever talents and abilities she had. And she wanted to be where she could help people, the way that she always had. The Alliance offered all of that to her and more. "Yes, I'll do it," she replied.
"Excellent," the doctor said, beaming. "We'll get everything arranged right away."
Later, she groggily probed at the new implant at the back of her neck. It was odd, knowing that there was metal and wires under the bandaging, that it was as much part of her now as her own flesh and blood.
"Don't fuss with that too much," Dr. Conrad chided gently. "You'll get used to it eventually and the staff will show you how to take care of it before you leave. Now, are you feeling well enough to talk about some details regarding your enlistment?" Anelle nodded, then decided that that had been a bad idea when the room started to spin slightly.
"Just lay back," the doctor instructed. "This won't take too much of your time. The staff and I have been doing some research. Based on exposures in the region and the fact that you believe you have lived in the city most if not all of your life, our best guesses are that you are probably around seventeen years old. We can estimate when you were in utero based on the fact that you were exposed to eezo then, you see.
"Alliance rules are that one is eligible to enlist at eighteen so you won't be able to right away, but that's not a problem," he continued. "What we'd like to do is assign you a birth date since your own is unknown and when you legally turn eighteen, we can proceed with your enlistment. Does that sound reasonable to you?"
It was a lot of big words for her current muddled state, but she thought she understood. "That sounds okay," she said, not trusting her head enough to a nod again.
"Excellent! Is there any day in particular you have in mind?" The doctor looked at her expectantly but she only looked at him blankly. "No? How about today then? Getting one's implants is a fairly large step after all and it's well within the range of probable birth dates. I'll get started on the paperwork then, and one year from now you'll be starting your career as an Alliance marine. I think I can safely say that we will expect great things from you." And just like that, he walked out and it was done.
-~0~-
"This is it, I guess." Anelle fidgeted with the straps on her bag on the front steps of the shelter where she had spent the last four years, the best four years, of her life. She had been both looking forward to and dreading this day for an entire year and it was finally upon her. She had already finished her goodbyes to the kids - now there was only one left.
Sister Mary Therese touched her former ward's cheek affectionately. "You'll be fine, dear. And probably more than they can handle," she added with a chuckle. "I know that you'll make me proud."
Anelle surprised the older woman then by dropping her bag and taking her up in a fierce hug. "Thanks for looking out for me," she whispered.
"Oh child," Sister Mary said, her voice catching as she pulled back. "Don't you know you were the one who always looked out for us? I only hope that one day, you'll find someone you trust enough to lean on for yourself." The sister surreptitiously wiped at one eye – dust, Anelle knew she would claim if she pointed it out. "Now, go on, get out of here before you miss the shuttle," she said finally, making a shooing motion with her hands.
"Yes ma'am," Anelle replied with a smile. "You'll be here when I come back for visits?"
"We'll always be here, dear," Sister Mary replied with that warm, familiar smile. "And I'll take care of your cats," she added with a wink. Anelle took her bag up again and sparing one last glance for her former life, started off down the street to begin her new one.
It was quiet that day at the Alliance office. The man behind the desk dug up her paperwork, flipping through the pages as he checked her information over.
"Everything looks like it's in order, except for one detail," he said shortly. Anelle looked at him curiously. "All your information is filled out, except for your surname," he told her.
Anelle blinked in surprise. "Um, I don't have one. I'm an orphan, I have no idea who my parents were," she explained.
The man frowned. "They should have taken care of this before," he groused.
"Is this going to be a problem?" Anelle asked, concerned. Had she come this far for her past to block her way completely?
He sighed. "It will be a little more paperwork, but we can take care of this. It's your lucky day, I guess. Pick something."
Her mind whirled, the possibilities endless. She could pick whatever she wanted. But this was a name that everyone would know her by, for the rest of her life. There was really only choice possible. She remembered an indignant little boy who had set her on the path she now walked.
"Shepard," she said with a smile. "Write it down as Shepard."
-~0~-
"That's pretty much it," Shepard said with a shrug. "From beginning to end, how I got here."
Her two companions stared at her. Kaidan spoke first. "And you think I had it rough, Commander?"
Shepard just laughed at him. "Just because I didn't have the easiest life as a kid doesn't automatically make everyone else's life a cakewalk, Alenko. I just call 'em like I see 'em."
"Your Sister must be so proud of you, ma'am," Ashley said, her eyes wide with awe. "Do you still talk with her at all?"
"The shelter was destroyed in another gang war a few years after I enlisted," Shepard said with a sigh. "I didn't even know until I graduated and went back to let her know. Haven't set foot on earth since." Her two human squad members traded glances, clearly not sure what to say, or what would be appropriate so Shepard continued on rather than let the silence become awkward. "I didn't know what to do with myself the next time I got shore leave, so I asked the pilot just to drop me off somewhere popular. He picked Elysium," she said with a wry smile.
"So that's how you ended up on Elysium," Kaidan mused, his own smile ironic. "Too bad for the batarians." The lieutenant shook his head and she caught that look from him again, that look she didn't quite know how to interpret. "You really are a remarkable woman, Commander."
"I don't know if I'd go that far, Alenko," she laughed. "I've had a lot of lucky breaks and met some good people, that's all."
"I think I'm going to agree with LT on this one, ma'am," Ashley said. "The Council picked the right woman to be the first human Spectre. We're going to beat Saren because of you, Commander, I know it."
"I've got the finest crew in the galaxy too, don't forget that," Shepard reminded them. "But even so, I hope you're right." Surrounded by open space, the stars, and the best crew anyone could ask for, she really hoped Williams was right.