Chapter 4 – Effugium
August 3rd, 2552 - (16:30 Hours - Military Calendar)
Epsilon Eridani System, Reach
Eposz, New Alexandria
Csillagos éj Hotel
:********:
Erica's breaking point was somewhere around the corner. She was close to throwing in the towel and leaving things as they were, the hotel, the clientele, the staff, everything. She was ready to give up on all of it.
There was no relief from the tidal wave of complaints and reservation cancellations that crashed into her office every minute. All of them came from the hotel's numerous, though increasingly diminishing clientele. Most if not the whole of the issue surrounded the hotel's isolation from the rest of the galaxy.
And how was that her fault?
It didn't matter. The lack of service was a major no-no for those patrons who needed to maintain important contacts such as investors and businessmen. There lay the problem of catering to high value customers: loyalty to the brand required continuous upkeep of the company's standards. Being the well-reputed hotel line that Csillagos éj was, the loss of communications left much to be desired. Sure, it wasn't their fault but that didn't really matter either. What mattered to the customers was having the ability to sustain their own ventures. They only cared about having the problem solved, and if that wasn't possible, to go elsewhere.
So began the flight of clients to the city starport. They weren't simply leaving the Csillagos or the city in droves, but the planet itself. Those of a longer history with the hotel held out longer, aiming to maintain their reservations, some of which were planned years in advance. Sadly, these too could only hold out for so long. 'Time is money' was a phrase that applied literally to them. Seeing no sign of a resolution on the horizon, they likewise packed their things and checked out, leaving the majority of the guests' population to the lower and middle-income earners.
In the eye of the storm of complaints and cancellations was Erica.
As the hotel manager, she did her best to address the problem. However, her best was simply to put a bandage on what was essentially an arterial bleed. She made promises that there would be a resumption of normal interstellar connections soon. She went so far as to back up her claims by contacting CENTCOM Region 1, the branch of Central Command in charge of Epsilon Eridani, who gave her more accurate progress reports on the problem by the day. The media were of some help too. Almost a week after the dilemma began, outlets such as Waypoint finally explained the story behind it.
A major and apparently unforeseen technical issue occurred at one of Reach's three relays. This issue led to a fire which seriously damaged the facility's infrastructure. The UNSC was doing everything in its power to get it operational again but it would take some time. Other important questions were not answered so much as they were ignored altogether. What was the issue? How and why did the on-site engineers let it get so far? Nothing, no explanations.
The hiccup that was costing not just the civilian sector but also the military in time and backlogged necessities had a similar effect on interstellar trade. Without the ability to coordinate between the colonies or Earth, the lessened speed and efficiency at which goods arrived and were sent away from Reach was wreaking havoc on the planet's economy. Supplies were running low, prices were running high and the overall market situation was deteriorating. Erica was surprised to see Waypoint cover it in real time given how long it took them to catch on to everything else.
While the rest of Reach waited to be reconnected with the rest of humanity, Erica worked to make her clients' stay as smooth as possible. She pressed Schafer, her boss, into providing city tours and spa packages for adults as well as expanding caretaker services for their children. These too could only accomplish so much.
Amidst the turmoil, Mr. Schaefer, in his wisdom, had called an emergency board meeting. The other branch managers were brought in and convened at her New Alexandria based hotel. Per the norm, they sat around the mahogany table in the glass-walled conference room on the building's top floor. Schaefer went on with his presentation while Erica sat by, pretending to listen. She entertained his droning up until he reached the end.
"In conclusion, any reservation refunds we provide have to be no higher than 70% and no lower than 65. Any more than that and we risk hemorrhaging funds from our projected growth for the future. Any less and we risk doing damage to the hotel's reputation. For obvious reasons, we want to avoid both of those. We can't contact the Board of Directors so this is a decision purely on my part. They'll have to be informed afterwards. However, by that time, the goal is to have the results needed to show this wasn't entirely a net-loss. We're going to have to tighten the belt on our brand if we want any chance of coming out of this ahead of High Octavia. Any questions?"
Erica raised her hand.
He acknowledged her with a begrudging nod.
"I understand the approach, sir, but is it right for us to be focused more on competition than survival?"
"Pardon?"
"Well, it seems like our priorities are mixed. I know High Octavia are experiencing the same problems as us. They're not likely to come out of this any better than we will. You say the aim is to stay ahead of High Octavia but I feel we're doing that at the expense of our clients. I talk to a lot of them. They have high expectations for locales like these, hotel connoisseurs if you like, and not many are interested in partial refunds."
Schaefer folded his arms across his chest disapprovingly. "What are you trying to say exactly?"
"I'm saying we may have to hamstring our future in order to have a future."
"No, what you're really saying is you want us to take a loss."
Erica shrugged. "Lose the battle, win the war. Our top tier faithfuls aren't going to take too kindly to not recouping their costs if we don't meet their standards. Our brand might take more of a hit if we don't give them the full package, potentially with extra benefits as well."
Schaefer shook his head. "You're basically telling us to incur even more costs alongside the ones we're already facing. That's like asking a person stranded in the middle of the ocean if they want to take a shower."
"I get it, we don't want to sink any faster than we already are. However, you have to understand this is mainly an issue with our top clients, millionaires and billionaires. A lot of them have small investments in us but if they decide to pull out collectively, we're done."
Schaefer arched a brow. "And so your solution is?"
"Offer refunds to everyone, give it to those who ask, whether they're top tier regulars or lower on our VIP list. Likewise, offer them free memberships, give them access to our hotel loyalty programs and express the benefits of staying with us long-term. At least that way we have a better chance of them coming back than us keeping part of their money while they leave for good. We need to let them know we care about them more than our bottom line even if the end result helps save said line in the future."
"Hmph. You still haven't explained how this would be possible to do without tanking the whole thing in the process."
Another of the managers, a man named Mr. Winslow who handled a branch in Quezon, held up a hand. "It is possible that we can get government bailouts. Surely the big boys know how the costs are racking up for entities like us and will want to step in."
Schaefer scowled. "So you want us to get a bailout from the municipal government? Handouts? The Board of Directors doesn't like having to involve themselves with the municipals, high property taxes and all that. How would we pay it back?"
"Simple. Just ask for enough funds to keep our people employed. They won't ask for anything back if they know it's for the payroll."
"I still don't-"
Erica waved off her coworkers' argument. "That's actually not a good idea and probably not necessary either. If we deal with the municipals, that's layers upon layers of bureaucracy that we have to go through before we get what we need. By then we would already be laying people off. Csillagos still has plenty of reserves left to keep us above water, more than enough until the projected time that that comm's array becomes operational again. I suggest we use what we have and restock it once everything's back to normal."
"Our reserves?" Schaefer questioned. "That's something I would need approval for from the Board of Directors."
"We're cut off from them, sir." Erica replied. "As of now, you are the Board of Directors."
Schaefer stared at her for a while. At length, he smirked. "You know, Mrs. Iris, sometimes I wonder if you're a better fit for this position than I am."
Erica was taken aback. She hadn't expected something like that to come from someone like him. Maybe it was the situation. Maybe he was just that ready for a solution like she was.
"Alright, I'll tell everyone the Board's-, I mean my final decision later in the day. You're dismissed for now. Be safe everyone. Let's get through this together."
The managers stood up and drained out of the conference room. As always, Erica was the last to leave.
"Iris?" Schaefer called.
Erica stopped. "Yes?"
"I know we don't always see eye to eye-"
"Actually, I don't think we ever do."
"Right, I don't always like to hear from you but this time was important. Everyone needs some idea of what it is we're going for. Thanks for helping me give it to them."
She gave him a curt smile. "Thank you, boss. Good luck with your decision."
"And good luck with your work. Now get to it, we've got hotels to run."
:********:
Rather than rushing down the stairwell, Erica used the elevator. She wasn't too keen on exercise and was more interested in getting to Noah as quickly as possible. School was out. Parents were picking up their kids. She didn't want him to be in after-school care alone, not again.
The day she gave him the news that his father wouldn't be coming to the take-your-parent-to-school day marked a change in his behavior. His teacher told her how his participation in class had taken a hit along with his grades. Erica figured he was still trying to process the letdown. It was a tough one, sure, since he was looking forward to it for the better part of half a year. To have those hopes dashed when they seemed so close to happening was a blow. But she needed him to recover, to get over it so that he could enjoy what opportunities he had left.
He wanted his father there for the showcase, she knew, but little did he know that he himself could have missed it altogether.
She hadn't forgotten Duncan's advice. It was a double-sided warning to leave. After their call ended abruptly and after a dozen failed attempts to get him back on her screen, she turned around and set her sights on the next most important thing: tickets.
This also failed. New Alexandria's starport was in a state of chaos from the very beginning of the interstellar communications blackout. The industry that fundamentally relied on establishing flight dates and slipspace routes well beforehand was put in a stranglehold. Flights off of Reach decreased substantially and only a handful of the planet's upper crust, such as some of her clients, were able to secure private off-world transports. Erica herself was sadly not in the upper crust. Neither was Duncan, not that she was able to contact him for help to begin with.
Worse than not getting a chance to buy tickets was not being able to talk to the person she needed to hear from the most. The last she saw of him was the alarms going off on his ship. He was gone, missing in the void of a classified deployment, and to top it all off she couldn't do what he'd asked of her.
That relay would need to be repaired and time allowed for the starport to get everything sorted before she could get her and Noah moving.
Until then, they were stuck on Reach.
The elevator stopped and chimed. The doors parted, she took a step forward and so did someone else. Piercing blue eyes, brown bangs, leather jacket, a woman, early 20s, eastern European, most likely a Reach native. Her customer service trained mind absorbed these details in a blink and she stepped aside. Incidentally, so did the guest.
"Oh, sorry." The woman apologized.
"Sorry." Erica echoed as she came out, granting her a view of the whole hallway. The guest wasn't alone. Three men stood around her, one to either side and one behind. They were dressed casually and yet had the casualness of loaded assault rifles. They were burly, part of their identities hidden beneath sunglasses, palm tree patterned shirts and jeans. They seemed to ignore her as they followed the woman inside, although she sensed them watching her from behind those tinted lenses.
They reassembled around the person Erica guessed they were escorting and resumed the same formation they did in the hallway. The doors closed and they were off.
Erica went on her way as well. Her mind however strayed back to the guest. It was her eyes. They were blue yet also blood-red. They were heavy too, as if she hadn't slept in a while.
Erica slowed a tad and glanced again at the elevator. The guest in question was none other than Alana Simko, a very recent patron of the Csillagos éj. According to the information she accessed from the hotel's background checks, the young lady was an important businessman's daughter from Esztergom. She was doing a layover here for the next two weeks until she caught a flight to Tribute. Coincidentally, she came in with her 'entourage' of plain clothes bodyguards the day after Erica lost contact with Duncan.
Despite the odd timing, she was absorbed into the hotel's remaining guests with the same receptiveness. Private security was nothing unusual given the caliber of persons the Csillagos tended to attract. Neither was the suddenness of both purchasing and using a reservation on the same day which some of their more unpredictable clients, with enough money, were prone to do.
Nevertheless, there was something about the group that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Alana came across as an extremely reserved personality. It was the kind that none of the friendlier guests in the same social bracket as her could give Erica any information on when she asked them. She didn't attend any daily activities, dinner banquets or the usual channels by which the rich performed their meet and greets. Plus, there was the conspicuous truth that for someone with such a prosperous background, her fashion didn't match. It was too down to earth to be mistaken for the transient fads that so often permeated throughout the colonies from Earth itself. Then of course there was her face. She never smiled. She always looked like she wanted to jump off a bridge. In fact, on the few occasions Erica ran into her, her guards appeared to be keeping a closer eye on her than on the average passerby.
Then there were the guards themselves. They gave Erica an odd feeling too. She had plenty of interactions with the hired help that accompanied her high-profile guests. Those men and women were the serious kind and she had enough experience with vets to be able to pick up on those who were ex-military. These didn't give her the same impression. These three were something else, and while she couldn't say what it was, it left her uneasy. They gave off the feeling that they were regulars here, even though she had never seen them before. It was as though they were more familiar with her and her hotel than she was with them.
She shook herself free of that train of thought and made her way across Floor 60 to Noah's school. Not shockingly, Starry Night Elementary looked empty. Through the glass walls she could see the unoccupied classrooms left in the dark. The two security guards, Chuck and Hailey, were still standing at their posts at the school's main entrance. They spotted her but didn't look surprised to see her coming. She had a bit of a late streak after all.
"Afternoon, guys." She said. "Is Noah here?"
"Yes ma'am, he should still be in after-school care in the back." Hailey replied.
"And Daniel and Tommy?"
"Didn't see them leave." Chuck answered, knowing exactly what she meant. "They should be in the back too."
"Glad to hear it. Alright, let me get him out of here."
Chuck grabbed one of the handles and pulled part of the door open for her. "Had a long day, huh boss?"
Smiling, she shook her head. "You have no idea."
She headed down the school's main hallway, passing several classrooms before stopping at the last door near the back. The classroom used for after-school care had a glass-walled view of the city on one side of it. The evening light overwhelmed the ceiling lights and gave the small group of students inside an angelic glow. They were huddled near the forward display on the front wall that served as the teacher's digital chalkboard. Said teacher, Ms. Graves, a younger woman with a spark for teaching children, was standing at her display with several simple fraction problems. She stopped what she was saying once she saw Erica come in.
"Oh, good afternoon Mrs. Iris. Did you need something?"
"Yes, my-…"
Erica scanned the faces of the children that turned at their tables to look her way. There were several. Each was one of Noah's classmates. She singled out a little girl with golden hair that was braided into a ponytail and gray eyes that seemed brimming with life. It was Emma, Noah's 'special' friend. She had a bubbly character and it showed in her smiley disposition. At the few times when Erica caught her and Noah together in class, she was usually the one talking, whether she was sharing stories or jokes. All the while he would take on a shyness that Erica never knew he had. However, this time there was no Noah.
No Daniel or Tommy either.
"Sorry, I don't mean to interrupt your class. Do you know where my son is?"
"Umm...I believe he..."
"He just went to the bathroom." Emma replied. "He said he had the runs."
"The runs? What do you mean?"
"Ugh, that's what he told me anyway. Sorry, Mrs. Iris, I don't think I really know either."
"I believe that was ten minutes ago." Ms. Graves added.
"Uhuh, and do you know where Daniel and Tommy happen to be?"
"Danny left right after school was over." Emma said.
"Tommy went about half an hour after that." Ms. Graves explained. "They said their parents were at the doors."
The red flag came to Erica's attention right away. "And where did you say Noah went again?"
"The bathroom."
"...I'll be right back."
"Is something wrong?"
"I'm about to find out." Erica headed back down the hallway. She stopped at the boy's bathroom and knocked on the door. "Noah, it's me honey, are you in there?"
There was silence on the other side.
She knocked again. "Noah, are you alright?"
Nothing.
She pressed her way inside. The floor was immaculate. So were the bathroom sinks and urinals that lined either side of the bathroom. The janitor had to have come in recently. She marched over to the stalls and peered beneath the doors in search of any shoes or feet. There were none. However, she found a clue that she wasn't expecting to. On the floor of the handicap stall at the very end was a single screw.
She unlatched the door and stepped in to get a better look. When she did, she immediately traced the lone screw to an air-conditioning vent on the ceiling. The vent was conveniently right above the toilet. Taking a closer look, she saw that it wasn't so close that a kid could reach it if they stood on the seat. The same couldn't be said if they were standing on the tank however. She noticed three things in quick succession, that a screw was missing from one of the vent's four corners, that the grating was spaced out enough for a small hand to fit through it and lastly, and most interestingly, that there were several small shoe-prints left on the top of the tank.
She pieced their strategy together on the spot. They had lied to their teacher about where they were going while also leaving at different times so as not to arouse suspicion. Different times, different lies, same destination.
She shook her head disappointedly and yet with some fascination as she stared at the vent. "If they'd just put this much energy into school..."
The bathroom door opened. Ms. Graves leaned in, apparently having caught on to the situation. "Did you find him, Mrs. Iris?"
"No," she said and nodded up at the vent. "But I think I know where they went."
:********:
Sará was in no mood to stay in the same place for another day. She was ready to break out and find her way around the city on her own. She was even willing to get herself lost on purpose. So long as it got her away from her 'bodyguards', it was an option.
The three guards were really field agents of the organization of the UNSC that she knew the least about and yet held the most influence over her life; the Office of Naval Intelligence. Taking it a step further, she wouldn't have been wrong in calling them the same organization that had ended her life. If it weren't for ONI, her parents wouldn't have gotten involved like they did. They wouldn't have spent so many years travelling, they wouldn't have come to Visegrád, they wouldn't have died.
If it weren't for ONI, she would still have them.
But they were gone now.
The agents brought her back to her room after the visit to the dining hall for lunch. They locked her inside and stood guard at her door, as they usually did, leaving her to her lonesome. She tossed off her boots and threw herself on the king-sized bed at the back of her suite. She lay there for a while and allowed herself to inhale the cool fragrances of the room. Mellow ceiling lights, a bureau, a desk and a wall-mounted projection display comprised the bulk of her bedroom and her daily activities. The best she could hope for was to watch dramas or Waypoint broadcasts on the display or wait for the agents to let her out for food. Besides those brief moments of reprieve, she was left alone to her thoughts. It never took long for them to gravitate towards then swirl around what happened two weeks ago. Even now as she lay on her bed, she was drawn to that day, the day she lost everything that mattered to her and everyone that she mattered to.
Her memories were visceral. She could practically see herself driving through the gate of the relay.
The rest came to her in fragments: parking her truck, walking to the entrance and seeing her mother standing there.
Then her memory became clearer. She felt her mother's hands on her face. The words she heard echoed to her.
"Can it wait?"
"Actually, why don't you tell me now?"
"I'll be back in no time."
She remembered the deep ache she felt once her mother drove out of the gate. The door to the main entrance shut and she was left to make her way through the corridors of the building. She found her father where she usually did in front of the terminals in the control room. Seeing him gave her a bit of relief from the earlier tension. She drifted into the room and leaned against a wall, arms crossed.
Not turning from his station, her father asked: "Did you tell her?"
"No, I didn't get to."
"Oh, and why's that?"
"She left."
"Ah. Maybe next time then. So who do you want to tell now?"
Sará shrugged. "I would've said you, but I already did that."
"You did. Where'd you go by the way? It's not like you to head out this early. You're more of a night owl."
"I could be an early bird if I want to be."
He stopped typing to give her a look. "You went to work up the courage to tell her, didn't you?"
"And if I did?"
He gave a throaty chuckle. "She's not a gorgon, you know. She's not going to turn you into a statue if you look at her. Just give her some time. I'm sure she'll figure out how important what you have to say is."
"Will she?"
"Put yourself in her shoes. She's had a lot on her plate since she came back. It takes time to get into the swing of things again. Once she's finished with those errands, I know she'll get it together enough to hold a conversation."
"For longer than two seconds?"
He turned to her again and smiled empathetically. "Just give her some time."
She let out a long sigh. "I'm trying. I really am."
At that, her father stopped what he was doing and held his arms wide open to her. She walked over and let him hug her. It gave her some much-needed warmth against the bitter cold welling up inside.
"Keep trying." He said. "She's in there. Just don't give up on her."
Despite her refusal to show any emotion, what he said brought her close to tears. She fought them down as he patted her on the back in the same reassuring way he did when she was a little girl, when she stubbed her toe, got a papercut or had a bad day at school.
She returned the hug. "Okay, if you say so."
"I know so." He let her go and returned to his work at the terminal. Sará moved to the stairs off to the side of the room and sat down. There she waited for her mother to make good on her promise while mulling over exactly what it was she wanted to say.
Minutes turned to hours.
She gave up on the wait, quietly furious that an 'errand' could take so long, and decided to move on. She stood up from the stairs and didn't get much farther than that.
What she thought was the sound of fireworks suddenly reverberated throughout the halls of the relay. She was going to ask what was happening when she saw the look on her father's face. He was pale. Pure, unfiltered terror seized her then. Her father whirled around to his terminal and switched from his work to several camera feeds. Each of them showed different parts of the courtyard, a courtyard under assault.
A pair of U-shaped alien dropships were hovering over the relay. Both were firing down into the yard, striking the workers below with streaks of plasma. Many of them were blown apart by the pinkish-blue blasts of energy. A handful reached the main entrance in time and barely managed to get it shut.
Sará was horrified at seeing the bays of the dropships open. Scores of Covenant soldiers leapt down into the yard and across the relay. They showed no mercy and gunned, clawed or cut down those who remained outside. Strangest of all were the handful of tentacled aliens that floated towards different entry points around the facility. Their tentacles finagled with the access terminals outside and somehow the entries opened. Worse yet, the main entrance also slid open to allow bands of waiting Covenant inside.
Everything went painfully fast after that.
"Down there, hide down there, go now!" Her father said as he ushered her to the closest shelter: a concealed spot beneath the control room's staircase. There he left her. He rushed to the terminals in what she guessed was a last-ditch effort to remove any traces of the information he had on it.
In the end he wasn't fast enough.
The first of the aliens she saw were the red-armored Elites. Two of them stormed the control room, one from the door to the supply area, another from the passage to the main entrance. The former fired plasma bolts that splashed and sizzled across the terminals, forcing her father to dash out of the way, except it put him directly in harm's way. He had just so happened to turn towards the second Elite who bounded forward and drove an energy sword straight through his stomach. It held him up high as if he were some prize. Then with the casualness of someone tossing away trash, it flung him off the blade. He landed on the floor in a bloody heap. There he stayed.
Sará wanted to scream.
She couldn't, she had to hold it in, and yet the scene was too much. She would have cried out then and there were it not for a third arrival. An Elite she didn't hear coming jumped down from the hatch at the top of the stairs and slammed down on the landing. The shock of the impact shut her up.
The Elite scanned the room. She watched it through the grating, holding a hand to her mouth.
The creature strode off the stairs and joined the others in the room. They convened for a few minutes in a language she could never hope to understand. They ignored her father's body and focused on the terminals. Perhaps after being satisfied at the glowing holes burnt into the devices, they decided to move on into the rest of the facility.
Occasionally, other aliens such as the bird-like Jackals and turtle-like Grunts meandered in and out of the room. They never noticed her. The shadow of the stairs made for a decent hiding place and so they kept passing her by. They likewise walked around the dead body that she once called 'Apa'. She was never certain if they were gone for good or when they would come back. Out of fear and desperation she stayed quiet, never moving a muscle unless she absolutely needed to. That went doubly for her mouth. She didn't speak or utter a sound.
Over the course of a day, her grief mellowed into silent despair. The Covenant were hunting every worker that managed to hide throughout the building. She heard their screams echo through the doors to the supply room each time they found one. The last plea for mercy ended in a bloodcurdling scream around noon. Afterwards, she was left to the natural clamor of the building's technologies at work. Then those also stopped.
What remained were the conversations of the Covenant soldiers patrolling the corridors of the relay. Each footstep gave off an eerie reverberation that left her on edge.
There was a change around evening. The calm that settled over the relay was broken by gunshots. Never in her life was she so relieved to hear bullets pinging off of walls. The high-pitched whine of plasma weapons answered in kind. She listened closely as the commotion carried all the way over to the courtyard. She heard the main entrance grind open to the sound of screams, human screams. Someone was shouting orders, helping her realize they were soldiers. Perfect. With them she at least had a chance of surviving.
Said chance came stumbling into the control room a minute later. It was an Army trooper. He was dragging a bloodied leg behind him. He used a hand to clutch at a spot on his breastplate which crackled like a cooling fireplace. He limped to the other end of the room in the direction of the supply area. He stopped short of the doors and slumped against the wall.
She could tell by his face alone that he was badly wounded. The actual wounds still steamed, both leg and chest alike. It was a troubling sight. Her sole rescuer had come in with no weapons and was already knocking on death's door. She tried reaching out from the stairs and hailing to get his attention. With a few waves she managed to draw him her way. He brightened up, probably at discovering a survivor, maybe the only one if the relief in his pained eyes was anything to go on.
She made to run out and help him but he held up a hand.
"Don't. Stay put for now. Help will be here soon. Just stay there."
"Do-...do you have any weapons?"
Despite his visible exhaustion, the trooper grinned apologetically. "Sorry ma'am, I've only got my hands and feet." He groaned at the pain in his limbs. "Then again..."
"Did you manage to lock the door back there?"
He nodded and pointed to the doors to the supply area. "I was trying to get to these ones too. I don't think I have the strength for it. Might just have to hope nothing else is in here. Sit tight and don't make a sound."
"And what about you?"
He tried to smile again. "I'll be fine. I'll be just-..." His head sagged back against the wall and he passed out.
Sará was left alone again. She didn't dare risk shouting out to him. She did what she was told and sat deep within the darkness, waiting.
Waiting led to more waiting, and more waiting soon led to morning.
She wasn't quite sure when she woke up. She couldn't remember going to sleep. How could she with her dead father in the room, a dying trooper on the wall and, somewhere out in Visegrád, her mother was missing? She felt terrible after realizing it. Everything that weighed on her conscience must have finally knocked her out without her noticing.
Gunshots suddenly picked up outside, bullets and plasma. She huddled deeper into her corner and listened. A fierce firefight was raging outside. It had to be the trooper's back-up. She waited.
Minutes passed and the shooting subsided. The echo of the main entrance sealing shut came to ear.
She heard footsteps coming. These were heavy, too heavy to be human. She pushed herself even deeper into the shadow of the stairs and peered out.
She was not prepared for what she saw next.
A giant stepped into the room. He was abnormally tall but still human and very much a Spartan. It was the best logical explanation for seeing a gray-armored titan coming in with rifle raised. He stopped to inspect her father's body as another Spartan, a female, stepped over his corpse to reach the terminals. Another appeared from a passage close to the doors. He kneeled down beside the trooper. From her hiding spot, Sará heard him ask questions of the soldier before promising him a combat surgeon.
She was more interested though in the one that had kneeled down to inspect her father. He ran a hand over him and pulled him onto his side, causing his cherished data module to fall off his neck.
The storage device held his life's work. It was the only piece of his research that hadn't been shot to pieces. It was also all she had left of the one man she could call family. To them it was nothing more than a device which the female Spartan swiftly scooped from the hand of her comrade. Sará was tempted to go out, to demand they give it back. She was so angry that she forgot all her fears and crawled out to do just that.
A large shadow fell over her the second she poked her head out.
"I got a live one over here."
She felt a huge hand grab her by the arm and try to pull her to her feet. She immediately fought against it, struggling to return to her shelter, punching and pushing against hard armor. She yelled at the stranger to leave her alone, except she was so frustrated that she didn't realize she was speaking Hungarian while they were speaking English.
Her rage was suddenly put on ice once the stranger laid down something heavy and used both hands to pull her out in from of him. He held her with a vice grip, not too tight but not the kind she could free herself from.
As her ire subsided, she truly saw who she was wrestling with. The full visage of the Spartan showed her how useless her attempts were. He was massive, larger even than all the other Spartans in the room. Still, she tried to resist him in the hopes of wiggling out of his hold.
He gave her a slight shake to calm her down. "Keep still and I'll release you."
She understood what he was saying. She also understood that there was a shadow moving in the hatch directly above them. She saw a glint of red armor and her heart raced. She had to warn them. She was too flustered to get it out in English as she told them in her own tongue: "They're here."
Everything went by in a blur.
A figure, she assumed it was an Elite, leapt down to the landing, flashing an energy sword and swinging right at her. The Spartan was faster and pushed both of them out of the way in time. He covered her with his body as a giant human shield.
There was gunfire, the hiss of energy weapons, punches, kicks, more gunfire and screaming. It was the trooper. She saw past the large Spartan's armor.
The Elites had fallen back to the doors to the supply area. One of them held the soldier hostage. He screamed and fought but his struggles proved useless. The other Spartans had taken aim. She wondered why they didn't take the shot, any shot that could save him. His fate was sealed when the Elite pulled him into the doors. A hand came back out, his. He tried to grab onto the door frame one last time, shouting desperately. His cries were cut short and his arm was dragged into the void.
There was still screaming however.
She was trying to see who it was while the largest Spartan left her to go with his gray comrade into the supply area, shutting the doors behind them. The female of the group came to her side. Her own reflection in the pale faceplate caused her to see that she was the one screaming.
She was huddled against the wall, hands on head, shrieking her throat out.
A cold hand pressed against her mouth, shutting it.
She looked up at the Spartan, her savior, and noticed she wasn't using her real hand. It was a prosthetic limb with rotating servos and actuators for joints, metal for skin and mechanical digits for fingers.
"You mind?" The Spartan asked.
She didn't know what to say. In the place of words, she shook her head.
"Listen, we're going to handle the guys that just wrecked your home. We just need some peace and quiet while we work. Is that alright with you?"
Sará hesitated.
The Spartan cocked her head, expecting an answer.
At length, Sará spoke her first word of english for the day. "Yes."
The other Spartan, the one she assumed was their leader, stepped over to her, keeping his rifle trained on the hatch that the Elites came from. "You can speak english?"
"Yes."
"Then can you tell us what happened here?"
Sará went silent. There was too much pain there for her to talk. She shook her head, pulled her knees to her chest and hid her face between them, wanting to block out the world around her. She escaped the sights, not the sounds. More explosions and gunfire came from deeper within the relay. She tried unsuccessfully to tune it out.
The Spartans quickly left her alone and refocused on the room's terminals while she sat off to herself.
Soon the fighting ceased. She guessed they'd killed everything that needed to die. So the rumors of how good they were really weren't just propaganda. However, she didn't see the other two Spartans return with any more survivors. The stolen Army corporal was likewise unaccounted for once what she assumed was the rest of their team trickled back into the room. They were joined by a new fifth Spartan with a skull-faced helmet. He particularly gave her the creeps. She was glad that he mostly ignored her and took a position against the opposite wall. However, as a stark contrast, the big one came again to chat her up. Seeing that she wouldn't budge, he pulled off his helmet.
For some reason or another she was taken aback to see an actual human face beneath all that metal. He was somewhere around his early 40s. He had a thick moustache and strong brows that reminded her of pictures she had seen of old-timey wrestlers from the 1900s. He tried again in Hungarian and, perhaps because of the humanness she hadn't expected, she broke her silence.
Though she blurred through the conversation, there was one thing she remembered distinctly out of their exchange. The elephant in the room who introduced himself as 'Jorge' looked to the dead body.
"Friend of yours?"
"Father."
He immediately apologized for asking but she didn't buy it. Why would he be sorry? It wasn't his father after all, just hers, and what was she in all of this except another civilian that needed saving? And what was her father to him except another casualty? He seemed to be trying to care more than he needed to and it left her unsettled. To think that somebody who was almost as alien to her as the monsters he killed could still have a heart? That was too strange in too many ways for her to fathom.
She sensed tension between Jorge and the skull-faced Spartan as he went over to his commander, probably to talk about her. Their leader brought a swift end to it and gave the order that ended what shambles remained of her life.
"Ger her on her feet. The body stays here."
Jorge returned to her and offered his hand. After hesitating, knowing if she left she would never see her home or her father again, she took it. He pulled her up. Truth be told, she neither wanted to see the body or the place anymore after two straight days of nothing else. She went with the rest of the team to the main entrance. They crossed over a courtyard she could hardly recognize. Too many Covenant dead were strewn everywhere for her to think it was the same one where she'd said goodbye to her mother. Then two things hit her simultaneously.
Where was her mother?
Was the rest of Reach already like this?
The effort of boarding one of their Falcons and being whisked away to safety was mentally taxing. The stress of the last two days made her pass out on the ride.
She awoke later in a place she didn't remember entering. The sterile white walls of her room matched the similarly colored clothes she was wearing. There was an IV drip beside her plugged into her arm. She warily threw her legs out of her bed and was surprised at how difficult it was. The instant she did, a section of the room's featureless wall turned into the seams of a door. It hissed aside to reveal a familiar face.
Her parents worked too closely with the woman standing on the other side for their daughter not to recognize her. From the white hair to the lab coat to the placid face that teetered on the verge of worry and intrigue, they were all classic features of the good doctor.
"Dr. Halsey?" Sará asked despite already knowing the answer.
Halsey approached her with the air of an estranged godmother trying to bridge the gap. "Sará, it's good to see you. How are you?"
She shrugged. "I'm alive, so..."
"That's good..."
There was an awkward silence as neither of them knew what else to say. Seeking to bring an end to it, Sará asked; "Where am I?"
"You're safe first of all. You've been in and out of consciousness for the past two days. You were rescued from the relay and brought to this location to be looked after."
"Where's my father?"
Dr. Halsey's expression took on a shade of empathy. "Sorry, Sará, but he's..."
Sará caught the inference in her silence and felt an invisible knife stab into her stomach. She started to shake. "And...my mother?"
Halsey slowly shook her head. "I'm sorry."
The fog of sleep diminished and the memories rushed back to Sará like a tsunami, threatening to drown her. Her breathing and her heartbeat quickened. The doctor rushed to her side and put a hand on her back to steady her.
"Calm down, Sará."
"What's-...happening?"
"You're hyperventilating. Try to slow yourself down, deep breaths."
Sará did as she said. Her lungs didn't stop quaking within her but she was able to get her breathing relatively stable. Her mouth tingled, her tongue felt numb and still her need to know more overpowered everything else. "What happened to her?"
"She was identified among several bodies of what we presume was a family in the nearby settlement, the Varga residence. I'm afraid she's gone, Sará."
Sará suddenly felt sick. She fell to her knees and threw up, except she hadn't eaten anything in days so all she did was dry heave.
Halsey tried to comfort her, even calling out for assistance from someone Sará couldn't see. She felt weak after the last of the nothingness inside her came out.
"God, where are they?" Halsey hissed as she patted Sará on the back, changing her tone to something more caring. "It's okay, Miranda, I'll get you help."
Halsey arose and walked to the door.
Despite her trembling and a general lack of focus, Sará hadn't missed the mistake. "Miranda?"
Halsey stopped dead at the threshold, whirling back around like she'd seen a ghost. "What?"
"M-, Miranda?" Sará stammered. "That's what you said, isn't it?"
Halsey stared blankly for a while. Her countenance suddenly shifted again and returned to the usual concern, though concern for who, Sará couldn't tell.
"No, I don't believe I did." Halsey replied. "You must've misheard. I'll be right back."
She left and the door shut itself, melding once more with the wall.
Sará pulled herself back into the bed. There she collapsed as her body refused to move. She wished with all her heart and soul that she wouldn't get back up again. She honestly wanted nothing more than to die there. At least then maybe she'd get the chance to talk to her father again or finally see her mother's reaction at getting the news of her acceptance letter. But at the back of her mind she saw her father's smile as he worked at the terminals, she felt her mother's hands on her face as she told her she would be right back. Those memories were the only reason why she didn't hold her breath and keep it in.
Dr. Halsey came back with a team of nurses that quickly got to assessing her. Sometime later, she couldn't tell exactly when, she gained the strength to be taken out of her room by men in dark uniforms. She was brought down long, steely corridors to yet another room even more featureless than the first. The furniture was minimal: a metal table, a chair on either side and an opaque viewing glass on the far wall.
Someone was already sitting in one of the chairs, an officer with an ONI insignia openly displayed beside his rank. The guards sat her down at his behest before shutting the door behind them. She knew a little of what to expect and was ready when the officer began questioning her. His sole concern surrounded the events that happened at the relay as she witnessed them. He seemed to have a heavy interest in the Elites with the special armor that had attacked her father and the Spartans. She answered him with as much detail as she could recall if by any chance it would lead to the deaths of those same Elites and every split-mouthed freak like them. The officer, who never revealed his own name, thanked her by name for the information then sent her back to her room.
At least that was what was supposed to happen. It would have were it not for Sará's common sense. She wasn't stupid. She knew they had absolutely no reason to let her go after everything she'd seen. Having her whole life destroyed then spending what remained of it in a six-by-six prison cell disguised as a room was not on her bucket list. Reach was obviously in danger. If she was going to do nothing more than sit still and wait for the end then she would do it on her own terms.
"I want to leave." She said before the guards could reach her.
The officer looked to her questioningly. "Leave?"
"That's what I said."
"...For where if I might ask?"
"Anywhere but here."
He glanced between the guards. "And why do you think that's an option available to you right now?"
"Because I'm no longer of any use to you other than someone you need to keep quiet. I might not know everything about what makes Reach so important but I have a pretty good idea. It couldn't have fallen yet if we're still here. That means the Covenant aren't here in force. We still have time. You don't want people to panic so you want to stop them from finding out. Here's some good news for you then; I won't tell anyone. Just let me go, let me leave."
"…And how is it that you know you're still on Reach?"
"Your accent," she said and gestured to the guards. "As well as that of your handymen here. All three of you are from northern Viery. That would be a strange coincidence if we were on another planet, wouldn't it? Unless we aren't."
The officer briefly peered in the direction of the opaque viewing glass. "You know, some might say you're giving us every reason to keep you here. It's obvious you're quite perceptive. Who's to say you won't lift the lid on all this once you leave?"
"You have my word. I won't tell a soul."
"I don't really know how good your 'word' is, Ms. Sorvad."
"But I do." A voice said from an overhead PA system. It was Dr. Halsey's. The officer turned back to the viewing glass and so did Sará. The opaqueness gradually dissolved as it shifted to a transparent tint. Sará could see the observation room on the other side and the figure of the doctor standing at the window.
"I've been measuring her brain waves on the EEG and fMRI. She's not lying."
The officer straightened up. "You're sure we can trust her, doctor? She's very-"
"I'm not saying we can trust her." Halsey corrected. "I'm saying we can trust the scans. Give her a security detail, send her on her way. She's been through enough as it is."
The officer pinched his brows, groaning at a situation that to him must have been unpleasant. Despite being a doctor, Halsey appeared to speak with some unstated authority. The officer gestured to the guards and they pulled Sará out of her seat.
"One more thing, Sará." Halsey said.
The guards stopped for her to answer. "Yes ma'am?"
After a calculating pause, she asked; "Do you remember the name I called you by earlier?"
"Yes."
"What was it?"
"...Sará."
Halsey's gaze flitted to a set of screens off to the side of the observation room. She nodded approvingly. "That's right. Stay safe out there, Sará."
The guards turned her away and took her out of the room.
Her memories after that were hazy if not entirely non-existent. Thinking back on it, it was as if she travelled through time. It was the only way she could explain the gap between leaving the interrogation room and waking up in a taxi with three other men, each of which introduced himself to her as her new 'bodyguard'. They never told her their names nor did they explain how she got there or what happened since her conversation with Dr. Halsey. The one thing they did tell her was that her new name and identity was 'Alana Simko', daughter of an important food franchiser for World Cuisine. She was to use this alias wherever she went as long as she was in public.
They opened the taxi door and she found herself at the entrance to Quezon's public starport. They escorted her inside, checked her through security under her new name and joined her on a flight to the city of New Alexandria. Upon asking them why she wasn't going to another planet or, better yet, another solar system, they told her that interstellar flights had become jammed up as a result of what happened to her home. The same applied to intrasolar flights since Reach was also cut off from its neighbors in Epsilon Eridani. Tribute, Circumstance and Tantalus were out of earshot until the problem was fixed, not that she believed they were good destinations to begin with. Anything remotely close to Reach was now also well within range of the Covenant.
Her bodyguards checked her into one of New Alexandria's higher end hotels. Since then, they mandated when she could leave her room and where she could go. Her options were mostly limited to the nearest dining halls. The rest of her day saw her trapped in her room with no communication devices, no entertainment aside from a basic projection display and no way to escape the regrets eating away at her inside.
Today she took it out on her bed, occasionally kicking the mattress or tossing a pillow into the walls with all the rage she could muster. It never solved her frustration. It just reminded her that there was no relief. Regardless, she tried again, picking up a pillow and biting into it with the goal of tearing out the stuffing.
She never got close. The tough fabric hung from her teeth like she was a wild animal. Out of anger, she plucked it out of her mouth and tossed it away. It smacked hard against the door to the bathroom.
There was a squeal.
Sará paused. She turned to the bathroom door. Carefully, she threw her legs off the bed and stood up. Easing her feet across the floor, she came to a stop in front of the door and grasped the handle.
There were hushed whispers on the other side, even a giggle. She yanked open the door.
Past the sink, close to the shower were three small boys. Two of them were gathered around a bucket full of a menacing dark liquid while the third was halfway into an air vent above the shower. Each had turned to stare at her. Her eyes went wide with shock, theirs with fear.
The third boy, the oldest, immediately clambered the rest of the way into the vent and disappeared. One of the two on the ground sprung to life and ran to the vent as well. A pair of hands reached down and pulled him in before she could register what was happening. The third, the shortest and youngest, stood frozen by the bucket. She rushed to him and caught him by the shoulders just as he made a run for it.
She put a hand to his mouth to muffle his screams.
"Hey-hey, calm down, kid. Calm down."
He pried at her hand but she held him in place. She looked again to the vent. She could hear the other two clambering through it. They had escaped, leaving one of their own behind.
Her captive made a second try at getting free.
"Would you quit it?"
He refused and struggled harder. She was worried the sound would carry through the door to the agents outside so she raised him off his feet and shook him around. It was relatively easy given his size. He sagged a bit as she put him back down.
"Keep quiet and I'll let you go. Nod 'yes' if you understand."
He slowly nodded.
The second her hand was raised, he put his finger into his mouth then jammed it into her ear. She shivered and dropped him, barely muffling her own scream in time. The boy dashed for the vent. He made it to the shower before she caught him by the ankle and pulled him back out. He started kicking. She grabbed his legs too and picked him up like a small torpedo.
"Hey, stop it, alright? If you're too loud, the guards outside my room are going to come in here. And who knows what they'll do once they find you. They might give you a black eye or a broken rib, so calm down, I'm trying to save your life here."
He seemed to listen to her then. His scuffling died down. He tried to speak but her hand stopped him.
"Promise not to scream?"
He nodded and she chanced trusting him again.
"What do you want?" He whispered.
"A few things actually. The first is-"
"Well, I don't want anything. I just want to go home so let me go already."
"I didn't hear a 'please'."
He glared at her.
"What's your name?" She asked.
"I'm not telling you; I'll get in trouble."
"With who?"
The boy glanced around nervously. "I don't know, just somebody, now let me go."
"Not until you tell me your name and promise not to run for that vent. The second you try it, I'm going to call my guards in here, do you understand me?"
His glare melted into fear. He nodded more emphatically. "Okay, okay, fine."
"So?"
The boy swallowed. "Noah."
"Don't you have a last name?"
"Ugh...Noah."
"Hmm, okay then, Noah-Noah." She turned to the bucket and the vent. "Mind telling me what you and your friends were doing in my bathroom?"
"They're not my friends." He huffed.
"Really, and why's that? I'm pretty sure I heard you three giggling in her a second ago."
The reply got stuck in his throat and though his mouth opened defiantly, nothing came out.
"You're mad they left you behind." She said.
Her words hit harder than she expected and she saw his eyes glaze over with tears.
"Well, maybe they aren't your friends."
He snapped at her. "They-"
She put a finger to her lips and he instinctively quieted down. That was all the evidence she needed to know he was a school-kid. "You said so yourself. Plus, would real friends actually leave you behind like this?"
He said nothing.
"Okay then, I might be more of a friend to you right now than those two."
"I don't even know you." He bit back. "And can you put me down, please? I'm not a baby."
"But you're acting like one."
His glare returned with a vengeance. She laughed it off and lowered him back down to the floor. "Sará."
"What?"
"Sará, that's my name.
"Ch-, Chara?"
"No, Sará."
"...Sorry to tell you this but I don't think that's a real name."
A knock on the front door made them tense. One of the agents called out. "Ms. Simko, are you okay in there?"
"I'm fine." She replied. "Why do you ask?"
"Thought I heard some commotion."
"Just the display. I have Waypoint playing."
"Hmph. Alright then."
Sará sighed with relief and so did her new guest. She gestured for him to follow her. They came out to the bedroom. She sat him down on the room's only couch while she took the bed.
"Mind explaining what's in that bucket back there?"
"What bucket?"
She frowned knowingly at him. It quickly got under his armor.
"Okay-okay, it's cleaning stuff and some things we pulled out of your shower drain."
"And...why did you make that?" She asked, a bit disturbed. "Come on, spill the beans."
"We came in here to prank you. We were going to put the bucket on the door and let it fall on you after you walked into the bathroom."
She crossed her arms disapprovingly. "You guys must be pretty smart if you know how to sneak into vents but you do something this dumb? Wow. I caught you before you could set it up then?"
"You should've taken longer." Noah argued. "We could've gotten away with it."
"You could have if somebody hadn't squealed when I threw a pillow at the door. And who was that by the way?"
Noah's face went red. He slouched into his seat, trying to sink into it. She smiled forgivingly at him. "You kinda sounded like a little girl to be honest."
His face flushed an angry red. "No, I did not."
"You sure did."
"No, I d-"
She put her finger to her lips again and pointed at the door. He took the hint and quieted down, sinking even further into the couch. "What about you, huh? Why were you throwing stuff in the first place?"
The memories came back to her again, her mother's departure, her father skewered on an energy sword. Her good mood vanished as did her smile. Noah noticed.
"Hey, are-, are you...okay?"
"What?"
"You look sad."
Sará checked her reflection in a nearby mirror. He wasn't wrong.
"Is it because we tried to prank you?"
She shook her head clear. "No-no, sorry, it's not that. It's..."
He waited, curious.
"My parents are away. I came here to catch a flight so I can go see them again."
Noah became visibly concerned, sympathetic even. She realized that, like kids his age, maybe six or seven, he was gullible. She envied that. She wished she were just as gullible too. Perhaps then she could have believed her own lie and made her stay here that much more bearable.
"Oh. So you really miss them then?"
"...I do." That wasn't a lie. It would never be.
Noah nodded. "You know, I-, um, I kinda miss one of my parents too."
She perked up. "You do?"
"Yeah, my-, ugh, my dad. He's..."
Now it was her turn to be concerned. "Is he okay?"
Noah shrugged. "I don't know. I never know 'till he says so."
"What do you mean? Is he somewhere dangerous?"
"He always is." His gaze fell longingly to his feet. "Always."
Sará felt going any further would be to intrude on someone's life that she hardly knew. However, she had told him a bit about herself. Maybe that balanced it out?
"What does he do that puts him in danger all the time?"
He looked her in the eyes. "Do you know what an ODST is?"
Sará felt her throat tighten. She knew. How could she not? The very thought that the kid's dad was an Orbital Drop Shock Trooper made her very self-conscious. Those weren't the kind of people to mess around with and especially with their families. She made a mental note to watch herself around the boy from here on out. The last thing she wanted was for a Helljumper to show up at her door because she made his kid cry. She wasn't sure if even the three ONI agents outside would be able to handle that level of crazy.
"Your dad's a shock trooper? That's amazing."
"It's cool sometimes." Noah said. "Other times, it's not."
"I'm guessing it's because you can't always be around him?"
The way his eyes widened told her she'd hit her mark.
He sat up straight. "That's just one of the bad things."
"One. What are the others?"
His gaze returned to his feet which fidgeted against each other. "You never know when he's going to come back." He pressed his face into his arms. "You never know if he's coming back. I know other kids whose parents are fighting in the war. A lot of them say theirs never came back. Those kids are always the sad ones nobody likes to play with. I only hang out with my friends because I know they'll be here. They always are, and my mom too, but with my dad it's-..."
Sará desperately wanted to backtrack. She had let her curiosity get the better of her and opened the door to some of Noah's rawest emotions. It didn't feel right delving so deep into his personal life. Moreover, they didn't seem like the sort of questions a little boy his age should have been asking himself. But life had made him ask them anyway.
"I see. Well, maybe we should sto-"
He peeked out from his arms to face her. His eyes terrified her because the heaviness in them transformed him into someone else, an aged soul. "You never know if the last time you see him is really the last time, you know?"
There was her mother again, checking the rearview mirror on her truck, spotting Sará watching her, turning away and eventually driving out through the gate.
Noah suddenly stood up, alarmed. "Hey, hey are you okay?"
She wasn't sure why he was so concerned until she realized her vision had gone hazy, that her eyes burned. She tried to tell him she was alright but couldn't. She broke down into sobs. She wept, face in hands, hoping to stifle herself. Then it became apparent to her that she never got an honest chance to cry about what happened. She was holding it in ever since. It made her cry even more and soon her hands were soaked.
She wasn't sure how long she wept for. What eventually made her come to grips was the feeling of a small hand on her back. Against the storm of emotions, it was warm and comforting. She pulled herself together as the last sobs escaped her throat. She found the will to sit up straight again.
Noah was no longer on the couch. He was beside her, patting her gently.
"Are-, are-, are you-"
She nodded. "I'm okay."
She went to the bathroom and washed her face in the sink. Finishing, she dared look into the mirror and saw her drenched and weary reflection staring back. Fixing her hair, she took a steadying breath. Her attention was drawn to a section of the mirror, to a reflection of the vent in the upper part of the wall. It was still open. A crazy idea took hold. Crazy and yet she felt her own reflection driving her to try.
Sará peeked down the hallway leading to the front door. Certain it would stay closed, she gestured for Noah to come. He tiptoed over to her.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine." She assured. "...And thanks."
"For what? All I did was pat you on the back."
"You never know, Noah. Sometimes that's all someone needs."
Noah gawked at her, confused.
"How long has your dad been fighting out there?"
"Um, since before I was born."
"I see. So for as long as you've been alive, your dad's been in the war." She hearteningly slapped him on the shoulder. "Trust me, Noah. If nothing could take him down then, I doubt anything's going to take him down now. You'll see him again."
Noah's confusion drained away. In its place was left a spark of encouragement. Without warning, he reached out and hugged her. He was barely tall enough to reach above her waste. Though surprised, Sará felt her heart lighten. For an awkward moment she wasn't sure if she should hug him back or not so she patted him on the head instead.
"Alright, alright, thanks."
Noah let her go. "I hope you get to see your parents too."
"My what?"
"Your parents."
"Oh, right...maybe someday." She rounded on the vent and pointed to it. "Now, I need your help with something. I've been trying to get out of here for ages. I think you can give me a good tour of this place since you seem to know it so well. Think you can get me through there?"
Noah glanced between her and the vent.
"You want to go in there?"
"Yeah, why?"
He looked at her again. "I don't know. You're pretty big."
Sará felt her eye twitch. "Pardon me?"
"I said you're pretty big."
She deflated. "You don't talk to women very often, do you?"
Noah shrugged. "I talk to my mom. Does that count?"
With another explosive sigh, she asked; "Can you still help me?"
He sized her up. "How long can you hold your breath for?"
Effugium - Escape
