Silver Saint

Twenty-Two: A Quiet Time

//Report: Quinn, Jackson.

//Saint Corp Plaza.

//Horizon City.

//Greece.

//Six hours after the destruction of The Forge.

//Resume log.

The sound of the dropship was a steady, soothing thing, humming along through the sky over the Grecian coastline.

The Seraphim 1 travelled faster than the speed of sound, but that still didn't make the trip instantaneous-we'd spent the rest of the day cooped up in the ship, finding ways to pass the time as we flew home.

After six hours of card games, mech repairs and general chatter, the dropship was silent, filled only with the quiet breathing of its passengers.

Mitch Carver remained awake and alert, having downed several energy drinks in the hours prior. He sat silently in the pilot's seat even now, gazing out into the dark. Occasionally he would move to adjust something on his control panel, but autopilot did most of his work for him.

Lucas, for once, wasn't around to pester him about the functions of the Seraphim 1-the young pilot had constructed a makeshift set of tarp hammocks in the hangar bay with the help of Private Paris, and the two now slept back there, despite the noise.

The insulated cockpit was much quieter-even as occupied as it was, most of us had found a way to stretch out across several seats or on the floor, getting more comfortable during our long journey home.

Dan had grabbed an emergency supply bag from the lockers in the hall, and now used a sealed thermal blanket as a makeshift pillow as he sprawled out across the floor.

Both Garrick and Leto hadn't moved from their seats since takeoff, but both were now thankfully asleep, leaned against each other in a manner that I was sure they would each later deny.

To my astonishment, even Commander Samara Locke had eventually fallen asleep, and was now sprawled out over three adjacent seats. Her left arm dangled from the edge of the bench as she slept, bouncing along with the occasional rattle of the dropship.

Greenlaw, vigilant as ever, remained awake and upright in the seat beside her, but I'd caught his eyes drifting closed more than once.

I was exhausted to my core, but found myself unable to rest. Instead, I stared out through the dropship's canopy, gazing at the world far below. Horizon City stretched out below us like a field of fireflies-a patchwork grid of gold and white, scattered with the occasional red blink of warning lights atop its taller skyscrapers. In the darkness, the city almost looked like a glittering nebula against the darkened coastline.

I leaned against the cool metal of the window frame, watching the ocean curve out of sight around the darkened horizon. It was almost midnight now, and the ocean beyond the coast was a void, swallowing all light, all movement.

Beside me, Amani shifted, and I heard her exhale as she glanced up at me.

"Can't sleep?" she murmured.

I shook my head. "Not with this view."

She followed my gaze, resting her chin against the seat ahead of us. "I wonder if this is what the world looked like before the war. Just... lights, stretching on forever."

"Maybe," I replied. "Maybe even more than this. No craters, no dead zones, just... people, stacked next to each other, spreading out like veins."

Amani exhaled softly, her breath fogging against the window. "It's strange, isn't it? How can we look down at something so peaceful, knowing full well what it's really like in most places?"