Look Way Up to the Sky

by karrenia_rune

Summary:

Their band of freedom fighters came from different and varied backgrounds, but along the way each of them found common ground with one another. This is Rook Bartley's story.

Disclaimer: Robotech: the New Generation belongs to Harmony Gold, Tatsunoko Productions and its respective creators and producers. It is not mine. The story was written for the mulitfandom 2013 Heroin es Mini Big Bang. The title was inspired by the Avrett Brothers song by the same name. The mix I created when writing the story can be found here: on Spotify: (if the Spotify link does not work, the mix can also be found to listen or download on Mediafire file sharing site here: https://www.mediafire.com/#sscqj078f9dd3

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“Look Way Up to the Sky” by karrenia

Could it be any harder? Could it be this is where your life both begins and ends? Sometimes in the daily grind of merely existing of having to step into the dual roles of both mother and sister Rook Bartley questions why she can point to this and find that she is the one who still believes in something more.

Rook Bartley came to terms with the absence of a strong male figure in her life a long time ago, although the same cannot said for her mother.

She supposed she should be thankful that her mother has not become one of those shattered women who moves through their daily lives like half a woman and half a shadow, eating, drinking, or worse like their neighbor Hollis, who spent most of her time up in her second floor apartment rocking to and fro and keening like a damn banshee.

Her father is long gone. “Good riddance,” she muttered under her breath. “The dead beat.”

“I wish you wouldn’t talk like that about father,” Lily quietly said.

Rook held the fine ash-blond strands of her younger sister’s hair in her hands, patiently and expertly plating them the way her sister, Lily, liked them done.

The contrast between the sisters was many, where Rook was tall, had flashing green eyes and strong-boned with a mane of red hair that resisted most attempts to confine it, Lily was petite, and delicate, with blue eyes.

Lily was everyone’s darling, she was sweet-tempered, friendly, and kind to everyone.

Rook was hot-tempered and more than a little stand-offish.

It had not always been like that but when hard times came their parent’s marriage had fallen apart, and as a result it had become more and more difficult for her to leave herself open, and thus vulnerable.

From a very young age Rook had learned that dwelling in the past, lamenting over things past and done with was no way she wished to spend her life.

At seventeen, Rook no longer felt the void of not having an adult male figure in her life.

She had never felt quite at home with girls her own age, and in their rough and tumble town it had not been very difficult to find the malcontents, those who held themselves apart from the main citizens of the their town.

Rook had always been something of a tomboy, and eventually, she had found a motorcycle gang that called themselves the Blue Angels.

Their leader was a twenty four year old man named Romy, dark-eyed and dark-haired, but with a mischievous streak that ran through him like his blood, and it was only after that Rook had proved that she didn’t require either his vocal or tacit support to hold her own in the sparring practices and races that the Angels competed in with the other gangs they soon found themselves putting up a united front that eventually became something more.

Rook would never have called it love, but something more along the lines of mutual respect, and for a while all was well, and they never wanted to push the matter any further.
**

Just outside the city was a long stretch of open territory, a plateau known as the Lizard, which overlooked densely forested mountain slopes; wide at the end and tapering out to a steep drop-off at its farthest end. Dotting the hillsides were the naturally occurring openings used by the rival motorcycle gangs used to have meetings, conduct business, have fights, and occasionally prepare ambushes.

One such was currently in progress by the leader of one of the most vicious of the gangs, whose reputation even among the rough and tumble citizenry of Cavern City,

Rook gunned the motor, increasing her speed on the steep incline, taking the left turn far faster than she should have , but risking it for the chance to put some additional distance between herself and yet distant pursuers.

She had first detected her ‘shadow’ at the base of the Lizard but an innate sense of something being wrong made the fine blonde hairs at the base of her neck prickle.

At last, feeling that she in a position to be able to get a quick visual reconnaissance of her immediate surroundings, Rook stopped and glanced to the left and right, but nothing dangerous appeared.

She got off and drew her knife out from its sheath that she had strapped to her thigh.

No sooner had she done so than a half-dozen men jumped out of their hiding places and began to circle her. Judging by the fact that they all bore the tell-tale tattoo of a red cobra with its coils wrapped around their forearms it only stood to prove that either they were so cocksure of their own gang alliance that they didn’t care if she saw it, or they were stupid enough to give that fact away.

Yelling at the top of her lungs, Rook,” Come on!” You want a piece of me! Well, do you? Then come and get it! She settled herself into a fighting crouch, her right hand with the knife clutched in one hand, held out in front of her.

Her attackers seemingly didn’t need any more encouragement, and closed in, their own knifes out, although one carried a blunt-edged club. They struck, one at a time, landing several blows to her side, her stomach, but she barely felt the blows as she counterattacked.

The crisp mountain air was soon filled with heavy grunts, groans and curses as the fight wore on, and by then at least three of the attackers were lying rolling and moaning on the ground.

With a barely perceptible nod of his head the leader of the Red Snakes, signaled to someone to the rear of where she stood facing down her remaining attackers, and before she was consciously aware of it, a dull stinging hit her in the thigh, and became more intense as whatever drug had been contained in it burrowed deeper into her bloodstream.

Before she knew it, she had blacked out.

The Red Snake leader approached the unconscious blond girl from the Blue Angels and nudged her with his booted foot.

“Is she dead?” one of the only remaining subordinates that could still walk, asked.

“No. That wasn’t the deal, you dumbass,” said the leader.

“Hey, boss. I didn’t mean anything by it,” the man sniveled.

“Since you opened your yap, you can carry her back to the agreed upon dumping point.”
**
Romy’s betrayal had been a difficult one to swallow, as bitter as the taste of bile and sour liquor in her mouth. Still she would give any of those pig-faced, vile bottom feeders the satisfaction of letting them see her cry. What use were tears after all? She would save them for later, in her own private place, where no one save for maybe Lily, could see her and see how broken up she really was inside.

It was not as if that she’d been blind to the signs. Or, it could be a case that she had pinned her hopes on someone who didn’t deserve them. It was not really the first time that the men in her life had failed to live up to her expectations and by so doing had ended up disappointing her.

Rook was still more than a little unsteady on her feet, but a shortness of breath, dizziness and a headache notwithstanding, she was determined to have it out with him.

She found him sitting on the porch of his run-down tenement building, smoking a cigarette and looking as if he hadn’t bothered to shave in the last three, or, was it four days that she’d been in bed, recuperating from the beatings of members of the Red Snakes.

She marched right up to him, and slapped the cigarette out of his mouth, and stepping right up into his direct line of sight so he could not fail to ignore her. “You bastard!” she shouted. “How could you do that to me? How you could just stand by and let it happen? Don’t you have any thoughts in that thick skull of yours?”

Romy, unprepared for both her sudden proximity and the fury in her voice and manner, darted his watery blue eyes up, down, to the left and then to the right. Apparently this was his way of delaying this confrontation as long as possible. After a moment or two, he at last threw his cigarette to the ground and stomped on it to put it out. “Rook, don’t do this,” he muttered.

“Don’t do what, you piece of scum?”

“Don’t try and deny that you were complicit in what happened last Sunday afternoon.”

“You don’t understand.”

“So, I don’t. Why don’t you explain it to me?” Rook demanded.

“It’s not what you think. I didn’t want them to kill you. I love you and I wanted to protect, but they put me into a very difficult position. Eventually, we worked out a compromise.”

"You mean the part where they would only pretend to ambush me during the race. I think you may have left out the part where they almost left me for dead!”

“Come on, now, aren’t you being a little overdramatic?” Romy stated.

“Oh, you want over dramatic, do you? How’s this for over dramatic?” So saying Rook drew a knife from underneath her jacket and with a flick of her wrist levered it against Romy’s throat. “I just wanted you to know that we’re through, and don’t even think of looking me up ever again. Got it?”

Romy swallowed. “Got it.

“Good,” Rook replied, removing her knife and placing it back inside her jacket. “Just you remember that Rook Bartley is no one’s fool, and most definitely no one’s pawn.”

She turned on her heel and walked away; leaving Romy alone on his porch, realizing that he had indeed lost her, this time, for good.
***

It was the impetus but not the only cause for her to make the decision to hit the open road. If she were ever going to make good on her dreams of making a life for herself it was going to be here in Cavern City. And while she loved her mother and sister dearly, she had to do leave and whether or not they understood her reasons for doing so, she would go with or without their blessing.

She found her mother outside their block of the tenement building, off to one side where she was busy taking down the washing from the line, with Lily folding the sheets and placing them into a large wicker basket.

Rook paused a moment and heaved a deep sigh in order to put her thoughts in order, and try not to rush through what she had to say to them.

“Rook, what’s wrong?” her mother asked.

“There’s nothing wrong, not really.” Rook sighed again, and then added, “It’s just that I’ve come to a decision and I’m glad that you’re both here, because you should both hear what I have to say.”

“You’re leaving.” Lily stated, staring at her older sister with mingled anger and resignation in her voice. She placed her hands on her hips and her hands absently twisting folds of the sheets in her delicate hands.

“How did you know?” Rook asked, quickly crossing the distance that separated her from her younger sister and then gently but firmly coaxing Lily to release her grip in order to take her sister in her arms and bring in her from a tight embrace. Lily titled her head up, her eyes full of tears. “I thought it was just a phase, I thought that you might change your mind. But then, the rumors started going around about what happened to you at the hands of that terrible motorcycle gang.”

“You’re much more observant than I gave you credit for, Lily.”

Lily squirmed out of her older sister’s tight embrace and went to stand beside their mother.

“Rook, we love you, and want you to be happy, but if leaving Cavern City is what you want to do, then, by all means, don’t let us hold you back,” her mother added.

“Mom!” exclaimed Rook.

“I mean it,” her mother quietly replied.

“Thank you and I love you both,” Rook replied, and then, for the first time since she’d been a little girl, Rook hugged each of them for the final time.

****

She hit the open road on a modified VR-038_LT Combat Cyclone, which she maintained and learned to ride.

While she never thought to lose herself, or her name; it soon became apparent that it would be necessary to adopt another persona.

 

The one she chose was that of a red-garbed Cyclone rider and she set out to combat injustice whenever and wherever she found it, especially when it came to stopping the depredations of Earth’s new conquerors, the Invid.
Man’s inhumanity to man could be almost as heartless as that of the Invid, so Rook became the champion of all innocents everywhere.

She had also learned, often the hard way, that if she did open her heart she would not get hurt. Thus, she never put down deep roots, travelling many miles in any given week, never staying for very long at one place. She had also developed a burning determination to right injustices and to free humankind from the clutches of the alien Invid.

 

**
The bar was an oasis in the midst of the emptiness of the plains, situated as it was at the epicenter of a trading crossroads. She wouldn’t have bothered to come in because for one she had never been much of a drinker, and secondly, she felt that she could still had several miles of travel in her before she found a place to stay for the night. Finally, she decided to go in because she could use a decent meal and something to drink, because she had been a long time dry.

In the end, her decision had been made not so much by the place, as by a person. The rumors were true, the famous, yet still enigmatic travelling vocalist known only as Yellow Dancer would be giving a rare live performance tonight; and the place was packed.

The music swelled up, the lights dimmed, and the a hush fell over the crowded bar as if an invisible blanket had been drapped over them, and then the spotlight fell on that singular spot on the stage as Yellow Dancer came on stage and stepped up to the micro phone.

The tune was not a familiar one, but the melody was bittersweet, tender but with more than a hint of steel underneath. Yellow Dancer was tall for a woman, lithe and with hair that seemed to defy color, and she wore a slinky grey blue dress.

Rook was caught up in the moment. She had never claimed to be much of a judge of music, but Yellow Dancer had a good voice, husk and tender at the same time, probably a tenor or something like that.

 

The singer had just gotten about three fourths of the way into her set when a heavy-set, red-faced man staggered up from his chair at table near the stage and lurched toward the singer.

No one seemed to find anything unusual in this, other than a disruption in the performance when the situation abruptly took a dangerous turn.

The drunk whipped out a switchblade out of his jacket and jumped up onto the stage, calling out in loud, obnoxious voice, how he didn’t care a rat’s ass for the young woman’s singing.

Off to the side, a group that Rook had noted on the way in, but had not paid much attention to, other than that seemed a bit more cool and collected, and a lot less drunk than the regular bar crowd, began to stir restlessly.
In fact, a kid with auburn hair, who had been sitting with an almost doe-eyed gaze throughout Yellow Dancer’s performance, appeared to be in the midst of a whispered argument with an older dark-haired man.

Rook forget them for the moment, and watched how Yellow Dancer would play out. She seemed to take the situation in stride, appearing to be in control of the situation, nimbly dodging the drunkenly aimed thrusts of the man’s weapon.

Although it appeared that things were more or less in control, it was an untenable situation and one that could not be allowed to continue, so Rook set her water glass down on her table, and decided to take matters into her own hands.

She crossed the distance between her table in the rear of the taproom to the stage in a flash, running mainly on anger and adrenaline; Rook grabbed the drunk by his greasy hair and by main force turned him around so that he was facing her. “It seems to me that you’re a damn hero when it comes to fighting unarmed women. Mind if I cut in?”

“Who the hell are you?” asked the drunk, hoping that some of his drinking buddies would jump in.

“It’s none of your business, little missy. It’s just a matter of ah, ‘little artistic differences’ between myself and the pretty lady, over there.”

“Which I didn’t ask you for, but hey,” Yellow Dancer added with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders, “Whatever will be, will be.”

“You’re done here!”

So saying Rook kicked out and landed a solid blow to the man’s shin, then another to his hand, succeeding in knocking the knife away.

He darted to the side, throwing himself almost spread-eagled on the stage in an attempt to retrieve his weapon. He had almost closed his hand on the blade when Rook’s booted foot came down on top of his hand and the drunk let out a howl of pain.

Meanwhile, Yellow Dancer , not one to idly stand by, had gone to the front of the stage, and said, “I do hope this little unscheduled diversion will not be repeated any time soon, In the meantime another round of drinks is on the house.”

The barkeep winced, but other than that, he was relieved that there had been no property damage, and more importantly that no one had gotten seriously hurt in the brief scuffle.

**

When she first encountered Scott Bernard and his rag-tag band of freedom fighters she was torn between wanting to loudly and earnestly cheer them on, and telling them that they were optimistic fools and that they all suffered from varying degrees of a collective death-wish.

How she would end up fighting beside them, traveling with them was still a little unclear in her own mind.

Once again she was a member of a team, friends, even, almost a family. Much to her surprise these were people who championed the same cause as she did, who had all suffered during the war, but who also refused to give up.

**
Interlude

When they first met she did not really like him because she thought he was just a brash, loud-mouthed and obnoxious kid who thought he was pretty darn smart. She knew the type, hell, she was surfeited with the type and she had determined to harden her heart and never let anyone in for fear that if she did, she would end just getting hurt once again.

She had not wanted to like him, but there was something undefinable and earnest, and more real than anything and anyone she had ever met before.

Rand claimed that he was a born survivor, an experienced woods-man and tracker and when their food supply had begun to run dangerously low, he had offered to show them all how to fish.

 

“Wait up!” cried Rand, his hair blown away by the speed he’s pushing his blue and gray banded Cyclone to, and his haste in getting up off his bedroll, out of the cave that they had taken refuge in for the not, and outside and after her.

She needs, no wants to be alone for a while, she can’t sleep and lying awake on her own bedroll, with her mind meandering in circles, well, she doesn’t think she’s very good company right at the moment. And she’s thought of just running away with no goodbyes, because goodbyes sound so final, she would just do a slow fade, hello, fellow well-met and good luck.

She’s not afraid of dying, at least, she doesn’t think that she is, and she’s not afraid of living. It’s just that somehow without her being aware of it, a certain obnoxious and irrepressible red-head managed to nudge his way into her heart and she finds that she’s falling for him as well.

“Leave me alone!” Rook yelled, the hood of her cloak not enough to protect her from the evening downpour the like of which she had never experienced farther south. The wind whipped the liquid almost vertical and made her clothes underneath her armor stick to her torso like a second skin.

“Where are you going? Rand asked, looking at her with a mix of concern and worry in his eyes.

If she’s being honest with herself, caring for them is not as much as a burden to carry as she had thought it would be. It’s not that she can’t keep up with the others or that leaving is synomous with giving up, or that she’s terrified that she’ll fail the team in the clutch when they most need her.

Even if they don’t speak of it, they’ve been fighting their guerilla style war against the Invade long enough now to have an implicit understanding that injury or worse could happen to any of them at any time.

“Does it really matter?” she asked.

“Does it matter? Hell, yes, it matters,” Rand yelled back, closing the distance between where they’d stopped their cyclones, close enough that the left hand sides nearly scrapped edge on to each other.

He paused long enough to brush back a long swath of wet red hair away from his eyes and reached out to grab her hands. “Rook, please talk to me. Whatever it is that’s eating at you, I can help. I want to help.”

“Rand, this is all your fault.”

“What?

She hadn’t met to say that but even as the words come tumbling out of her mouth she knew just how callow and hurtful they sounded. “I’m sorry, Rand. I’m just not very good company right, so allow me to rephrase that.”

“Of course, you know I’m all ears, like that rabbit that I snared for supper the other night.” Rand smiled and held up both of his hands with the index fingers pointed up to mimic those of an actual rabbit. “See!”

Rook smiled, despite the roil of churning emotions inside of her, thinking that Rand despite outward appearances and his wide-eyed look of well-intentioned compassion and innocence that he often projected; this guy was a survivor, a decent fighter, and more importantly, he was a better friend to her than she had had any right to have.

“I meant, that you’ve been kinder, more patient and a better friend than I’ve ever had, and therein lies the problem. You see, it’s not the fighting and running, this life that we’ve lived for so long that scares the hell outta me.”

“Then what is, Rook?” Let me in,” Rand shrugged nonchalantly,” no offense, but you’re not the easiest person in the world to get along with.”

Rook uttered a short bark of laughter, mostly at her own expense. “Tell me something I don’t know.” That’s the problem. I’m afraid.”

“It’s okay, we’ve all been afraid at one time or another and it’s okay to own up to it. Truth to tell, I believe that only a madman or worse than a madman is afraid of nothing.”

“When did you become so damn insightful?” Rook asked.

“I’ve had plenty time to think about it, and we’ve all got our coping mechanisms, you know?”

“I suppose I do at that,” she replied. “And when I get like that, I panic and I cut and run, at least that’s what the old me used to do.”

“We’ve all changed, everyone who’s embarked on this strangest trek in search of Reflex Point, and you what, I think for the most part we’ve changed for the better.”

“Even Scott?”

“Yeah, even our fearless leader,” Rand replied, and then he offered one of his trademark off-center devil-may-care smiles. “But don’t tell him I said that.”

“I won’t, if you’ll do one thing for me.”

“Anything for you, Rook, I hope you’ve understood that about me, straight out of the gate, I’d do anything for you.”

“Yes, no, that’s way too much to process just now. But when we go back to camp, tell Scott that I wasn’t running, that I was, oh hell…” she trailed off, shuffling her booted foot on the muddy hard-packed turf.

“How about that you and I were out doing late night reconassicance, at least if Scott yells at us for wasting protoculture, it will sound plausible.”

“Sometimes Rand, you know exactly what to say.”

Rand cocked his head to one side and raised one eyebrow upward a fraction of an inch, “Only sometimes?”

“Okay, okay, more often then I’ve given you credit for, just don’t let it go to your head.”

“Fair enough,” Rand replied. “Let’s head back now, and get the hell of out of this downpour.”

“Rook nodded. “Agreed.”

 

***

 

The red-hued fighter that was an almost exact match for her cyclone handled like a dream, its engines purring as she took it into up into the sky at a steep incline just a touch a little faster than she should have , but she was still feeling it out. She would have like to have a little more practice flying before engaging in actual combat but that was not to because their enemies had forced their hand.

The Invid scout ships had found their latest temporary base and she and Lancer pilot their highly-maneuverable and well-armed Veritechs were their best defense to keep themselves and their cache of precious protoculture intact.

It had been a dangerous gamble as well, because as they had recently learned the Invid’ were attracted to the stuff in the same manner as bees were to nectar, and every time they powered up their Robotech armor and/or weaponry it was like setting of a flare-gun, it gave away their position. At the same time, as both Scott and Lancer had observed, they were not left with many other options.

Over the commlink she could hear Lancer’s voice, grim but confident, and just a bit tinny with electronic jamming, he said that he would take the fifteen on the left and she could take the ten on the right. She smiled at that wondering how he could manage to be so calm and collected when her own nerves felt like the jangling of discordant cracked bronze bells. He had taken his Veritech out of its traditional fighter mode and quickly transitioned into Guardian mode, taking and receiving blows, and from the looks of things doing just fine.

Rook clenched her fists more tightly over the controls and dove into a practiced dive as she had done during practice, gritting her teeth as a series of white, purple and red energy discs emitted from the snout-like laser mounts on the huge Invid scout ships darted through the space where she had just vacated.

She and Lancer returned fire, cutting through the air, dodging enemy fire, buying time for the others on the ground to fall back out of danger or immediate capture. She shook her head, realizing that she could not afford to let her concentration waver, when any slip, however minor it be, could mean the difference between life and death.

It could have been an hour or more, but it felt much longer, and Rook was sweating beneath her loose jerkin and metal armor

A high-pitched whine and the tortured screech of metal armor plating on her hull was the first warning that she was in trouble, and then her fighter was hit with a blow that she felt all the way into her bones.

Then she lost control of the ship, yanking on the throttle and pushing the controls and cursing under her breath more frustrated at losing control than at the fact that she was plummeting at an incredible rate to the ground far, far below.

When the ship and the ground finally came together she hardly felt the resounding impact because Rook had lost blacked out. Her last conscious thought was, ‘Well, that went well. Not.’ I hope Lancer is having better luck than I am. And if the crash didn’t kill me, Scott certainly will, that is if they’re all still alive.’

 

**
Afterwards

When she finally regained conscious they team had moved on again, taking her with him on an improvised stretcher, and felt both relieved and irritated that she put them into the position of having to care for her. Her arm still hurt, but at least it was just a fracture and would heal up soon.

Scott was stirring the last of his bowl of rabbit stew with a twig, his gaze locked on where their newest member was lying huddled into her bedroll. Marlene was an enigma, and while Rook was fond of the girl and knew that the Marlene, through no fault of her own, harbored secrets, secrets that might help them, she could not or would not share, that wasn’t what she wanted to talk to Scott about.

Rook sat down on the ground, and did not know where to begin.

“What is it?” Scott asked at last as he set his bowl down.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Whatever for?” he asked

“For what happened, for putting us all in danger.”

“Rook, it’s okay, really. For someone who had never piloted a Veritch in an actual combat scenario, you did just fine! Hell, you did better fine! Scott exclaimed, “Hell, if anyone’s to blame here, it’s me. You were nearly killed.”

“But that’s just the problem. It will take Lunk and Lancer, weeks maybe more to repair the damage and until then were down to one before we can keep pushing on to Reflex point.”

“We’ll make do,” Scott said quietly.” Adding: “There’s no guarantee in this life. If there’s one thing that this journey of ours has taught me, it’s that.”

Meeting Scott Bernard and his band of freedom fighters would dramatically change Rook but until now she had never imagined just how much it would change her life.
Rook had never claimed to have Scott Bernard’s military-mindset, his unswerving determination to complete his mission to seek out and destroy Reflex Point, the largest and most heavily concentrated bastion of the Invid’s
strange-hold on their planet. And she does not hold that against him.

If she has come to understand one thing about their leader, is that while he’s no longer that distant and scarred lonely soldier boy that she had pegged him to be during their first meet at that dingy bar, and being around other people who have joined up, is that much like herself, everyone needs that not-quite articulate ‘something’ to believe in, to cling to the way a drowning man struggling to keep his head above water, will do.

As for the others, Lancer, or rather his alter-ego, Yellow Dancer, is harder to figure out. When they first met, at the bar, and she thought she was coming to lithe and enigmatic singer’s aid, she could have sworn that she had done so not because it was the right thing to do, or because she had felt a sense of fellow-feeling for the woman, or maybe she had done it because Rook had merely wanted to stand up and prove herself.

When it had been revealed that the identity of Yellow Dancer was in truth the cover identity of a freedom fighter named Lancer, well, truth be told, it had come as shock to all of them, especially Rand who had developed something akin to a fan mentality.

Scott Bernard had more or less taken it in stride because now he had another willing and experienced recruit on his side. Rook had found it surprising and an incredibly convincing cover, now that she was in on the secret.

Then there’s Lunk, an ex-military officer, some said, deserter, the oldest of the freedom fighters, yet somehow also the most gentle, as if he’s afraid that being his history of violence might spill over and give offense when no offense is meant. He’s a good guy, well-meaning, and he’s taken an almost paternal tone with their youngest member, Annie.

Speaking of Annie, she’d best hurry, if she wants to be in time to make Annie’s birthday party.

And Annie, the spunky, irrepressible, loveable Annie, thinking of Annie made Rook smile, wondering how anyone with that much verve, that much sheer bubbly personality manages to not only hold onto the hope that there will be a better tomorrow, a better future for everyone.

Anyone who can manage to hang onto that kind of buoyance of spirit, in times such as they are all living is someone to be treasured. In fact, much as she might try to repress her memories of those she had left behind, Annie kind of reminded Rook of her sister, Lily. Of course, Annie Belmont was her own person, much more confident and irrepressible, or as Rand often referred to her, a regular little Mint.

Thinking of which, Rook turned to Rand and Lunk, who were sitting cross-legged on the floor of an abandoned house blowing up balloons, while Lancer clambered up on a ladder to drape multi-colored streamers along the rafters.

From a practical and tactical stand-point there were much more efficient things they could have been doing with their down-time, but somehow celebrating Annie’s birthday was the most important thing they could be doing right now.

Lunk would not admit where he had found the cache of still usable fireworks, an hodge-podge of roman candles, sparklers and an assortment of others she did not have names for.
Lancer, apparently the self-appointed voice of reason, had remarked in his quiet and reasonable manner that setting them off might give away their position to any passing Invid patrols in the immediate area. But that was as far as his dire warning went.

Life was a difficult road and not just in a metaphorical sense, but you dealt with it as it came, and right now was for living and celebrating and making sure one very special little girl got the birthday of her dreams.

Rook crossed the room and stood beside Rand and then tapped him on the shoulder, and then flashed him a reassuring confident, smile. She reached and took hold of his shoulders, feeling them tense and bunch up
underneath his loose cotton shirt, his eyes wide in surprise. For once, she would take this moment just to live, to be, and then she kissed him, full on the mouth, and after a moment or two, Rand returned they kiss. They stood locked together like that, just holding onto each other, for a very long time.