The rain didn't come as a curtain, but as individual syllables: droplets that seeped from the gray cloth and moistened everything without really making it wet. Eiko covered the scaffolding with a tarp that had once been an advertising banner; the faded smile of a woman shimmered briefly before he weighed down the edges. Rhea checked the module for the third time, as if trying to reassure not the technology, but herself. Alaric loosened his shoulder straps, stretched his hands, letting every fiber relax for a moment, only to tighten them again the next instant.
Lina pulled her knees to her body and listened. Not to the rain, not to the wind—to the line. The corridor that Eiko had called "Breath" still lay cool in the air. It couldn't be seen, but her body noticed when she left it: a gentle tingling at her collarbones, as if someone were gently pulling on an almost non-existent string.
"Eat something," said Rhea without looking up, pushing a bar toward Lina. "No heroism."
