Emerald Flight: Homecoming: Return to Grace (continued)

No one gave her much attention as she walked along with the crowd. She certainly looked no less disheveled than most of the others, she decided. They had been roused from their rooms in the middle of the night, after all. She took some pride that she was at least dressed in her Academy sweatshirt and pants, sporting some indication that she belonged there.

It was then that she became uncomfortably aware that her Academy sweats were all the clothing that she was wearing. No one else would know that she was not wearing underpants, and she hoped that the sweatshirt was sufficiently bulky to hide the fact that she wore no bra underneath. She suddenly became aware of the feel of the fabric against her bare skin.

She forced herself not to look around, telling herself that no one was looking, that no one else knew. It seemed to help, but she was silently distressed to discover that her nipples had grown tight at this little act of covert exhibition.

Along with the others, she waited in steadily-moving line at one of the many entrances to the auditorium. She stopped at the door to submit to a quick bio-ID scan, as she, like many of the others, had not been carrying certified identification when they had left their rooms. It took only a few moments and the security sergeant passed her inside without bothering to give her more than a cursory glance.

Elizabeth entered the large amphitheater, pausing just inside the door to locate an available seat. The enormous space usually felt cavernous, but with its lights turned up to full intensity, and seats nearly filled to capacity, it seemed much less so. The well-designed acoustics kept the not-inconsiderable roar of collected voices to a manageable level. Holding a conversation with someone near her would be difficult, but not impossible.

She located an empty seat to her liking in the upper third of the tiers. It was only two places in from the end, so she only to avoid stepping on two pairs of feet as she edged across to it. She did not recognize the people to either side of her. The one to her left was a young man about her own age, his expression seemed set in a perpetual scowl.

On her other side sat a man who she guessed was probably ten years older than her, give or take a year or two. There was nothing overtly unlikeable about him, and he was not nearly old enough to be her father, but she did not feel comfortable in giving the impression that she was open to having a conversation, particularly given her present, if otherwise unnoticeable, under-dressed state.

She was relieved that neither of them seemed to want to talk to her. Each seemed intent on their own thoughts, giving her barely a glance as she took the empty seat between them. Elizabeth stared forward, studying the central podium and enormous display screens behind it. They remained blank and the few technicians working busily on the dais provided no clues as to who, if anyone, was going to speak to the gathered audience.