The moment Viska opened her mouth, I finally understood why she had dragged me out here so briskly. The mess with the Activation Terminal and the looming cataclysm had really put me through the wringer these past couple of days. Apparently, this Rogue thought I needed a little counseling again...
It was no surprise she thought that. I really had been a little irritable lately. Repairs on the Activation Terminal had made no progress, the Homeland World was still nowhere to be found, the cataclysm kept drawing closer, and the experts from the three races had yet to produce anything that could be called a "result." Everything seemed to have stalled. We were stuck in place, waiting for the cataclysm to press down on our heads bit by bit—who wouldn't be depressed?
Whenever this happened, Viska always stepped forward to become the guide who pointed me in the right direction and cleared away the fog. Though I hated to admit that this Rogue had such a noble and glorious side, it was true. Over the years, she had counseled me plenty of times. Her temper and personality were hard to describe, but with her vast experience and wisdom far beyond ordinary people, this Rogue had shown me the way more than once. Even if every word out of her mouth carried the habits of a hooligan, what she said always carried weight. Sandora's wisdom excelled in battle, Harlan's in strategy, and Bellavella's sharp edge had long since been worn away. As for the other two elders of our Great Void Race, they could only offer guidance in extremely rare flashes of inspiration. Looking over that whole crowd of seasoned old hands who had lived longer than the history of the universe by who knew how many times, only Viska could