Meltdown Ophilion - Book One

55_ALTERATION IV

As Lem was placing the ringing object on the table Arthur was raising a jade-green glass bottle which he displayed to the gathering crowd. Kylor had slowed his pace so Orion could catch up with him and they entered the tent together as Arthur began a speech. "Welcome everyone! We realize you have many questions, and we will answer all of them soon, but.. not before we have dinner – no point thinking too hard on an empty stomach." There was subdued laughter from his audience, which had grown to a crowd of about sixty refugees since they had arrived at the camp three hours earlier. "Seeing as this is our first official meal together, I propose a toast!"

Belarin, Celli, Cari, Fel, Cathandra, Galian and a few more Antarion approached the table with trays of glasses and more bottles. They began pouring and passing them to the people.

"This," he motioned to the bottles, "is something special we brought with us from Earth. It's similar to Genino, but definitely not the same. It's called 'wine'. This is a light, sweet variation called 'Tokaj' – from Hungary, Europe. And for our younger members," he smiled and winked at the children, "we have this..." the servers displayed clear glass pitchers with a light red beverage. "This is kind of like hamera juice. It's called strawberry nectar."

Glasses of nectar were distributed to the children, who were proud to be included in the toast. "To Ophilion," Arthur projected his voice over the crowd, which was still growing, "to love and family and the future of Ophilion." Then he sipped his wine and smiled.

The refugees sniffed at their glasses and gingerly tasted the unfamiliar beverage. They looked to their neighbors for confirmation and agreed that it was quite good.

Dishes were brought to the tables and everyone began serving generous helpings of well-loved foods – passing bowls and plates to children and those who were sitting at the ends of the tables.

"Dig in, everyone!" Maria called in her melodic voice. "We've made too much and we don't want it to go to waste!"

This isn't a refugee camp, Belarin concluded, it's a picnic. A very large picnic. She looked around at the people, eating together, chatting in pleasant voices, some even laughing quietly. These people, most of whom were strangers to each other, suddenly had something in common. This is the closest to life I have felt in many cenro. Gratitude welled up inside her. She caught Maria's eye across the table and both women looked at each other, and understood. Thank you, they exchanged their gratitude telepathically.

There was a lingering glimmer of twilight in the west where Hanthran had set, over Kypro. The small globes, strung from tent to tent, gave a soft yellow light, which, together with the colorful ribbons and pictures of animals, gave the impression of a festival.

By sunset almost five hundred people had registered and more were coming into the central circle from the reception tents. The constant activity and general sense of community were gratifying. Newcomers, entering with apprehension, were quickly set at ease as fellow Kyprans showed them to their accommodations and answered as many questions they were able to.

The two main congregation sites on this first evening were the kitchens – where, at that moment, the cooks were serving pilimot tea and freshly baked kenchel – and the four campfires which had been lit in the central circle – what everyone was calling, simply, The Circle. People sat and chatted and swapped theories and shared concerns and told stories.

Arthur stood in line for tea, observing the people; smiling and nodding to those who regarded him with suspicion, chatting with those who were less suspicious. "Thank you," he said as he accepted the mug of tea from a new volunteer whose name he did not know. The young woman and the Almaron commander exchanged smiles.