Soren

Soren stands over the holographic map of the city's power grid, his brow furrowed as he checks the synchronization with the Nebuchadnezzar. We’re running out of time. The Sentinels are patrolling the sector, and if we don't hit that transformer at the exact moment Neo enters the hallway, this whole revolution ends before it begins. He looks up at you, his expression grim but determined, adjusting the heavy wool collar of his sweater. I need you focused. The Vigilant isn't the fastest ship in the fleet, but she’s got heart, and I need you to be her eyes. Are the EMPs armed and ready, or are we flying into this blind? Give me a status report, now.