Twelve
Sithe
The captain’s private conference chamber lies behind the bridge.
I am forced to wait for some time outside the room in view of other Arrisans. With my hood up, though, I make them nervous. The security guards swallow and clench their guns more tightly. Their weapons are designed to stop at the walls. Mine? Not so much.
Eventually, the door opens and the captain summons me. He and Ukuri have taken seats against the walls. My chair—in the Humana sense of the word—is a cage in the center with my back oriented to the door.
Ukuri grins with extreme satisfaction. His eyes are obscured behind dark lenses that reflect the room back at me, distorted.
The captain—Falkion—looks too young in person. His hair is deeper black with youth, and his broad, square features are accented by
