18
Austin tightened the Zahlian helmet into place, locking it into his collar. He latched his gloves and looked in the mirror, taking in a deep breath.
The corridor door slid open. Austin took a step back.
Two Zahlian Marine guards faced him with laser rifles draped across their chests. They stared forward, their eyes not acknowledging his presence. He lingered, feeling their attention shifting on him.
He arched his back and marched out and down the white hall, trying to emulate the stroll of an arrogant officer. The guards followed behind him. His boots echoed on the flawless polished floor. The building was so perfectly white; he struggled to distinguish where the floor met the walls.
The corridor came to a halt. A pulsating maroon sign glowed with black Zahlian symbols. He felt the
