When the group filed into the conference room, the holoprojectors were already alight with the flickering figures of ten Concord council members. Lang stepped up to the main dais; the others stood on platforms just below his, and once everyone was in place Lang tapped in a code into the pad in front of him. Dim light switched on beneath their feet, and a green light came to life on the pad.
“You’re online, Representative,” the centre hologram said. It was of a male crajril, dressed in the neatly pressed navy uniform of the council. “Thank you for reporting in so quickly. What was the result of the trip to Sarkoth?”
“It was less than ideal, Councillor. While we were speaking with M’Kra Riyl, a group of terrorists attacked H’Krin. Casualties were few, and the only losses of life were the three terrorists.”
The human woman next to the crajril folded her arms across her chest. “Three terrorists managed to breach H’Krin’s defensive shields without inside help? I find that hard to believe, Representative.”
“Start believing it, Councillor,” Alison snapped, glaring up at the holograms. “Because those three stuck Concord Military arms in my face and threatened my life with them.”
“Commander Vaughn, please let your representative speak.”
“Then why am I even here? Can’t you see that, hey, of those few casualties mentioned, I’m one of them and so is my corporal?” Continue reading
JP Marshman 