20

Beta Aimag Encampment, Halifax

Vanderfox, Adhafera

Prefecture VII, The Republic

15 August 3134

Sha Clarke stared at the hard copies, his eyes unseeing.

Innumerable thoughts tumbled through his head with failed entry trajectories, dead stick and tumbling endlessly, end over end, burning up in the arctic chill of his cerebral atmosphere.

He could not focus, his thoughts too disjointed from the reports in front of him.

To top it off, he only recently learned that Petr lifted off-planet weeks ago. Weeks!

Sha’s aide would not make such a mistake again soon. Regardless of how well Delta hid the information, his aide existed to provide information. If he could not rely on her to obtain it, especially during such a critical time, then she could deexist.

He rubbed his tired face with both hands, blinked several times to moisten his scale-dry eyes and leaned back, throwing a casual arm across his closed eyelids; his subordinates would’ve been shocked to see such lassitude.

The aromas of this world worked their way under multiple seals and down long corridors, wafted through endless eddies until they moved sluggishly through his office, their scents tickling his nose and bursting images of alien flora and fauna before his closed lids like a holoprojector.

“Java. Java,” he spoke slowly. Rhetorically, really, since a half-empty cup steamed on the table. A brewing pot lurked in the corner on the room’s only furniture other than the desk and chair, which swallowed the remaining space in dark wood and exquisite whorls of local design.

He leaned forward once more, red eyes open, and picked up the first report again, re-read it for the third time.