"Please may the chamber salute the Supreme General—"
"No need. Sit, everyone," Hiro Shima said, already taking his seat before the same old gathering of bigwigs that had spent several years dictating the affairs of human defense from this very room.
The chamber settled, slower than usual, chairs scraping, tablets clicking off standby, and something in the air felt different before he'd said a single word about why he'd called them all here.
Kross sat first, watching him with the particular attention of someone reading a mood before reading a report. Hendricks kept his usual flat expression, unreadable as ever. Thorne's jaw was already tight. Roderick leaned back in his chair with the posture of a man expecting to disagree with whatever came next. Korsakov had his tablet open but wasn't looking at it. Cassandra sat with her hands folded, still, waiting.
