Page 83 of Stars in Umbra
The venue, the Astra Solara, rose from the towers of the moon planet’s rotating rings like a shard of divine glass.
Its crystalline façade caught the shimmer of the twin suns of Alphetraz, casting fractured rainbows across the polished dunes below.
Strung between two massive pillars, the famous event space rotated on a central axis.
Its floor-to-ceiling windows offered a changing yet panoramic view of the desert’s stark grandeur on one side, and the sprawling cityscape of Eden II’s capital on the other.
Inside, chandeliers modeled after floating solar systems radiated with ambient light, and orchestral soundscapes pulsed through marble floors so finely veined they looked like captured lightning.
Mo stood just outside the entrance, arms folded behind his back, clad in a Sable black tactical dress uniform.
The suit featured a burnished silver thread trim along the shoulders and cuffs.
The tailored cut of his coat did nothing to soften his presence; he was like a monument of a warrior, his glyphs visible beneath his collar, dormant but watchful.
A team of one hundred elite Sable soldiers moved under his command, spread across the venue’s rooflines, entrances, and internal corridors.
Their earpieces pinging as they monitored incoming flyers and maintained strict perimeter control.
Tonight, he was the first line of defense for Pegasi’s most influential military brokers. Their entourages, however, were the real problem.
They caused drama with the venue staff, snuck in extra guests, and made ridiculous catering demands.
A few even showed up drunk, rowdy, and unruly. This was unbefitting for military personnel, but he kept his thoughts to himself.
What did he know? He was just a Sable gun, not a dignitary.
Mo raised two fingers to his earpiece. ‘Bay Three, green light. Confirm visual on the Allorian badge.’
‘Confirmed,’ came the reply. ‘General Vel Korin on final approach.’
Moments later, the long, charcoal-gray transport flyer touched down.
Its door opened to reveal the revered leader, stone-faced, clad in metallic white armor, and flanked by two aides.
Mo offered a curt salute and waved him and his entourage through after retinal scan clearance.
Next came Admiral Dane Vastrik of Sartixia, regal in his silver-blue uniform, epaulets gleaming.
Close behind him came General Amasi Jourdan from Rhesia, whose crimson cloak billowed in the warm evening wind like a warning flag.
Mo stood sentinel as they passed, exchanging formalities, studying their entourages as they disappeared into the hotel’s interior before scanning the airspace again.
Two sleek private flyers descended.
The distinctive lion’s head Sable Group insignia etched into the flanks of both crafts told him all he needed to know about its occupants.
He attempted to rearrange his stern face into a smile as Kainan and Zane stepped out first, wives in tow. Selene was radiant in obsidian and gold, while Illana was in a provocative silver silk gown.
‘Brother,’ Mo’s bosskhansaid as he approached.
Kainan’s meta eyes glittered with restrained amusement. ‘You’ve got the look of a man who’s ready to punch the next army groupie who staggers toward you drunk like a skunk.’
‘Not if they stay on their side of the velvet rope,’ Mo growled. ‘Still, if one more attaché tries to bribe his way in with a bottle of Savartin brandy, I swear, I might let loose. With a few energytaps and some flares up their ass, to send them rocketing back from where thefokkthey came from.’
‘Go for it,’ Kainan whispered with a conspiratorial wink.
Zane chuckled. ‘Don’t tempt him. It’d be a shitshow regardless, given all the free liquor and gatecrashers.’
