Distortion

[Omicron]

The office was deserted. Lucien walked in on a half-round elevated platform with enough seating to house the entirety of the Order High Command and then some. However at the time, there was no one there except Admiral Golanski behind a holo projector in the most prominent central location of the room. He mused silently over some data slates and paperwork, seemingly left over a briefing or another meeting he had here before Luciano had walked in. Behind him at the wall was the only piece of decoration within the room itself, for The Order was using such sparingly within official installations and only for greater effect with its imagery. It was a planet on a flat surface, bearing close resemblance to Manhattan, impaled through its polar caps by a longsword bearing Eye of Horus built into its crossguard. Design came from Orillion’s era and was very rarely used, nearly forgotten and phased out by liveries of Overwatch and Black Squadron.

“Commander Marquez.” Admiral acknowledged him as a fellow officer, speaking his name in a manner that would indicate he had spent some time among the Cretans, whether out of habit or an attempt of respect being unknown. Acoustics of the place guaranteed no need for intercoms, microphones or other technology of the sort. Nodding, he offered a chair opposite of the projector, shut down cold and therefore not obstructing their visions. “What troubles you?”

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