The Measure of Mortality

[Groshyr]

The team of four Bureau guards left the shuttle, accompanied by an officer. All were dressed the same; the only distinction was the white cap on the officer’s head, covering her ginger hair. She was a woman in her thirties - well-built, stern.

She was not beautiful, or ugly, but she had a sort of aura that could pin you to the ground and make you feel insignificant as she looked over you. She walked at the front, with the guards flanking a floating, coffin-like stasis unit. A faint vapor leaked from the capsule as it drifted through what had once been a civilian vessel.

The officer had doubts about whether they should trust those machines, but she had no choice but to follow the orders of her superior. The soldiers beside her had no opinions of their own; they followed orders, nothing more. Their muted eyes - sharp yet unfocused - seemed to convey something only a few within the Bureau would understand.

The corridors only resembled a place once inhabited by humans. They passed sections marked by entirely different organizations, originating from distant corners of the Sirius Sector. Not a single Gallic component had been detected so far - perhaps Gammu had not yet had the chance to integrate their technology. Or perhaps they were being given that chance now. She dismissed the thought. Orders were orders.

They moved on. The space was tight, barely sufficient for passage. After several minutes, the team reached the chamber they had been guided to by a voice coming from every speaker along the way. It was neither male nor female, not even distinctly human - its words clear enough, yet chilling even to the Union’s well-trained soldiers.

They entered. Two fork-like arms descended from the ceiling and gently seized the capsule.

What next? - the officer finally spoke.