As a general in charge of the planetary defense force, Himebabi felt personally responsible for the extent of damage the United Federation of Planets suffered in the attack. Moreover, he expected a firm chastisement that such a calamity slipped through the mantle of his protection. Yet, as he strode in and quietly beheld the board room, he observed that President Inaeldo perhaps ruminated on other matters; not that he ever could read the man’s mind, much less his face, which seemed less than human in its emotive capacity than any else he recollected.

Not the last to enter, he caught the tail end of the discussion and further saw two others already present. One in body, the other considerably less so. He nodded in acknowledgment to the president, again to the chairman, and lastly to the third, the final a man of equal rank on this committee to his own but whose service was of a vastly different form. It was a new face to him, but one with familiar features. 

[i]Ah yes, Chamberlain’s grandson and heir,[/i] remembered Himebabi.

There was to be a fifth and six member of this council present before before they would convene. In the meantime, he would gather his thoughts.

Himebabi wandered toward the window and glanced out. The crowd was so dissimilar from the near-riotous rabble his motorcade pierced a handful of minutes prior as to be unrecognizable. No voice shouted, no fist raised in anger, no weapon glinted and threatened to transform protest into rebellion. Instead, faces were turned up toward the balcony with undeniable reverence. The president’s speech, while poignant, was certainly not transformational. The affect was uncanny; no, more than that, it was unnatural.

On the wall, a video screen, muted, relayed the latest world news. Unable to hear what the anchor alleged, he instead relied on the chyron at the bottom of the screen. It wasn’t merely the crowd outside their building whose anger was quelled, but worlds over.

[i]Fortuitous beyond credulity, but nevertheless welcome.[/i]