595 actually laughed out loud, shaking her head in derision. “Transparency? Oh that is rich, coming from you Datius! The pointy end of the entire Rothian apparatus, elevated to mythical status and shrouded in mystery, attached to wars across the galaxy, is asking [b]me[/b] to explain myself.” Dr Wetherall, who’d been watching this exchange in shock with the rest of the civilians, raised a hand and tried to interject. “Umm, the floor...” 

“Stay out of this!” 595 snapped, before jabbing a finger at Rareth. “Perhaps we should start with you explaining that wormhole tech you’ve been keeping a secret. That would’ve been useful to know about before Memnon [i]died[/i] protecting your flank. Maybe we could’ve done things differently.” The Agent stared at the Datius, as dull blue lights emanating through the hairline cracks in the plaza beneath them started shining brightly in patches where the snow wasn’t piled up. “We need to-” Thebes started but couldn’t finish.

[i]“ENOUGH.”[/i] a voice boomed in their heads. 595 saw Rareth and Thebes were picked up like ragdolls, to float a couple of feet from the floor. Then she realised the same entity had immobilised her and the civilians in the air as well. An invisible manipular field forced their arms to their sides and their feet together. 595 tried to speak, but she couldn’t move a muscle. Their suits powered down, and one by one they floated in a line toward the door. 595 tried to send a message using her mind implant, but that seemed to have ceased functioning too. 

They entered through the double doors at the front of the structure, into a grand rectangular gallery. Pillars stood on either side, and the high, open windows behind them were embedded in thick outer walls. Torches flickered in their sconces, but the real light in the room came from the figure sitting in a throne at the far end of the room. It looked Human in shape, before morphing into a Rothian silhouette and then back again. It seemed entirely composed of light energy, with no real features other than an outline.

The rest of the Sacred Band were already lying prostrate on the floor a short distance from the steps leading up to the throne. The invisible fields laid 595, Thebes, Rareth and the civilians alongside them, heads facing the ground. Eventually, the Agent realised her muscles worked again. “Are you ready to talk to me? I don’t have much time.” The being asked out loud, in a dry, raspy voice.