Zhar stood looking out on the planet below as his ship docked soundlessly with the colonies orbital station. From the bridge viewports the planet had a unique serenity to it, which, though it was present when looking at virtually every garden world in the galaxy, still had a quite relaxing effect.
Zhar’s reverie was interrupted, however, when a message came through the bridge communicator stating that the meeting had been moved forward. A mildly annoyed look crossed Zhar’s massive, scarred face for just a moment at that. He had been looking forward to meeting and getting to know the important people here. Of course he already had some intel on them, not as much as he might’ve had in the old days, before the Reapers perhaps, but there was still nothing quite like talking to someone in person to get their measure. Still, that could always wait until after the meeting. This wasn’t exactly a high stakes meeting after all.
He quickly made his way through his ship, which was almost as large as the station it was docked with. He spared not a thought for his attire, for he was already arrayed in a fine black suit and he had long ago come to terms with his scars. Before the Reapers, he had detested scars and had any he gained surgically repaired. But the scars he bore now, they had come from defending his home, not from a petty merc raid or clan war, but from the greatest threat the galaxy had ever faced. That, in Zhar’s mind, was a worthy for a permanent mark.
Crossing the threshold into the station, he immediately noted that the majority of the crew were Turian or Quarian. He was glad that the Quarians had been able to regain their place in the galaxy, and was particularly happy to help them do so. Turians he respected, not so much for their no nonsense mentality, which usually made them a bore to talk to, but certainly for their successfully executed Meritocracy, which was, in Zhar’s opinion, the best governing method.
It did not take long to reach the meeting room, and with quick glance around he noted several distinct groups of people. The Council was here officially, of course, but there seemed also to be more than just the natives. There was also a geth present, though that was not exactly a rare thing given the now symbiotic relationship the Geth and Quarians seemed to share.
Given the short time available, Zhar decided to just get a drink and wait rather than introduce himself to anyone. He walked to the bar and, after finding the oldest vintage available, poured a slender glass worth of the alcohol.
Forsythe
