The cell-controller shut her eyes, seeking to recapture a vestige of her fear. A tantalizing spark of ecstasy still glowed. Karyai, the white-robed political, entered from her underway chamber and floated possessively across the bridge. Jakkuk beseeched her dominant. The humans have come to us.
Glorious death awaits the serene and patient warrior.
The political was tall, even for a lakk, forcing the hajil officers to crane up at the gray-faced mother's long features. We did not seek this encounter. Dar waited, her countenance professionally vacant. Jakkuk wanted to scream. They belong not.