The officer—a fair-skinned elf whose tan uniform was stained with sweat, even though he wore no armor—glared at us. He backed off a step or two, leveling the boxy-looking SCK Model 100 submachine gun that was smartlinked into his wrist, and waved two soldiers in our direction with a flick of his free hand. He didn’t look the slightest bit Azzie—I suspected that he was a mercenary.