Sesen and Hanako

"Since everyone is here, we can begin."

Arakawa Sesen's voice was soft, yet it sliced through the silence of the meeting hall like a sharp dagger.

His gaze passed over every face before settling on Rosalind Myles. There was no tentative probing between strangers in his eyes, only an almost dangerous certainty.

"Everything will proceed as agreed. There shouldn't be any problem with that, President Myles?"

As agreed?

The words exploded through the floor like a muffled thunderclap, freezing the air for an instant.

The fingers of several New America representatives hovered over their data tablets. Their document-recording programs flickered unnoticed. In a corner, one of the president's aides unconsciously clenched his hand.

What was going on?

Hadn't this meeting been arranged to allow the two sides to make first contact?

Why did Arakawa Sesen sound as though he were confirming a secret agreement that had already been signed?

The attendees exchanged confused looks. Some instinctively turned to Myles, searching her face for an answer. The president merely lifted her chin slightly, a gesture that seemed both like a response and a confirmation.

"Of course, Mr. Sesen."

Her reply was far too smooth, as though she had rehearsed it countless times.

The instant those syllables landed, the electronic pen in one New America representative's hand slipped free and rolled across the table.

Everyone present understood in that moment.

This was not the rhythm of an initial negotiation. It was the endgame between two chess players.

A cold realization crawled up everyone's spine—while they had been preparing briefings and arrangements for today's "first meeting," these two had already completed the real negotiations in some shadow-draped room.

Then this grand, dignified meeting, these carefully arranged seats, these guards patrolling the perimeter—

A sudden scrape of metal cut off their thoughts.

The drones