Ordinarily, the Lounge was a place where senior officers could briefly unwind, exchange intelligence, or simply enjoy a cup of synthetic coffee.
It was well soundproofed, softly lit, and even decorated with a few hardy desert plants. But now, its door had become the boundary between life and death.
Biberus neither paused nor gave a warning.
Like a beast lunging out of the darkness, he threw all his strength into slamming his shoulder against the closed alloy door!
Bang!!!
A dull crash echoed through the narrow passage outside.
The door did not immediately give way, but its frame groaned under the strain, and a rivet even flew out beside the lock.
The impact knocked Biberus half a step backward, but he immediately steadied himself, raised his heavy military boot, and kicked hard at the lock!
Clang!!
This time, the lock buckled completely. The entire door swung violently inward and struck the wall inside with an even louder crash.
The scene within instantly flooded Biberus's vision.
The lighting was much brighter than in the passage, but now it illuminated a tableau of frozen shock.
Five or six officers sat or stood around several alloy tables.
Some wore standard Legion officers' uniforms, while others wore lighter armour.
They seemed to have been talking or enjoying some refreshments.
A faint smell of tobacco and lubricant still lingered in the air.
At the far end of the Lounge, near the viewing window and tactical Communications Terminal, stood a man.
He was tall, dressed in dark brown armour with Commander’s trim. The insignia on his pauldron, marking him as one of Saladin's direct subordinates, glinted faintly in the light.
He was holding a Dataslate, apparently reviewing something.
Biberus recognized that face. It was Adjutant Lauren, Saladin's eyes and ears aboard this ship, a staunch supporter