On a freighter deep in space, a Basilian stood in front of a large communicator in the meeting room on the ship he was guiding towards the space station he normally spent most of his time.
Theron sighed, reflecting on what could be so important that the Ptoman Imperial Family would put out a communication that overrode the systems completely, not allowing anyone to ignore what was about to be shared with them.
He had called all of the troops under his guidance into the main areas of the freighter and had made sure that those on the space station had gathered around to do the same.
Not nearly as composed as Prince Basileus, he ran his hands through his thick black hair that went wildly down his back. The prince should be here for whatever was about to be said, he had a feeling deep down that something was amiss with Emperor Kruos.
