The overcoat draped over his shoulders as he walked down the landing ramp, projecting an air of careless confidence.
"Welcome to Vitrean, Bay 81-B," a mechanical voice came from a floating terminal that drifted toward him. "Please proceed to the Immigration and Commerce checkpoint at the end of the concourse. Do not stray from the designated path."
Leo followed the glowing blue arrows projected onto the ground. The concourse was heavily guarded. Armored sentries stood at strict intervals, keeping an eye on his every movement.
Despite the sheer volume of wealth flowing through this sector, the Code Yellow martial law the commander had mentioned was highly evident.
At the end of the hall, Leo reached a sleek, imposing reception desk behind a barrier of reinforced glass.
A bored-looking clerk of an avian-descended race glanced up from his holoscreen, his dark eyes narrowing slightly at Leo's attire.
"Purpose of visit?" the clerk asked, his voice entirely devoid of warmth.
