Stroth was surprised to discover that the halls of the Ele Congregate were not austere, silent chambers but more like the flawless workings of a ceaseless machine. All around this small auditorium, servers whirred and interfaces twinkled. It was a remarkable symphony of activity, and Stroth wished she could give it her full attention.
Alas, her focus was drawn back to the five members of the Congregate, representing the five masks of the Ele, who stood directly before her. They had been conferring when she entered, but now they rose together to address her.
“El-Endelle,” the Conductor began. “I’m sure you can guess at why we have summoned you.”
“The Centurions,” Stroth answered, knowing it couldn’t possibly be anything else.
“Mmm,” the Speaker, to the far left, confirmed. “They entered the Dominion a week ago. The upshot has been… troubling.”
Stroth felt dread weigh in her stomach again. “What happened?” she asked quietly.
“These probes are devastating our frontier,” the Warrior explained bluntly. “Unprovoked violence. Irrational death.”
“That can’t be true!” Endelle rushed to respond, reciting practised words. “The Centurions’ directives are exploration and survival, never aggression. There’s no way they would just start attacking!”
After a heavy pause, the Artisan replied softly, “you are of the Ele, so we know that you believe that. However—”
“If you can capture a Centurion, we can analyse it together,” Stroth said, defiantly. “We have to work this out.”
The Warrior nodded, sombrely. “We will do our best, El-Endelle. Stay close at hand.”
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