Confrontation

"Do you have a plan?" I turned to Cassandra, staring directly into her eyes.

Her gaze didn't waver under my scrutiny, her resolution unwavering. "I do," she answered seriously.

I paused for a moment, weighing my options. In the end, I decided to trust her words.

"Alright, tell us your—"

But just as I was mid-sentence, the entire cockpit's lights dimmed, and an image suddenly appeared on the bridge's main display visor. All three of us instinctively turned toward it, our faces filled with shock and wonder.

On the screen was a man, seemingly in his forties, dressed in gaudy attire that screamed overcompensation. His outfit—a royal blue coat adorned with golden tassels, white pants, and high-cut synthetic fiber boots—would've looked regal if not for the excessive embellishments, making it more ostentatious than honorable.