He walked the corridor, it was empty. It always was at this hour, even Freeports have lulls. He didn't like the hum, it didn't feel right. Every station has one, but this one was wrong.
He knew what to do, what he was there to do. He'd been away though. He was always away somewhere, Bretonia first, Liberty second, Taus third. He liked the Taus, they were rugged, alive. People fought for their lives there, everything was a struggle. That was their life, struggle. It was a truer existence than any core world could give.
Time had passed, things had changed. He had changed. He always seemed to change. The door was there, it was the same. Cold, steel, with all the character that decades of use and repeated repair brought. It bore the hallmarks of a life of dedication and purpose served. It slide open, and then there was a crunch. Why did it make him think Ares had been here?
No matter, the door was open and he was walking.
His steps echoed through the room as he walked. Cuban heels will do that. It must have been a sight for the officer on duty, it was the same officer. He probably looked a scene to him. Trousers woven from the finest fabrics Kusari had to offer, dress shirt from his school best, his grandfather's belt, this was the one he really liked though, a Bretonian officer's great coat he had reappropriated while on Trafalgar.
The desk was infront of his now, so he drew his pistol and placed it on the table. As it passed through the light you could just make out the figure of a cat. He spoke single word, it was all he needed to say.
![[Image: LibreIISuper_Small.png]](http://i7.photobucket.com/albums/y287/Adelphus/LibreIISuper_Small.png)