"You have an organization?" Dravon asked, a hint of caution entering his voice. "What is it called?"
At Dravon's question, my thoughts drifted back to the moment when Aurora had finally lost her patience with all of us.
It had been inside the ship, in the dining room near the bar. The engines were quiet, the ship cruising on autopilot, and for once there was no urgency pressing down on us. All of us had gathered there for different reasons or so we thought.
Ragnar and Primus were already seated at the bar, glasses in hand. Ragnar leaned back on his stool, laughing loudly at something only he found funny, while Primus listened with a faint smile, his drink barely touched but constantly refilled. Steve and I leaned against the counter, beside the two drinking gentleman.
Knight sat in the far corner with a glass resting in his hand, unmoving, as if the chair had grown around him. He looked like a statue someone had forgotten to remove.
