Kael and the council face the uneasy Antarctikans, Moss bridging the gap, as morning light casts long shadows over the packed hall.The twelve Antarctikans stand in a tight cluster, Javed and the linguist flinching toward their mesh-implant scars, faces blurred in the cold, sterile hall.Moss sits small in his chair, amber eyes strained, the vast council hall casting deep shadows around him.Old Sekani rises, his white hair stark against dark skin, hands gripping the table, tears catching the bronze morning light.Sūrya points at the genetic-diversity diagram, Old Sekani's hand follows the line, and Kavya leans in, all bathed in bronze light.Sūrya stands composed at the council table, hands resting on the wood, as the Antarctikans and council members face each other under the warm light.Moss leans forward in the translator's chair, hands clasped, amber eyes catching a slat of light, isolated in the council hall.Old Sekani rises, tears streaming, his white hair stark against the seaweed blanket, a word forming amidst the silent, stricken faces.Through the high, glassless windows, the council hall frames Tidemouth's dawn, with tile roofs, smoke, and a woman hanging bright laundry.Kavya spreads genetic-diversity charts on the council table, Kael's scarred arm leaning in, both focused amidst the dim, grave atmosphere.
