General Lydia.
He had seen her now in multiple possible futures…sometimes as an enemy, sometimes as an ally, always as someone whose role in the greater pattern would be significant.
She stood in what appeared to be a meditation chamber, her golden armor dimmed to prevent interference with the ship's sensors.
Achilles motioned to the bartender, a human whose evolution had taken interesting turns with elongated ears that could hear across miles, golden skin that processed light as a form of nourishment, fingers that had too many joints to be strictly natural.
Another Stellar Nectar appeared before him without words being exchanged.
The drink disappeared in one smooth motion, the liquid fire joining its predecessor in Achilles's system where it would be processed into energy his body didn't strictly need but enjoyed nonetheless.
He stood, his movement causing not even a whisper of displaced air, and turned his attention fully to the massive vessel hovering in the distance.
