A handmaid brings a silver salver, bows, and retreats as it ascends to the air. On it was my witness, a mobile machine that recorded everything my suit sensed over the two Nibiru cycles. A lesser advisor to the right of the magistrate took it in her hands, pressed a few buttons, and the pieces flew to the four corners and displayed my journey, from departure till arrival, or should I say, arrest.
Every pair of eyes concentrated on the hologram above, and all I could do was whisper a prayer that they may see through mine and spare me. I closed my eyes and could see myself back in time when I was the free Missionary Neomi.
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