That was the council's verdict. Gorg Chum was back in his office staring at nothing as he was wont to do when in deep thought.
Zelencan rooms were not like what one might see on a plant with land-based creatures. Zelenca were just as comfortable in the water as they were out. The rooms they built on their native planet did not have what humans would call an "up" or "down."
Gorg floated about the room aimlessly. The Imperium was here. Calen Natari had proven as much.
No, we must do nothing...
The council's verdict bothered him. Gorg was not one to do nothing. He was a zelenca and part of the collective whole. His very nature compelled him to follow their school of thought.
What the council decided was wrong.
This fact was blindingly clear to Gorg. And this feeling that he was right was stronger than his need to conform. But such thoughts were dangerous.
I will have to commit treason.
