Ezra turned slowly to face the Imperial Commander, his eyes quietly searching Kallus's face—uncertain whether to speak or remain silent.
Among the admirals of the Void Fleet, Ezra stood closest to Kallus. Since the beginning—nearly four months ago—it had been Ezra who led the formation and coordination of the naval division.
He'd worked alongside Kallus day and night, unlike the other six fleet admirals who had only been appointed a month or two earlier to lead the six battle groups. Because of that deep familiarity, Ezra could sense something was weighing on Kallus's mind.
Those words—"We'll need those scraps"—still echoed in Ezra's thoughts. Kallus wasn't speaking without reason. Something was coming. Ezra felt it in his bones, and he was sure Kallus already knew what it was, even if he hadn't said it aloud.
He hesitated, then softly muttered the customary address, "Imperial Commander…" but before he could say more, Kallus raised his hand in a silent gesture for him to stop.
