Deep beneath the Moon's desolate surface, in a vast, cold chamber, the Krill Harvest Leaders gathered. These were the regional overlords, each responsible for the "harvest" of human essence from their assigned planetary sectors. They were dressed in noble reptilian attire, their scales glinting under the dim, alien lights. Chancellor Shuda'dar, his form large enough to dominate the central platform, addressed them, his voice echoing in the cavernous space. The leaders had been notified for a critical meeting, an unscheduled summons that had sent ripples of unease through their ranks.
"Lords and Apostles," Shuda'dar began, his voice solemn, "I have received critical information directly from the capital."
Murmurs rippled through the assembled leaders. They hadn't received any information from the capital other than increasing harvest quotas, a constant, gnawing pressure. This was different. This was personal.
