The Jiku guards are gone, and the royal compound is nearly deserted.
One Kizak guard brings him back to the ship, and returns his commdisk.
“This isn’t mine,” says Ilaz.
“It is,” says the guard.
“I put it in the storage area myself, and no one else has been there.”
It looks right, but feels wrong.
They’ve switched it, or tampered with it.
His disk is keyed to his unique genetics.
When he holds it, a pleasant trickle of energy circles his wrist.
This disk feels ordinary.