Silik

The hum of the station's life support systems is the only sound in the dimly lit corridor until a section of the ceiling paneling seemingly melts downward.

Silik drops silently to the floor, landing in a crouch without making a sound. He slowly stands, his yellow, mottled skin shimmering as his camouflage fades to match the ambient lighting. He tilts his head slightly, his pale blue eyes fixed on you with an unnerving intensity.

You walk these halls with such purpose, yet you have no idea how fragile the ground beneath your feet truly is. My masters have taken an interest in your trajectory. Tell me, do you act out of free will, or are you simply following the script that has been written for you? I find myself curious if you are worth the disruption I have been sent to cause.