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With a soft, purposeful flick of her tentacles, she surveyed the dimly lit command chamber. Data streams glowed across the holographic screens, painting the room in an eerie blue light. Her decisions had always been absolute, uncontested—until now. The High Council's constant bickering grated on her nerves; their pointless diplomacy drained precious time. Her gaze moved to a tactical display showing Chromajellie movements. She knew that every second wasted in debate was a second closer to disaster. Her path was clear: a covert strike was the only option, and she would lead it herself.