So, slowly working on this. I've been told "show, don't tell", and that I REALLY overdid the security. Any further feedback would be great, with an eye to certain specifics:

How do honor batons and honor cloths look? what do bloodguard look like? And how do I portray a sterile environment and still have it be "home"? Thanks.

A Commonwealth operative walked through the lead lobby of the Spire, heading for the lifts. He slipped in, turned, grabbing his honor blade as he did so, and spoke.
“Level Ersath 7”. he ordered.
“Security level 9 required for access to this level. Please state security clearance.” the elevator’s speaker spoke back.
“Operative Verany, clearance level 11.”
“Voice print and clearance cleared. Ascending”.
The lift climbed briefly, opened, and the operative exited. In front of him were two bloodguards, who quickly checked his security clearance, and waved him through, but not before trading his honor blade for a baton. He slipped through a double pair of doors, and exited into what could only be described as an adult daycare. Groups of uniformed individuals sat around doing hobbies, gaming, spinning, laughing. However, the groups of bloodguards arrayed throughout and their shoulder patches said this wasn’t a normal daycare. This was the common room for disabled operatives of Commonwealth Intelligence, and nothing was what it seemed. In the far corner, a crying 18 year old girl was quickly ushered away by an operative, the girl’s honor cloth were a blade should have been gripped tightly in her hand. In another, an autistic’s hands flapped as he watched his favorite show, his Shayana’veth medallion jingling lightly. In another, yet another autistic sat, his eyes closed in concentration as he felt the insides of a lock. A few Down’s patients served drinks.
The operative slipped through the assembly with the smoothness that only a martial artist could muster. Honor cloths were more prevalent here than usual, which he couldn’t quite place. Batons usually predominated, their richly decorated forms usually the first “arts and crafts” an operative did when they were admitted. However, he passed a class where assorted groups were making theirs, the bamboo shafts being assembled and painted. He was heading for the medical wing, located further back.
He finally made it, passing several of the classrooms and enthusiastic youngsters and semi morose teens, passing a further set of bloodguard. He saw the young lady in the waiting room, rocking slowly with silent tears streaking down her face, as her handler spoke with the receptionist. A handler sat with her, holding her hand. The operative made a quick hand sign, the girl either missed it or didn’t care, at the handler, who responded with a sign that translated as a question. They didn’t have a prognosis. He stepped up to the desk as the handler went back to her charge.
“I’m here to see Operative Dravin.” he said quietly.
The receptionist looked back sharply. “Who are you and why are you asking?” she rasped. The two bloodguard at the door stirred briefly, their off hand gripping their stun pikes a little tighter, their masks making it impossible to know where they were looking, but it was obvious they were ready for a fight.
“Operative Iraksai. He has a briefing in a half hour and we heard there was an incident. I was sent to check on him”.
“I wasn’t informed,” the receptionist retorted, glancing around the waiting room. Noone was paying attention. “I’ll need orders from the commander.”
The operative reached into his pocket and pulled out a small data disc. The receptionist plugged it into the computer, looked at it, looked at the operative, looked again, and stuck her head from behind the desk to gesture to a bloodguard. The bloodguard disappeared from sight.
“You’ll have to have a seat for a moment”. The receptionist said.
Iraksai turned and found a seat. All the chairs faced the door, a standard security feature for the operatives, not that it was needed. There were more than enough bloodguard in the facility. As he waited, another handler came through the door with another bloodguard operative, this one in medical blue as opposed to the normal red. They walked over to the girl, and gently started talking. After a few minutes, they walked her back, the guard maintaining a respectful distance. After a few more, the red returned and spoke with the receptionist for a moment. She gestured Iraksai back to the desk.
“The guard will see you back.”
The guard turned on his heel and walked through the doors, Iraksai trailing. The guard led him past a nurses station, around the corner, and into a small cubicle. A nurse sat in the corner, monitoring the patient, who was lying on his side.
“Operative Dravin, this is Operative Iraksai. I’ll be outside,” the red spoke simply. “Please call if you need anything”. The announcement was met with the barest of nods from the patient. The red exited, and took up position outside the door.
The nurse barely turned before switching to formal Common. “Lord Dravin, are you up for this? You’re still recovering from the rescue drug. There’s no sense in overextending yourself”.
“I have a job to do, Nisran. Nothing can change that. That having been said”..the operative said quietly, barely able to keep the sheer fatigue out of his voice. A sigh escaped as he reached out from beneath the blanket and grasped a small case with trembling hands, pulling it back as he reached out with his other hand, the iv still in, and began to tap in a code. The case beeped twice as he simply failed to key the code. Dravin became more frustrated with each failure, until finally Nisran reached over and gently but firmly pulled the case from his grip. Dravin looked at her, his gaze glassy and far away, before turning over onto his side. Nisran glanced at the Iraksai, and made the hand code for “outside”. They stepped back through the curtain, Nisran nodding to the guard to dismiss him. She handed over the case.
“It’s asymmetrically encrypted. His handler should have the other half to unlock it. If they doesn’t, you’ll have to wait. He’s not himself, this being the holidays. Hellidays, as he calls them. He’ll be out at least another hour from the dose we gave him, assuming we don’t do it again. I believe you know the way back”. She turned, and went back in. The sound of the polyglass door closing and then locking closed was barely audible. Dravin hissed involuntarily beneath his breath, and glanced at the disk. He hoped it was worth the trouble.

I assume that you want the feedback here in this topic, so here goes ...

If this is the opening, make me care more about the main character right out of the gate. I am not sure who is less emotional, the "Commonwealth Operative" or the automated elevator.

Why does he slip in and turn? Why not just plod steadily into the waiting elevator? Perhaps you could give it more urgency and energy. Is he in a hurry?



Just as an example (to communicate my intent):



Not the greatest, but it opens with a specific person (Verany) actively doing something that we can all relate to. Only when we care about the person does it start to fill in more of the details about the setting (Commonwealth Operative, Security Clearance). It also provides the minimum information needed to tell the story. His exact Security Clearance isn't critical, only that it is high enough to go where he needs to get. [Unless Level 11 becomes a vital clue for later on in the story.]

So I hope that helps.

Start with actual hospitals like St Jude Children's Hospital (for more livable) or another for more institutional.





(Did you mean 'sterile'=germ free or 'sterile'=stark, bare and institutional?)

For 'institutional', I suggest mental health facilities and prisons as a source of images and inspiration:

That's PERFECT!!!!!!!!! Thank you. Well, nearly perfect. But thank you. and I did mean sterile in stark and institutional, but that nearly works. Keeping in mind there are reserve Spec Ops roaming the building.