The clink of glasses. Music floats, spinning, cracking and fading. It tries to act like dainty flowers, when really it’s bulky bomb shells rattling together. Just a little more. Then they explode into numbers. No, they already are numbers. Patterns, shifting, spinning.
Glasses. They are filled with blue liquid. Blue. Or is that red? A Chiss woman sits at a long formal dinner table. Someone touches her shoulder and leans in to whisper.
“Cipher 82, come with me.”
She looks up and stands, following the pureblood Sith. The walls make faces at them as they pass. The music dies away. He turns to regard her with orange-cowled eyes.
“We have a problem.” The Sith’s voice distorts into a muffled wash, then clears. “–hafra, the Chiss ambassador to Kaas is dead.”
She stares out blankly. She betrays nothing, like a good agent.
“How did that happen?”
“Accident, really. You have to change the scene.”
“My lord, I – ”
“Are you questioning me?”
“No – of course not.”
“Then fix it.”
“Yes, my lord.”
He turns to leave. The door swings open. Laughter explodes like a some lobbed IED, then fades to silence. Cold. The room is cold. Ice travels up the walls, and up her feet. She breathes heavily. It travels up her legs, encasing her. It goes over her head, her eyes. The room looks black and misshapen beyond those icy walls.
Everything shatters.
Glasses. They are filled with blue liquid. Blue. Or is that red? A Chiss woman sits at a long formal dinner table. Someone touches her shoulder and leans in to whisper.
“Cipher 82, come with me.”
She looks up and stands, following the pureblood Sith. The walls make faces at them as they pass. The music dies away. He turns to regard her with orange-cowled eyes.
“We have a problem.” The Sith’s voice distorts into a muffled wash, then clears. “–hafra, the Chiss ambassador to Kaas is dead.”
She stares out blankly. She betrays nothing, like a good agent.
“How did that happen?”
“Accident, really. You have to change the scene.”
“My lord, I – ”
“Are you questioning me?”
“No – of course not.”
“Then fix it.”
“Yes, my lord.”
He turns to leave. The door swings open. Laughter explodes like a some lobbed IED, then fades to silence. Cold. The room is cold. Ice travels up the walls, and up her feet. She breathes heavily. It travels up her legs, encasing her. It goes over her head, her eyes. The room looks black and misshapen beyond those icy walls.
Everything shatters.