Lights swirl into focus. Neons, glow globes, and music. The music floats in the air, hanging as thick as the smoke. It has no rhythm, no sense, no underlying base logic, like the numbers.
A human with ruddy hair tips back another ale, the waitress batting her smudgy eyelashes at him. He grins. His face blurs, disfiguring scars appear, then disappear.
“Ahh that hits the spot. Hutta is a swarmy place to be off-duty.”
Swarmy. She flips through the “S” section of the dictionary of Basic she has memorized. Nope. Not a word. “If you say so, sir.”
He nudges the blue woman on the shoulder. “Hey, give it a rest, will ya? I’m Fixer 255, but you can call me Breams.”
“Charmed. You can call me Dice.”
“So, when did you sign up with Intelligence, Dice?”
“About a week ago.”
“Ah, new recruit, eh? Don’t let training get you down.”
“You treat all the new recruits this informally?”
He shrugs, putting his boots up on the plasteel table. “Hey, formality is nice, but this is Hutta. You see enough crap, you gotta give it a rest sometimes.”
“Be careful. That attitude could get you in trouble.”
“I got things under control.” He flashes a shady grin, his hair almost brushing the back of his chair. Untidy.
“Fixer 255!” A shout in the background. The man jumps up, eyes alarmed and pulls his uniform straight. The woman rises slowly. A human officer walks up in a spotless uniform, a woman. The image fades, growing dim.
“You’re been reassigned. Watcher – ” The image warps, and her voice dies away, then comes back. “ –ack or unit secure. Move it, now!” He salutes and rushes out of the cantina.
The woman starts speaking again, but the cantina table is floating, melting and the voice is garbled. The smoke is getting thicker. Thumping. The lights. The music envelopes the room. Numbers run along the bar man’s counter. The image cracks and fades away.
A human with ruddy hair tips back another ale, the waitress batting her smudgy eyelashes at him. He grins. His face blurs, disfiguring scars appear, then disappear.
“Ahh that hits the spot. Hutta is a swarmy place to be off-duty.”
Swarmy. She flips through the “S” section of the dictionary of Basic she has memorized. Nope. Not a word. “If you say so, sir.”
He nudges the blue woman on the shoulder. “Hey, give it a rest, will ya? I’m Fixer 255, but you can call me Breams.”
“Charmed. You can call me Dice.”
“So, when did you sign up with Intelligence, Dice?”
“About a week ago.”
“Ah, new recruit, eh? Don’t let training get you down.”
“You treat all the new recruits this informally?”
He shrugs, putting his boots up on the plasteel table. “Hey, formality is nice, but this is Hutta. You see enough crap, you gotta give it a rest sometimes.”
“Be careful. That attitude could get you in trouble.”
“I got things under control.” He flashes a shady grin, his hair almost brushing the back of his chair. Untidy.
“Fixer 255!” A shout in the background. The man jumps up, eyes alarmed and pulls his uniform straight. The woman rises slowly. A human officer walks up in a spotless uniform, a woman. The image fades, growing dim.
“You’re been reassigned. Watcher – ” The image warps, and her voice dies away, then comes back. “ –ack or unit secure. Move it, now!” He salutes and rushes out of the cantina.
The woman starts speaking again, but the cantina table is floating, melting and the voice is garbled. The smoke is getting thicker. Thumping. The lights. The music envelopes the room. Numbers run along the bar man’s counter. The image cracks and fades away.