Sleep
In the years that succeeded the mythical powers of old, empires rose and fell in their wake. Some claiming benevolence, others branded with malevolence. Many of them seemed to stumble onto the galactic stage purely by accident and, through improvisation, maintained their grip for hundreds - even thousands of years. Yet few had ever done what the Brotherhood of the Maw had just accomplished before the eyes of the known galaxy. In one fell swoop of contempt for life, they had blinked a million lives out of existence. The galaxy had seemed to take a collective breath in that moment, and Adhira still was certain they'd exhaled.
The Chancellor, draped in mourning garb, stood alone at the center of the Alliance flotilla's viewing platform and she started out the vast emptiness Csilla has left in its wake. The invisible forcefield that allowed her to gaze forever upward made her slightly agoraphobic like she might float away. Then the shuffle of bodies - thousands of living breathing bodies - of Alliance citizens, soldiers, refugees, and citizens of other nations all pressed together, watching her pulled her back into the reality of the moment. That terrible reality. Despite all of the hatred she had seen leading the Alliance through the brutal wars with the Sith, somehow she never fathomed the husk that spun in the darkness before them. It was not just space before her that felt empty. Something deep inside her, beyond her organs, somewhere in her very soul she felt an ache of absence.
Adhira had not prepared a speech. She knew that there was nothing she could say in that moment to calm the children in their mother's arms or the mothers who rocked them. An entire planet had been destroyed. It was gone forever and there was no speech that would bring it back. The old woman, in her black adornments, turned from the destruction and stared out at the sea of faces who gazed up at her. Friends and strangers held each other close and in their silence, in the downcast gaze, in their falling tears, she could hear their promise. It was a promise to each other and to the galaxy.
"Never again..." her voice quivered and a tear spilled down her cheek, causing a black streak of makeup to stain her porcelain face. Adhira turned back to what once was Csilla and with the push of a button launched a white blinking beacon to mark the fallen world. A gravestone of light. The first of its kind. And the last. "Never again." This time she made the promise to herself.
The Chancellor, draped in mourning garb, stood alone at the center of the Alliance flotilla's viewing platform and she started out the vast emptiness Csilla has left in its wake. The invisible forcefield that allowed her to gaze forever upward made her slightly agoraphobic like she might float away. Then the shuffle of bodies - thousands of living breathing bodies - of Alliance citizens, soldiers, refugees, and citizens of other nations all pressed together, watching her pulled her back into the reality of the moment. That terrible reality. Despite all of the hatred she had seen leading the Alliance through the brutal wars with the Sith, somehow she never fathomed the husk that spun in the darkness before them. It was not just space before her that felt empty. Something deep inside her, beyond her organs, somewhere in her very soul she felt an ache of absence.
Adhira had not prepared a speech. She knew that there was nothing she could say in that moment to calm the children in their mother's arms or the mothers who rocked them. An entire planet had been destroyed. It was gone forever and there was no speech that would bring it back. The old woman, in her black adornments, turned from the destruction and stared out at the sea of faces who gazed up at her. Friends and strangers held each other close and in their silence, in the downcast gaze, in their falling tears, she could hear their promise. It was a promise to each other and to the galaxy.
"Never again..." her voice quivered and a tear spilled down her cheek, causing a black streak of makeup to stain her porcelain face. Adhira turned back to what once was Csilla and with the push of a button launched a white blinking beacon to mark the fallen world. A gravestone of light. The first of its kind. And the last. "Never again." This time she made the promise to herself.
