Dying Star darted through the closing panels of the door separating the luckless 29-3-K from his companions and lingered, huge and silent, on the threshold of Room 29. As the door hissed shut behind it, the Riftosian broke left, tearing down the hallway toward the two remaining guardsmen who stood in the top left corner of the room. It swirled noiseless around their booted feet while they laughed and bantered, slowly but surely swelling into a smothering cloud. The guards' masks would slow down the process a bit, but it was only a matter of time before Dying Star found its way through the tiny cracks and passages that littered any suit of armor and into their vulnerable respiratory systems. It would be a relatively painless death and - more importantly - a soundless one.