It was a quiet night in Garang, the capital of Dantooine. Too quiet, like the whole damn planet. There'd been some agitation against the government and its pro-Imperial policies a few months back, but the government backed down so the people figured they won. Things got back to normal. Vincent Le Grange had watched it all from his ranch outside of Garang with a hunting rifle on his lap, a flask of whiskey in his hand, and a bad feeling in his gut—and not from the whiskey, neither. The people of Dantooine won the battle, but not the war as far Le Grange was concerned. At the end of the day, the Empire was still in charge on the planet, still raising taxes on farmers and telling them what they could sell to who, and how. And the government of Dantooine was still letting them do it. It was then, when most people were celebrating, that Le Grange had got to looking for, and finding, other rebels on Dantooine. Soon, he put together his own troop—the Garang Irregulars. Quietly, as quiet as the night, things had gotten organized. Le Grange fell in with Jamulon ("Jimmy," "Jimbo," or "Big Jim") Tiure, the head of Dantooine's chamber of commerce, who had no love for the Empire, neither. Soon enough, the Irregulars had put in with other colonels and other militias across the planet and made up what Tiure called "The People's Front of Dantooine." Tonight's incident, though, weren't organized at all; in fact, Le Grange and the boys thought up the plan after they'd had too much of Doc Danson's "basement brew," the finest moonshine in the world. Their plan wasn't going to win the war, and in fact it wasn't much more than a prank, but it'd turn some heads and remind the Empire that it wasn't wanted in these parts.
That's how Le Grange ended up on Old Man Higgs's farm at the edge of town tonight, bandana covering his face, holding his belt in one hand and his rifle in the other, surrounded in the dark with the smell of paint and nerf. As best as they could see in the dark, they had sprayed slogans on the side of the Higgs's nerfs—"Empire Off Dantooine," "Support Alurion," and the like—using paint-sprayers they'd "borrowed" from the speeder shop in town. With that done, the gate to Higgs's farm was opened and Le Grange said "Awright boys, let's light a fire under 'em!" With that, he slapped one of the nerfs about its hindquarters with his belt and fired his rifle into the air. The rest of the boys did the same. Predictably, the nerfs got to running out of the pen and down the road—into Garang.
Garang didn't have much of a nightlife, and at this hour there wouldn't be many people on the streets. Nobody would get hurt, and not much would get broke. But the commotion of stampeding nerfs in the street and Old Man Higgs running after them, holding onto his britches and cussing all the way, would pull people to their windows. The message would get out, and Le Grange and the boys would have a good laugh as they slapped each other on the back. "Come on boys, let's light out," Le Grange said to them, and he and the Irregulars rode off as quick as they'd come (tossing the paint sprayers into a feed silo on the way home). He would wake up late the next morning reeling from a nasty hangover, but feeling good. Higgs and the police, no doubt, would still be rounding up the nerfs.
