A deep, loud rumble washed over the swamplands. Everything went still, silent as though the bog held its breath in anticipation. A high-pitched screech shook the earth as a gigantic slag of burning metal tore through the clouds. The object whizzed across the pall gray skies, leaving a fiery trail in its wake. It descended faster and faster before crashing to the surface with an explosion of superheated earth, water, and golden flames. The object tumbled for quite a distance before coming to a halt and sinking into the wet ground.
Columns of smoke poured from the wounds of the dead ship. It was a clear indication where it now rested. Shortly thereafter a pair of snubfighters escorting a much larger star cruiser arrived on the scene. The warship drifted above the crashsite while its snubfighters skimmed the surface, taking a proper look at their prize.
The cruiser's hangar bay doors parted slowly. Its opalescence shields quivered before fading away, allowing several light shuttles to leave the hangar.
The first of the tiny ships moved in on the wreckage. Its repulsorlift drives burned the air beneath the shuttle as it steadily drifted to the ground.
Suddenly, fire tore through the vessel first amidships before engulfing the entire shuttle in black and orange flames.
The cruiser responded by peppering the surrounding area with turbolaser fire. The swamp burned away under the careful bombardment, the downed freighter itself receiving minimal damage.
Taking the lesson to heart, the other shuttles set down at a much safer distance. Heavily armed men poured from the shuttles. They carried rifles, repeaters, grenades, and portable artillery pieces. They coalesced into two major positions from which to storm the crashsite. From their tattered appearances, they weren’t conventional military.
Each humanoid and alien regarded the wreckage with crooked smiles, chanting and whistling tunes that would ring terror to the ears of their victims. The survivors of the freighter might recognize such happy melodies as belonging to slavers.
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Talbot was last in a short column of fourteen. His face was covered with grime but was also the softest and most boyish in comparison tp the other raiders. He stepped carefully through the blackened sludge. His eyes was pinned on the back of the rodian in front of him. Talbot didn’t add to the voices all around him; hard whispers and the hissing growl of the quartermaster: “Keep moving, you gits. Faster, now.”
His teeth chattered from the cold wind. The haunting realization of what they were about to do also chilled him. His knees could have been stirred with a spoon. Talbot focused on his footing, careful not to trip into the mud just to be trampled by one of those fat gamorreans.
He didn't know what to expect. It was his first time dirtside with the raiders. Everyone had told him these slaves were going to lay down once they strolled in, many lifting their skirts for them too.
Doubtful.
Suddenly, there was a loud pop followed by a distinctive wail and increasingly loud whistle.
“Watch it, choobies down!”
Everyone huddled close to the ground, some dipping themselves beneath the murky water. Talbot did this, submerging himself beneath the water. He could feel the floor shudder following the impact of the mortar. As he rose from the water, the raiders were on the move again. A hard boot struck him on his rear, almost knocking him back into the bog.
“Move it, kath hound,” a ship officer said then moved off to another part in the ranks.
Talbot clung to his rifle, marching onward in a slow steady motion. His chest began to ache and his knuckles were chalk white. He tried to think but found his mind was blank. Talbot searched for any relevant information, even the model of the rifle he was hugging. Nothing.
“Halt! Check your gear!” the quartermaster shouted from the front.
Oh shit, this is it. Oh god... oh god... Talbot's hands were shaking now, was it fear or the cold?
The clouds had grown darker since they landed, light rain settled over the swamp. The distinct tapping of blasterfire and the booms of various explosions echoed from the other landing zones. The raiders had engaged. It was their turn.
“Charge!” the pirates screamed in unison, all but Talbot who stared forward, wide eyed. The gamorreans behind him grabbed the boy by the shoulders, carrying him onward.
It was useless to resist their grasp, but he tried regardless. Their fat fingers pinched his tiny body. Once they climbed out of the mud, they moved with long strides - charging quickly through the other pirates with their tiny human toy.
His rifle fell away. Talbot was screaming now, his throat burning from the hard strain on his vocal cords. In the distance, several strobe lights flashed through the gray shrubs. All he could hear was a clap and then a high-pitch snap. Green blood splattered across his face and the gamorreans suddenly sent him flying into the mud.
The world around him filled with activity. Intense blaster and slugthrower fire tore the swamp and through the bodies of the pirates all around him. A hunk of meat that was once the pig-like alien served as his cover.
You’re not going to die, you’re not going to die!
He closed his eyes as the thuds of boots engulfed him. He cried out. The screaming of the others drowned him out. Dirt and burning flesh pounded him and the air suddenly filled with the scent of ozone.
Don’t move, just don’t move and you won’t get killed.
Once again, someone grabbed his shoulder and pulled him along the mud.
“Off your ass, boy. Fight or I’ll shoot you right-”
A blaster bolt caught the ship officer in the jaw, exploding the upper half of his face from his mouth up. Talbot didn’t see it, he’d seen enough. That was when the ground beneath him turned super hot and he found himself flung high into the air.
Talbot fell into the mud several meters away, the air kicked from his lungs. He continued rolling until he sank into the murky water. His ears bled and dirt had gotten into his eyes, blurring his vision. His vision grew distorted as black clouds washed over him.
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T albot blinked several times, whipping his face with his mud stained hands. He was inside of a tent. The rainstorm had since passed and the wreckage of their freighter could be seen just outside. There were others in the tent with him. They spoke in bocce about food, he supposed their were complaining about their rations: bad pickles and cold meat.
He tried to sit up. A sharp pain in his side forced stop and simply lay. He winced for a long while, cursing himself for trying to get up, for completely missing the battle. His eyes began to water. Talbot blinked quickly to hide the evidence of tears.
He wiped his eyes and looked around again. The others didn’t regard him anymore than they did the dead they had stashed him with.
The bodies were bloody, broken, and militated. The smell burned his nostrils. He started to cough. Despite the pain, Talbot leaned his head over the edge of the cot and threw up on his boots.
