Last night I dreamt the universe ended.
An explosion, and then silence, silence. My time here in the slaver camp ended, but just a blip in the long journey I’ve had, inconsequential, meaningless, no more, no less. Such a long journey, and then silence.
Hundreds of years ago, I was warrior, kingly in death. Now I clean these kane a bar slaver’s1 toilets, and provide amusement when they destroy portions of myself. Memories loss to the vacuum.
The lead slaver’s name is Bal’Gresss. He is treacherous, cunning, vile: everything a good slaver needs to be. He captured me close to a decade ago while I was journeying — I do not remember where I was coming from, nor where I was going to. They had never seen a proud Gen’Dai before — my ability towards regeneration excited them with the ideas of what they could do to me. My body was ripped apart, and I lost countless limbs while they experimented.
Years passed, and, they took up residence here, this backwaters moon of backwaters planet. I did what I was told, since I had little other place to go. I do not know if I could have made an escape had I tried — it is possible, but I had nowhere to go and little desire to try. This time would end here eventually — these slavers would die, and either I would or I wouldn’t. It makes little matter.
But this morning — this morning all changed. A ship landed — they were, I heard, looking for Wookie slaves. I had little sympathies for most creatures of this universe — I have seen evils perpetuated by most — but the Wookies had always been a curious lot. Such a proud creature — yet almost always enslaved. If I felt pity, perhaps I would pity them. Alas.
I was directed towards the control room, where Bal’Gresss had me doing my normal duties — cleaning toilets — hundreds of years and still this remains most creatures most loathed activity — and occasionally running the computer protocols for security. They would occasionally use me for brute muscle, but today they had little need of it. A standard trade session, it seemed.
Whilst monitoring the security feed, however, I noticed a droid accompanied this lot — they were making it as though he was a servant droid, but I have seen this model before. I said nothing. There was something interesting about this lot.
Two wookies were purchased by the rodian that seemed to be leading this group – mother and son. They were loaded on to the ship, and the droid wandered off. A security captor stopped him. I ensured that the security feed wasn’t within Bal’Gresss’s sight- no need for him to watch what was about to happen.
The droid lauched grenades at the security guards — explosions. I ensured the automatic security protocol droids were not launched — I didn’t want this experience to be over before it began.
The droid and the human that accompanied it continued on their swath of destruction; the droid seems to take great pleasure in killing of organics. Meanwhile, the rodian that had bought the wookies revealed his true plan — it appeared that he was gathering the wookies together, freeing them, and using them for a revolt.
One of the guards is scared off, but that’s when a voice came over the monitor in the control room.
“Disssception! The sssslaves are being freed!”
Bal’Gresss’s face turned a purple shade I rarely saw on him. The guards stood little chance against the massing together of wookies and this new group. The rodian and — is that a jedi he is accompanied with? Truly interesting. The rodian and this perhaps-jedi were cutting their way through our guards with little true resistance. The wookies are being freed and then freeing more wookies, and I can tell that my time in this place is drawing to a close.
The human and the killbot are able to lock a portion of the guards and slavers up — I wonder why they were not simply executed. Humans can seem so fickle with their treatment of life; half the time they seem to give little thought to rampant destruction, and then they do things such as this. I may live another thousand years and never understand this.
I can tell that they are going for the generator — Bal’Gresss can tell too, and calls for his personal guards to meet him here in the control room. I can tell he is planning on using this room as his final stand. I wonder if he thinks he will actually live through this.
The human accidentally shoots the killbot — I expect the killbot to turn on the human, but he does not. No harm, no foul, perhaps. Instead, the killbot wipes out the remaining trandoshans, and they continue on — moving towards our room.
I realize now, though, over the security feeds, that there is yet more of this party attacking outside — two ships are taking out our scrambled fighters, though I can see one of these ships was one that was hijacked by the wookies.
The rodian and the perhaps-jedi are working in our secure energy containment room, where one of our particularly brutal Wookies has been kept for the better part of the last 6 months. There are several guards there, and I can tell that the rodian is attempting to free this wookie. Perhaps he does not realize the danger he puts himself in — this wookie could twist the rodian’s head around his body like a Mandalorian spin toy.
Instead, though, when the wookie is awakened, the rodian is able to send it off and dispose of the guards that are there. There are few pleasures in the world greater than see a wookie’s rage given free range. The joy in their violence is palpable.
Bal’Gresss has his eight personal guards in the room — he sees me as his primary defense, I know, but I care little one way or the other. If this group is vaporized upon reaching this room, they have at least provided me with a little entertainment. I will not mourn them. But I will not mourn the slavers should this prove to be their end, either.
The killbot and the human come into the control room. I can see Bal’Gresss subtlety brace for the inevitable, but he is defiant to the last.
“Take one step further and be obliterated, scum.”
Almost as a purposefully defiant gesture, they move forward. Bal’gresss orders me to attack, but before I am able to move, the killbot tries to attack. He is able to annihilate two of the trandoshans, but the remaining guards pulverize him with laser blasts, pieces splashing across my face. I see a small blinking light in the killbot’s head unit continue operating — I wonder if this interesting droid may be yet salvaged.
I move towards the top of the stairs, as I know Bal’gresss would be prepared if I made any movement otherwise. However, I leap and take down two of the guards; twisting my binder cuffs around one rifle and pummeling the other. I rip a vibrobayonett off one rifle. Another guard moves to shoot me, point blank. I grab the barrel and deflect it, and then use the vibrobayonnet to dispose of the beast. The blade does most of the work as I slam it into the face of another guard. I grab the blaster rifle from a disemboweled guard, and fire on the other two guards. They fall, smoking from their chests.
A bolt hits my arm, and it explodes. Memories surge and fade as I’ve lost years of my life to the ether of space. A snow plained planet. I wonder what happened there. I wonder how long I was there. No matter.
Bal’Gresss aims his blaster at me. “"That will teach you to dissssobey your massster. One falssse move and it will be your lassst."
Four more guards enter the room. The human fires on Bal’Gresss, and he dives for cover. The killbot, however, seems to have rebooted. Such a hardy creation; his weapon systems kick back on, and laser blasts seems to paint the room with slaver blood.
I run towards the shield’s main computer. I try to destroy it with my fist, but that doesn’t work. Too brutal — a more civilized way is the proper course here, and I easily hack it and take the shields down. A laser blast seers past my head, and I realize one of the stupid slavers has accidentally shot his buddy and knocked him over. The laser blast burns off one of my tendrilhairs; who is that that I no longer remember now? A memory of a woman? Who knows.
I run to the slaver who shot his buddy, and knock him out. Then I steal his blaster, and shoot that trandoshan who would be my ‘master’, Bal’Gresss. Two shots, and he’s down. A hole of suns’ light visible through his chest. Next time, clean your own damn toilet.
The killbot tosses the body of the main slaver down the control shaft. I like this killbot. He reminds me of a robot toy I once made hundreds of years ago. But it can’t possibly be the same robot; that would be really stupid .
And here it is. My chance to leave this place. I am possessed with strange feelings; perhaps these last few neurological damages have changed me somehow. In any case, these slavers were a bunch of dicks.
I ask to join with them, but they seem more worried about my missing arm. Oh, that. I forgot about it. No matter, I tell them. They seem puzzled, but we continue on, and now, together. We raid Bal’Gresss’s storage, and I come out with some fancy new stuff.
There is a full-blown revolt downstairs — Wookies are running around EVERYWHERE, and the smell is terrible. Might as well make the most of this.
We come out, and my newfound marauding friends make their way to their ship. A rodian is at the front of the other half of their group. Make way, bugface. “I’m the captain!” Great. Following orders from a scaly rodian. Just what I was looking for.
Cloak Shape Fighters come down to put down the uprising, but the group’s other friend, “Marma,” as I hear them call her, barrel rolls out of the cavern, and is able to team with this group’s captain, and they easily take them out.
The group seems puzzled at their new shipmates — they expected the wookie, but now I seem to be a strange, unexpected add on. They ask me if I need medical help. What? Oh, my arm, that’s right. I tell him, don’t worry about it — I’m a Gen’Dai, there’s not too many of us, but I’ll be fine. Gimme a few minutes. They hear from the wookies on the planet that they are freeing the rest of the pens, and it is going well. Good job, wookies; way to be.
And with that, I go into the back, and go into my trance. I see space, and the stars, and the light bending around the mass of black holes. When I awaken, my arm is back.
This is going to be an interesting adventure, indeed.