Look. Dont Touch.

[Sirdi Kōhō]

14 years ago

A Harch frowned at the sight below him. Above his head swayed the light fixture. Darkness wrapped around the swinging light. The gleam of the Harch’s pincher teeth shone when the overhead beam slung by. He was decked in gray jumpsuit uniform with a strange red horn head bull insignia patched at upper breast. A pocket filled tool belt was strapped around his waist. In one of hands he gripped a hydrospanner. Cold durasteel lay under his feet. The walls were close. Ship cabin vents roared with life in the ceiling corners. Metal cargo holds and boxes sat atop one another and were carefully lined behind him. A whiff of the air would reveal the stench of spices and strange animal fur. Beyond the containers shut a sliding door into a brightly lit corridor. The bustle of life surrounded the quarters. Distant prattle mused outside the cool walls.

From the dwellings of thick rasp and gurgling wrench a clear contempt, “Whatta you kids doing in my cargo?”

Under his bidy eye gaze clutched two young humans. They were clearly sister and brother. The girl was amber, her younger sibling more chestnut. Both their eyes were deep-set, downturned but their faces were different. The little boy had a diamond shaped face, his jaw high and chin small, while the girl had the face of a heart – more round with high, wide cheeks. She both had a pronounced but small nose to center her looks. Both their nose bridges were thin. The boys nose was longer, but round, while the girl was spotted with freckles. Her lips were full like her brothers, but small in width. She clutched her brother, holding his head down as she bolstered a glare up at the spider-faced spacer.

“We ah ‘ere...cause we got lost,” The girls dialect made her r’s move like liquid along her teeth as she flatted her tone across her mouth. “Iuno nothin'…We’e just lost ok.” She shrugged defiantly, shaking her head; she spoke with defensiveness – troubled.


----


Red blaster bolts blew by as yells and shrieks echoed in a large dark hangar bay. Above glowed small lights from the high ceiling to ensure the landing dock was dim. A gleam of white sparkled in the darkness. The glistening, polished, colorless shine was fluorescent but the black eyes at the beings’ heads revealed gloom. In the figures clutches were blasters. Their trots were orchestrated. They moved as a unit. They were one. They were stormtroopers.

“Keep your head down, damnit!”

Behind a stack of boxed cargo holds crouched an armed man; he was human. His skin brown and iris browner, his brows were furrowed. His shoulders were wide. His strong jaw line and stare revealed he was an adult but the chin fuzz showed he was barely one. Straps holstering weapons wrapped around his chest. A paramilitary shoulder strap armored his left arm. Twin blasters pistols were clutched by his head fully charged and ready. Alongside him were two youths. Their features were similar. Their eyes just as soft, but weak with fought back tears. One was an older girl, berets in her hair but lean physique of a growing adolescent. The other was even younger and a boy. All three’s backs were pressed against the containers and ahead shone a beacon light of a corridor exit. Above flew more blasts. The troopers were incessant.

“Go, take Sirdi! Run!” The young man barked at the young girl. “And watch your head..”

[Sirdi Kōhō]

She stumbled. He staggered. Shots showered. Blaster bolts burned marks in the wall. The two children scampered into & down the corridor on weak legs. Heaved breathes escaped their lips. The girl grabbed her brother. She clutched his wrist. She dragged him when he wobbled. His weight made her sway. The wall kept her up. Footsteps echoed about. Trots neared the younglings. An intersection was ahead of them. At the cross they skid to a halt. The sister peered off.

Her gaze swept left & right. More trots echoed. With the steps rattled carbine rifle cartridges. The young girl searched for the source. Her eyes closed. She hadn’t the time. They needed to go. Without word, she signaled to the left. The two darted. Each grabbed the rails. Neither could afford another wobble. Behind the runners and down the hall turned a trooper squad. Their steps were deliberate and slow. The squad readied their blasters. Through the darkness of their white helmets reflected the two. Those small bodies shimmered in the troopers’ gaze in the lit halls.

The petite arms at the kids’ side swung anxiously as they scuttled away. Sweat stained their pits. Playground funk was trapped in their garbs. A brown short sleeve jacket covered the little boy’s back, a long-sleeve white shirt kept him warm but fingerless wrapped brown gloves draped his hands. The black slacks & boots ended his little outfit; he looked no older than 10 but was dressed like a slicer. His sister was adorned in peculiar clothing too. No more than 14, she looked ready to play ball. Dressed in a Zoneball long-sleeve practice jersey and trunks underneath a large tunic, she looked warm. She was even decked in the standard Zoneball gloves, pads (elbow & knee) and hover boots. The trooper couldn’t decipher where they were heading, but it wouldn’t seem hard to assume where they came from. Yet, their origin did not matter – nor their age. All that mattered was the trooper’s objective: shoot at will.

Red rays beamed down the hall to kill. The sister yanked. Her brother fell. She ducked. The shots flew above. Over their heads soared the onslaught; their hearts jolted. Huddled down under the barrages line of fire, their heartbeats thumped like drums. It thwacked in the boy. A grimace mangled his face. Under the shadow of his sister’s body, he knelt but shivered. Every breath was irregular and hasty. When the shots halted, the girl clasped her younger brother’s collar. With a tug, they lurched over. Prone to sprint, their back legs planted on the durasteel. Not another breath was wasted before they ran again. The gal’s shoulders bumped the boy like a nudge. They exchanged looks. A blaster bolts swept between their gaze. Her neck pulled her head back. Her arm reached out. She pushed her brother in line behind her.

The wind washed over the two as they dashed in line. Both raced by the railing wall like a relay dash. Side-steps in their gallop alternated their position. The boy led; the girl’s hand on his back. More blast flared by. Her hand directed him, shifting to his neck. He knew what that meant. His head went down. Her head followed suite as they stooped under another stream of red. The younglings looked back. The troopers were in full chase. Boot thuds boomed along the passageway. Several intersecting hallways sprawled ahead of the escapers. So, the sister whizzed alongside her brother. Hand back at his wrist, she pulled him right down a new access strip.

Above the corridor read: Zone 34-EW, but none looked up. Instead, the girl searched. Her eyes caught the buttons by a door. She pushed her brother. The boy looked up irritated. A snarl warped his lips. His brows turned down and his eyes rolled. She elbowed him. He slightly shook his head, and began clicking. In second the slide doors were open wide. The girl switched her looks from left to right before shoving her brother in. She trailed.

Darkness welcomed them. Behind shut the doors. The troops boots banged the steel. Muffled grumbles resonated through the walls. The girl could not see in the darkness, but she leaned against the cold walls to listen. She heard the confusion.

“Where did they go?”

“You lost them.”

“Shut up.”

“Soldiers, spread out. You four, left. You two, straight.”

“Roger!"
"Roger!" "Roger!" "Roger!" "Roger!"

"Roger that Sarge!”

[Sirdi Kōhō]

All she felt was cold. Durasteel was all around them. All was dark too. Beyond the wall the soldier's steps were gone. Only her and her little brother's inhales made a peep. A Cathar would be the only one to hear the two. And, those Cathar ears would the children's hearts drum more than their breaths heave. The distinct stench of hound funk flushed the air. Each breath they took, they brought the smell in. Their nostrils flared with disgust. The eldest was familiar with the odor. She was made familiar with their family heritage and traditions. Every animal had an unique stink. Kath hounds reeked of grime and an overworked man’s armpits & wet hair. Even when they were fresh from a scrub, there was a feint slime to their odor. Yet, this was the aroma of a Raquor’daan (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Raquor'daan), or as more commonly known throughout the universe as dark wolves. Beast traders were fond of their type. Dark wolves came from the Outer Rim on the Weequay planet Sriluur. The wolves bore a similar unusual roguish brute the Weequay did. Nocturnal with poisonous claws and a stinger-tipped tail, they were perfect for a hunt or war. They were black. They were yellow eyed. They were scary. But, the girl’s heart pitter-pattered more for the troopers down the corridor. Feral dogs didn’t frighten her. Sentients did. Especially those with a cause and bloodlust.

Plus, the hounds were asleep and caged.

She felt around. The cage was beside them. A couple slow hummed breathes lifted from inside the bars. “Don’ worry,” she reached out aimlessly, swapping for her brother. “They ain’ up to nothin”

Her voice was small, yet got smaller as she finally gripped to her brother’s shirt. She tugged him close. In her clutches she hugged him. “But, lets stay quiet,” she whispered in the younger one’s ear. Her arms wrapped around him. She pushed her back against the wall and sled down. Her legs widen, allowing the boy to fall into her lap.

“I go--”

She stopped, only for a second, to gather her senses to hear from beyond the door. It sounded like trotting. She wasn’t sure. She couldn’t be too sure. Anything was room for alarm on the run from blaster bolts. Her heart tried to calm, yet her grip stayed tight to her brother. He didn’t make a sound. All they did was breath, as her brows furrowed and shoulders lifted up ready for action. At any moment she might need to bolt out with brother in tow. Her fist were filled with the cloth of his shirt sleeves as the were swept up in the storage’s blackness.

She continued.

“I got you…”

[Sirdi Kōhō]

Sweat trickled down her round cheeks. Soft curls at her hairline gelled down for style began to spring into kinks. Her back was wet. The clothes stuck to her flesh. Her mouth was agape. Air slipped in and out. The back of her head held the wall. In her clutches was a heavy head. A hushed snore rustled from her hold. The brothers body slumped into her. His neck was moist too. Yet, she didn’t let go. Her eyes fluttered every blink. The low lids grew heavy. Time was hard to keep without windows or light. She could only track the hours by her hunger. It grew by the second. Every spit swallow and smack of the lips before a sigh only teased her thirst. Yet, only her body noticed. Her mouth was wet with need. Her stomach growled quietly. Still, she did not listen. She just keep staring into the light-less room and fought sleep.

The routine trots were long gone at this point, but she wouldn’t dare move. Random sweeps routed strange voices by the storage door. Anytime she was nearly dozing off, the grumble of a man would startle her senses. Droids also would beep by. Sometimes both together. Her only guess was inspection or custodial or upkeep work; she could never make out the words they’d speak. All she knew was they were definitely down the hallway.

She wished she could hear at least a bit. Then, at least, she could use context clues to figure if the Stormtroopers were still nearby. Their presence would put any employee on edge, especially a spaceport employee or spacer. Very little good came from a white helmet and boots in the age of the Empire. They were notoriously overzealous with their work. Although some welcomed their presence, most were wary or at least curious. Angst was impossible in area of a E-11 blaster rifle. Far too many had fallen victim to the glorious burgundy blaze emitted from their blast to ignore by a landing bay.

Still, she heard nothing except her belly grumbles and a hound’s yawn.

She sighed again. Her head cocked back. The top of her skull pressed against the wall. She looked up at the ceiling. All around was darkness, so she found nothingness in her gaze, but her exasperation was obvious. An uneasiness had already set in, but she was growing restless. Her back hurt. Her knees were weary. Her joints were stiff from holding her brother up and her shoes weren’t a good fit. There was plenty to complain about, but she couldn’t stop thinking about what’d she do if there was any sign the two could leave the wretched room.

Then, beyond the doors, more trots came. In a flash, her head adjusted. She shifted her neck, ear to the wall, and listened. Each second and the steps grew louder. The floor panels knocked at the plops of the heavy boots. Several steps followed suite. A chorus line of feet drummed down the passageway and the hoarse babble loudened.

“Down here. This is the pick up. C'mon.”
“Why do we all--”


“Shuttup Juzz, you know why”
“Eh, we don’t get paid enough to move all this for the--”


“No, you don’t get paid enough. I definitely do”
“Me too.”

“Me three”


“Me four, five, and six”

“Hey, you don’t talk for me”


“Yes he does”


“No, he don--”


“Shuttup, lets jut get to this”
“Wait, so yall all get paid under the ta--

“Oh, here it is.”
“Whose got the key??”


“Hold you bozos, I do. Move. Move, move!!”


Beep.Beep.Beep.Boop.Beep.
Beep.
Boop.



Ksch!!

[Sirdi Kōhō]

Fluorescent lights beamed into the darkness around the horn-head silhouette at the opened door. The horns curved out from the top of the head and curved forward. A set of tentacles dangled down as well, horns pointing from their ends. In the light’s shade blue skin was revealed. A stiff back held the creature up, while the standard brown and black spaceport jumpsuit covered it’s broad shoulders and wide legged stance. He was a Chagrian (http://orig09.deviantart.net/7936/f/2008/103/0/e/chagrian_youth_by_artbytravis.jpg) and his eyes were bidy and black in the dark. Shadows of boxes, cages, canisters, and oblong containers bunched throughout the room in the Chagrian’s line of sight. The horned man let out a grumble and turned his head. “Come in, and turn on the lights,” he groaned and stomped in from the door ledge.

A symphony of footsteps followed behind him as jabber ensued. Several different heights of shadows and unusual head-shapes slid through the door out from the lit hall. All eight spread into the darkness as the ninth stepped in with a beep & cargo lift. Ceiling lights in the storage chambers sparked alive, illuminating the ninth as the sole female; a furless, hornless Devaronian (http://vignette3.wikia.nocookie.net/starwars/images/8/83/Kada_Jahr.jpeg/revision/latest?cb=20150923220535) with two spots on her forehead and a grimace on her face. Along her side was the Chagrian, a Nazzar (https://www.google.com/search?biw=1280&bih=627&tbm=isch&sa=1&q=nazzar+star+wars&oq=nazzar+star+wars&gs_l=img.3...1520914.1522452.0.1522611.0.0.0.0.0.0 .0.0..0.0....0...1c.1.64.img..0.0.0.LPjCtzZSr7I), Gotal (https://www.google.com/search?biw=1280&bih=627&tbm=isch&sa=1&q=gotal+star+wars&oq=gotal+star+wars&gs_l=img.3...20477.20933.0.21092.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.. 0.0....0...1c.1.64.img..0.0.0.sjAGiQk-rHg#imgrc=_), a trio of humanoids, a Whipid and a spotted white Togorian behemoth. They were all garbed in the jumpsuits. They were a rag-tag gang that could easily frighten a wayfarer. The trio of humans were all a light green with the same features but different hair colors: dark blue, black and white. They looked like brothers, all falling in at the same height. The Nazzar wore small spectacles, held up by his snout while the Gotal stroked his chin fuzz gazing around the room at all the work before them. Front and center the Chagrian held his hands behind his back, his spine stiff & straight. The mammoth duo of the Whiphid (https://www.google.com/search?q=whiphid+star+wars&biw=1280&bih=627&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwip8OK7xO7PAhVIKiYKHZTPDOQQ_AUICCgB) and Togorian (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Togorian) were side by side already reaching for boxes. In the light it was clear how much cargo was in waiting. The room was wide and vast. Bags sat atop containers of strange shapes. Small and big animals were caged in lone cages, shrouded by covers. Other covers hung over containment cells, standing tall with unknown beings or objects within. All of it was bunched up next to one another in a shipment jungle and the ensemble was hired to handle the mess.

There was so many places to hide in the jumble.

The two young blaster dodgers chose an empty cage by the dark wolf. It was wide enough for the both of them to bunch in, but they were both huddled with their knees in their chest. A blanket covered the cell bars and the young girl still clutched her brother. As the lights swept over their darkness, piercing through the cover’s linen sowings and the two’s ears rung with the menacing footsteps, chatter, clunk and bangs, they eased out a few breaths in hopes not to be heard. Each breath brought in the funk of the cell though. It was clearly used before for some vile beast who couldn’t hold it’s bowels properly. Some poor soul was employed to wash the container, but it was only superficial. The stench remained. Especially for anyone damned to cell.

“Over here,” muttered the Gotal.

The two kids eyes shot over. The voice was near. More near than any other before; the boy shut his eyes tight and grimace like he was baring for an incoming hit. All he could hear in his mind was the voice from a holo-comedy he once saw: Frell, frell, frell.

[Sirdi Kōhō]

Growls rumbled from cages. Rattled critters scratched at their cells. Under the covers the darkness swallowed the siblings. In the black space her eyes were useless but kept shut. Inside her mind there was a focus. Sharp thin knees pressed against her chest. Around those legs wrapped her arms. Tight as her arm's grip was around herself, it did not compare to the clutch she had on her older brother's outstretched palm. He mirrored her stance, huddled across from her. Sweats stuck his pants to his thighs. Heavy footed trots surrounded their cage. Boots banged until the giants drooped to their haunches. Quick swipes swept up the grumbling cages near them. Groans grunted out from their throats as they hulked the cages off. Whimpers seeped from the animal cells. Cries which died in the distance from the two siblings fetal crouches in their boxed containment. All the nearby were being picked up one by one.

They had to be next. “Shh,” the girl whispered. She rubbed her brother's hand. His quiet quivers quelled as squeaks of wet powerful paws plopped toward them. Funky fur filled their nose. Down kneeled the Togorian, it's fresh fish breath huffed out in a grunt.

“Help me with this,” it's claws dug under their crate’s base. Around the other side galumph the Whipids bare feet. The sudden grip of the other made them light as they lifted. Clutched in the coop trapped between the stink of wet hair and sweaty hide left the two younglings hands over their nose and mouths.

They could feel the beaming lights of the hallway warm the covers over the crate bars as they were swooped off to the unknown until they returned to a darkness after the slant of a ramp. A thud echoed their drop.

[Sirdi Kōhō]

Thumps ricochet in the hollow hulls of a cargo hold. Bangs boinking up against the walls and throughout. Sudden drops wrenched away the quiet like a last tug in a rope war. Yanked from the calm deliberation, the coop plopped amid the pile. Inside the barred box two children clonked their heads. Such sounds were routine in sequence with the drop off of inventory for movers; a thud simply meant the goods were within the cargo. Movers like the Whipid & Togorian wouldn't look back. They'd simply carry on as they did. Seconds from slopping the container down, the two were back down the ramp for the remainders.

Time is hard to track in the dark. All they could see were each other's silhouette in the dim within the covers shadow & caged walls. Silence trapped them. Any moment they thought they were alone, another one of the moving team would trot in groaning a complaint or run a scan.

More boxes and cargo was unloaded. Stacks topped each other's in the hold. Floor panel compartments on the floor were stuffed with smaller baggages or containers. Both the children listened as the movers chattered about the inventory. Exotic and extinct creatures were being transported for enormous fees. The paycut was destined to be enormous. Spices were also bundled with other pricy items packed in the pick up. Laid in the hull, the ship was brimming with illicit goods. Spacer treasures and alien gold were coupled with pirated holovids or party drug. What wasn't illegal was rare such as expensive vases, paintings, and unique artifacts. And, what was rare got filled up with something unlawful. Everything was hot.

The shipment was a smuggler's goldmine. What was more intriguing was the source of all the lawless blessings; the Imperial sector Rangers and Stormtroopers corps were compromised by guys who wanted to cash out.

Laughs echoed from the cargo hold as movers garbled tales of how each item was lost in "pirate raids" or "interception" in space dog fights and crossing smuggler routed from the Outer to Inner Rim. All of it was webbed together in a dastardly plan that barred investigations because far too many of the lawful had their hand out.

Galactic Empire had a reputation for being vile and unforgiving, but neither of the youths suspected it for being just as double crossing & crooked. It wasn't until the last mover chuckled down the ramp about the big pot they'd get did the two siblings feel safe to talk. As the ramp creaked to a close and the doors slammed, the younglings let out a breath in unison.

"We gotta get outta here," said the girl. Legs clutched to the chest were given freedom. Air got to touch to kneepits sticky sweat. The girl pushed at the top.

The box ceiling squeaked back then jiggled. Atop the cage sat a rolled up exquisite carpet. Usually a strong push would do the trick buy little girls arms weren't equipped to handle the rigors of capetry and steel.

"Hey, help mi wit this?" She called at her absent brother. Her voice tinged with fear and demand. The urgent brother shot up and threw his hands him.

The two shoved. The top bucked as the carpet began to roll. A strained groan rumbled from them as they heaved. Caged, they didn't have much leverage or space to push off of to compensate. The young boy decided to use the bars - throwing his hind leg back to using the barred walls to push against.

In one desperate heave the carpet rolled off to the ground in a smack. The top flopped open, slapping on the other end as the covers drooped off. It was a mess.

The two popped their heads out to the clamor of nearing feet. Their eyes went wide as they heard those fatal words pierce through the walls. "Hold up, I forgot something!"

[Sirdi Kōhō]

The Harch stared down, all four of his arms crossed. "Lost?"

The little girl stared back. Her brother stared back too. She clutched him tighter. "Yessir." She nodded, each syllable enunciated.

Behind the Harch, the door opened. More shadows slunk in. They were large. Each figure reminiscent of the original staff sent to unload the cargo. The little girl's gaze cut to their foreboding silhouettes. Her little brother's chest was close to her chest, and she could hear her heart drum faster, but he fixed his eyes on the Harch, whom did not move as the door whoosh open, nor budged as the impending shadows tread toward him and the two children under his glare.

"These two fresh-eggs claim the reason they're here is," his top pair of arms unfolded and lifted to mock them, "we're lost."

Out from the darkness appeared grey fur which almost stacked to the cargo hold's ceiling. Black streak patterns lined the furry face, where whiskers and snarl met. Fangs bore as the overhead light illuminated his mug, revealing him as the Togorian, standing 3 meters tall, wide, slumped shouldered, forged with muscles from manual labor dating back to his youth. Neither child jumped at the mammoth sighting. Yet, both their eyes cut and awed.

"Wanna eat 'em," the Harch lip mangled into what may have been a smirk.

The grey felinoid didn't shift his gaze. He stared down on them. His mouth shifted to the side and spoke sideways, his voice deep:

"No. Lets feed 'em."

"I was thinking the same thing."