Star Wars: Offspring

Chapter 11

Leelah was having the time of her life. Initially she was exuberant to the point of laughter, but as the escape continued, she began to sense the tension among the wookies. They bayed and growled back to another, there was confusion, anger, frustration. She couldn’t speak the wookie language, but somehow she understood what they were saying.

Still, the bounding and leaping made her want to laugh out loud. Marrowyr, her new friend, ducked under a felled tree and she felt that tickling sensation in her tummy again. Then he stood up and jumped over another natural obstacle, up, up and over, and then back down to the ground. She couldn’t help herself, she pulled herself closer to his head for protection, but she squeeled at the top of her lungs. The other wookies, she noticed, were jumping and swinging and they looked like they were really having fun. She wanted to run and play too, but for now she’d be okay just riding.

Somehow she new bad beings were running after her and the wookies, too. She felt it like someone was holding on to her hair and not letting go, not pulling it just holding it. She started to giggle again and returned to enjoying herself. Then her world turned upside down.

There was a loud chirping blaster sound, and then the sizzling thud of impact. Marrowyr roared in pain and spilled over. Leelah held on as much as she could until he hit the ground, she flew off, bucked by the impact. She landed face down in a patch of dirt, striking her head on a shallow tree root.  For a moment she lay motionless.

Kysslyk and two other Trandoshans stepped through a wall of brush into the large clearing where the wookie, Marrowyr had fallen. His comrades stopped to help him. The pursuers hissed in their native language. Kyssylyk brandished one of his handheld blaster in front of him pointing it at the fallen wookie. He was no longer running, but stalking, drooling, breathing heavily but not because of fatigue.

Marrowyr was on hands and knees attempting to stand. The blaster shot had chewed a hole in his right leg. The other four were standing frozen in defensive postures, half bent over, wanting to assist their friend. One of the four, Raallawraa kneeled down, turned him over and supported Marrowyr from behind. Now facing his enemies, he growled defiantly, and then bade his friends to run. Tarweeleea, a female, refused and lifted her arms up and roared bearing her teeth at the Trandoshans, for which she was immediately punished with a blaster bolt in the abdomen. She doubled over, and slowly looked up, more angry than in pain.

Kyssylyk laughed, and was joined in the mocking chorus by his guards. He realized that he relished the torture and domination of his prey almost as much as the killing. He squeezed off another round into Marrowyr’s shoulder. His cry was more of a shriek, than a roar, the pain was more than a wookie his age was designed to endure. Raallawraa bayed lowdly, more like a prayer. The other wookies began to huddle together in front of their wounded to protect them. They barked at their tormenters, firing roars of warning and threat, even though their eyes confessed fear.

The Trandoshans laughed and hissed louder. Kyssylyk peered behind him and traded expressions of agreement with the two. When he turned back around to face the wookies, there was another being standing in front of the group. It was a human youngling, not much taller than his lower leg. She had a bush of brown, curly hair fanning out in all directions. There was a trickle of blood dried on her forehead. Strangely, in the presence of the three enormous saurian aliens, she did not emanate fear like the rest.

Her huge brown eyes locked on to his. She stood erect, not cowering, totally relaxed. The tilted her head forward slightly, pointing her forehead at him like an accusing finger. Her youngling brow pinched in the center drawing her little face into an angry scowl. What was once young innocence had melted away to an aged and adult expression of angry disapproval. The transformation caught Kyssylyk off guard. He thought for a moment that this wasn’t a youngling at all. But an adult of a different kind of species.

But in a distinctive childlike voice, clearer and more present than he’d ever heard, she said two words.

“Bad kittie.”

The ground began to shake. From unseen origins, a hot wind rushed through the forest and rustled that foliage in the clearing. Her curly hair blew up like a cape and flapped in the breeze. Fallen tree trunks and branches levitated off of the ground and hung like they were being toyed with by invisible giants. Some rotated on their axis and others twirled like propellers.

Leelah’s bottom lip puffed up over the top one. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she did not look sad. Both of her hands balled up in fists. The trandoshan guards reacted in confused fear, their heads darting around at the new distractions. The wookies did the same. Kyssylyk was distracted for a moment and realized that this was just pre-fight posturing. He hissed an order to guard number one to tranq the youngling. The guard stepped forward and aimed his rifle at Leelah and fired. The dart stopped two meters from her unmoving figure, floating in the hot air, motionless in the wind, and then it exploded.

The two Trandoshan guards were lifted up off of the ground like the rest of the debris in the clearing. They rose above Kyssylyk’s head, squirming and thrashing against the unseen hands holding them. Before they knew what was happening, a bobbing tree trunk was shot from an unseen sling and slammed into the two floating guards, snatching them out of the air violently one after another. The tree smashed into the forest floor and the bodies of the two guards disappeared into the ground.

The two unencumbered wookies stood up and with consternation began to taunt the remaining Trandoshan. The rumbling of the terrain was increasing in intensity. Leelah’s fury increased with every second. Her eyes sent a yellowish glow out to the forest. She focused on the being with the blaster pistol that had hurt her friends.

Kyssylyk’s eyes were wide with unbelief, gazing rapidly at the child, the tree, and his sudden lack of support. He understood that his chances of survival were nil. He didn’t want his father to arrive in the clearing and find him groveling at the feet of a human youngling or before an audience of wookie youth. No, he would die with honor; he would die in the fight, in the hunt, like the goddess would want, like his father would want.

Kyssylyk dropped all of his weapons on the floor, blasters, vibroblades, a bandoleer of detonators and ammo. The crouched in a stance ready pounce. He opened up his mouth, dropping his jaw open so far that it looked dislocated. His eyes bubbled up in fury. He hissed abrasively as he pounced, bearing claws and fangs, a forked tongue jabbing and quivering in front of him. He charged, closing the distance in mere seconds. And then as if swatted by an invisible Rancor, he was sent back, not tumbling to the ground, but in a trajectory. In a straight line he flew backwards and with a crunch, slammed into the thick trunk of a tree. There was a wet sound as his bulk slumped to the floor motionless.