Survivor: A Star Wars Story

Chapter XIV

Jabiim was a planet rich in culture and an untouched beauty. On the surface, it was breathtaking in a barren form, with towering cliffs of orange and earth brown hues slashing the landscape in a beautiful chaos.  A crimson streaked sky wound amongst inky blackness dotted with ivory as the first rays of dawn began to break through the stone cliffs of the mountain ranges. The settlements that were there were small and sparse.

Many other planets would have been dead asleep during this hour, but the marketplace in one such settlement bustled with people, clearly lacking in technology as wicker baskets brushed and wide brimmed straw hats were placed on heads for the coming dawn.  Market stalls were shielded from the sun with barely more than rags, yet the marketplace seemed cheery with lighthearted trades and jokes being shared between adults whilst children charged with an innocence that only they could possess.

However, one of these children seemed more unruly than most, barging through the crowd without a second glance at the trail of stunned people behind him.  The boy's face was flushed yet he delved through merges of citizens, bashing baskets and earning irritated looks and the odd undignified shout. Breathless, he raced to a back alley before he reached a door as pulled on the handle with all the strength his chubby arms could muster.

"Madra!  Madra!" he called in the native language frantically.  A middle aged woman came through looking rather surprised. She was in her mid-fifties with greying hairs sprouting from her roots and the callouses in her hands suggested many years of hard labour, however crinkles formed at the corners of her eyes as she gave a reassuring smile to the distressed child. Picking up the boy she bounced him gently in her arms, trying to calm him.

"Dear child, what is wrong?" she had a kindly rasp to her voice, and her eyes filled with concern.

The boy tripped over his words. "Droids, big ones! I saw them whilst playing with Karna!"

The woman froze, all joy slipping from her face before placing him down briskly. Her features morphed into that of melancholy as she placed two hands on either side of his face and kissed his forehead gently brushing scruffy amber locks away from his eyes.

"Sweetheart." her voice was drawn as taught as an elastic band. "Take the emergency bag and go though the back door.  Run.  Run all the way out to Whisper Bird Point and don't come back.  I'll see you there but never come back here.  Whatever you do."

"Madra... what about you.  I'm scared." he asked, responding to the sudden tenseness in his mother.

"I know.  I'll come to you. I love you nini.  Now go." Not giving him enough time to answer again, she herded him out the back door, handing him a small rucksack before watching him run into the wildlands, not bothering to wipe away the tear tracing her features.

"Go far nini." she muttered before shutting the door and steeling herself.  She reached into a nearby cupboard, moving quickly yet shakily as she withdrew a blaster and switched the safety off.  Running out of the front door, she locked it before sprinting down the street to a tall post with a large bell on top.  Grabbing the untouched rope hanging down, the woman tugged on it harshly, and screeching clangs began to echo through town, crisp as winter air.

The effect was almost instantaneous.  A millisecond would be spent of the citizens hearing the bell before urgency kicked in, and everyone quite literally dropped what they were doing.  From seemingly random places; under market stalls, from the bottom of their baskets, they withdrew blasters of all shapes and sizes as children were ushered into homes until only a few minutes later, the marketplace was turned into a battlefield.  Adults rushed to place sandbags down as market stalls were tipped to create barricades.  As the last of the children's silhouettes vanished over the horizon to the west, time almost froze as no-one moved. No-one even dared to breathe, and just as the silence began to draw long enough for some to wonder if it had been a false alarm, the ground trembled once.  Twice.  The death gong sounded as the funeral drums played, but yet the settlers didn't move.  Instead, they braced themselves, blocking out the whine of machinery.