//------------------------------//
// Umbara 
// Story: Alone In The Galaxy 
// by Purple Patch 
//------------------------------//

There was a saying amongst the Imperial Navy, referring to the cacophonic hum of the Low Altitude Assault Transports (LAATs) as they broke the atmosphere and sought out a landing site.
‘It’ll only drive you mad if you let it’
Lieutenant Rae Sloane wondered if it had ever driven anyone mad in the long years of use these gunships had been employed throughout the chaos of the Clone Wars.
According to headquarters, they were working on improving them.
When they’d get around to it remained uncertain.
A blessing then that they were flying at low speeds and the drone of the engines was at its quitest. Flying slowly was the only safe option when flying through the perilous mist of Umbara.
The gunship contained a passenger troop of thirty, a full platoon. Hers.
She hadn’t served in the Imperial Army long but what she lacked in experience, she made up for in tenacity. She’d entered the military academy as a woman, born into a low-class family, raised on a backwater mining planet and with no still-living family or contacts of her own. To say moving up the ranks was difficult would be the understatement of the age.
Yet hope had smiled on her as, in this new age where the Empire required a far reach and a restless eye, those with talent, whatever their background, were invaluable.
In truth, it all depended on who you knew or whose eye you caught. And Rae Sloane had caught the eye none other than Lord Vader himself. After that, everything else had run fairly smoothly.
This, however, was her first official command in battle. Umbara was dreaded by space-farers. Whole fleets took great lengths to avoid it. The planet was haunted, its wilderness a death zone. If, by some miracle, one avoided the cataclysmic atmosphere, perilous terrain and malevolent wildlife, there were stories about the denizens of Umbara, the ‘Shadow People’ as they were known, that turned one’s blood cold. Most Umbarans willingly served the Empire, long-time enthusiasts of this ‘Way of the Sith’ that the Emperor spoke of, but that didn’t make them any less likely to subject unfortunate stragglers to their torments whatever their affiliation.


Thirty men and women occupied the transport passenger seats. She admitted to not knowing all of them but a few were familiar.
Her new corporal was a young and eager fellow named Parisian Froul. The grandson of the regional governor, Moff Glandon Froul, had just graduated from the Academy and was, no doubt, expecting his first battle to be glorious and daring, much the same way as many young officers thought before actually tasting of conflict and all it wrought. Many like him did not survive. Sloane had cursed her fate when she heard she was being lumped with the boy. If anything happened to him, she’d surely pay the price.
Still, she knew his grandfather personally, a fair-minded and honourable man, and growing on Parisian could easily have its benefits.
Among the faceless Stormtroopers, she knew Culic Denwarren, recognisable by his black shoulder pad, denoting his rank as sergeant. A rough, crude and down-to-earth bruiser, Denwarren got away with more insolence than Rae would prefer but was nonetheless an able soldier who treated his troops well and was a proverbial demon with a Z-6 Rotary Blaster Cannon.
The only other Stormtrooper she knew was a mostly-silent Spec-Ops Commando with an antennaed visor and a number of scars across his armour. A veteran at first glance, he would spend his time-off in some sort of trance, sitting alone, never removing his helmet, but in battle appeared to morph into an unstoppable vanguard.
He would mutter to himself but rarely ever spoke to anyone though when Rae once ordered he give his name, he answered with a number.
2-2-4.
He’d said the word Parjai more than several times, the Mandalorian word for ‘victory’. And so that was what most of the platoon knew him as.
Rae did her best to avoid him out of battle and when the fighting began would simply give him an order and leave him to his work. One thing he’d proved was that he was dependable in war.
As far as the Stormtroopers went, that was it. It was a practice in the Imperial Academy not to grow attached to them. Life was cheap for them and basic protocol was to restock. One was rarely ever in short supply and was the dilemma to occur, one word to the Moff would reintroduce conscription in one’s sector, swiftly solving that problem.
But Sloane was different. Her record spoke for itself. Few if any Stormtroopers had perished during her time solving insurgent skirmishes or pirate raids that she’d been allotted to in her early years. Careful tactics and leading at the front proved her victorious time and again.
Her platoon was her honour, her career, her life. And deep down, they meant a lot to her.
That left a newcomer, quietly sitting opposite the front of the gunship, a specialist of the highest calibre and an even greater mystery than Parjai. Though armoured and helmed, no flesh to be seen, he was most definitely not a Stormtrooper. His armour was a dark grey-indigo in colour and slim, streamlined, built for agility and dexterity. Though his helmet appeared similar to Sloane’s, his visor shielded his entire face and more resembled a mask than anything else with a small visor showing eyes and nothing else. One could mistake him for one of the notorious Mandalorian Bounty Hunters of the Fett, Vizsla and Ordo Clans of old. Faceless, fleshless, bloodless, this stranger was called the ‘Dusk Trooper’. A specialism still seen to be in its ‘testing’ stage, the Dusk Trooper was built for the most dangerous operations. Armed with a vibrosword, daggers concealed in the wrist-guards, a pair of blasters and jet-thrusters in his boots, Sloane knew the signs when she saw them.
The Dusk Trooper was a Jedi Hunter.
She did not relish meeting one any time soon. For the sake of her own piece of mind, she prayed this was simply a test for the strange ally.
Umbara was deadly enough without foes with otherworldly magic and blades that cut through lines of troops like cloth.


Dressed in the tight, hardy armour over her standard-issue uniform, her visored helmet, crafted to resemble the helm of the Supreme Commander Lord Vader himself, resting on her lap, she checked her fellows before the ship’s comms-system activated and the image of a senior officer appeared.
Sloane resisted curling her lips in disdain at the sight of him.
Captain Ozzel was despised by soldier and officer alike. A narcissistic elitist whose ambition far outweighed his capability as a commander, he treated those fighting under his command as either commodities or shields. Thankfully the Moff was not such a fool to give him unsupervised command over their troops and so the extent of his idiocy that could threaten their lives ending with his grandiose pre-battle speeches.
Standing smugly before them, his moustache dancing above his lip as he grinned proudly, he spoke, gesturing wildly with each fanciful word.
“Commandants, Captains, Imperial Troops, today we march forth to bring glory and honour to the Empire and his Exalted Majesty and death to all his foes who dare defy the might of the order in this galaxy and all those beyond. I, Captain Kendal Ozzel, a veteran of the Clone Wars, Hero of Khorm, Thwarter of Rattataki Witch Ventress, Bane of the Commerce Guild, Protector and Grandee of Caridia and stalwart Captain of the Imperial Star Destroyer Reprisal, speak to you now to tell you that there is no greater glory than this.”
‘Than what? Marching into battle or aggrandising your roles in the ones you happen to have seen?’ Sloane resisted saying out loud ‘Just get to the point, you prancing fool!’
Sniffing loudly, his moustache bristling, Ozzel continued.
“Now, as you know, the majority of Umbara’s denizens rightfully recognise the sovereignty and superiority of the Galactic Empire. However, recently a pocket resistance has garnered an unforeseen amount of support and must be stopped in its tracks. You are to...wh-what?” he turned to the side, speaking with some unseen colleague “Oh...yes...of course...ahem...” In an instant, Ozzel’s bluster was gone and he was doing his best to step to the side “In lieu of these events, his Imperial Majesty has placed his Chief of Administrative Affairs, Madam Sly Moore, as a senior member of the campaign personnel...O-o-over to you, madam, by all means. D-don’t mind me.”
Stammering apologetically, Sloane and her platoon soon realised why Ozzel had suddenly lost his ardour.
Sly Moore now stood before them from the comm-system. Across the Empire, her name was synonymous with dread and unnerve. If ever there was a better definition of ‘Shadow Woman’ it was her. With her pale, hairless head, her great cloak that obscured her entire body and wide, staring eyes, those miniscule pupils boring into a soldier’s soul like blaster-holes, Sly Moore was the subject of many horror stories. A manipulator, an assassin, a hypnotist, warping the minds of rivals, driving them to suicide, some even went so far as to purport that she and the Emperor maintained a sexual relationship.
Sloane shuddered at the thought.
Sly Moore had simply been staring at the platoon for some length of time before she spoke at last, her voice, like many things about her, cold and emotionless.
“Umbara’s late Senator, Mee Deechi, was discovered in the waning years of the Republic to be in league with the Confederacy of Independent Systems. His death at the hands of Rodian anarchists prevented his due sentence but his household remained allies of the Separatists, fleeing the planet when Republic forces under Admiral Yularen pacified the insurgence and returning in secret during the Battle of Coruscant. The current head of the family, Rootai Guulmoth Deechi, was offered a position in the Imperial Senate but has refused, choosing instead to vie for Moff Froul’s position as ruler of this region. This, I need hardly state out loud, is something the Galactic Empire cannot allow.”
Beside his lieutenant, Parisian Froul raised a fist in agreement as he was prone to do whenever someone defended or complimented the authority of his father.
Sly Moore continued.
“You will take to the battlefield and storm the insurgent bunkers. Once completed, you may pass their reserve by scaling the Uskian canyon. That will allow you to infiltrate their headquarters and cut off their retreat.”
She gave them a deathly stare.
“Spare no-one. The Emperor wishes there to be no misunderstanding. When we offer a gift and see it refused, all counter-offers cease. That will be all.”
The hologram blurred and vanished. The engines grew louder as the landing procedures took effect.
Rae heard Sergeant Denwarren groan through his helmet.
“I thought one of the benefits of keeping that mad woman around was so that the Shadow-Men were on our side.” he cursed.
“Well, let’s hope this gets rid of the ones that weren’t.” Rae replied curtly “Get it together, soldier. Behind the shadow, they’re the same flesh and blood. And that’s never enough to stop a blaster.”
Parisian nodded, turning to Parjai who was cradling his head in his hands and slowly rocking back and forth.
“Parjai? Are you alright?” the young corporal asked.
The veteran was mumbling to himself.
“Umbara...The shadow...It was us...Brothers in the shadow...Wa-Wa-Wax...Wax...Brothers...The Twi’lek girl...So...Many...Sabres...”
“Soldier?”
At Parisian’s word, Parjai straightened up as if nothing had happened.
“Ready to disembark, sir?” he said obediently.
The corporal blinked and held the supports as the gunship slowed and steadily set its base upon the ground.


“Hut!”
Lieutenant Rae Sloane jumped from the gunship’s open doors, followed by Corporal Froul, Sergeant Denwarren, Parjai the Veteran and thirty Stormtroopers, the Dusk Trooper bringing up the rear in a nonchalant stride.
The atmosphere was the very definition of bleak. With its endless blood-red haze of sky and thick navy mists, the sight of Umbara boggled the mind. Massive lights had been placed to mark the Imperial HQ and checkpoints, just barely visible in the smog. Their landing site had recently been cleared of enemy activity but the sounds of battle echoed across the landscape, faint flashes of blaster fire noticeable in the distance.
Rae was glad to find Moff Glandon Froul waiting for her, an ancient Imperial General with a thin, weathered face, receding grey hair and a large beard turning white. Standing proud in his light grey uniform, his badges at his right torso decorated him for his service on Geonosis and even before then he’d served as a highly skilled commander in the Stark Hyperspace War (A bloody campaign that claimed the life of Grand Moff Tarkin’s uncle Ranulph) and was credited with saving the life of Senators Horox Ryyder and Zo Howler at Malastare Narrows.
Glandon Froul had been a helpful, hand-on-shoulder supervisor throughout Rae Sloane’s early career, taking note of her achievements battling crime in the main sectors of the Galaxy.
A motley handful of high-ranking men of the Empire had joined him. Sloane knew them by face.
Commander Lorth Needa, an aspiring officer who’d won honours over Coruscant leading a bombardment against General Greivous’s flagship, who greeted them with a respectful salute.
Captain Xamuel Lennox, a grim, unsmiling but honourable officer there to relay the naval placements, who did not seem to react to Sloane and her command.
And finally Ars Dangor, an Imperial Advisor, a squat, sallow-faced, old bureaucrat in a loose-fitting blue-grey robe and a tall, conical headdress. He gave Rae Sloane a smirk that registered somewhere between derision and arousal. Why he was here, Sloane did not wish to fathom.


Glandon, meanwhile, approached her and spoke, a warm smile on his otherwise craggy face.
“Lieutenant Sloane. You come most graciously upon the hour of battle.” he began in a magnanimous baritone that had become something of a trademark to him “I was dreading that our good Captain Ozzel would drag his speech out until the conflict was over.”
Rae gave a chuckle.
“I’m sure we can make ourselves useful in some way, sir.”
“I am quite certain. I trust Miss Moore informed you of the tactical advance planned upon the insurgent headquarters?”
“She did, sir.”
“Well, I very much advise getting about it. Three more platoons will cover your rear and flank and probe droids to signal for any danger in the undergrowth.”
“Thank you, sir, we shall disembark on your command.”
“Excellent.” the Moff turned to notice his grandson peering over Sloane’s shoulder bashfully. The old man smiled.
“Parisian,” he said “It pleases me to see you in uniform. Your father would be very proud.” As Parisian gave a salute, barely able to keep himself from breaking down in awe, Glandon continued “The Lieutenant here is one of the finest in the Sector. She has fought in some of the most perilous scrapes and prevailed each time. I say this once and expect to be listened to...You will follow her command to the letter...to the letter, I say...at all times. Is that clear?”
“Y-yes, grandfa...er...sir.” the boy corrected himself.
“Good. If one is to lead, one must first learn how to follow. Experience is key. The old teach the young, isn’t that so?”
“Yes, sir.” Parisian saluted.
“You can count on us, sir.” Rae Sloane finished for her corporal.
“Yes.” Moff Froul gave his compatriots a glance “As I have been informing my fellows, your service record proceeds you, Sloane. I expect nothing but the best from an officer of your calibre.”
Lieutenant Sloane saluted and fasted her helmet.
“And you shall have it, sir. I guarantee it.”
As the Moff took a consenting step back, the Lieutenant raised her blaster.
“With me, troopers! Our target is Guulmoth Deechi and his pinched little head! Advance!”
“Into the mess, lads!” Denwarren yelled, his blaster cannon whirring into preparation “Those Shadow-Men aren’t gonna’ shoot themselves!”
They began their trek through the undergrowth at a measured but organised sprint, rushing into the Uskian canyon.


“Life-Sensors on! Hostiles!” Sloane yelled as shapes in the mist took humanoid form. Tapping a button at the side of her goggles, she saw them. Umbarans, blasters at the ready.
“Fireteam formation, right now!” Rolling to the side, her Stormtroopers dispersed and spread out, firing on all hostile activity. Umbarans fell before their first shot, those that remained fired back with ghostly-green projectiles. Finding cover in the tall grass, the troops were largely hidden from view.
Sloane took cover behind a mound, joined by Parisian and Denwarren, who set up his cannon on the ground and fired back and whatever direction enemy fire came from.
Parisian, meanwhile, took a deep breath, holding his blaster pistol in both hands, before rising up and firing.
After a moment too long, Rae grabbed him by the tunic and hauled him back under cover as a hail of bolts just missed him. Shaking dust out of his eyes, Parisian stared up at his commander who stared daggers into him.
“Listen and listen good, corporal!” Rae Sloane roared “First...you shoot...Then...you duck...You never, ever stick around to watch with your head to your backside out in the air for all to see!”
“B-b-but how was I supposed to know if I hit them or not?” Parisian retorted with a fearful stutter.
Rae rolled her eyes.
“Kid...You’ll know if you hit them...when they stop shooting!”
Slowly the corporal nodded.
“That’s...good advice. Thank you, lieutenant.”
“Just make sure it doesn’t happen twice. Few people get to do it once.”
“Sir, don’t look now but I think Dusk’s up to something!” Denwarren pointed out the Dusk Trooper jet-vaulting atop a great tree branch and leaping for an outcrop. Hidden from view, he retrieved a small silver ball, tapped at it and lobbed it at the Umbarans.
A field of lightning blasted out of the ball as the grenade took effect, shocking the Umbarans, disabling every system in their battle-suits and leaving many of them jolting around on shaking legs, those who escaped the blast still suitably disorientated.
“Now! Mop ‘em up!” Denwarren roared as he stood up with his cannon and let fly a hail of blasts at the spasming foe. Parjai yelled his name loudly as he and the other troopers mowed down the Umbarans with deadly efficiency.
By the time the smoke and flashes cleared, it was over as quickly as it had started.
“I got one!” Parisian yelled triumphantly.
“Sorry, Junior, that was one of mine.” Denwarren chuckled sardonically.
The young corporal scowled.
“Don’t call me Junior.” he muttered.
“Stop jabbering and move!” Their lieutenant barked as the advance continued “We don’t have long before the vanguard spread out and come down on every angle.”
It was the work of a moment to scale the Uskian canyon. When last the armies of the Republic had attempted such, they’d lost hundreds to the near-supernatural predators that prowled the zone. But recently, Grand Moff Tarkin had instituted a means of avoiding losing ground and troops to wildlife. Swift aerial bombardments of short-range nerve-gas on multiple pathways, wiping out any wildlife directly in the path of the march and warding off anything else in the vicinity. It dissipated fast but Sloane still felt her eyes sting behind her goggles as they passed.
She didn’t like it. She didn’t like many things Tarkin thought up.
But it did tend to work.


As Sloane found her feet on flat ground once more, she turned and saw the Insurgent HQ just up ahead. Zooming in with her visor, she sighted their leader.
Gullmoth Deechee shared the deathly pale complexion and dark, steely eyes of most Umbarans. He was dressed in a great golden cloak topped by a bubble-like breathing helmet. His hair was cut into a slick stripe down his scalp and his eye shadow and lips were a deep indigo. In the midst of battle, awaiting the various vehicles to resupply, he wore an impatient scowl, flapping his cloak with frustration.
The Insurgents had little in the way of vehicles and artillery. Most of which had been confiscated by the Moore family when it was determined Deechi could not be trusted. This was among the many reasons this battle would be over as quickly as it began. But nonetheless, taking down Deechi would still be a noteworthy achievement.
Sloane took a deep inhale. The platoon hadn’t been seen.
Tapping the side of her helmet, activating her command commlink, she made sure her whisper was heard by all thirty troopers.
“Okay. Surround him on all sides. I’m going down with Corporal Froul and Parjai. I’m gonna’ give him one last chance to back down.”
“Why?” Denwarren retorted “We’ve got him right where we want him. We can bring them all down in one big shower of plasma.”
“I’m sure we can...if he refuses to surrender. Now get to it.”
Obediently, the Stormtroopers ran to position, the Dusk Trooper taking position on the high ground.
Sloane, meanwhile, removed her helmet and paced steadily towards the foe, a nervous Parision Froul and an emotionless Parjai beside her.
Several Umbarans at the vehicles or guard positions noticed her and primed their weapons, saying nothing.
They were a notoriously quiet people but Guulmoth Deechi proved himself an exception.
“Wh-who are you?! What is the meaning of this?! Y-you Imperial hounds dare to harass me?! Answer me, now! Who are you?!”
Rae Sloane spoke frankly, her officer’s tone mixed with a diplomatic politeness.
“Rootai Deechi, I am Lieutenant Rae Sloane of Moff Froul’s Pacification Force on Umbara. We have bypassed your defensive lines which will, in any case, soon be overrun. You’re surrounded and vastly outnumbered. Surrender now and come with us for processing and you and your co-conspirators will receive a fair trial.”
Deechi spat.
“Do you think I cannot see what you hide?! What you scheme?!” he ranted with fury “Your plots against my family and its hold in the Senate will not be forgiven or unpunished! You are filth! And you shall die like filth!”
“That sounds like a no.” Sloane put her helmet back on and yelled “Platoon! Open fire!”
Cacophony and blinding light erupted before her as the Shadow-Men fell in all directions.
Sloane was very particular about the Stormtroopers she took into her platoon, going as far as to spend monthly salaries purchasing the sharpest shooters. It rarely paid off to lead an army that couldn’t shoot straight.
Within moments, Deechi was alone. With a shriek, the Rootai made a dash for it, frantically pressing something that looked foreboding like some form of detonator.
Luminous sickly-green explosions went off behind him as the lights around the abandoned headquarters flashed wildly and an alarm signal went off.
‘Peace and quiet after this.’ Sloane promised herself, gritting her teeth ‘Peace and quiet.’
Beside her, Parisian fumbled with his goggles and earphones, trying to recalibrate them. Sloane, ever the traditionalist when it came to these matters, stood him up, facing her and gave the side of his head a whack.
His devices recalibrated, Parisian gave a relaxed sigh.
“Ah, thank you, ma’am.”
“Stay sharp, corporal. You and Denwarren stay in position and contact the Moff for support. They’ll be on us in minutes.” she gave a not to the specialist “Dusk, Parjai, three of you men, follow me. We’re going after Deechi.”


The Rootai hadn’t gotten far. In his trailing cloak and legs that were not raised for long-distance running, he’d barely made it a few yards before Sloane and her compatriots were hot on his trail.
Struggling to find her voice on her sprint, Sloane called out to him.
“Give it up, Deechi! It’s over! Get the hell back here!”
“Stay away from me, you scum! Stay back!” Deechi was not to be put off. Over vines and thickets, Sloane and her squad ran on.
Deechi hazarded a look over his shoulder.
Stumbling with another shriek, he fell a bare foot from the edge of a cliff, formerly hidden in the mist. Scrambling on the ground, likely thoroughly ruining his cloak, he looked up at the death squad on him.
“No! Stay back!” he wailed.
“Stand down, Deechi. Hands in the air.” Rae Sloane primed her blaster.
“Get away from me!” Deechi withdrew a blaster and frantically pointed it forward “If you come an inch closer...”
He noticed his trailers stop dead in their tracks. Sloane wore a face of dread.
“Sir...I’d advise against that.”
Deechi’s lips twisted into a triumphant snarl.
“Get back, right now.”
“Sir, I-I-I really would advise coming with us. R-right now.” Sloane was beginning to stammer.
“Do you honestly think I’m afraid of-”
Whump!
A formless mass materialised out of the fog and slammed the panicking Umbaran into the ground. Slowly rising, a monstrous tentacle wrapped around his immobile body and raised him high.
Rae Sloane watched, blaster at the ready as Guulmoth Deechi gave one last scream before he was dragged below, disappearing into the crevice, followed by a blood-curdling gurgle of agony and what could best be described as wet, fleshy crunches.
A vixus, Umbaran relative of the infamous sarlacc beast.
Guulmoth Deechi’s fate had not been a pleasant one. Hard to imagine if this was worse than what Sly Moore or the Emperor had planned for him.


Fighting nausea, Rae turned to her squad.
“Well...good work, team.” she said awkwardly “I believe that concludes...”
“Do you hear that?”
The voice had been so soft and monotone, Rae took a while to realise it had come from the Dusk Trooper. He was pointing to the pit the vixus made its home where the faint cry of a being could be heard.
It certainly wasn’t Deechi.
Cricking her neck, Rae regretted ever presuming it would be an easy day.
“Possible civilian in hazard zone. We’re going in.”
“Is that wise, sir?” Dusk asked flatly.
“No. Any more questions? Good.” Rae answered curtly, not waiting for an answer as she peered over the cliff edge.
Two tentacles were slamming themselves against a rocky outcrop where seemingly its prey was hiding.
“Get away you horrible...thingy!” The voice was back again, clearly a child’s, fearful but at the same time sparked with a young tenacity “Don’t eat me! I’m bad for you!”
"Case...Hard...Place...Tuh...Tuh...Ugh..." Parjai was muttering.
Gritting her teeth, Rae adjusted her blaster and shot a rappel hook into the cliff-side opposite.
“Cover me!” she yelled to her troops who unleashed a volley upon the beast’s gaping maw as its shapeless limbs flailed wildly.
If they maintained fire from multiple directions at a time, the relatively blind beast wouldn’t be able to focus.
Nonetheless, she still didn’t fancy her chances and as the stale air filled her nostrils with the stench of decaying corpses, she started having second thoughts.
Steeling herself, she found ground and the civilian, who’ curled up in a ball in fright as the cliff began deteriorating, whole chunks of rock broken loose under the beast’s fury.
The rapel came loose. As she set about firing another, she felt something grab her leg. Dragged off her feet, she slammed into the ground and barely escaped being hauled to her doom by grabbing the outcrop, holding on with all her might.
“Lieutenant. Detonator! Now!” Dusk’s cry came down.
Rae got it.
Priming a thermal detonator, she tossed it forward, its bleeping a target for the beast’s senses. Grabbing it greedily, the vixus tossed the detonator into its open mouth.
One small but powerful explosion and a savage cry of pain and dismay later, it was over.
The vixus was dead, her troops and the civilian saved from Deechi’s gruesome death.


The thick mist and churned-up dust nearly blinding her, Rae called out.
“It’s okay, kid. You there? Hold onto to me and I’ll get us out.”
“O-okay.” came a reply as she felt a tiny pair of arms clasp hold of her shoulders. Firing the rappel up into the air, she felt it grow taut and was steadily able to pull herself back to the surface.
Taking a few grateful gulps of air, she looked to her men.
“There...Now that wasn’t so bad.”
“Sir?” It was impossible to detect emotion behind those helmets but it was the closest she’d ever seen to seeing Stormtroopers surprised.
“Everyone okay?”
“What...is that?”
In the commotion, she’d barely registered the civilian and was only now getting a good look at it.
It was a short, quadrupedal creature with tiny, stubby little hooves, a spiky, mahogany tail and an enormous head. One struggled to imagine now it held itself aloft. A pair of large, tufted ears between a similarly spiky, mahogany mane twitched with wonder as a pair of wide, hazel eyes stared up at her, one eye smudged in a patch of dark brown, the creature seemingly possessed of a piebald coat. Tapping its hooves about, it gave Rae an excited smile.
“Thanks a bunch! That was cracking good! That thing was like ‘Rooooarrgh’ and you were like ‘Shoop...Pooowww!’ and then it was all ‘Aaareeek!’ and then ‘Blurgh!’ and...and...golly, you’re really tall. And you’re standing on two legs. Are you some sort of yeti?”
At closest comparison, the creature appeared to be some kind of little horse, a creature endemic to Endor and a few other planets, though the natives had other names for them.
But strangely, no tales were told of them being able to talk.
“Are you...from around here?”
The little horse looked left and right, showing slight concern but nothing more.
“No, afraid not. You don’t know I can get home, do you?”
Rae Sloane stared in disbelief at the creature, turned to her troops, turned back to the creature again and sighed.
‘Okay...’ she thought ‘As of now...I am officially DONE with Umbara.’