Raid

Dry grass hissed around his feet as the boy ran across the field.  He swiped at the tall blades, pushing them out of his way so he could try to spot the house.  Dad had told him to go straight home when he heard shouting over the comms on the crop harvester.  Something in his voice said that whatever he had heard was bad.  The only noise Corvan registered was the grass being swatted out of the way and crushed under his feet, and his own frantic pulse crashing in his ears.

He almost tripped down the steps that took him to the front door, slapping the panel to make the door open as he tumbled into the front room.  He ran into Mom, who immediately closed the door.  When Corvan got a good look at her face, he could see that it was pale and drawn.  She scooped him up in her arms, trying to make her voice sound chipper.

“We’re going to play a game, Cor,” she said, moving swiftly down the darkened hallway of the house. “I need you to be very quiet.  You’re going to hide.”

Her tone didn’t sound as though this was a game.  She took him to the bedroom where she and Dad slept, to the alcove that they used as a closet.  Drawing the crimson curtains aside, she set him down among the clothes and crates of belongings, cupping his face and looking down at him.  

“Where’s Dad?” he asked.

“He’s coming,” Mom assured, working a smile to her face. “You need to be quiet now.”

Her eyes looked scared.

Corvan swallowed past a dry throat as she started to pile things in front of him, forming a barricade.  She froze when blaster shots went off outside, her head twisted over her shoulder so that her brown hair formed a long curtain down her back.  She jumped when she heard a scream, and went as still as to look like she had been carved from stone when the scream stopped and an explosion rocked the house.  Mom yanked the curtains shut, stepping over the boxes and things and wrapping her arms around him as she crouched in the darkness.  Corvan’s hand sought out the Heart of Fire she wore around her neck, the one Dad gave her when they got married, way before he was born.  It held comforting memories in it that tended to help calm him down.  As much as he tried though, it wasn’t working for him now.

Footsteps could be heard walking through the house, crunching on broken glass and debris.  From where he was pressed, Corvan’s ear was directly over Mom’s heart.  It was hammering as fast as his own.  She had his head turned to the wall where he could see small cracks and cobwebs, the latter of which shook in a slight breeze.  He had never silently cried before, but something told him if he made a peep that it would be fatal, so he stared at a funny-looking crack in the wall while tears blurred his vision.

The footfalls came to a halt at the bedroom door.  Corvan could feel the hair rising on the back of his neck as he and Mom anticipated either the intruder turning aside to investigate other parts of the house or barging in.  The sound of the door hissing into the wall was louder than he remembered that noise to be.  The footsteps came into the room, slow, deliberate.  Corvan peeked out from where his Mom had him tucked against her to look through a crack in her arms.

He didn’t hear the intruder near the closet, but he saw the shadows of the figure’s feet sweep back and forth.  Very slowly, the shadow came towards them.  Corvan knew his heart couldn’t stop but it felt like it had as the curtain rustled.  He only caught a glimpse of the figure clad in grey armor with fresh blood dripping down his chestplate before Mom was hiding his face against her.

“No--Please--”

He could feel Mom’s voice reverberating through him as she spoke, rivaling her rapid heartbeat.  

“Well hello,” the figure said, his tone far too casual for the situation.

He took another step forward and Mom shrank back against the far wall.  Corvan squeezed the rock in his hand hard enough for his fingers to feel numb.

“You could make things far easier if you let go,” the intruder remarked.

He thought he heard a blaster being unholstered, but he didn’t know for sure.  He had never seen a blaster close up before.  The only time he had seen one in real life was when the law enforcement officers carried them around in the town.  He wondered why they weren’t here to stop this.  Mom was holding him so tightly that he thought she might crush him.

“Don’t you touch him!” she shrieked, her voice hysterical. “Don’t you touch my baby!  Don’t you touch my baby!”

The shadow loomed closer.  Corvan felt Mom reach out, batting at the intruder with her nails.  

“Don’t you--”

The man yanked her head back by her hair, startling her so that her chant ceased.

“I won’t let you hurt him,” she said, her voice suddenly very calm and cold.

The man chuckled, the sound turning Corvan’s blood to ice.

“I don’t hurt children, shabuire.  Only the parents.”

A scream tried to work its way out of her throat, starting with an intake of air.  A blaster shot cut her off before she could get it out.  Corvan could feel her hold loosen around him, but had little time to register that she was dead when he was being torn away.  His grip on her Heart of Fire tightened so much that his small knuckles stood out white.  There was a brief moment when it looked as though the necklace would stay with his dead parent, then the chain yielded with a snap, causing her head to jerk forward before her body slapped backwards on the tile.  Corvan was hefted in the arms of the grey-armored man with the blood smearing his helmet.  He wanted to kick and writhe free but he couldn’t.  He twisted his head around to stare down at the body crumpled on the floor, her blue eyes wide, mouth gaping, a golden, smoking hole in her forehead.  He would have continued to stare in shock if the man didn’t turn away and start tramping through the room and down the hall.

The front door had been blown inwards, black scorch marks in the middle that still hissed with heat where the door was embedded in the couch.

The man carrying him stepped over something lying on the steps leading up and out of the recessed house.  It was only after they had passed into the tall grass that Corvan realized it was his dad.  He hadn’t recognized him with the half of his face singed off, but the clothes were unmistakably the ones he had been wearing when he told him to run to the house.  He wanted to get away but the man’s grip was strong.  And he still held his blaster in one hand that Corvan could see as he swung it by his side with each step.  Tears of frustration and terror continued to stream down his face while he watched the man’s boots caked in dirt and blood plod on, taking him further away from his home.

Presently, they emerged out on the flat surface where the fields could be seen, rolling in the light wind in a lazy manner that contradicted the massacre in the home.  The man started to stride through the grass, heading in a straight line towards where smoke could be seen beyond the field.  Corvan didn’t know why he had been taken.  If he was going to be killed too, he hoped it would be fast.

He tensed when the man spoke, talking to someone up ahead that Corvan couldn’t quite see.  He craned his neck, brushing his dark hair against the helmet.

“Cyar’ika!  Found a little ad’ika--”

A blaster discharge rang out in the air.  The man’s body jerked backwards, his footsteps immediately halting as he emitted a gurgling noise.  Corvan saw a red-hot hole appear at the back of the man’s neck, smelled burned meat, and was suddenly falling with him.  He let out a cry of alarm as the body toppled over him, kicking and twisting to get out under it while one hand still clung to the Heart of Fire.  He tasted dirt as he scrabbled away on scuffed knees and elbows, staying low.  He heard someone coming.

“Udesii, Little One,” the approaching stranger said.  Sounded like a lady. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Corvan didn’t believe her.  His eyes searched the ground and latched onto the blaster at the same time his free hand did.  He tucked the jewel against his chest, holding the heavy weapon out in a one-handed grip as it shook.  He got a good look at her as he stood up.  She wore the same dark armor as the man did.  Were they related?  Why did she shoot him then?

“Go away!” he shouted. “Go away!  Leave me alone!”

She paused, holding her hands up and away from the blasters holstered at her side as a show of good faith.  Her hands went to the helmet on her head, lifting it and showing a blue-skinned face with red eyes.  Her brows were pressed together, her expression pitying.

“It’s okay, Little One,” she said, voice soft and sibilant. “I’m not going to hurt you--”

“Why’re you dressed like him?” Corvan snapped.  His sweaty fingers tightened around the blaster.  He was doing his best to keep it from tipping forward in his grip.

The woman clipped the helmet to her belt, crouching so she was eye level with him.

“We’re of the same clan.  He wasn’t supposed to kill anyone but he disobeyed orders.  Are you all right?”

“I--”

The blaster dipped down slightly.  He wasn’t really hurt.  He got those scrapes and bruises from having the dead man fall on him, but the man hadn’t been rough when he took him from his Mom’s arms.  Corvan tumbled the question over in his head, thinking it over differently.  He wasn’t all right inside.  It felt like something was broken, but not like a bone.  His mind dredged up Mom with the hole in her head and Dad on the steps with his burned face.

He released the blaster and let it fall to the ground as sobs shook his small frame.  There were a few quick steps from the end of the woman and he was suddenly engulfed in a firm hug accompanied by soft words of comfort.  He didn’t know why she was being kind but he had no one else left, so he leaned into the embrace and the words and the gentle stroking of his hair.

She picked him up at some point after putting her helmet back on, holding him tightly as she clicked something on her arm.  They were immediately airborne.  Corvan closed his eyes against the wind that lashed them and the noise, pressing his head against the fabric on her neck.  He only opened them and unclenched his body when they descended to more voices and people speaking a strange language.  He was surrounded by other grey-clad armored figures, some indicating that they weren’t human by the different looks of their armor.  A gloved hand patted him on the head as his rescuer walked past several towards a large transport.  He saw some other children among them, a few kiffar like himself, along with some humans and a twi’lek.

“What happened to Harme?  Comms went dead,” said a dark haired man with red kiffar tattoos, wiping blood from a knife.

Corvan wasn’t sure, but something in the man’s eyes said he knew what Harme’s fate was.

“Locals got him,” the woman said.

She was lying.  Why?

“Stupid barve,” one of the figures muttered.

“Yes,” Corvan’s rescuer purred. “Very foolish to leave himself open like that.”

She took him to the transport, stepping up the ramp as the rest began to pile in.  There were some hooks on the ceiling for those who wished to stand to hold, plenty of seats with large harnesses lining the walls.  His rescuer sat down on one of the seats, readjusting her grip on him.

“What’s your name, Little One?” she asked, her voice sounding more thin from the helmet. “I’m Velean.”

It took him several minutes for him to find his voice.  The transport had sealed shut and lifted off by the time he spoke, voice barely a whisper.

“Corvan.”

Velean wiped at his wet face with her gloved hand, tucking his head close to her shoulder.  He was so tired and numb.  The blue of the Heart of Fire glinted in the red lights of the ship’s interior.

“I’m going to take care of you, Corvan.  No one’s going to hurt you.”

He believed her.