The Raider

Planet Hoth was generous and compassionate, but these were delivered from a freezing and icy heart. There was only one contest there, and it was survival. Perhaps it could have been a planet covered in ocean and teeming with life, but it was shoved far from the reach of any sun with warm rays to comfort it. If someone could move it closer, perhaps it could understand it's own brutality. It was the same sort of speculation as to how a human could speak true Tusken. First of all, the human tongue would have to be split into four slithers and rammed back into its larynx. No human has ever spoken one accurate word of Tusken, and in retrospect, no Tusken Raider has ever spoke human. It's impossible. Grutex muttered to himself, "I should have left it all alone." He then laughed, "All alone: kind of funny, I guess."

Grutex was as close a pronunciation as a human will get to... Grutex's real name, without of course the human mutilating their mouth and practicing for years. And Grutex was both right and wrong, about how he should have left it all alone. If he had, he would not be on Hoth now, stranded; he was for all purposes, not suited. He could actually feel the cold vice his very bones.

Being abnormal, as he was, his thoughts lied not on immediate survival, but rather several steps ahead unraveling the mystery as to how he would escape this planet. Very few Tusken Raiders had ever possessed this trait. They primarily lived in the moment, and once that was satisfied gave no attention to the next. This gave good reason to their nomadic traits.

His steps were more like leaps in the thigh deep drift. For certain, beneath the snow was solid ice, and what was below there? Who knew? Who cared? He did have one hope. Grutex was well read, and by this it is meant he kept his ears open. No Tusken Raiders could actually read as far as was known. He listened to the stories kept by the other abnormal Tusken Raiders, of which he knew only two and they were much older than him. This was how Grutex knew which planet he was on, which would have not been known by the average Tusken Raider. He certainly was of an exclusive and shunned elect. Babgrat had told a story of how snow as ice is harvested from this planet, turned to water, and sold to star crafts stationed in deep space. There was supposedly one location on where this harvesting occurred, and if he kept on the move, maybe he would luck up and catch a ride. Besides, if there was one thing a Tusken Raider knew how to do, it was how to keep on the move.

As unfortunate as Grutex's plight was, he had been lucky in some mysterious ways. He knew he was close to the harvesting area because he had seen it from above through the ship's front shields as it had landed. The area was unmistakable, large rectangular divots were cut in the snow's underlying ice, looking like a huge snowed over quarry. A special note, above all, he had made as to the direction in which it laid. He pushed through snow which was getting only deeper and colder. Once he slipped and stumbled, but the snow was deep enough to catch his fall. A mighty walrus sounding growl roared from him, a sound he had not made since very young and upset, and of which he felt was a primeval and backwards display; yet it came forth surprisingly natural. He slumped forward in the snow and blistering wind and cried under his breath, "But I couldn't leave it alone."

And by it, he meant her. Tusken tribes are ruled by the backwards primeval laws which Grutex and his few elect could not mix naturally. The right to possess female Tusken Raiders was given to the strongest and most savage, and she was taken from Grutex by the tribal war lord. Of course Grutex was welcome to win her back by physical force if he could, and no qualms would have been made about it; but instead he challenged the war lord through the spoken word and tore him apart, and this would just not stand. Everyone in the Tusken Raider tribe knew the war lord had been for some time receiving gifts and payments from the Empire by commanding members of the tribe to do tasks the troopers found undesirable. And at first, the war lord was simply going to kill Grutex for his act of intolerable superiority, but the two similar elders persuaded the war lord otherwise. Instead the war lord struck another deal with the storm troopers, and instead of receiving monies, asked the storm troopers to do the most cruel action they could conjure to Grutex without killing him. What more ironic cruelty could they have done than to pitch him out on a planet which was the extreme opposite of Tatooine?

One of the pilot storm troopers in the small shuttle thumbed back at Grutex, letting him know the storm trooper was talking about him, but he couldn't understand a word they were saying. "Those things carry quite a smell don't they?"

The co-pilot laughed, "That's to say the least. I wonder what this poor bastard did to be exiled."

The pilot responded, "Who could guess? Doesn't matter, though. We need to keep relations with the war lord on good terms. He is trading us a set of Banthas and some weapons for this one Tusken Raider, so whatever he did must have been pretty bad."

"Yeah, there is really no way to tell with their traditions. They are so barbaric and strange. So what's the plan? We drop him out on Hoth, take a hologram recording of him to show to the war lord and just leave him there to suffer to and die?"

"That's the plan."

"That' cold, man." The two of them laughed heartily, and Grutex could make this much out. Then they began to speak again, and once again he was lost without an interpreter, "So, now that we have these Banthas and stuff back on Tatooine, do you think it will help us find the droids we are looking for?"

The pilot shrugged, "I don't know. It's like finding a needle in a pile of straw. At least we will be able to keep some of our actions under cover and let the Tusken Raiders catch the blame."

There was silence, and then a pinging sound from the shuttle console. "Okay. We are close to Hoth now. Where do you want to set it down?"

"We need a spot where the wind doesn't tear this ship apart. Let me do a scan." The pilot studied a monitor which was feeding data rapidly, "Hey, well look at this. Seems smugglers have been harvesting ice from this planet and selling it as water. I bet the area is tested as pretty safe then."

Chuckling, the co-pilot said, "You have got to be kidding."

"No, no. For real, there is like some sort of... ice quarry down there."

"I wonder what idiots are paying good money to buy water collected from this hell hole."

"Yeah, let me... look... " the pilot was giving more study to the data. "Give it a sec. Looks like this report has never been tallied before." A few seconds more and the numbers were shown on his screen, "Holy crud. You have got to be kidding!"

"What?" the co-pilot was somewhat alarmed.

The pilot popped his palms on the console and then raised them in front of him, sort of in the same way to suggest a surrender, "The Empire is the number one customer."

"Wha... ?" the co-pilot giggled.

"Yep, we are the idiots buying the ice water quarried here. Oh, and it looks like the receipts track most of it back to the Death Star."

The co-pilot nodded, "Yeah, well the water is nice and cold on the Death Star. Have you ever noticed that?"

The pilot said, "You know, I have. Just never really thought too much about it. But when I get a drink there, I always think, wow, this is good water."

The glow of Hoth spilled in to the cabin of the shuttle craft. It's casting light, too, was cold. The co-pilot turned back to the Tusken Raider cuffed behind them, "You," he pointed to Grutex, "are one lucky Tusken Raider. I bet you will be the first to ever see snow."

Grutex could not make out a word of it, but he was sure it was not good. The pilot had made remarks on the size of the quarry seen from high above, and it was massive. Each member of the shuttle stared through the front shield to give a small token of marvel at it, and this is when Grutex made his mental note to it's direction.

Even in this safer zone of Hoth, a gale of wind whipped the shuttle craft, and all inside feared a flipping was inevitable. The pilot managed to stabilize the craft and make a touch down, leaving the engines hot, he had no desire to risk a faulty engine start up here. The sound of the wind channeling around the shuttle was a clear message which could be interpreted no matter your species, and Grutex felt his heart shrink back into his chest. The voyage had been too quick; he wasn't ready to face this. The pilot swiveled around in his seat and faced Grutex, telling him, "Okay bud. This is your stop."

Grutex was pretty sure he knew the plan by all the hints, they were going to leave him here. He looked down at his cuffed hands and slightly gestured them forward.

The pilot laughed, "What? You want me to take those off? No way."

The co-pilot said, "Come on man. Have a bit of heart. It won't make any difference; he's still going to freeze to death out there."

"These things are pretty strong, and mean as hell. I'm not going to risk him taking us with him."

While unsnapping his seat restraints the co-pilot said, "You can take them off outside and I will cover you. Besides, it saves us a pair of cuffs."

Grutex stood on the very outer edge of the ramp outside the shuttle. The pilot was removing the cuffs, and he hesitated. The co-pilot had a blaster drawn covering the Tusken Raider, whose browns and grays were in sharp contrast to the blinding snow behind him. The pilot turned to the co and said, "Just for kicks, want to take his wraps off and see what they look like underneath?"

"No man. It's cold out here. Just get it over with."

"You're not even just a little curious?"

The co-pilot rocked his body a little anxiously, "Not really. Not that curious. Not enough to waste time here. Come on, it's cold."

The pilot resumed removing the bindings from Grutex, but for a brief moment noticed the fluttering and flapping of his Tusken tunic and clothes as the snow was swarming passed. It made the Tusken Raider almost seem to be in motion, though he was standing perfectly still. The bandages and masking hid all expression, and gave the Tusken Raider an appearance of having no soul, as if he were nothing more than an over sized rag doll. The trooper finished unsnapping the cuffs from Grutex and said, "You things are so weird." He stuck his armored foot forward and planted it in Grutex's chest, forcing the Tusken Raider into the snow on his back. The pilot reached back towards the co-pilot, who handed him a small black device, with which a short hologram snap shop of the Tusken Raider was taken. As the blue energy light scanned him, Grutex flinched and felt highly violated.

The pilot made his way back into the shuttle as as the co-pilot kept his blaster on Grutex, who made no effort to get back on his feet. He simply watched the pilot disappear back into the warm shuttle and the co-pilot send Grutex a brief sloppy salute. The shuttle door closed and the engines raged, and soon, it was but a speck fading high behind the falling snow.

A guttural sigh rattled from the Tusken Raider. As his life went, it was time to be on the move again.

Grutex continued to force his way through the snow, towards his slim chance of hope. He said to himself, "I was wrong about one thing, snow's not so great." Anyone who was an inhabitant of a hot desert planet fantasized of snow, or rain, or grass, at least some in their life, sure in their heart it would be paradise compared to being stuck with the sand and the heat. Of course, the primitive Tusken Raiders scoffed the idea of snow as though it was a myth. Grutex was fairly certain snow was not a myth now, but he had reservations about paradise existing anyplace; this would have to remain one of life's unanswered questions for now.

He would, however, find the answer to a question he never thought to ask. Would one know the difference between the sensation of slipping on ice or ice shifting below their feet? The answer is, no: not with limited experience. He did, however, create a mental note, that what feels like a slip, may not be a slip. But this mental note was made way, way after the point of mattering. When the ice had made the first crack under his feet and caused him to slide back a bit, he thought he had simply slid. After all, the deep snow was pushing back on him. When the monstrous tentacle came bursting from beneath the icy ground and wrapped around his legs, his panic notified him he had been more than mistaken. Another embarrassing guttural screech, and he was being dragged down below the ice.

This one tentacle could have dragged something much larger than a Tusken Raider down to the depths, Grutex vanished with a puff of snow. He had been discovered by a beast undocumented and unseen by any other sentient being. The front of the tentacle was sticky and back was covered in a thick white fur, and though Grutex would never see them, there were seven more of these ten meter tentacles extruding from a horror too difficult to describe due to it's manner of consumption and locomotion. What is important is since Sandagra, his Tusken Raider love interest, had been taken from him, this was the second time the world had been ripped from beneath Grutex's feet. Another mysterious favor had been paid to Grutex, he had been knocked unconscious as soon as he had went under the surface. If not for the make up of his thick Tusken Raider cranium and the wrappings around his head, the blow against the icy drop would have easily killed him, as it did most species which was dragged down below. The hidden tentacle creature relied on this fact, which is why when Grutex's consciousness came back he found himself stock piled for a later meal. But while in his dark slumber, his mind fell back to where he should have left things alone, but could not, thereby finding himself exiled, beneath the snow and ice, alone.

If fear could be instantly turned to salvation, Grtuex would have been swept home but with a single breath. Instead, fear was devouring him. Was this the furious grave of the after life? He was cold, but not the incredible cold he had suffered, and the darkness was draped all about him. He laid on something pliable, crunchy. Inside his tunic was a small light, he removed it and switched it on. Piled beneath him were taun tauns and wampas, still and dead. There was no smell of rot or decay, the temperature was keeping them preserved. His memory was very slight as to how he had gotten down here in this tomb, he remembered, maybe, something gripping his legs. He wondered if any of these hapless creatures here with him had had any better idea of what found them here, but there was no asking as their fate had been decided. Grutex slowed his breath and calmed his soul. As vexing as this nightmare was, he knew the cloud of fear must be lifted if he were to survive.

Climbing upward was not an option, the ice was too slick no matter how he tried. The cavern he was in did tunnel in both directions, but what would he find? To move meant possible death, something a Tusken Raider developed a thick skin to, yet to remain still was a certainty, and this too was a way of life for the Tusken Raider. If he were to find his way back out in the cold as opposed into the grips of whatever had dragged him down here, he would have to suffer the ravaging cold again on the surface, and this he knew would kill him. He looked down at the littered creatures and saw they were all covered in thick furs. Breaking loose a sharp shard of ice, he tested the wampa hide and found it incredibly tough, and so opted for the taun taun which was much easier to slice through. Grutex began to fashion a taun taun pelt. The stench of the animals innards assaulted him; he muttered, "These things definitely smell better on the outside than the inside."

Still, he thanked the donor of the skin for being gracious enough to die for his needs, and he began to move on in the easiest tunnel to walk through once he had wrapped himself in the taun taun hide. He moved as quickly as he could through the passage bored in the ice, his light showing the way, and he had the nagging sensation fingers of death would grip him from behind at any moment.

Ahead appeared to be nothing more than empty tunnel, this pleased Grutex yet did not allow him to relax, rather it pushed him to move faster still. He kept his light before him, and sill wielded the shard of ice he had skinned the taun taun with. Tripping and falling could be as disastrous as being eaten if he landed on it just right. His breathing was hard and labored, and loud, and... dueled? Never had he heard his breathing sound as though it were waves crashing at random rhythms. Wait, it now occurred to him this was two sets of labored breathing falling in and out of sync. Quickly he flashed his light behind him, a wildly animated ice wampa was on his heels. Was this what had busted through the ice and dragged him below? Had it discovered one of its meals was hard at escape? It was clearly out running him and would be on him soon. He turned the light back to the wampa and fell flat on the ice, it pays to never look back.

Aggravated by the light, the wampa snarled. Grutex held the shard of ice up in anticipation of the wampa leaping on him. The wampa's rate of speed never slowed as it ran right past Grutex. Apparently it was not in the eating state of mind. Grutex tracked it with his light, the beast never looked back. A worst idea suddenly mobbed Grutex's mind, the wampa was running away just like he was, except the wampa's intent appeared to be far more dire. Grutex's heart fell to a lower trough than the depths of the burrowed tunnel when he knew there could be only one explanation. Once again he quickly flashed the light back to where the wampa had come from, and along the tunnel walls and ceiling, seething forward, was a mass furry tentacles.

Grutex scrambled violently to his feet and shot forward. This time, there would be no looking back, he had only one desire, and that was to out run the wampa. He even screamed out in vain, "Wait!" His sprint was warped into a tug of war, one of the tentacles was winding around his right leg. Grutex heard his ice shard clatter to the ground and his light made dizzying strobes as it spun where it had landed; he had released both with the initial jerk of his capture. When the light came to a rest, it shown on the shard. He fell flat and reached for the ice knife; his finger tips grazed it and pushed it farther from him. His left foot found a hold and he shoved, stretching his body against the pull of the beast which had caught him. One finger pressed down on the ice shard. He clawed it back and grabbed it and rolled over and sat up. The tentacle yanked him a couple of meters across the ice, almost causing him to loose the shard again. Darkness was blotting out all he could see, another yank like the previous and he would have no aim. The muscles beneath the tentacle's fur coiled, he could see another pull was triggering. The knife came down with all of the force he could muster, sinking deeply into the tentacle. It released him and retreated like a wounded snake. Before it had a chance to lick it wounds and regroup its ambition, Grutex fled, scooping up his light and sprinting away