Brocmil's headache or You will not waste that talent!

by P.S.A

Goaga is a simple lost 'human'. He has no idea where he's from or just how old he is and it doesn't help that he claims to once hear voices. Goaga even sees himself as normal and that's not what Bounty Hunter Brocmil sees when he's forced to use the slave to get him close to the target. The only question now is will Brocmil survive his little project nor not?

Everyone around me loves to know what they know, they know what they like, what they don't. They know who their kin is and where their home planet is. They know how old they are based on their planet's rotation and know just how they got from there to here.

And yet, I don't have a single name or number to give any of those who have tooken me in over the years. I know I didn't appear out of nowhere. I was at a space port somewhere out there, with people who I can't call my parents. Out there in the cold darkness there were comforting voices and faint lights that surround us.

It's not that I was too young to remember these important things. It's just that it's simply not there, like those voices which comforted me while I was being smuggled with those women. Those voices told me to keep my head low and to say nothing when I was shaking in my cuffs as men looked me over for my worth. They sung me to sleep when I witnessed my first night on this slave planet. They told me things that I've forgotten, and told me that the best way to return was to spur the others into attacking our slave owner in his palace. To steal a ship and to return back home. What they didn't tell me was that I would lose them and more when those cruel owners punished us.

Sitting in an abandoned hut and poking the fire with an iron rod, I simply watched the flames jump and dance though their snaps and hisses do nothing for me. This used to be a lively home, but this hut like others have gone empty since our failed attack. I don't know why they left me here when I am technically the founder of the attack, nor do I understand their reasoning for either killing or moving the others. Why is it that my world goes silent and others lose their blood and homes instead? It's been like this for years and the work load has simply doubled on my end as well as my solitude.

I will perhaps never know the reason for why all these things have happen the way they have happened. But I know one thing for sure. I'm not alone in this hut anymore. Someone is standing over me, their face covered and a blaster pointed right at my face. I don't know if they are speaking or if there is only the fire making noise in this hut. I know though my heart has stopped and this might be the end.