Stump's Revenge
by John Allison

     The sun of the nameless rock beat down on Stump's blistered back.  He wearily looked out over the vast desert, the 
gruntak, that he would have to cross yet again.  He admitted a lack of technical knowledge, but did the landing pad have 
to be so far from the headquarters?  Come to think of it, what did slavers need with these heavy boxes, anyway?  The 
sting of a force whip brought his mind back in focus.  "Move along, Hugelarge!" the dirty Human growled.
     Stump Hugelarge.  That's what they called him, and, as far as he was concerned, that was the only name he had.  
Apparently his three-meter height was amusing to them.  They had sold off his parents before he ever knew them, and 
his only source of information on the outside galaxy was the other slaves.  That's how he learned he was an Amani.
 Most of the other slaves had been sold or worse as time went by, only to be replaced.  Stump seemed to be the only 
permanent resident beside the three Human slavers.  It was quite possible that he was treated even worse because of it.  
At least they let him keep the wooden staff he carried around.

     That night Stump lay on the dirt as usual, too hungry to sleep.  How many days had it been since they remembered to 
feed him?  He wasn't sure.  His thoughts were interrupted by a distant sound, like a low rumble.  "Whatever it is, it 
doesn't concern me," he growled irritably before closing his eyes again and trying to dose off.  That was when the 
piercing shriek of the alarms started.
     At first Stump thought it was another foolhardy slave that tried to escape, but then the sound of starfighter engines 
passed low overhead.  It sounded just like the Z-95 Headhunters that belonged to the slavers' mercenary security militia.  
A few seconds passed before he heard a thunderous explosion nearby.  Stump leaped to his feet and plodded to the door 
of his cramped cell, once again wishing he were in the trees where he could move quickly.  He slammed the door off its 
track with a well-placed swing from his staff.
     Slaves and mercenary guards ran in every direction.  In the confusion, Stump, who was big and not very graceful, 
managed to sneak outside the building.  When he got outdoors he saw the slavers' Headhunters in a losing battle with 
some similar fighters with x-shaped s-foils (a technical term he had heard often enough to figure out what it meant).  A 
group of mercs ran past him without even noticing.  He tried to follow as best as he could.  Unfortunately, he was a slow 
runner, and if he got down and rolled, he couldn't see where he was going.
     By the time he caught up, all but one of the mercs lay strewn about dead.  Big holes were burned in the corpses; 
some were missing body parts.  Stump choked back a laugh.  Amanin tended to have a morbid sense of humor.
 The last mercenary was manning a large piece of artillery, which he was firing at an armored landspeeder.  The 
landspeeder was not in good shape.  Stump ran up behind the distracted gunner and clubbed him in the head hard enough 
to make a wet cracking sound.  The laser cannon, deprived of an operator, stopped firing, and the landspeeder slowed to 
a stop.  A Human got out and walked over to Stump cautiously.  "Are you a slave?" he asked hesitantly.
     No, I'm here for the scenery, the Amani thought.  "Uh, yes, sir," Stump answered.  He probably didn't have to use 
formal titles, but the force of habit prevailed.
     The man shook Stump's elongated hand.  "We're from the Rebel Alliance.  We're here to break up the slaving ring."
     Stump had heard of the Rebel Alliance.  Actually, he had heard a lot of contradictory stories about it from the newer 
slaves.  It didn't matter what some might say, though; the enemies of the slavers were his allies.  "A transport is coming 
in about fifteen minutes to carry you and the others out of here," the Rebel continued.
     Stump was ecstatic.  He would finally get off this festering planet and away from the slavers.  As he opened his 
mouth to thank his new friends, he felt a sharp burning pain in his back.  He let out a loud yelp and turned to see a 
Human in smasher armor holding a heavy blaster.  The Human fired again at point blank range.
     A stream of light burned into Stump's chest, hurting even more than the first.  If it weren't for the Amani's redundant 
anatomy, he would probably have died from the first shot.  Stump growled threateningly and jumped on the merc, 
wrenching the blaster out of the Human's hand.  His fingers were too long to control a blaster accurately, but he still left 
the merc with a few smoking holes.

     Minutes later Stump arrived back at the headquarters to free any slaves who might still be trapped in their cells.  Just 
inside the front entrance, a blaster battle was going on between Alliance troops and mercenary soldiers.  Stump carefully 
weaved through the corridor and ducked into the closest room.
     The Amani was very surprised to find Noshim, Guines, and Ekk, the slaver bosses, stuffing all their credits into a bag.  
Guines, the one who had whipped him earlier in the day, snarled, "We'd better take care of this three-meter loose end."  
He picked up a blaster rifle and pointed it at Stump's head.  When he pulled the trigger, it made a rapid clicking noise.  It 
was out of ammunition.  
     Stump laughed out loud.

     Three months later, Stump became a security guard for an Alliance administrator.  He loved his job since he was 
good at what he did.  They had given him a blaster rifle, but he still couldn't control it very well.  His weapon of choice 
would always be his wooden staff, decorated with three Human skulls.

Copyright John Allison 1998