Riz Carter
Detective - Planetary Division
There was a rumor spreading on Rasho the Hutt's slave ship. Rumors on this ship spread quicker than her little body could shine with a burning fire. Quickly-beating wings carried her down one of the many corridors as slave after slave repeated the unconfirmed legend.
Rasho the Hutt was Dead.
Were they free?
Several slave boys, girls, and animals were already making their way toward the massive exit of the docked-ship as the whispers of He's dead, He's dead, He's dead thrummed in the air, thrummed against her wings, and whispered past her hair as a steady and increasingly powerful beat. If they were right, it would mean freedom. If they were wrong, well...
Better not to be wrong.
The bright sun of the Tattooine space port brightened the corridors as she flew steadily toward the exit. Toward freedom. And hopefully toward something way more comfortable than the tiny-brass bikini Rasho liked so much.
Rasho the Hutt was Dead.
Were they free?
Several slave boys, girls, and animals were already making their way toward the massive exit of the docked-ship as the whispers of He's dead, He's dead, He's dead thrummed in the air, thrummed against her wings, and whispered past her hair as a steady and increasingly powerful beat. If they were right, it would mean freedom. If they were wrong, well...
Better not to be wrong.
The bright sun of the Tattooine space port brightened the corridors as she flew steadily toward the exit. Toward freedom. And hopefully toward something way more comfortable than the tiny-brass bikini Rasho liked so much.