BUTT WARS
Rogue Buns
By Chuck Tingle
My time here on planet Gerbin has not been easy, but that’s to be expected when you’re trapped on a floating rock of lowlifes and marauders at the farthest edge of the galaxy. This is a place when the very notion of law is something to laugh about, where justice is doled out at the end of a blaster.
The wild frontier lifestyle is exactly why I ended up here in the first place, and even though my ship is out of commission at the moment, I don’t know if I’d take off even if I could. After all, where am I going to go?
The last time I checked, I was one of the most wanted petty criminals in the entire galaxy, a title that is equally impressive and embarrassing. It’s not like I would want to get involved in high profile charges, and I’m certainly not one to get violent, but tacking the word “petty” on the front of anything kind of destroys any sense of real accomplishment.
I’ve never taken someone’s life, only their livelihood. As a thief and a hustler, I’ve managed to swindle hundreds of creatures from across the universe in any number of scams, or simply opportunities of straight up burglary. I was getting away with it, too, living large in a ship that was ten times the size of the one that I’m now stuck with in these swamps. Back in those days, I was just as notorious but in an entirely different way; a high roller as opposed to a fugitive on the run.
Eventually, however, my criminal behavior started to catch up with me. After a run in with the local authorities over in Sector 530, I was forced to abandon the ship I call home and high tail it as far out into the stars as I possibly could, on a stolen puddle jumper that managed to get me here and them promptly crash on arrival. Fortunately, this dump of a planet is lawless enough that I was able to simply live in the remains of my vessel without much trouble.
These days I spend my time making a living in the local card game at Jub’s Cantina, the nearby watering hole for renegades and degenerates who are just as bad as I am.
I’m typically greeted warmly by the bar tender, Jub himself, but tonight is an exception. The second that I walk through the door Jub starts shaking his head, his three eyes wide.
“You better get out of here,” Jub tells me. “They’re looking for you.”
“Who is?” I ask.
“The Bubble Alliance,” Jub continues.
I have to admit, this is not the response that I expected. In this time of turmoil, The Umpire is the signature force of law and order throughout the galaxy, if you could call their oppressive brand of justice law and order. Very few are fans of The Umpire and it’s powerful grasp on tax and trade, and their warlike nature is something that is certainly to be feared.
In response to The Umpire’s icy grip, The Bubble Alliance has slowly started to take back sections of the galaxy, bringing things to a relatively peaceful balance. It’s not uncommon for me to deal with the Bubbles, but my crimes were against Umpire law, so I have no idea what this other faction could possibly want with me.
Regardless, I don’t care to find out.
The second that I recognize the situation I spin around and head back towards the door from which I came, but immediately find that my path is blocked by two Bubble fighters with their blasters drawn.
“Lerpo Yams?” one of the imposing men asks.
I shake my head. “Nope.”
The two fighters exchange glances. “Please come with us, sir.”
Realizing that there’s simply no way out of this, I finally relax and put my hands in the air. One of the Bubbles comes forward and searches me, finding my weapon and removing it from its holster.
“Am I under arrest for something?” I question. “I’ve got a wrap sheet with The Umpire a mile long, but the last time I checked you guys don’t want much to do with them.”
“Just come with us, sir,” the fighters repeat, nodding towards the door.
I let out a long sigh and do as I’m told, exiting the cantina while the eyes of the nearby criminals remain locked onto me. I have no doubt they are brimming with excitement as they watch one of their peers get carted away.
The resistance fighters walk behind me as we head out into the swamp, their weapons trained directly against my back. Fortunately, this is a particularly dry season on Gerbin and we have found ourselves with a long, grassy pathway that cuts through the bog.
It’s not long before I find myself standing at the base of a large Bubble Alliance ship that rest comfortably at the center of a small clearing, marshland mist swirling up and around it. The cargo bay is already open like a giant gaping maw, beckoning me inside to meet whatever fate has been brought down upon me.
“Nice place you’ve got here,” I tell the fighters as we head inside.
It sounds snarky, but I’m telling the truth. I’ve been on this planet so long that I can’t even remember the way that a clean, well-kept ship feels, no moss or mold slowly making it’s way through the cracks and no vines crawling down from the vents above.
“Over there,” one of the fighters commands.
We make our way down a long corridor until eventually arriving in a small meeting room that appears to be designated for tactical planning of some kind. There is a small round table with two guards seated on opposite sides, and a handsome uniformed captain in the middle. The captain stands up to greet me, extending his hand with a shockingly inviting break in protocol.
“Lepro,
