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He released Piggy but didn’t ease his tensed muscles.
He shared a look with me.
It was both humble and reproachful.
“Everything’s going to be all right,” he said.
There was a curl to his smile that dimpled his chin and gave me a little hope he wasn’t only saying that to allay my fears.
“Bring them,” Piggy said.
As he trudged through the sand, the two guards followed on our heels, the glowing orbs of plasma casting our shadows across the sand that stretched and clipped at Piggy’s heels.
We were prisoners once again.
They led us into a broad valley that’d been cleared on one side.
Random objects protruded from the sand and a dozen other piglike creatures stood in circles cradling metal cups in clipped trotters.
They turned and watched us with tiny black eyes, like raisins drying in the sun.
They wore goggles of varying size. Some were big and wide and round, others even smaller than Piggy’s.
A couple raised their trotters and squinted, forming wrinkles on either side of their eyes like used tea bags.
The object that took up most of the space was a long cylindrical structure.
One side was raised and perched on a hydraulic arm. A ramp lay half submerged by sand that led inside.
Attached to the front of the building was what appeared to be a giant drill bit.
It was chipped and stained with dirt, and some of the teeth were missing from having chewed dirt and hard rocks.
A pair of rudimentary robots fussed over the dust, sweeping it up into tiny dustpans.
Lights blinked on the top of their heads, flashing red every time they sensed more dust and sand that needed clearing.
Piggy drew to a stop outside the cigar-shaped building.
“Watch them,” he said, issuing an order to our guards, their weapons still trained on us.
The dozen other figures fingered the blaster pistols at their waists.
I peered closer at the weapons hanging from their belts.
One was an empty handle that didn’t support a blade.
Could they be real-life lightsabers? I wondered.
Their rotund bearers sure didn’t look much like the powerful Jedis from the movies.
Piggy marched toward the cigar-shaped building but didn’t ascend the hatch into the main room.
Instead, he proceeded until he reached the door at the end.
He rapped on it with his small gloved fist.
A moment later, a slat like a 1920’s speakeasy slid open and a pair of stained yellow eyes peered out.
