Cade was just buttoning the hatch down on a finicky robotic cultivator when his eyes and ears drew his attention northward. You didn’t need to be a twenty year veteran of the Republic Marines, as he was, to recognize the blinding light and the thundering roar of a Skladaaran landing craft coming to rest.
He spat out his chaw of syntho-bacco unsure if the sour taste in his mouth was a result of that or symptomatic of the aliens’ arrival. He could have gone to town, as many did, to watch the massive insectoids claim their tribute of slaves, but such held no attraction for him.
Out here in the fields, he would attend to his business and to his harvest and they were welcome to stay in town and tend to theirs.