flaming june painting

Harsh, metallic, octagonal, it seemed to cut like an insult into the verdant beauty ofthe place. The bushes at its perimeter were singed black from repeated shuttlelandings; the flora beyond that was wilting—dying from refuse disposal, tramplingfeet, chemical exhaust fumes. Like a blight was this outpost. Uniformed troops walked continuously on the platform and in the area—loading,unloading, surveilling, guarding. Imperial walkers were parked off to oneside—square, armored, two-legged war machines, big enough for a squad of soldiersto stand inside, firing laser cannon in all directions. An Imperial shuttle took off forthe Death Star, with a roar that made the trees cringe. Another walker emerged fromthe timber on the far side of the platform, returning from a patrol mission. Step bylumbering step, it approached the loading dock.