Star Wars Rebels(10)

            Seconds later, the TIE fighter blew apart into a million pieces, sending the stormtroopers flying across the landing pad.

            Yes, Zeb thought, there’s nothing like embarrassing Imperials.





                     The Ugnaught             fruit seller and his rusty astromech neared from the mouth of the alley. Flames shimmered out on the landing pad. Stormtroopers groaned, trying to push themselves up.

            Zeb suddenly blocked the view, striding into the alley with his bo-rifle over his shoulder. He brushed off all the black soot that covered his fur.

            As Zeb moved toward the Ugnaught and the astromech, the Ugnaught ran to his crate of goods and grabbed his credit box. He rattled it, offering what little was left in it to Zeb. The astromech droid tweedled.

            Zeb ignored the credit box. Instead, he picked up a round, juicy fruit and held it up to the Ugnaught. The Ugnaught’s snout puckered, but then he bowed, saying, “Dobrah gusha tu trawbbio grandio, mendeeya.”





In Huttese his words meant something like “It would be an honor if the great one took it.” Zeb thought it was probably the first time a street merchant called one of his species “great” rather than “oaf.” But Zeb was too hungry to reply. These fruits looked mighty tasty. He brought the one in his hand to his mouth for a bite.

            “Zeb! I see smoke,” Kanan commed over the link. “Was that a TIE fighter exploding?”

            Kanan seemed to know when to press Zeb’s buttons. Instead of tasting a sweet morsel of fruit, Zeb coughed out a tiny black cloud. He’d breathed in the wretched stuff from the explosion. But he couldn’t let Kanan know.

            “No.” Zeb coughed again, unable to hold it back. Kanan would hear it and get angry if Zeb didn’t tell the truth. “Okay, yes.”

            There was silence over the comlink. Kanan was probably mad. Kanan usually got upset when embarrassing Imperials wasn’t part of the plan.

            “Nice,” Kanan said.



            Kanan’s approval caught Zeb by surprise. Maybe the human was turning over a new leaf. “I thought so,” Zeb replied after taking a big bite of the fruit. He knew it was rude to talk with his mouth full. But he couldn’t help it, not with Kanan actually complimenting him.

            “Okay, stay put,” Kanan said. “I’ll follow the smoke and pick you up.”

            The droid’s dome suddenly swiveled. The Ugnaught ducked behind his crate. Another squad of stormtroopers charged into the alley.

            “I’ll be here,” Zeb said. He took another bite, then tossed the fruit over his shoulder and unslung his bo-rifle. He hoped Kanan would be late. He had more Imperials he needed to embarrass.





                     Ezra Bridger             adjusted the straps of his backpack and walked over the rise. The plains before him stretched out to the horizon. There was no marker of civilization except a rust-colored communications tower in the distance. Everything else was just grass, a calm and endless stretch of it, stroked by a gentle wind and warmed by the golden light of the late-afternoon sun.

            Ezra descended the hill into the plains. He was fourteen. Most looked at him and saw a boy. A kid. Sometimes they even called him that horrible name: urchin. But he didn’t think of himself as any of those. Not after all he’d been through. Kids had parents. Kids had apartments or houses. Kids had supper served on plates while sitting at tables.

            Kids didn’t live on the city streets, like Ezra.



            On the streets, you grew up fast. You had to if you wanted to eat and protect yourself from scavengers, Imperials, and other villains. You learned how to survive.