She landed lightly, almost silently, on the tarmac. She took a moment to survey the airfield. She spotted some guards and moved to avoid being noticed.
Sabine sprinted across the tarmac to the nearest TIE fighter. Soon she was hidden in the shadow of one of its wings. The wing would provide a perfect surface on which to accomplish her mission.
She removed her mini airbrush from her belt and shook the attached canister. Then she pressed down on a nozzle and called on her talents.
Sabine began to paint.
Imperial stormtrooper TK-626 walked with his comrade MB-223 down the line of TIEs. This was their 108th patrol of the airfield that night. And still no sign of rebels. They were too scared to come over the wall. Too scared of stormtroopers like TK-626.
They were right to be scared. The Empire had recruited him straight out of school. His detention record for bullying had supposedly put him at the top of their list. In fact, the Imperial recruiter had told him that bullies made some of the best stormtroopers. Bullies didn’t question orders or think for themselves. They didn’t care that they lost their names for numbers. Bullies just wanted to pick on people who were different from them—like rebels.
TK-626 wished there was a rebel to catch in the airfield. Then he could prove his loyalty to the Empire. Yet all he heard was the constant chirp of Lothalian crickbeets. And all he saw was row after row of new TIE fighters. The stormtrooper commander had told them to be careful not to bump or scratch any of the TIEs. TIE pilots could be very protective of their craft and loved to push around lower-ranked stormtroopers.
The crickbeets suddenly stopped chirping. Something shushed like a gust of wind. But there was no wind that night. TK-626 grabbed his comrade’s arm. “You hear that?”
MB-223 yanked his arm free. “I don’t hear—” He looked around. For a second time, there was the shushing sound. It came from behind two of the nearest TIEs. “Wait…yeah. What is that?”
TK-626 brought his rifle up to ready. Perhaps they would catch a rebel that night. “This way,” he told his comrade, walking to the two TIEs. The other trooper also readied his weapon and followed.
TK-626 stopped between the fighters. “What in the—”
On the wing of a fighter glowed the outline of what looked like an enormous purple bird. And the intruder who had painted it was none other than…a girl in Mandalorian gear?
“What do you think you’re doing?” barked MB-223.
The intruder continued airbrushing, not distracted in the slightest. “What does it look like?” she asked, spraying a wide arc of paint. “Art.”
TK-626 looked at MB-223. Artists were almost as bad as rebels. They could draw, paint, and create things he couldn’t. And for that they deserved to be crushed.
MB-223 leveled his rifle at the intruder. TK-626 did the same.
“W-well, stand down!” shouted MB-223.
“Or we shoot!” yelled TK-626. Basic training had drilled that reaction into him. Shoot first; ask questions later.
The intruder turned her helmet to them. TK-626 could almost detect a smile under her T-shaped visor. “Okay. Shoot,” she said. “What are you waiting for?”
That was exactly what he and MB-223 did, without hesitation. Everyone knew not to joke with stormtroopers. It was a crime punishable by death.
But their shots sizzled through the air and hit the TIE behind her instead. She had ducked beneath the cockpit just in time. And now one of the new TIEs had burn marks on the metal. Its pilot would not be pleased.