Star Wars Rebels(6)

            The trooper’s frustrated yell brought three more troopers her way. She darted between and underneath the TIEs, laughing as the Imperials fired at her and missed.



            The commander summoned all the stormtroopers back to him. Sabine slipped past them and made it to the wall. As she climbed, she could hear their electronically compressed voices.

            “Intruder was headed your way!” the commander shouted to the trooper she’d kicked.

            “I had her!” the trooper replied.

            “Isn’t this where we started?” said the one who had identified himself as TK-626 over the comm.

            Sabine heaved herself onto the top of the wall, then twisted her body around. She could see the stormtroopers examining the blinking beak. “Uh-oh,” she heard TK-626 say when the light became steady.

            Uh-oh was right. She hadn’t come here just to tag machinery. Her art always had a purpose. That day it was to teach those Imperial bullies a lesson.

            Sabine dropped off the wall right as the beak on the TIE fighter exploded, destroying the vessel and knocking back all the stormtroopers to the tarmac.

            Her signature was none other than a paint bomb.



            The ground was shaking when she landed. Alarms rang out in the night. Sabine could hear the stormtroopers’ groans. She wished she could see their expressions when they noticed their armor was covered in purple paint.

            “That was some diversion, Sabine,” Hera commed from the Ghost. “Did the job so well we can see the explosion from here.”

            Sabine reached for the underside of her helmet. “Forget the explosion,” she said. She pulled her helmet off, wanting an unfiltered view of her minor masterpiece. “Look at the color.”

            A beautiful purple cloud rose above the airfield. But it wasn’t just any cloud. It formed the shape of a starbird, with flashes of gold for eyes. And slowly, the ghostly bird spread its wings across the heavens.

            Sabine smiled. Someday soon, she hoped, the oppressive Empire would be brought down, and those thousand thousand worlds would know her name and her art.

            She put her Mandalorian helmet back on and walked into the city.





                     Garazeb Orrelios             entered the alley with his bo-rifle slung over his back. A light wind rustled his gray fur. Trash and dust blew back and forth. He had come here to meet his friend and fellow rebel near the marketplace in the lower levels of Lothal’s capital city. But as Zeb looked around, there was no sign of Kanan Jarrus anywhere.

            His comlink crackled. “Zeb! Where are you?” said Kanan.

            Zeb. Everyone called him by that nickname, because few species could roll the r’s the way you were supposed to in his native Lasat tongue. He missed hearing his language spoken correctly. It was so rare these days. The Empire had done all it could to put his species on the endangered list.

            Zeb grabbed his comlink and held it near his sharp-toothed mouth. “I’m at the rendezvous point. Where are you?”



            Kanan’s voice sounded irritated over the comlink. “You’re not at the rendezvous point, because I’m at the rendezvous point.”

            Zeb looked around the alley again, then scratched his chin. This didn’t make sense. Maybe he had misheard Kanan’s instructions. Humans talked so fast.

            “Um, where’s the rendezvous point again?” he asked Kanan.

            A sigh preceded Kanan’s voice. “In the alley by the marketplace.”