Star Wars Rebels(7)

            Zeb turned back toward the marketplace. Halfway down the alley, two Imperial stormtroopers neared a snout-nosed, one-meter-tall Ugnaught and an astromech droid. The droid wasn’t doing anything associated with his primary function of navigation. His repair arm held out a fruit that his master was selling from a crate.

            Zeb frowned. He didn’t care much for street merchants or astromechs. Most street merchants thought Zeb was a big, gruff oaf and tried to rip him off when they sold him things. And astromechs beeped too much. He couldn’t count the number of times he had wanted to shake Chopper when the droid was being a smart mouth.

            On the other hand, Zeb cared even less for Imperials. He kept his eyes on the stormtroopers as he spoke to Kanan through his comlink. “Well, I’m in an alley.”

            “And yet clearly not in the right alley,” Kanan said.

            The troopers jabbed their rifles at the crate, scattering the Ugnaught’s merchandise. Clearly they wanted something other than fruit. The squat Ugnaught cowered back in fear.

            Zeb scowled, moving his neck to the side, cracking it. “Yeah, well, there’s a lotta alleys in this town,” he responded.

            He pushed down on his hard-boned knuckles, cracking them, too. Then he wiggled his clawed toes and gave them a good crack. He always did this before moving into action. There was no better feeling in the universe. It got his muscles loose.

            Bam! One of the troopers kicked the astromech. The little droid fell on its photoreceptor with a clang and a squeal.

            Zeb started toward them. That was no way to treat anything—not even an astromech.

            “Hagwa je killya, dolpa kikyuna!” said the frightened Ugnaught in Huttese.

            “What? Is that a bribe?” the trooper who had kicked the droid shouted. “Well, now you’re under arrest!”

            “Noah, noah,” the Ugnaught said. But his protests went unheard. Imperial stormtroopers rarely knew or spoke anything other than Basic, even though Huttese was a common trading language. Zeb understood. He was big and he was gruff, but he wasn’t an oaf. All this Ugnaught had said to the stormtroopers was not to hurt him because he was a loyal, tax-paying citizen.





“I can’t believe it! That is an offense!” the trooper said to his comrade. Neither seemed to care about figuring out what the merchant had really said. He looked back at the whimpering Ugnaught. “Stop whining. We’re here to protect you.”

            “Yeah.” The other trooper took the Ugnaught’s credit box and cleaned out all the coins and credit chips. “But the Empire’s protection can be expensive,” he said, laughing.

            His laugh didn’t last long. Having advanced on the distracted troopers, Zeb grabbed each with an enormous hand and slammed them into each other like toy soldiers. They both crumpled to the ground.

            Zeb’s comlink crackled again. “So are you going to make the rendezvous or not?” Kanan asked.

            Zeb grinned down at the little Ugnaught, who seemed even more scared. At first he thought it was because of his size, but then he saw four more stormtroopers rushing into the alley.

            “Hey! You! Stop!” the lead trooper yelled, raising his blaster.

            “It’s possible I may be a little late,” Zeb said into the comlink. He began to run in the other direction before the stormtroopers could open fire.

            “You’re already late,” Kanan said.

            If Zeb didn’t find somewhere to hide soon, he might be more than late. He might never show up to whatever alley Kanan wanted to meet in.





                     Zeb rushed             onto a security landing pad in an alley near the marketplace. “Zeb, what’s going on?” Kanan shrilled over static.