Star Wars Rebels(8)

            The pilot on the landing pad looked up from a maintenance check of his grounded TIE fighter. “What’s going on?” he yelled at Zeb. “This is a restricted area!”

            “Right, so I’m definitely going to be late,” Zeb said into his comm.

            “Later,” said Kanan. “Later!”

            Zeb didn’t have time to argue with Kanan. He had time only to make a fist and smash it against the pilot’s helmet. The pilot keeled over just as the troopers rushed into the alleyway and opened fire. Zeb ducked behind the TIE fighter for cover and clambered up to the top of the cockpit. He jumped out of the alley and kept running, losing the troopers. He angled into another alley and found safety behind a wall.

            He watched the stormtroopers rush past him. Then he reached out and grabbed the last stormtrooper in the group.

            Given the similarities in their size and strength, Zeb could identify with Wookiees. He felt compassion for those brawny tree-dwellers of Kashyyyk, since the Empire had enslaved their species just like they had the Lasat. But he didn’t think any comparison did his own species justice. Because he knew he was stronger than any Wookiee.

            Zeb picked up the trooper and tossed him into his comrades. In the collision, a trooper’s blaster discharged with a loud ping.



            “Wait, are you fighting stormtroopers?” Kanan asked on the comlink. One of the troopers recovered and raised his weapon at Zeb.

            “What makes you say that?” Zeb asked. In one smooth swing, he pulled the bo-rifle off his back and knocked the trooper’s gun upward. A bolt shot into the air.

            “I heard blaster fire…” Kanan said.

            Zeb activated the stun function on his weapon. His rifle converted to its other form: a bo-staff. Energy danced from the tip down its length.

            Zeb jabbed the staff at the trooper. The man yelled, shocked off his feet.

            “And screaming!” Kanan added.

            Zeb rotated his weapon to wield it like a club. “There may be more screaming.”

            And there was. He bashed two stormtroopers, who both fell back in a heap of moans.

            “Oh, that’s great,” Kanan remarked on the comlink. “You got lost in the middle of a mission and decided to start your own battle—again!”

            “Didn’t decide,” Zeb said, beating down the fourth trooper. “It just happened this time.”

            Behind Zeb, the TIE pilot teetered up from the ground. He did his best to aim his pistol at the brawny Lasat and tapped his comm. “LS-607 needs reinforcements.”

            “How many intruders?” responded the commander over the Imperial frequency.

            “How many?” the pilot repeated, somewhat confused, still swaying from Zeb’s punch. His finger quivered on the trigger.

            Though Zeb didn’t have eyes in the back of his head like some species, his auditory senses were exceptional. He overheard the pilot’s exchange behind him.

            Zeb slung his bo-staff over his shoulder and turned to the pilot, pretending to count on his paw. If the pilot couldn’t see how many intruders there were, Zeb would make it clear. He closed his fingers against his palm until a single finger remained.

            “One,” Zeb said, pointing the finger at himself.



            The pilot kept his blaster trained on Zeb. “Commander, just get over here!” he said into his comm.

            “Copy that!” the commander said.

            With reinforcements coming, the time for fun and games was over. Zeb leapt toward the TIE fighter. The pilot fired.