Star Wars Rebels: Rise of the Rebels (3 page)

Hard
clack-clack
s echoed in the street below. Sabine recognized that sound immediately. Imperial stormtroopers.

She tightened her grip and leaned close against the wall she climbed. She must remain unseen. Stormtrooper blasters were hardly ever set to “stun.”

She turned her head for a glance below. Her helmet’s internal display magnified a squad of white-armored stormtroopers surrounding some unlucky bystander. Their commander shoved the bystander to the ground.

“Move along! This is a restricted area,” the commander said, his stern voice filtered through his helmet.

The bystander, a city resident whom Sabine didn’t know, crawled back up and scurried off. The stormtrooper commander then gestured. His squad scanned the streets for other trespassers.

Right as the commander turned toward the wall, Sabine climbed over the ledge. She laid her body flat along the top and waited. One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Three…

She hoped that if one of the stormtroopers did spot her, he would pause in fear at the sight of her Mandalorian helmet. There were few signs of her people in the galaxy these days other than the notorious bounty hunter Boba Fett, who wore Mandalorian armor. His captures and kills had only helped spread the legend that the Mandalorians were the most fearsome warriors in the galaxy.

One day, maybe her own name would have a similar effect. Sabine Wren. Another Mando you didn’t want to mess with. A great warrior
and
a great artist.

The sounds of boots echoed again on the pavement and started to fade. The stormtroopers were marching away. Sabine was safe—for the moment.

“Spectre-5 to
Ghost
,” Sabine whispered into her mic.

Hera’s voice came over her helmet comlink. “This is
Ghost
. We are in position and awaiting your diversion.”

“Copy that,” said Sabine. “This is going to be fun.” Even if Hera and Kanan weren’t ready, she was. Like any good Mando, Sabine Wren was always ready.

She pushed herself up to stand atop the wall. “Very fun.”

On the other side of the wall lay an Imperial airfield packed full of shiny, factory-new TIE fighters so pristine Sabine could almost smell the fresh paint.

The spotlight from a guard tower rotated her way. She stooped and ran along the top of the wall. The spotlight didn’t catch her before she leapt down off the wall.

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.

“You call that shooting?” the intruder yelled out. “I think you boys need a little more time on the practice range.”

The stormtroopers ran after her, not taking their fingers off the triggers. Yet as the intruder wove between fighters, their shots only pockmarked the airfield and the TIEs.

TK-626 knew they’d be reprimanded for all the damage. But their punishment would be worse if they let this intruder escape. She could be a rebel.

While MB-223 continued pursuit, TK-626 stopped and pressed his hand to his helmet comlink. “This is TK-626. There’s an intruder on-site.”

Their commander replied immediately over the comm. “On our way.”

TK-626 rejoined MB-223 near another TIE. The other trooper looked about in disbelief. “Where did—”

“Over here, bucket-heads!” the intruder said from behind.

MB-223 wheeled around. “There!” he said, firing away. But the intruder wasn’t there, either.

“You guys are too predictable!” she said, behind them again. TK-626 spun and saw her figure swerve between two rows of TIEs. He and MB-223 chased after her, snaking through the TIEs, their blasters on full-fire mode.

This intruder was quick. Their bolts seemed always a moment too late to hit her. Worse, she laughed at them.

“Missed again!” she said from somewhere near. “Always by the book! I read your book,” she taunted. “It’s a short one.”

TK-626 didn’t like being mocked. It made him furious. Didn’t she know what he was? He whirled—and stopped himself at the last second from triggering another round at his commander and three other stormtroopers.

“What do we got?” the commander asked.

“One intruder in Mando gear, still at large,” MB-223 reported.

The commander motioned in each direction. “Split up. Capture her. I want her alive.”

The six stormtroopers dispersed. TK-626 hoped he’d be the one to catch her. You didn’t laugh at Imperial stormtroopers and get away with it.