Star Wars Rebels: Rise of the Rebels (5 page)

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

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.

“Lat
er
,” said Kanan. “Lat
er
!”

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.

Zeb grabbed on to the wing rod of the TIE fighter and spun around it like he was a juvenile Lasat on a tree branch. All the pilot’s blasts missed. The pilot stepped closer for a better shot. Zeb kicked, gaining speed as he revolved around the rod.

The pilot fired again. But Zeb no longer held the rod. He had launched himself into the air—and landed on the pilot’s shoulders.

The pilot yelped, yanked off the ground by Zeb’s toes, while Zeb reached out for a landing strut. He swung around the strut like a monkey-lizard, released his toe grip, and flung the pilot away. The man impacted the pad with a thud. This time he didn’t get up.

Zeb did another spin around the strut to vault himself atop the TIE fighter. A familiar voice buzzed him on his comlink. “Zeb, are you embarrassing the Imperials again?”

“Honestly, Kanan, it’s not hard to do,” Zeb said.

He looked down with a grin at the eight stormtroopers coming from the nearby alley. Two of the troopers had dents in their helmets. These must be the ones he’d bashed together after they harassed the Ugnaught fruit seller. Zeb’s grin widened.

The stormtrooper commander looked up at the TIE where Zeb stood. “Weapons to ‘stun.’ Bring him down,” he ordered.

The troopers switch-clicked their weapons and fired. Zeb catapulted off the TIE high into the air. Blaster bolts flew to the clouds while Zeb crashed down right in the middle of the squad. He kicked, grabbed, and punched, tossing stormtroopers around like they were snowflakes.

“Can’t get a clear shot!” said a trooper.

Zeb knew that in a close fight like this, blasters were hard to aim, because shots might hit comrades. So he kept smashing the troopers together, making them as close as could be.

“I mean, do they even bother training these bucket-heads?” Zeb said, wanting both the troopers and Kanan on his comlink to hear. “My old gran’s a better fighter, and she’s only two meters tall!”

The commander stepped away from the brawl. He lifted his sidearm and aimed carefully. Zeb didn’t see him shoot. But he sure felt it.

The shot had hit Zeb in the chest, sizzling fur. Electricity coursed through Zeb’s nerves. The other troopers held their positions, watching the giant Lasat sway.

Zeb gritted his teeth. He thought of his old gran. She’d lived for three hundred dust seasons on Lasan, through much worse troubles than this. He was going to do the same.

He was only hit by a stun bolt, after all.

Zeb slowly turned toward the commander, his expression of pain returning to a grin. “That…stung.” He pulled free his bo-staff from his back.

“Weapons on ‘kill’!” said the commander.

It became a race between Zeb’s shifting his staff into rifle mode and the commander’s changing the energy setting of his blaster. And it was a race the commander lost.

“Weapons on—” the commander repeated, cut off when the energy blast from Zeb’s rifle knocked him back.

Four of the troopers, however, got their weapon settings changed. At once, they fired at Zeb.

The Lasat dove under the TIE fighter and rolled under the pod-shaped fuselage that contained the cockpit. Blasts ricocheted off the metal. Zeb got up on one knee just as a bolt scorched a lower panel on the TIE. Liquid fuel began to drip out.

“Well, that’s not good,” Zeb said.

“What’s not good?” Kanan inquired over their link.

Zeb scrambled to his feet and ran as fast as his long legs would carry him. The troopers continued to fire. None hit the Lasat, yet many of their blasts ignited the liquid fuel.

Seconds later, the TIE fighter blew apart into a million pieces, sending the stormtroopers flying across the landing pad.

Yes,
Zeb thought,
there’s nothing like embarrassing Imperials.

The Ugnaught
fruit seller and his rusty astromech neared from the mouth of the alley. Flames shimmered out on the landing pad. Stormtroopers groaned, trying to push themselves up.

Zeb suddenly blocked the view, striding into the alley with his bo-rifle over his shoulder. He brushed off all the black soot that covered his fur.

As Zeb moved toward the Ugnaught and the astromech, the Ugnaught ran to his crate of goods and grabbed his credit box. He rattled it, offering what little was left in it to Zeb. The astromech droid tweedled.

Zeb ignored the credit box. Instead, he picked up a round, juicy fruit and held it up to the Ugnaught. The Ugnaught’s snout puckered, but then he bowed, saying,
“Dobrah gusha tu trawbbio grandio, mendeeya.”

In Huttese his words meant something like “It would be an honor if the great one took it.” Zeb thought it was probably the first time a street merchant called one of his species “great” rather than “oaf.” But Zeb was too hungry to reply. These fruits looked mighty tasty. He brought the one in his hand to his mouth for a bite.

“Zeb! I see smoke,” Kanan commed over the link. “Was that a TIE fighter exploding?”

Kanan seemed to know when to press Zeb’s buttons. Instead of tasting a sweet morsel of fruit, Zeb coughed out a tiny black cloud. He’d breathed in the wretched stuff from the explosion. But he couldn’t let Kanan know.

“No.” Zeb coughed again, unable to hold it back. Kanan would hear it and get angry if Zeb didn’t tell the truth. “Okay, yes.”

There was silence over the comlink. Kanan was probably mad. Kanan usually got upset when embarrassing Imperials wasn’t part of the plan.

“Nice,” Kanan said.

Kanan’s approval caught Zeb by surprise. Maybe the human was turning over a new leaf. “I thought so,” Zeb replied after taking a big bite of the fruit. He knew it was rude to talk with his mouth full. But he couldn’t help it, not with Kanan actually complimenting him.

“Okay, stay put,” Kanan said. “I’ll follow the smoke and pick you up.”

The droid’s dome suddenly swiveled. The Ugnaught ducked behind his crate. Another squad of stormtroopers charged into the alley.

“I’ll be here,” Zeb said. He took another bite, then tossed the fruit over his shoulder and unslung his bo-rifle. He hoped Kanan would be late. He had more Imperials he needed to embarrass.