Star Wars Rebels: Time Travel

Chapter 10

(Zeb pov)

A day has passed since I ended up on Lasan again. I've found an abandoned hut outside of town to keep dry in, as it's started raining since I've arrived, as well as to keep watch in, in case of attack. That's the thing about war: It doesn't matter who you're fighting; your mind will always think differently during and after one. You can never go back to a normal, oblivious existence.

I have to admit, I don't exactly mind seeing my world peaceful again. It's so beautiful, and calming. So different from the Ghost. Don't get me wrong; I love it there, but it's never quiet. This is a different kind of homeyness. Past vs. present, I guess–except now, the past has become the present. At least temporarily, anyway.

Suddenly the quiet is pierced with shouting. I hurry to the small, open window in my little shelter. The town comes into view–and with it, I spot the telltale flames of an explosive device.

In a flash, I've grabbed my bo-rifle and am sprinting out the door and down towards the town. I skid to a stop with shock in my bare feet when I start running down the first street.

No no no no.

Just for a moment, Lasan had peace.

A single moment.

That's all we had before another attack.

Armoured Mandolorians blast away at homemade buildings, dropping grenades into them and watching them light up in warm-toned flames and grey shrapnel.

With a roar of anger, I hoist my weapon and start firing at the first attacker I see. Bullet after bullet, shot after shot, Mandolorian after Mandolorian. All around me is fire and screaming and death and Lasats and lifeless bodies of both parties. Smoke fills the air and the smell of burning flesh and melting metal overwhelms my senses. It's a whirlwind of flame and death. That's all this is.

That's all this town has become.

I shoot down another Mandolorian. And another. And another. But they just keep coming. More armoured warriors attacking us, no purpose known. All I know is that they're killing my people–just like the Empire did.

To me, they're just more Imperials.

Bam. I've fired another shot and it meets it's target's chest-plate. The Mando drops to the ground immediately.

"Stop," comes a low voice from behind me. I hear a blaster cock and my ears twitch sensitively.

"Why should I?" I growl without turning around. If this is the end, I want to die with dignity and pride. "You've attacked my world. I don't have mercy for invaders–especially those sided with the Separatists." Which the Mandolorians were.

"'Cause otherwise I'll shoot." The voice is flat, but firm and icy. "And I assume that you don't want to die. Drop the bo-rifle. NOW."

I growl again, but let go of my weapon anyway. Suddenly, I'm surrounded by other Mandolorians in traditional armour and helmets, holding blasters and explosives of all kinds. 

The Mandolorian behind me comes to stand in front of me, aiming a standard pistol that's been modified at me. It's Pre Vizsla–feared Death Watch leader. I know this for a fact because of his armour, and because of the unmistakable darksaber hanging on his belt. I narrow my eyes at his helmet's visor.

"Recognize me?" His voice drips with sarcasm. "Well done, my friend. You have excellent marksmanship with your weapon, and your resistance is the most successful and admirable of all your kind here. You're by far the most trained Lasat we've seen here today. A most valuable prize. Stun him."

Electricity slams into my back before I can do anything about it. My last conscious thought is of the Mandolorian running towards Vizsla from behind him, encased in rainbow armour and fully armed with two twin pistols and explosives on her belt.

Sabine.