Saga - PT Saga - OT Rose Garden, Evergreen Forest (2023 Kessel Run anthology; OCs and others)

Thank you all so much for the comments, once again!

Thanks! This character is one I’ve been curious to try my hand at writing for a while, and I’m so glad this prompt gave me the opportunity. Since he’s not much more than a side note in the established lore, I wanted him to get a moment of acknowledgment for his actions, and it really is true that sometimes that outside acknowledgment really puts things in perspective in a way that our own inner perceptions can’t always. And a full belly does help, as well! I certainly could see myself writing more about him; let’s see what other prompts come along.

YES—I am sure he definitely is, and being Thrawn he probably wants to distance himself from it as much as he possibly can! As big as the U.R. is, it’s got to have some good things in addition to the terrible, awful things. Whatever happens to Ezra out there, I hope he will get to know the good, too!

Thanks! I’m very glad I could please a zoology maven like yourself with that detail!

These little familial squabbles have got to be one of those galactic universals, I figure! They happen anytime a family comes together, and of course the main reason everyone is coming together is, indeed, out of love for Grandmother. For someone like that, they understandably would want everything to be just right.

Thanks! It took some thinking to decide how to work it in—but hey, the old “everything goes wrong” scenario is a versatile and useful one!

Yep! I see him as his species’s equivalent of a young man at this point—maybe around what we would call early college-age.

Thank you. Both Grandmother and Grogu deserved it, I figure!

Thanks again! Again, Grandmother deserves no less. Grogu’s sparkling token will go with her on her final journey, as will the love of all her family and people.

Oh gosh, yes, one thing I knew I wanted to do going into this was address said antics. I’m really more annoyed with the writers for that than with Grogu-as-character himself! I definitely think Grogu would grow up to be a conscientious young fellow, thanks to Din’s good example, and that he would reach a point where he understood that some of those early shenanigans were actually wrong. But I also wanted to reassure myself that the Frog Lady’s descendants were able to survive and thrive anyway. And yes, there is really something special about those moments of connection between people who knew the deceased at different stages of life and in different capacities—I have found that out firsthand recently.

Thank you! Glad you enjoyed this; I’ve become very fond of the “frog people” and am curious to learn more about them, so I figured I’d start by making up a bit on my own.

Ah, neat! I have not spent a lot of time in the Catalinas either, but I remember them being beautiful scenery during long drives with my late in-laws long ago. We are thinking about a trip to Arizona to visit the sisters-in-law this coming spring break; I would love for that to materialize.

Oh, me too, me too! And her and Frog Gent together are the sweetest! <3

Kind of sort of the point, I guess! Again, as mentioned above, it was something I wanted to address somehow, and have Grogu atone for in some way. But in a way that did not damage the relationship with his late babysitter’s descendants, either!

Isn’t he just? I can see him becoming even sweeter as he grows up and becomes more verbal.

Thank you so much! So glad you enjoyed, and I always appreciate your being here.

Oh yes, I can see them doing exactly that on those warm evenings! Perhaps Grogu got to hear them sometimes, and I bet it made an impression on him.

Thank you so much! As you know, I’m a very sound-oriented person myself, and being able to hear a scene is as important to me as being able to see it. Perhaps that’s why one of the main things that comes to mind for me when I think of frogs is those amazing chorusing sounds, which are so beautiful and melancholy that I thought they would make a wonderful and very characteristic gesture in this scene. We too get amazing peeper music in the early spring in the conservation park near our house, and it was very much in my mind’s ear as I was writing. Not too long before it will come back! <3

Thank you, glad you enjoyed! I felt she more than deserved it.

Yay! That is not always easy for me to come by these days, I know; definitely something to cherish!

Thanks! He can't help but be somewhat hard on himself, of course, given the circumstances, but he's seeing that there can be limits.

Yeah, 'fraid so! There may be people in the chieftain's audience who know and remember him.

I don't know if he exactly lost the Force in that climactic scene of the Rebels finale, just his lightsaber—but he has at least for now lost his home and family, and that's huge too. Still, I do think his natural spunk and gumption will carry him through.

Exactly, exactly! One of those galactic universals, again.

Thanks! I felt it would be appropriate, and that she would be someone he remembered (and what he didn't remember, Din would certainly have filled in for him).

Thank you—I appreciate that so much.

Oh, thank you so much! There were a ton of details that I wish I could have gotten in there (for example, I thought about making Ool at least partly Force-sensitive, with that as one of the reasons Grogu was drawn to talk with her), but yes, the word count made that a challenge. Maybe in a future story, though! Again, I figure those little family quarrels are by way of a galactic universal, and that no major event or celebration or ritual anywhere in the galaxy happens without at least a few of them. I've definitely been there in terms of having to run around and take care of affairs while dealing with my own issues (not exactly laying pains, but definitely grief, which Ool is also dealing with on top of everything else), so Ool was very much a case of "writing what you know"! And now that he's a young man, Grogu has probably learned some things about tact from his MandoDad and others, so he probably went into this with an idea of just how much he would say, and how he would say it.

He is Din’s boy, all right!

Thank you all once again!

 

4. Night of the Terentatek

Prompt: Write a story between 100 and 1,000 words that is predominantly action. You can have as many characters interacting as you want, and you can include introspection as long as it doesn't outweigh the action.
Characters: A terentatek and a nameless Inquisitor cadet
Timeframe: Single-digit BBYs (Rebellion era)
Notes: Thanks as always to @Raissa Baiard for beta-reading.

---

Deep in the catacombs of Korriban, red eyes flash in the darkness. Razorlike teeth gnash.

The terentatek has awakened.

Prey is near. It can always sense when prey is near, and this prey is more obvious than most: humanoid, young, and— best of all, incautious. Probably one of those Inquisitors who are said to come here to train.

The terentatek closes in, its gigantic venomous claws poised for the kill. Though large, it can move quietly— and with deadly speed.

And it strikes! In moments it is upon its target. The humanoid shrieks as an immense taloned hand grabs him. But his reflexes are fast, too— and with his other hand he grabs and ignites his lightsaber. A mad flurry of whirring and flashing ensues as he hacks madly at the thick, leathery limb holding him.

The terentatek tightens its grip, determined not to let its prey escape— but oh, this little Inquisitor is a persistent one! The nasty little red blade streaks to and fro and all around like a crazed, bioluminescent hornet, until one particularly forceful slice severs the terentatek’s thumb. It howls in pain as both appendage and prey fall to the ground.

But the dark beast is not fazed for long. The humanoid might be free now, but he was long enough in the terentatek’s grip that the claw-venom has worked; he moves much more slowly now. The terentatek notices, and acts. With a monstrous roar, it lunges forward at the humanoid, forcing him back. Even without one claw, it still has its strength. One swipe of its arm sends the Inquisitor’s lightsaber flying from his hands; it clatters away down some unspecified dark, dank corridor (of which there are fortunately many). The other hand, all its claws intact, slashes a mighty scratch across the humanoid’s front. Bleeding and weakened, he stumbles against a wall—

A corner wall. He is trapped.

And the slavering, razor-toothed maw leans closer, hissing hungrily and dripping unspeakable venom…

…and the hapless humanoid shrieks and passes out from sheer horror.

Yes, this one was almost too easy. Satisfied with its conquest, the terentatek returns to the shadows.

Where, a moment later, a voice is heard:

“What ho, Fulcrum, old thing. Doddsley-Wabbenfort here. Say, I do believe I’ve found that Inquisitor training base. But there was a slight, er, entanglement, and… well…” The monster of the dark pauses, surveying its wound. “I don’t suppose you could have Logistics set aside a point-two-five-HP miniservo, some utility-grade steel wire, and a good meter or two of that electrocoated hyperleatherene, could you? Much obliged.”

fin

Spoiler: Notes

Cyrrick Doddsley-Wabbenfort is my OC and may be familiar to those who have read Sure Looks Strange to Me, in which he was attired as a winged joopa.

Apropos Fulcrum, the Wook article states that that title has been used by various Rebel informants, so this particular Fulcrum is not necessarily any one of the ones we know (Ahsoka, Kallus, Andor).

 

Your entries for Weeks 3 and 4 were both fantastic!

I love that you chose to took a look at Frog Lady and Frog Husband's descendants in this story! As always, your worldbuilding is second to none - especially where the more spiritual aspects of a culture are concerned. Every bit of this fanon is perfect.

Oof, but wasn't this relatable? We can all understand the hijinks that occur when a family comes together, along with the kerfuffles that come with planning any large event. Ool is handling everything on her plate with grace and aplomb, though - just as best honors her grandmother! And to do all of this with labor pains beginning, too? Ool is just as much of a fighter as her grandmother, for sure! (I also appreciate how you worked in the juxtaposition of life and death, too, that said - everything was just so beautiful and thoughtfully expressed, as I know hits particularly close for you right now. )

I really like the phrasing of "worldshine", on a technical note. On a story note, this was a profoundly soft moment for Ool and Noff, and a beautiful way to incorporate the dialogue prompt!

I love how you worked in your trademark love for music into the funerary rites, too. This all fit so perfectly for a frog species!

GROGU!! It's perfect that he's the EC you chose to feature with Frog Lady's granddaughter. The egg snatching was horrifying as much as it was intended to be amusing, and I appreciate that its repercussions - and Grogu's remorse once he's old enough to understand his actions - were addressed here.

Aw! What a beautiful gift from a conscientious young man. Din truly raised him right.

YES, I WOULD LOVE TO READ MORE OF THIS!!

Ooh, nice! You chose a very interesting POV for this story. The terentatek feels animalistic in its consciousness, and I think that a big part of that has to do with the choices you made in your prose. The short sentences and the sharp word choices really paid off for the best!

"Crazed, bioluminescent hornet" is an awesome description!

Eugh, what a way to go!

I got a good chuckle for this reference! It was fantastic to see Doddsley-Wabbenfort back again, and the levity of this final bit was the perfect note to conclude on!



Keep up the awesome work!

 

Thank you all!

Thanks so much, glad you enjoyed! It may well be that there still were a few terentateks around, descended from the Old Republic era ones, though this one, as you probably figured out, is a bit different and may not be 100% real! Either way, though, it was definitely not a happy day for that young Inquisitor...

Glad you enjoyed! I haven’t seen Bad Batch and know of them mainly from KOTOR (and stories around here), but it would be interesting to see some of those creatures from Legends media show up in newer material as well.

And you would be completely right on target about that, because Cyrrick is indeed inspired by P. G. Wodehouse—in particular, a character who appears briefly in one of his non-Wooster stories. Indeed, Wodehouse is a huge influence on many of my humorous stories!

They are! Or something very similar to them, anyway. Glad you enjoyed!

Thank you so much!

So glad you enjoyed! I did indeed want them to be spiritual, but I also wanted them to be frogs. The great thing about GFFA alien species is that a way can always be find to be both!

Thanks again—and you are right that it does hit close for me right now, as I’ve had similar tasks to do myself in recent memory. (I’m not expecting anything, though, just to clear that part of it up right now—not sure why I feel compelled to emphasize that. ) It’s a lot of work under circumstances that are difficult on several levels, but Ool knows it’s what her lovely grandmother deserves.

Thanks again. I figure she deserved a soft moment, and that she would be likely to carry on her grandmother’s tradition of loving relationships!

The singing and chorusing and peeping is indeed one of my favorite things about frogs, and the ones that live in the various ponds and lakes near me make the most amazing music in the early spring. They are such fascinating critters for so many reasons generally, which is why I would so love to see more of this species in SW!

Thanks—that moment of the episode bothered me (though I really blame the writers more than I blame Grogu), so I wanted him to atone for it somehow now that he’s older and better understands the consequences of his actions.

He is indeed his daddy’s boy!

He’s come a long way since he was that hungry tot!

Absolutely noted—’tis in the pocket!

Aw, I super appreciate that you noticed that! I was indeed trying to make a conscious choice to write shorter, more clipped sentences in this piece (and indeed it’s not a bad thing for me to try to work toward in other pieces as well, as one of my weaknesses is the tendency to write too many long sentences).

Glad you liked that! With all that buzzing plus all that light waving about, it just seemed to fit.

Ah, ’tis just a flesh wound. The poor schmo will be up and running again in due course; Cyrrick’s already got what he came for.

I knew you would be one of those who remembered him!

Thanks so much again, and I’m so glad you enjoyed this!

Thanks so much! I think the main way I managed it was by reading a lot of P. G. Wodehouse.

Thank you so much! I am hoping so, too, and indeed I have some outstanding prompts from past challenges that might fit him well, so it most certainly could happen.

Oh. believe me, that particular terentatek has no qualms at all about making life extra hard for those pesky Inquisitors—and helping others do the same! Thanks so much for coming by to read and comment; glad you enjoyed!

Next story coming right up…!

 

5. Jedha Triptych

Prompt: Write a set of 3 double drabbles [i.e., exactly 200 words each] with the following prompts: juggernaut, shepherd, undertaker.
Characters: various
Timeframe: During the destruction of Jedha City in 0 BBY, and at an unspecified period afterward
Notes: Thanks once again to Raissa Baiard for beta reading.

---

1. Juggernaut

“The Holy City will be enough for today.”

At one moment, it was a typical afternoon in Jedha City. Or, at least, as typical as it could be with the occupation.

The streets teemed with the usual mix of citizens going to work, shopkeepers doing business, and Imperial patrols (not quite so many pilgrims anymore, sadly). Vendors and customers haggled in shops, children chattered and played, beggars begged. The fact that the Kyber Temple and the outlying holy sites now sat empty did not keep their spires and domes from gleaming, as they always had, in the westering Jedhan worldshine.

If you had been there, you would first have seen darkness creeping over that worldshine, like an eclipse.

Then, moments later, you would have seen the light hit. There was no other way to describe it: a blinding, fiery blast hurtled toward the city like an immense, luminous juggernaut. No matter where you stood in the city that day, no matter which direction you faced, it came at you head-on: stopping for nothing, incinerating everything. And there was no getting out of its way.

And the last thing you would have remembered was how quiet it was.

“Oh, it’s beautiful.”

*

2. Shepherd

On the other side of the moon, it was near dawn. (There were a few scattered settlements there too, mainly on the mesas.) An old Yarkora shepherd was tending his flock of drays, leading them out to feed before the day cooled off too much. His faithful anooba accompanied him. He loved this time of day: it was so calming to simply walk beside the flock and watch them nibble the berries and brush. And today was warm, warmer than usual…

That was when the shepherd noticed how bright the sky was: fiery orange and more like noon than dawn. No sooner had he raised his head to the sky than a tremor rocked the ground.

A ripple of frightened maahs went up from the flock. Some of the smaller ewes tumbled over from the shock, their legs waving helplessly above them. Even the anooba let out a whimper of fear.

Once ground and sky had calmed again, the Yarkora gave his canid a comforting stroke, then slowly, gently, helped his ewes back onto their feet. He didn’t know what had just happened, but this much he did know: he would always take care of his flock, no matter what.

*

3. Undertaker

Lifting her colorful skirts and stepping carefully, the Squib scavenger made her way through the rubble. Not that there was much in the crater besides rubble. Catastrophes like this usually made for quite decent scavenging, though everything within eyeshot looked pretty well pulverized. She wouldn’t go beyond the crater’s edge; the radiation readings in the center were still high.

Then she stumbled against something. It was the body of a Human or other humanoid, caked with ash; female, by the shape and clothing. Something gleamed on the corpse’s chest; the scavenger crouched down to see. It was a charm with a bright blue crystal set into it. Valuable, perhaps? And yet…

Opening her kitbag, the scavenger removed her collapsible spade and began to dig. Humanoids were inconveniently large, yes, but she had all the time in the universe, and it didn’t seem right to leave this poor woman there— or scavenge from her.

With time the hole was long and deep enough. Gently but with effort, the Squib pushed the corpse into it, covered it as best she could, and walked back to her parked ship. She was done scavenging today. She had dug a grave, and that was enough.

fin

Spoiler: Notes

The two italicized quotes in “Juggernaut” are from Rogue One, from the scene where Tarkin and Krennic destroy Jedha City by way of demonstrating the Death Star’s superlaser. “The Holy City will be enough for today” is said by Tarkin beforehand, and “Oh, it’s beautiful” is Krennic’s reaction afterward.

https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Yarkora (Yak Face / Saelt-Marae’s species)

https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Dray (which are based on real-life Jacob sheep)

The dead Human woman in “Undertaker” is not meant to be Lyra Erso (or indeed any character in particular), but she has a kyber charm much like the one Lyra gives Jyn, so she too is probably some variety of Force worshiper.

 

Thanks so much, glad you enjoyed these different views of the disaster!

Thanks, I appreciate that very much! Rogue One tells the story of what happened to it, namely…

Spoiler

…it’s the first test target for the newly built Death Star.

Thank you so much, pronker, and I’m so glad the notes were helpful; I had to remind myself of a few scenes too. Even when such callous destruction happens, there are still those around who care, in one way or the other, for both the living and the dead, and that’s of course exactly what I wanted to show. <3

Thanks as always, Chyn! I had totally forgotten about Mleeanna, but you’re absolutely right, this could indeed be her, or even Lady G herself. The Squibs are often treated as comic relief type characters, but I do indeed like to think they have a certain amount of principles to what they’re dong. The drays did turn out to be the perfect beast—I actually blush to admit I haven’t seen Andor yet, but @Raissa Baiard suggested them, and were just what I was looking for (and the idea of the DS being beyond comprehension was also what I was looking for, so I’m glad that came through).

And oh gosh, yes, that part of Rogue One gets me each time, deep inside, with the juxtaposition of the destruction and Krennic and Tarkin’s little comments and Galen’s voiceover and poor Jyn listening to it and being completely choked up. I hadn’t really thought of there being any specific narrator, but that is a really neat way to look at it, and yes, it certainly could be any one of those people, plus some. Thanks so much again; I always love your insights!

Thank you so much! I figure the films don’t necessarily show us a lot of those small-scale views on a scene like this, but something like a double drabble is the perfect vehicle for them, and this group of prompts screamed “destruction of Jedha!” to me from the moment I saw them. I know that by this time in Galactic history Jedha has been stripped of most of its kyber, but I love the ideas of a tiny bit of it (a) still sticking around (because it defines the place so much), and (b) surviving the destruction. Always lovely to see you here, and thanks again!

Next story inbound in 5, 4, 3…!

 

6. Bridger 1, Purple Oaf 0

Prompt: Write a story of at least 500 words in which one of your favorite protagonists/heroic characters is the antagonist/villain. This can be an AU, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be.
Characters: Ezra Bridger, Garazeb “Zeb” Orrelios, Chopper
Timeframe: early in Rebels season 1, shortly after Ezra joins the crew (and probably before “Fighter Flight”)
Notes: Thanks again to @Raissa Baiard for beta-reading.

---

Sometimes, Ezra missed that old comm tower in the steppes.

Well, okay, maybe he didn’t miss the cold and the dampness and the rats and none of the equipment working. He didn’t miss the constant fear that the Imps would show up and take the place back. He definitely didn’t miss not knowing where his next meal was coming from.

But at least there he had his own sleeping space.

Because here on the Ghost he had to share a cramped, airless ship’s cabin with that fuzzy old purple lug called Zeb. That was no picnic, to put it lightly. Zeb was big. He was stinky (oh man, was he). He snored. He hogged food. He was a mess, leaving fizzyglug cans, dirty caf cups, and sweat-soaked articles of clothing around his cabin, the galley, and the common area.

But worst of all, he was the grumpiest old son of a whatnot Ezra had ever met, of any species, anywhere. His mood ranged from morose at best to ferocious at worst. When angry, he had the tendency to pound things and swear— hard and loudly. Anything could set him off: the Empire’s latest misdeeds, tardy contacts, imperfectly brewed caf (he had a real thing about caf), repairs and errands that didn’t go as expected.

And Ezra.

Thus Ezra tried to avoid the big purple oaf whenever he could. Of course, on a small ship like the Ghost, that took a certain amount of what one might call strategic planning, but it wasn’t impossible. If he could evade Stormies in Capital City this long, certainly he could manage one (1) stinky purple giant.

One afternoon, the others were away on a mission in the highlands, and Ezra had been asked to stay behind to guard the ship. This irked him at first, but when he thought about it some more, it struck him that he was in luck; his energy slingshot had needed recalibrating for a while now, and he could guess how his purple hulk of a roommate would to react to all the annoying sparking and crackling and buzzing that that would involve.

So, the moment his shipmates were gone, he sat down at the fold-out table in his cabin and began tinkering. It was a dry day, resulting in even more sparking and crackling and buzzing than usual, and one of the contacts on the energy pack kept escaping from his tweezers. Still, Ezra was sure that if he kept at it, he could get it to behave. Just another wiggle… almost there…

ZAP! A bright yellow bolt shot from the emitter and made a shower of sparks against the wall opposite. He’d gotten it! Just to make sure, he touched the trigger again…

ZZZAPP!

“Karkin’ kriffin’ krellin’ KARABAST!”

Ezra dropped the slingshot onto the table and jumped what felt like his own height in the air. Zeb now stood before him, arms crossed tightly, glaring down angrily. His jaw fringe and cheek fur were slightly singed on one side, which made him look even angrier.

“Whoa, Zeb! I didn’t know you guys’d be back so— I mean—”

Zeb came closer. “You did that.”

“Zeb—”

“You did that on purpose, you miserable”— closer— “little—”

“But Zeb! I didn’t mean— I didn’t know you were gonna—”

“Gimme that!” Zeb snapped up the slingshot with one swipe of a gigantic hand.

“Zeb!”

“That’s the LAST TIME you an’ that stupid thing make trouble around here!”

“Aw, come on, Zeb, give it back!” Ezra reached his hand out pleadingly, but Zeb stashed the slingshot in a belt pouch, shooting his Human bunkmate a nasty scowl.

“Heh, yeah… no.”

“Zeb…”

“Now you clear your whiny shebs outta here right now,” the purple giant growled, “’cause I’m. Gonna. Take. A. NAP!”

Ezra had no real choice in the matter. Feeling very much like an anooba pup that had just had a run-in with an angry nexu, he plodded out into the corridor. As the door swished shut behind him and snores began to percolate from the other side, he took stock of his situation.

Zeb had taken his energy slingshot— his only means of protecting himself against Imps or anyone else— and he didn’t know how he was going to get it back. It was right there in the old lug’s belt pouch, too; if Zeb were up and about, Ezra could simply pickpocket it back (a skill he’d had plenty of practice on the citizens of Capital City, after all). But with Zeb asleep, he risked waking him, and he didn’t want to think about how mad the purple oaf was likely to get then. So what to do?

Then he saw Chopper rounding the corner up ahead, and had an idea.

“Hey, Chopper!” he called, running to catch up with the droid. “You got a minute?”

Chopper halted and spun around with a querulous bwaah. I SUPPOSE SO WHAT DO YOU WANT

“Listen, I need your help.”

OH WHAT NOW

“So Zeb took my energy slingshot and I need to get it back and if he were awake I could but he’s taking a nap and if I wake him up he’ll probably kill me and—”

WHOA SLOW DOWN THERE YOU WANT ME TO WAKE HIM UP SO YOU CAN GET YOUR ENERGY SLINGSHOT BACK

“Yeah.”

WHICH HE TOOK FROM YOU

“Uh, yeah!”

I CAN’T SAY I BLAME HIM THERE

“Aw, c’mon, Chop! You know I need to be able to defend myself if the Imps show up! Everyone else gets a weapon, why can’t I?”

OH I DON’T KNOW PROBABLY BECAUSE YOU’RE A FERAL STREET RAT WHO’S NEVER HAD BASIC MARKSBEINGSHIP TRAINING

“Cho-op!”

BESIDES WHICH DISTURBING SLEEPING LASATS IS A GOOD WAY TO GET YOUR SHEBS POUNDED FROM HERE TO TAUNGSDAY

“Look, he knows you better than he knows me! Just tell him there’s, like, something Hera wants him to do. Or something. Then I can take care of the stealing part! Pleeease?”

Chopper paused. His dome swiveled briefly in the direction of the galley, then back again. ALL RIGHT FINE I THINK I KNOW WHAT I CAN DO

“Aw, thanks, Chop, you’re the best!”

YEAH WHATEVER NOW JUST STAY BACK AND LET ME HANDLE IT OKAY

“For sure.”

Ezra secreted himself in an alcove of the corridor to watch, while Chopper, with a smug bwop bwop, rolled into the cabin with dome held high and began prodding Zeb’s side with a grasper.

HEY

“Mrrrff... ghlllgg… umff…”

I SAID HEY

“Aw, karabast, Chop…” Zeb grumbled, rolling over to face the droid. “Whaddaya want?!”

JUST WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW, YOU REALLY NEED TO CLEAN UP YOUR CAF STUFF IN THE GALLEY BEFORE HERA NOTICES

“Right karkin’ now?!”

Chopper blatted testily. YES IF YOU KNOW WHAT’S GOOD FOR YOU YOU KNOW HOW SHE GETS ABOUT THE GALLEY

“Aw, karabast…”

LOOK I’M JUST GIVING YOU A FRIENDLY HEADS-UP AS ONE SPECTRE TO ANOTHER

“Arright, arright. Fine.”

AND WHILE YOU’RE AT IT YOU MIGHT WANT TO DESCALE THE—

“FINE!” Still grumbling, Zeb stretched capaciously, lumbered out of bed, and galumphed down the hallway toward the galley— right past the alcove where Ezra was hiding.

Ezra followed at a moderate distance. Zeb was standing at the counter, still grumbling as he busied himself with the numerous used caf cups, empty flavor capsules, balled-up nap-wipes, and sticky spills that covered it. One of his belt pouches was partly open, and the emitter end of the energy slingshot was sticking out. Ezra waited until Zeb started his most laborious task (the caf machine reservoir, which did indeed need some serious descaling), then sprang into action.

Summoning every ounce of his old street-rat skills, he sneaked up on Zeb from behind and, in a single swift motion, grabbed the slingshot from the open pouch. Zeb gave a grunt and scratched the area in question (not an image Ezra needed, but he wasn’t in a position to care or argue)—and, to Ezra’s considerable relief, went right on with his descaling.

Ezra, for his part, stashed the slingshot in his inner jacket pocket and hightailed it back down the corridor to his cabin. There, he closed the door, hopped onto his own bunk, and lay down. He could finish calibrating the thing later. Right now, it was time for a nap of his own.

And even some minutes later, when a semi-distant “Karkin’ karabast that little son of a mumble grumble grrr…” burst upon his ears from somewhere down the corridor, he couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“Bridger 1,” he said to himself. “Purple Oaf 0.”

fin