Tales from a Galaxy Far, Far Away

The Face of Evil

All Creatures Great and Small

The Crimson Corsair and the Lost Treasure of Count Dooku

High Noon on Jakku

© & TM 2015 Lucasfilm Ltd.

All rights reserved. Published by Disney • Lucasfilm Press, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Disney • Lucasfilm Press, 1101 Flower Street, Glendale, California 91201.

ISBN 978-1-4847-5685-0

Designed by Gegham Vardanyan

Visit the official Star Wars website at: www.starwars.com.

Contents

Title Page

Tales from a Galaxy Far, Far Away

Copyright

Chapter 01

Chapter 02

Chapter 03

Chapter 04

Chapter 05

Chapter 06

Chapter 07

Chapter 08

Chapter 09

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

BOBBAJO MOVED slowly across the courtyard. Though in all fairness, no one had ever seen the long-necked and wizened member of the mysterious Nu-Cosian species move any quicker; it was entirely possible that the slow pace was actually a breakneck sprint for the ancient being many of the residents of Jakku knew either as the Storyteller or the Crittermonger.

Though Bobbajo had a patient and calm demeanor, the same could not be said for the many species of tiny creatures tucked away inside the giant stack of cages and baskets strapped to his back. The bottom cage was currently home to a dozen or more tiny gwerps—lean frog-like creatures with protruding tusks and horns. The middle stack of weathered wooden hutches carried pishnes, long-necked, soft-mouthed, generously feathered creatures that were an odd combination of avian and mollusk. Another cage was home to a solitary lonlan, a bulbous mammal of a sort that resembled a large, semi-inflated, mud-colored balloon. A smaller hutch, tucked away in between the many cages and boxes, was home to a mated pair of zhhee, a brilliantly colored and especially boisterous species of winged lizard. And at the very top was the grumpy-looking worrt named J’Rrosch that seemed to travel everywhere with the wizened old wanderer.

There were more, of course: several tiny cages tucked away here and there, populated by rare species that most on Jakku had never seen or heard of before and would likely never see or hear of again. Every time Bobbajo visited, it was common for him to carry with him a dozen or more indescribable creatures. And even if those animals were common elsewhere, on Jakku they were all rare wonders, each seemingly with its own story.

The town was called Reestkii—a word that, loosely translated into Basic, meant “the leftover.” Reestkii was located near the equator of the desert world, and the only settlement on the planet worth noting—Niima Outpost—was over four hundred kilometers away. The town had no resources to mine, barely enough agriculture for the locals to survive, and not enough combined wealth to get passage on a ship to anywhere worth seeing—not that there were any ships other than the occasional bleak husk of something long before burned out. There were very few settlements of that sort—generally unknown or forgotten by the rest of the bleak world they were situated on. So any change in the dull and monotonous activities, such as a visit by Bobbajo, was well worth taking note of.

Reaching one of the long tables of recycled scrap situated in the courtyard of the small village, Bobbajo took a seat, hefting his cumbersome pack of animal cages around and setting it to rest on the bench next to him. As was usually the case when the wandering storyteller came to town, the locals slowly drifted toward him. It had been many planetary cycles since the Nu-Cosian had last visited, and people—especially the local children—were excited to see what Bobbajo had brought with him this time.

“Quite…a bit…” the Storyteller answered in his slow cadence. And with that simple statement, two yellow-bellied sand lizards darted out of his sleeve and alighted on the packed sand of the courtyard in unison. The lizards stopped as one, dramatically rearing back on their little hind legs and puffing their chests out wide. The lizards balanced in that position, swaying back and forth rhythmically and in tandem. It was a simple trick to the older residents of Reestkii—not that they understood how it was done, mind you, but they had seen it before. To the scattered children, it was absolute magic.

“But wait…” Bobbajo offered, holding up one four-fingered hand. The lizards paused, turning back, and skittered toward the cage holding the pair of zhhee. Within seconds, the lizards had opened the cage, and the two zhhee slowly emerged. They lowered their feathered necks, and a lizard scrambled up onto each, gripping the back and neck of its avian mount tightly. Bobbajo began rapping his knuckles rhythmically on the table, and the two winged lizards began to dance in place, stepping forward and back, whirling, prancing—each in perfect time with the other.

The children gasped and cheered while the adults smiled. Unfortunately, it was then that the Storyteller’s traveling creature show was brought to an abrupt end.

“Is that a ship?” asked one of the children, staring up into the bright sky of Jakku.

THE SHIP was a Zygerrian cruiser operated by a band of slavers well-known for attacking remote outposts on less-traveled worlds and kidnapping the citizens they found, commonly pressing their prisoners into work camps or selling them off to the highest bidders.

The ship came in quick, and there was no time for the people of Reestkii to muster any defenses—particularly as they had no defenses to speak of. Such things had never seemed necessary there, as there were no animal predators in the region and the local pirates and criminals were more likely to use their resources raiding holdings that actually had goods worth stealing.

The slavers descended. The people screamed and panicked and ran while Bobbajo calmly and quietly emptied his cages, releasing his many pets into the streets. The gwerps hopped away into the shadows of the buildings; the pishnes waddled under the tables, huddling together as they often did; while the lonlan bounced around casually, its body inflating and deflating over and over in an excited fashion.

J’Rrosch glared and hopped away to find some shade.

Soon they had all scattered. And just in time, as the long-eared catlike Zygerrians disembarked from the ship, laser whips and rifles ready to punish any resistance as they went about their dark business.

THERE WAS no resistance to be found. Suitably cowed, the unarmed residents of Reestkii were rounded up and forced into the large town hall building while the slavers pillaged the settlement for any supplies they could steal. There was little of note in the building. It was a functional but unadorned structure—four heavy stone walls with narrow slits for windows. The windows were high above ground level, impossible for any of the beings locked within to reach and peer out. Green and orange paint decorated the interior, but it was chipped and worn with age. There were tables inside and a handful of chairs. Otherwise, nothing.

“What will we do?” asked one of the citizens in a panicked voice. He was Thaddeeus Marien, a bulb-headed Kitonak. And though his leather-skinned species was well-suited for the desert climate of Jakku, he was nevertheless perspiring.

Another citizen echoed that sentiment: “Slavers,” said P’nll Vun, an amphibious Nautolan, shaking the thick set of dark tentacles that cascaded from his scalp. “What will happen to us? This can’t…this can’t be possible. The constable…”

A third voice cut in, this one belonging to Jol Bengim, a Chevin whose massive elephantine head stretched the length of his entire body. “I know their like. They’ll take us and force us all into labor camps. I saw it before…back when I was on Vinsoth. We’re doomed for sure….”

All the while the children of the village stared nervously and silently, terrified at the strange intrusion into the peaceful and quiet world into which they had been born.

“Listen…” interrupted Bobbajo. “There is…yet hope. We are merely detained. Our fates…they are not determined.”

Jol stamped his heavy hooflike feet back and forth impatiently. “Easy words to say, Storyteller. But words will not save us now! Nothing will save us!”

One of the children, a tiny hammer-headed Ottegan named Adlee, let out a minute sob. With a silencing glance at the emotional Chevin, Bobbajo turned his kindly face to the needs of the scared children.

“Children…listen. You will need…to trust in what I say. Help…is coming, and everything will be…fine.”

The children sniffled and fidgeted.

“Let me tell you a story,” Bobbajo began, gently beckoning to the children. They slowly gathered before him, forgetting their troubles—if only for the moment. “This story…begins with the tiniest of creatures…facing the greatest of enemies….”

SMEEP—A TINY, six-legged mouselike mammal known as a thwip—skittered through the long air duct, panting from the heat. It was a taxing journey, but the thwip knew it would all be over soon. Smeep passed an open grate, her four tiny eyes noticing movement in the hallway below. There was a Wookiee in sight—a tall, fur-covered arboreal species from Kashyyyk. It wore a bandolier across its chest and was being escorted by two stormtroopers. It was an interesting sight, but it meant absolutely nothing to Smeep.

What was important was her mission.

The thwip reached a junction guarded by a tiny internal systems probe droid, no more than seven centimeters tall. The droid was a standard anti-espionage unit designed by Arakyd Industries. They floated throughout the air ducts, defending against intruders and reporting any unusual findings.

Smeep froze, but it was too late. The probe droid scanned the tiny, furry mammal, reporting its sensor findings back to the computer to which it answered. From there, a technician would review the data and see what had triggered the scan.

Luckily, the probe droid was designed to neutralize high-tech infiltrators, usually of the espionage class. It had no programming capable of handling a member of the rodent family, and with a lack of specific instructions, decided to continue its patrol.

Once the probe had sped away, the thwip continued on her journey. Smeep was close, very close. Three, maybe four more ducts and she would reach the paneling and the wires she needed to chew through. Then—

The sound of a barrage of blaster fire suddenly thundered through the ducts. Somewhere nearby there was shooting and yelling. The thwip didn’t care for that, both because her sensitive hearing was easily overwhelmed and because it meant she might be discovered before she completed her mission.

From below, a hail of sparks burned through the duct. Whatever was happening nearby was dangerous. Smeep ran. One duct…two ducts…a third, and then a left turn toward the next detention block, and down the narrow space between the outer walls, finally reaching the exposed wires…

More blaster fire. Smeep shuddered, hoping that whatever was happening didn’t involve the adorably large Wookiee she had noticed earlier. She got to work chewing on the wires. First a red…then a blue…then another red…then—

Smeep jumped back as a spark erupted from the wires. Success. There was a hissing sound as a nearby door opened, and the thwip hurried back up to the duct and over to a nearby grate. Seeing the cell door open, she dropped down and scurried over to find her friend, the captive she had sought to release from the clutches of the Empire and its sinister Death Star—a wizened Nu-Cosian named Bobbajo.

WAIT A MINUTE,” interrupted the skeptical Jol Bengim, the Chevin’s gigantic lips flapping with disbelief. “The Death Star? Storyteller…of all the tall tales you have told, this one must be the tallest!”

P’nll Vun narrowed his beady black eyes. “I must admit…your story strains credulity. And even if you were there, how could you know what the thwip saw? How would it wander free while you were trapped in an Imperial holding cell?”

As Bobbajo raised one hand and opened his mouth to answer, a loud crash shook the building.

“Those cursed slavers…” muttered a shifty-eyed human named Xavi Brightsun, his brow creased with anxiety.

One of the children, a human girl named Myette, frowned deeply. Engrossed in the story, she had completely forgotten about the perilous situation in which they found themselves.

Bobbajo looked about the room, sensing the deep fear and frustration in his audience. So, like any good storyteller, he continued to speak….

BOBBAJO AMBLED slowly down the corridors of the Empire’s notorious Death Star. His escape from the cell had been uneventful. It was as if the Death Star’s security forces were tied up elsewhere. It was just as well, as the Nu-Cosian wanderer enjoyed the opportunity to search and explore the vast infrastructure of the massive battle station, particularly after spending so much time in a small cell.

Still, as much as there was to see, it wouldn’t do to linger overly long.

Bobbajo reached into the large bag he was carrying. Like most of his belongings, it had been locked in the cellblock. Once freed, collecting his entourage of pets and friends had been a quick process.

Out of the bag flew a tiny snee named Qyp. And after a quick whisper from Bobbajo, the little creature darted away.

Qyp’s little blue wings buzzed speedily as he darted through the Death Star’s cavernous halls, searching for the correct terminal that would deactivate the tractor beam devices, Bobbajo’s instructions fresh in his tiny mind. The Nu-Cosian had been quite clear: as long as the beams were active, the escape pods would be too hazardous for anyone to use.

A shout came from a nearby detachment of stormtroopers. They hadn’t noticed the avian intruder, instead focusing their attention on a computer monitor that displayed detailed schematics of the Death Star’s trash disposal systems. This was of no concern to Qyp; ignoring it, the winged snee flew onward.

The truth was, the tiny creature was immensely anxious and, as usual, skittish. All snees were well-known worriers; the planet they came from was so placid that they found just about any noise, or sudden activity, to be distressing.

But Qyp was an exceptionally brave snee, and he continued his search without much undue hesitation.

The long-beaked avian creature was no bigger than a human fist—and that included his wingspan—so Qyp easily flew above the sight lines of the many preoccupied Imperial agents who were running about. In fact, the only notice the snee drew at all was when he flew into a large office of some kind, seeking a clear path to the necessary terminals, and was spotted by an exceptionally nosy blue-and-green R3-L1 unit—which ended up being slightly problematic for Qyp.

The astromech chirped out an alarm in droidspeak. Qyp obviously did not speak droid and simply tried to pass the astromech, but it was plugged into the room’s computer core; a quick twist of the droid’s interface module and the doors were sealed. Qyp was trapped.

The snee grew more anxious than ever before. Bobbajo depended on him!

The droid whirled, disengaging from the computer system. The snee flitted about, seeking a new path, but there were none to be found. The astromech extended a prong, arcing a threatening burst of electricity at Qyp. The snee darted through the air, the lightning missing his wings by the slightest margin. Then came another burst of electricity and another narrow miss. He was brave for a snee, but even still, Qyp was scared—scared of the mean droid, scared of all the noise, scared of not reaching the tractor beam controls in time….

But the astromech was unrelenting; its semitransparent domed head spun like mad, tracking the snee wherever he flew. Frustrated and alone, Qyp knew he had only one chance at defeating the evil Imperial droid.

Spying a small device mounted to the ceiling, the snee flew upward. The droid fired another volley of lightning—the blast striking exactly where Qyp had been only a split second before—and suddenly the device on the ceiling erupted, spraying water throughout the room. It was a fire control system, activated by the droid’s attack.

The droid let out an angry screech as water rained down on it. Qyp flitted back and forth, mocking the mean-spirited droid, which was still advancing on the snee. The droid’s entire body was drenched, and its wheeled legs splashed through the puddles that had formed on the floor. Qyp paused, a perfect target for the belligerent piece of machinery….

The Imperial droid fired once more, and Qyp darted out of the way. The electric arc instead struck the water that was running off a console and onto the floor….

The water carried the electrical current, sending it back to the angry droid. The R3 unit instantly began to shake, its many compartments and flaps bursting open from the overload of electricity. It made a single sad moaning noise as it fell over and landed on the wet floor with a mighty splash.

The winged snee landed on the nearby console, tapping at the controls delicately, and the doors opened. On the other side was the trench leading to the tractor beam terminal.

Finally!

Qyp flew past two stormtroopers and overheard a discussion about reports and a drill of some kind. None of it made much sense, but they were distracted and that was good enough for the tiny creature. His wings were very tired after his battle with the R3 unit, and he definitely didn’t want the attention of two fully armed stormtroopers.

Flying down a long hallway and around a corner into a large open area, Qyp found the tractor beam controls at last.

The snee landed and pecked at a couple of buttons. It was strange; the tractor beams were already deactivated—although the lock had been left in place. Qyp didn’t really understand any of that, of course, but the little creature had well memorized the routine of instructions whispered by the calm and placid Bobbajo, and the snee could tell that most of the steps were already complete.

Most, but not all.

Pecking rapidly, the snee unlocked the automatic security field that would blast any ship escaping the Death Star with an automatic ion pulse. And with that, it was done. The escape pods, and any other ship, would be free to leave.

Qyp pitched back into the air, flying through the Death Star to escape with his friend Bobbajo.

BACK ON JAKKU, Bobbajo’s recounting of the bold adventure was abruptly interrupted once more as Jol raised one of his enormous eyebrows. “A snee deactivated an Imperial tractor beam? I’ve seen your pets do marvelous things, I’ll admit, but you know that’s not possible!”

“Ahhh…” Bobbajo said slowly. “Qyp was quite clever. But even then…he did not deactivate the tractor beam. Instead…he simply unlocked the ionic disruptors…a task any snee might do…if properly trained.”

“What happened then?” asked Adlee, thoroughly enraptured. A Wookiee child nodded his head and made a tiny growling noise, also wanting to hear more.

Just then there was a loud crash outside. Several of the citizens began crying in fear. P’nll and Thaddeeus exchanged anxious whispers with a large-eyed and hairless member of the Bith species called Arek Emjon, while Xavi Brightsun tried to climb up high enough to see out one of the town hall’s windows.

“Are they coming for us now?” asked Myette, her eyes wide with fright.

“No…” answered Bobbajo reassuringly. “There is still…more story to tell….”

UNFORTUNATELY, an escaping freighter of some kind had placed the entire Death Star on high alert, and even with the tractor beam disabled it appeared to be an inopportune time to dodge the Imperial fleet.

Bobbajo pushed and poked at some controls he had found. The lights moved around quickly, and the panel made rude sounds, but eventually the Nu-Cosian was able to make a service door open.

The Death Star was like any place with lots and lots of people in it: there were janitor stations in every corridor. So the elderly Bobbajo stretched his shoulders, cracked his neck, yawned lazily, and sat down heavily on the single chair within the janitor’s closet.

Pushing back the sleepiness he felt after such a long day of escaping an Imperial prison, Bobbajo reached down and searched for one of his cages. It was a little one, painted green and orange with a letter M engraved on its tiny door.

“Ahhh…” said Bobbajo. “There you are….”

With a practiced twist of his wrist, Bobbajo opened the tiny cage, and Mideyean—a bright orange, thirty-centimeter-long limbless reptile called a slitherette—emerged. The tiny reptilian creature snaked around Bobbajo’s arm, climbing all the way up to his face. The Nu-Cosian stroked the top of his tiny friend’s head and with a little smile whispered a set of instructions….

It was not long before Mideyean was alone, speeding through the narrow spaces underneath the Death Star’s floor paneling. The panels were mostly solid, but every now and again there was a section fashioned as a form of grate, and the slitherette was hesitant to be seen by the Imperials.

And the Empire was certainly on high alert. Since she had left the confines of the janitor’s closet and the company of Bobbajo, Mideyean had overheard many things—most of which revolved around a man in a brown robe having a sword fight with a man in a black cape, and a computer failure that had led to some kind of mass shutdown of all the garbage smashers on the station’s detention level. The fight sounded bad, but more people seemed upset over the garbage smashers and the problems it had caused the sanitation systems. Explosions from garbage chutes had evidently been occurring on multiple levels, and the plumbing in the officers’ quarters was overflowing from every drain.

The Death Star was a mess. But soon enough, the Empire’s evil and oppressive forces would restore order to the chaotic battle station and return it to its sinister purpose—unless Mideyean fulfilled her mission.

The slitherette squeezed through a narrow crack, pressing herself almost flat in the process. There was little room for error down in that section of the Death Star, as the service pathways to the internal temperature systems were constructed in such a way that they would recede without notice. If Mideyean wasn’t careful, she could find herself falling straight down through the service shafts to the core of the space station.

It had taken the snakelike creature over an hour to wriggle through the gaps in the wall of the storage closet where Bobbajo and his menagerie were hiding, and several more to reach the systems that would affect the local climate controls. The idea had been to keep the technicians and security forces working constantly so when the time came, no one would be monitoring the status of the ionic disruptor systems.

Mideyean was an independent creature though, and as she slithered through the station she learned a great many things, all of them quite fascinating to a small limbless reptile from a distant Outer Rim world.

And then she overheard something terrifying.

The Death Star was moving in on a moon of the planet Yavin and was going to blow up that moon and everyone on it.

Mideyean was hurrying to return to her hiding place; a new plan was clearly needed. Unfortunately, there was a small issue: Mideyean had been seen and was being pursued by a hostile and very deadly Arakyd internal systems probe droid.

The probe may have been only seven centimeters tall, but it still packed quite a punch; it fired a blaster bolt from one of its defensive ports, narrowly missing the slitherette. More surprising was that the blaster shot ricocheted within the enclosed space, back and forth off the floor paneling, and finally sizzled through a section of open grating. The interior of the space station’s flooring was coated with a deflective surface, probably to protect against system malfunctions, but bouncing blaster fire from a security probe in an enclosed space while in a serious hurry? Things were about as bad as they could be, Mideyean thought.

“Hey…you see that?”

Mideyean shook her head. An Imperial stormtrooper had noticed the probe’s blaster fire. Go figure…things had just gotten worse.

Suddenly, the compartment flooded with light as the floor panel above Mideyean slid open; the slitherette was exposed. A rough white-and-black armored hand reached down and grabbed her before she could escape.

“A snake?” the stormtrooper said to a nearby officer. “How…?”

The black-uniformed officer sneered with disgust. “That’s a slitherette. I heard reports of vermin from Maintenance earlier. Probably one of the labs. Best dispose of it quickly.”

Mideyean tried to strike her captor, but his armor repelled her tiny fangs. Before she knew it, the trooper had dropped her down a disposal chute toward the trash compactors.

BUT THAT’S TERRIBLE!” The voice did not come from one of the children. Instead it was the Chevin, Jol Bengim, who seemed most outraged over the treatment of the slitherette. “What kind of story is that? And what about the attack the Death Star was planning?”

The children all nodded their heads, equally engaged.

A series of thunderous explosions shook the entire building.

“What are they doing?” yelled Thaddeeus, terrified.

“They’re going to bring the building down on us!” shouted Arek, his shiny bald head glistening from fear.

“We will know…soon enough…” said Bobbajo, with a dismissive wave. “For now…let us finish the tale.”

BOBBAJO CONSIDERED the time. Mideyean was overdue. With a long sigh, the elderly Nu-Cosian pulled Smeep and Qyp from their resting places and sent them out to search for the missing slitherette.

Tracing Mideyean’s planned path hadn’t been too difficult for Smeep, who knew the scent of Mideyean quite well, and soon the pair reached the open grate from which the stormtrooper had plucked the bright orange slitherette. Lucky for both Smeep and Qyp, the security droid was busy elsewhere, as were the Imperial agents who had captured Mideyean. Even more fortuitous, the nearby disposal hatch to the garbage chute was still in active mode, giving a pretty strong indication of what had happened to their friend.

Unfortunately, that was the end of the good news. The hatch was active but locked. And to make matters worse, the two animals could see their friend trapped at the bottom of the chute. Even more awful, the compactors were online, and the poor slitherette was in immediate danger of being squashed flat.

It appeared, to the great frustration of the two distressed creatures, that there was nothing they could do.

BOBBAJO PAUSED for only the briefest of moments as a series of shouts and screams echoed from beyond the walls of the makeshift prison. The clamor outside had shifted from concerning to confusing: something was happening and it made the citizens nervous. But before anyone could rise to try to find out what, Bobbajo raised a hand and continued his story.

“Mideyean knew she was…in trouble…” the Storyteller began.

MIDEYEAN KNEW she was in trouble, and it wasn’t just that the walls were beginning to shudder and move in to squash her. No, it was something else, too. Something was in the compactor with her.

Something alive.

ANOTHER INTERRUPTION and one of the children shivered with fear. Bobbajo offered the child a warm smile, ignoring the fact that there was even more commotion outside: running, shouting, explosions. The sounds of a battle. Once again, Bobbajo nodded comfortingly to the children and continued his story.

“The entire Death Star…seemed to shake….”

THE ENTIRE Death Star seemed to shake. It was as if a small group of fighters was bombing the surface of the space station. Lights flickered, sparks flew, and panels opened of their own accord—including the one in the trash compactor.

Qyp wasted no time, darting in and grabbing the terrified Mideyean moments before something massive and monstrous—a slimy creature with a single eye—rose from the wet depths of the compactor and tried to snatch the slitherette.

Returned to safety, Mideyean gasped for breath, conveying as best she could the danger the station posed to an innocent world.

The station shook again. Whatever was happening outside was getting quite serious.

Rushing back to the janitor’s closet, the team of animals found Bobbajo waiting, his face showing not the slightest hint of concern.

“Well then…” the Nu-Cosian said. “I guess…we will have to blow up the Death Star then. Hmmm…”

There was a quick round of discussion, and within moments it was agreed: there was no time to wait and no reason to return to hiding. The plan to create chaos had to be shelved in favor of a new strategy: to jam the Death Star’s main superlaser cannon and make it backfire. Luckily, the path to the cannon was nearby. The question was, could the animals reach the necessary systems in time to stop the planet-smashing superlaser from firing?

And as the great station rocked and shook from outside explosions, the three animals rushed to make the insides explode, as well.

THE LONG-FACED Chevin shook his giant head incredulously. “Wait a minute,” he said. “I know this story! It’s in all the history holos! The Battle of Yavin! But there is no way you were there or that these…these animals of yours—”

The bald Bith growled at the Chevin. “Let him tell the story,” Arek said. “It’s a good story!”

Bobbajo nodded to the Bith and continued speaking.

“Lucky…for the snee…”

LUCKY FOR the snee, the slitherette, and the thwip, the chaos of the space battle outside commanded all the attention of the interior patrols, and the three animals managed to reach the small maintenance shaft that housed the superlaser’s firing mechanisms.

Unluckily, however, the relevant systems were far too large for any of the tiny animals, even working together, to disrupt. Something else was needed…something with offensive weaponry. Something…

Something exactly like the small but dangerous security probe droid advancing toward the animals right at that moment.

Mideyean moved quickly, striking the miniature probe and wrapping herself around it. Qyp darted back and forth, presenting a target for the confused droid. It fired somewhat wildly, its aim thrown off by the squirming slitherette clutching it. The probe’s errant lasers missed the snee but struck key points in the heavily bolted access panel, and it fell open with a clang. Smeep leaped inside and used all six of her feet to pry at the exposed cables, ripping them out with a shower of sparks. The crystal computer core that regulated energy input and output was suddenly vulnerable. Still clinging to the probe droid, Mideyean aimed it toward the core while the snee pecked at the droid’s casing.

In a furious discharge of energy, the droid unleashed a full volley of blaster bolts at the thwip, but it was too late, as Smeep had already easily dodged the blasts. Instead, the blaster fire struck the crystal computer core, which instantly shattered and exploded with an energy that the three desperate animals were barely able to escape.

Climbing back to the corridors, the three creatures knew they had done all they could. The Death Star’s primary superlaser would no longer fire. Or more to the point, when it did, the entire station would explode.

It was definitely time to go.

BACK IN the makeshift prison, Bobbajo paused in his telling of the story. Outside the town hall where the citizens of Reestkii were being held captive, everything went abruptly quiet. No one noticed though. Everyone—children and adults alike—was listening to the Nu-Cosian’s thrilling tale.

THE ANIMALS returned to the Death Star’s storage closet, where Bobbajo had remained safely hidden. Calm as ever, the Nu-Cosian spoke in his usual slow voice. “You have been…busy…my friends,” Bobbajo said. Qyp the snee bobbed and weaved excitedly in the air while Mideyean the slitherette coiled around Bobbajo’s arm in a friendly greeting. Smeep the thwip stamped all six of her tiny feet excitedly.

“Ahhh…” mused Bobbajo, somehow—almost magically—knowing what they meant and understanding their story. “I see…I see….” The Nu-Cosian stroked his long white beard. “Then perhaps we had best…leave this place.”

Without too much more adventure or danger, the group traveled to the escape pod bay and launched themselves from the Death Star and into the depths of space. Through the pod’s tiny window, they could see the great battle transpiring around them. TIE fighters and X-wings danced back and forth in a display of action and violence never before seen.

The pod blasted past another ship, a disk-shaped freighter—the same one that had escaped the Death Star earlier. It flew quickly past, failing to notice the jettisoned pod, and fired at a set of particularly nasty-looking TIE fighters flying through the space station’s meridian trench.

Even from where they sat, Bobbajo and his tiny animal friends could see the distant glow of the Death Star’s superlaser as it began to power up. It would happen soon.

Any moment now…

The firing sequence had begun. The Death Star was about to destroy a helpless planet. But deep within the space station, where no one could see, a small regulator failed to divert the deadly energy to its proper destination, and instead of vaporizing the planet below, the great gun misfired—turning its world-shattering weapon inward and ripping the Death Star apart. All that was left was a shower of glowing embers, quickly fading away into the darkness of space.

The evil that the Empire had constructed to terrorize the galaxy was no more, thanks to the invisible efforts of Bobbajo’s tiny friends: the unsung heroes of Yavin.

WITH A TINY bow of his head, Bobbajo finished his impossible tale. The awestruck children of Reestkii sat with their mouths agape and their eyes wide. After a moment of reverent silence, they jumped up and cheered.

The adult citizens moved in to have a quiet conversation with the Nu-Cosian. Jol Bengim was the first to speak. “Look…I appreciate you keeping the children calm. That was the right thing to do. And I admit…it was a good story….” The Chevin spoke confidentially.

“But we all know that’s not what happened!” interjected Xavi Brightsun. “The Death Star was destroyed by the Rebel Alliance! They blasted it through a vent with torpedoes! They had a Jedi and everything!”

Thaddeeus Marien paced the room, gesturing wildly. “And that was decades ago! It’s ancient history! There’s no way you could have been there!”

Bobbajo smiled. “History…is an interesting thing. We know only…the versions we are told. It does not mean…that there are not…other truths.”

P’nll Vun shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It was a fun diversion but…there are no fabulous magical pets to save us. There’s no story you can tell that will keep the slavers from taking us away.”

Bobbajo shrugged at the Nautolan and began shuffling slowly toward the great doors of the main hall.

“Wait!” yelled Xavi Brightsun. “You can’t go out there! You’ll be killed!”

Bobbajo ignored the warning, ambling to the door and gently pushing it with one hand. The door swung open easily, and outside the pirates were…

Defeated. Or more specifically, beaten and unconscious. The citizens poured out of the town hall, shocked expressions on their faces. The catlike slavers’ vehicle was a smoldering ruin. A pair of slavers, barely visible, was buried under a pile of heavy crates that had previously been safely stacked. Another one slumped and fell from a rooftop, unconscious before hitting the ground.

It was over. The slavers were defeated, and the only apparent defenders that could have accomplished that…?

Out from the wreckage and chaos of the slavers’ defeat they came. The fluffy pishnes waddled up to Bobbajo and nuzzled his legs. The Nu-Cosian reached down and petted each of them. The gwerps hopped out of the shadows and bounced happily up Bobbajo’s back while the bulbous lonlan drifted down to greet everyone, floating lazily in the breeze as it did in its semi-inflated form. One by one, the animals happily took their places in Bobbajo’s crates, cages, and coops. Even J’Rrosch hopped out of the shadows, looking grumpier than ever.

The people of Reestkii searched all over their small village, but they could find no one else. Only more unconscious and defeated slavers…

…and the chests full of riches they had plundered from across the galaxy. Treasures that the citizens of Reestkii could claim for themselves.

As Bobbajo hoisted the elaborate arrangement of cages onto his back, the people of Reestkii stared in wonder at the Nu-Cosian and his menagerie.

“But…how…?” said Thaddeeus. “They’re just animals. And they…Did they…?”

Jol Bengim’s giant mouth opened and closed wordlessly in shock. P’nll Vun managed to speak. “It was all…everything you told us about the Death Star…But it was just a story. Right? Your animals…these animals…they couldn’t do something like that….Could they?”

“It was just a story…” P’nll repeated.

Bobbajo smiled. “Of course…it was,” he said. “But stories…they are powerful things. Never…discount their…strength.”

Then the Nu-Cosian began his leisurely amble out of the tiny town, in search of the next story to tell.