Lunch Break
by John Allison

 Soofad let out a heavy sigh of frustration and disgust that made his tiny proboscis buzz.  As was his habit, he had snuck 
away from the mines to think.  The Imperials usually didn't go to the trouble to make sure all the Talz were there, just as 
long as there was no reason to believe any of the big, furry beings were missing.
     Soofad knew he was lucky.  At least he lived near the equator of Alzoc III where the icy jungles were located.  He 
could always sneak out and drink flower nectar and think, but he always ended up thinking about his more obvious 
problems.  Being forced to slave away in the mines was no fun whatsoever.  Soofad had been beaten repeatedly for 
"inefficiency," as the still-painful scars under his fur validated.  Then there was the Imps' reluctance to feed the Talz 
unless absolutely necessary.  Just last week a cousin of his had died right there in the mines from malnutrition.  They had 
just dragged the corpse off like a bag of duracrete and replaced him with another slave.
     Try as they might, though, the Empire couldn't control his thoughts.  Soofad often dreamed of meeting their beloved 
Emperor and disemboweling him with his sharp talons.  Actually, he sometimes did more than just think seditiously.  The 
portable generator explosion the other day that had killed three stormtroopers was his doing.  His newly discovered 
natural aptitude with machines not only rigged the explosion, but also made it look like a problem with the design.  Soofad 
closed his four eyes and wished a painful death on his captors.
     As he sat thinking, Soofad gradually realized the voice he was hearing weren't in his head but somewhere nearby.  
"Stang!" he silently cursed (he had become fairly proficient with Basic after listening to it for years).  If the Imps found 
out he wasn't working, they would probably make an example out of him for other Talz.  He'd seen them do it before.  
He quickly hopped behind a rock.
     From Soofad's new position the voices sounded a little clearer.  "Aw, for cryin' out in the beer, Ith!" one yelled.  "Of 
all the planets in all the Empire you just had to crash here, with a cargo of ryll no less!  Why don't we just go to 
Coruscant and fork it over to His Imperial Travesty himself?!"
     "It's not my fault, Nimpo," the other responded irritably.  "The navicomputer blinked out."
     "You're not supposed to need a navicomputer, Sullustan!"
     "Hey, your salt habit got us here to begin with, Arcona!"
     Soofad crept closer to the source of the insults, which had now degenerated to an obscenity-spewing contest.  Nimpo 
appeared to be a thin, green, triangular headed reptile with mean looking claws, while Ith was a short, mousy-eared being 
with big black eyes.  "Cheese it!"  Nimpo hissed as he spun and pulled a blaster in the direction of the rustling bushes.  
"Sounds like we got a visitor.  Come on out."
     Soofad reluctantly emerged from his cover holding his hands in the air.  Nimpo sneered, "What's this?  Can you speak 
Basic, Four Eyes?"
     "Yes, and don't call me Four Eyes, Offworlder."  Nimpo seemed to take offense at Soofad's response, but Ith stopped 
him with a threat to space their next salt shipment.  "We might need him," Ith reasoned.  "He's not likely to turn us in 
down here, and we ain't leaving without his help."
     Soofad asked, "Why?  What do you need?"
     "We need some help fixing the hull of our freighter.  We got the tools and everything, but me and Nimpo, we, uh, well, 
we're not strong enough for some of the repairs.  You look like a strong, healthy being.  You help us, and we'll take you 
offplanet.  Sound good?"
     Soofad didn't want to leave his friends to suffer in the mines, but in all likelihood their only means of freedom was 
somewhere else in the galaxy.  "Sure, what do you need me to do?"
 

Copyright John Allison 1998

Tour of Duty
by John Allison

     Two streams of coherent light tore through the fragile hull of the TIE fighter, which exploded into a ball of ionized 
gas.  Soofad let out a loud yell, a Talz war cry if there was such a thing, and pulled his X-wing away.  That just about 
took care of the escort.  "Docking operation complete," a voice announced over the comm.  The Alliance had just 
acquired a new freighter, along with some top-of-the-line equipment, and this time there were no casualties for the 
Rebels.
     Maybe those piloting lessons he got before he left Ith & Nimpo's Smuggling Consortium really did pay off.  It was too 
bad they weren't interested in joining the Alliance.  The Rebellion could always use more people.

     A young Human stopped the Talz pilot on his way to the rec room.  "You're Soofad, right?"
     "Yes," Soofad answered suspiciously, scratching a sudden itch on the side of his head.  "Why?"
     "Well, you just missed the announcement.  It seems the Alliance needs more pilots elsewhere, and for the moment 
your squadron has been split up."
     "What?  Why are they breaking up the squadron?"
     The man eyed his datapad again quickly, confirming a few minor details.  "It says here they need individual pilots 
shifted around, not entire squadrons."
     Soofad sighed in frustration.  "Well, maybe I'll get lucky and end up somewhere nice, like Alderaan."
     "Not likely.  We just got word Alderaan was destroyed."
     "What?!  How?  That's impossible!"
     "Not for the Empire, apparently," the man shrugged.  "Something made it explode.  A real shame, too.  Alderaan was 
such a nice planet; it had some real nice people.  Anyway, there was one other thing I had to tell you.  Due to some 
mix-up in the files, your name is not on the list."
     Soofad asked, "So, what, I'm not going anywhere?"
     "Not right now you're not.  Maybe if you talk it over with the captain, he'll have you reassigned."
     "I think I'll do that," the former pilot answered, more to himself than anyone else.

     The first thing Soofad felt when he entered the office was that he didn't belong there.  Save for a few personal 
holograms and a medal or two, the room was nearly featureless.  It didn't look much different from a thousand other 
offices belonging to a thousand other people in the chain of command, but it sure felt like the kind of place a general 
operated from.  He had no idea that an offhand comment during the conversation with the captain would get him this far.
 General Airen Cracken of Alliance Operations was a stern-looking man.  Fortunately he was smiling.  "Good afternoon, 
Soofad," he greeted, shaking the Talz's hand.
     Soofad answered with a nervous  "Uh, good afternoon, sir," before taking a seat in a chair that molded to fit his body 
contours.
     General Cracken leaned forward.  "I'm sorry it took so long to get around to you.  The Alliance has been through a lot 
lately, with the Battle of Yavin and all.  Anyway, I had a talk with your commanding officer.  We both agreed that, 
although you've been very useful to the Rebellion as a fighter pilot, maybe you can be more useful elsewhere."
     Soofad nodded and said, "That's what I thought, but I'm not entirely sure if there's anything else I'm good at."
     "Your file says you would make a great tech," Cracken responded.  "It also mentions something about a battle in the 
Onyek system.  Is it true that you not only took command of your squadron after the commander was shot down, but also 
led them to rout a larger Imperial force?"
     "Yes, sir."
     "Well, I think you could take a Tactics position.  What do you think?"
     The Talz swallowed.  "Um, I really don't think that's for me.  That maneuver was sort of spur of the moment.  I'm not 
sure I could come up with something like that again."
     "I see," the general replied with a slight trace of disappointment slipping into his voice.  "There is another option, but 
it's on a trial basis right now.  A decorated Imperial general recently defected to the Alliance, and he suggests that we 
might benefit from special operations teams.  We have accepted his suggestion, but at the moment we have only a few 
teams formed.  We're considering letting them take on their own assignments without interference from the chain of 
command unless we think it's necessary.  After seeing your record, I think you might make a good SpecOps leader.  
Would you like to try it?"
     Soofad considered it deeply for about two seconds before responding with an enthusiastic affirmative.
     "Good," Airen Cracken said with a smile.  "I have a datafile of potential members here.  Look through it and tell me 
the ones you're interested in.  I'll try to contact them."
     Soofad was already eagerly skimming through the files.

Copyright John Allison 1998