"Wake up, Loth-rat!" snarled a mean voice. My eyes sprang open, and I saw I tall, white suited storm trooper standing over me, gun in hand. I scrambled to my feet hurriedly. I could practically hear the scowl in his voice. "This sector is closed off. Scram, before I arrest you."
I turned and fled, hearing him mutter, "Filthy Loth-rat shouldn't have been asleep here in the first place."
Eyes wide, I skittered behind a tall building. But more storm troopers spotted me, and they called, "Hey! You're not supposed to be here."
I turned to them and backed away, breathing hard.
"C-could you direct me to the closest place I'm allowed to be?" I stammered. The storm troopers hesitated, exchanged a glance, and pointed me in the direction. As I trotted off, I wondered how I'd gotten here. And...had those guys called me a Loth-rat? Was I on Lothal? I couldn't be. Lothal was fictional. Completely. But...what about the storm troopers? I shivered, realizing the dark sky and cold air around me. If I was really on Lothal, maybe I'd encounter the Rebels. And possibly get them caught. Maybe I could infiltrate the Empire to help them? Or...would it be fun to really be in the Empire? Maybe...a lot of the storm troopers died, or were knocked out by the rebels. Or had their suits stolen. Blech. I couldn't decide. I could, maybe, remain a Loth-rat. Learn the rules. Survive.
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