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The Mandalorian woman pulls a blaster, voice cold and impersonal as she addresses them.
“Why are you here?”
Mira glances at her husband, hesitant. She takes a step forward, clearing her throat and trying to ignore the fact that the Mandalorian next to the one who addresses them cocks his WESTAR. “We were told this was the rebellion.”
“And if it was?” the second soldier speaks, voice hard but younger than he seems. “What would you do? Report us to the Empire?”
“The...opposite, actually.” Her husband steps forward. Ephraim studies them, and she recognizes the look in his eyes; the same look he’d had when they’d been told about Ezra’s whereabouts—or lack thereof, she supposes. “We’re on the run from them as well.”
“Hmmph. Tristan, take their weapons and bring them in. We shall take them to Fulcrum, and their fates will be decided then.” Ephraim removes his blaster from his holster and she shakes her head, raising her arms and turning in a circle.
“I have none, they took mine when we were imprisoned and I haven’t been able to get another since.”
Still, the second guard pats her down, and gives Ephraim a pat down as well after taking his blaster. He turns back to the other Mandalorian. “They’re all clear, Mother.” He waves them forward as the woman leads the way, and Mira finds herself glancing at her husband for reassurance.
The Mandalorians are silent on their way to base, though apparently they don’t plan on taking them fully there. They stop at a small cluster of freighters, and the male guard waves them aboard the largest.
“Wait here,” the woman says, turning to them briefly before approaching the ladder at the far end of the cargo bay. She disappears quickly upon reaching the top, and Mira finds herself scanning the hold. It’s sizable, befitting a ship this big, but a good half of it is taken up with crates.
Minutes later, the other Mandalorian returns, sliding down half the ladder and followed by a Twi’lek woman. The duo turns, the Mandalorian remaining impassive while the Twi’lek jolts.
“You’re the– the Bridgers. We thought you’d died.”
“We did too, occasionally,” her husband says quietly, grasping her hand. The strength with which he grips her hand is unsurprising, considering the anxiety he’s been exuding for the past hour, but she still reflexively squeezes back.
“The Countess here says you’ve come to join the rebellion. Is that so?”
Ephraim nods. “Yes.” He glances down at Mira when he speaks next. “We do have one request, however. We’re told that– that you operate out of Lothal.”
The Twi’lek speaks again, and Mira realizes they’re at a disadvantage; herself and Ephraim seem to be the only ones unaware of the dynamics here. “I do. Why?”
“That’s the last place...we think he’s dead, but if there’s any way you could let us know if you find anything, anything at all….” Ephraim becomes choked up, and she makes herself finish for the both of them.
“That’s the last place we saw our son.”