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Ezra woke up with the feeling that Something Was Wrong. His eyes were open, but he couldn’t see.
He hopped off his bunk and felt around. “Zeb?” he called out after realizing the lights wouldn’t work, but he could already sense Zeb’s absence from the room. It was too quiet. Too still.
Ezra uttered a curse word that would have probably had Hera soaping his mouth and made his way blindly toward the door, expecting a scare, loud noises, anything. “Hello? Anyone?” His voice echoed in the empty corridor.
The air was unnaturally chilly, the cold permeating through Ezra’s thin clothes and bare feet. He shivered, withdrawing back into the room and reaching up on the top bunk for his blanket, wrapping the material around his shoulders and up to his ears.
A small clang sounded from the cockpit and Ezra hurried to check, but there was no one there. The nose turret was similarly unoccupied. From outside, the glow of the hyperspace lane was the only source of light, and it bathed the area in a soft and eerie glow.
Ezra didn’t understand. He’d fallen asleep just shortly after they had jumped into hyperspace. The crew couldn’t have gone out while he had slept, could they?
They wouldn’t just up and leave him... right?
Ezra feared the worst. “Kanan? Hera?” he called out from the cargo hold after making his way further down. No answer. “Sabine? Zeb, Chopper, come on, this isn’t funny.” He hated how small his voice sounded then.
A loud thump echoed upstairs, startling him.
He made a mad dash back up the ladder, stumbling despite knowing the layout of the ship by now. Sharp metallic noises sounded in the vents just as he stepped into the bare common room, and Ezra shifted on the balls of his feet, heart in his throat.
Something whizzed past, grabbing the edge of his blanket and giving a mighty tug, sending Ezra spinning halfway and down on his rear in a loud grunt. He scrambled back up and reached for his slingshot, only to realize he’d removed it before sleeping.
He cursed again. Ezra ran for his bunk but the doors to the common room hissed shut before he could even reach the corridor, nearly catching him on the nose.
They wouldn’t open.
“Ow!” he cried as something jabbed the back of his leg. He squinted, but his eyes hadn’t fully adjusted yet and he could see effectively nothing. “What—“
Just when he thought he could make out a shape in the darkness a bright split-second flash temporarily blinded him. Ezra gasped, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head. He made a foolhardy step to where he thought the light might have come from and stubbed his smallest toe on something hard. Ezra yelped, mouthing off a litany of curses; Hera would have run out of soap.
Enough!
He pulled on the Force and shoved, sending the energy in the general direction he thought that thing was in. Kanan told him never to act out of anger, but he was pissed now. The crew was missing, he was all alone, he didn’t know what was going on, it was dark and dreadfully cold, some thing had stolen his blanket, and his toe was hurting karking awful. He could hear several small objects flying off and hitting opposite walls, but was rewarded with a resounding noise of metal hitting metal and what sounded like a low groan.
Everything was quiet once again, the stillness only pierced by Ezra’s slight breathlessness. The Force had never responded that well before, not since Zeb had nearly been offed by that Imp with the “colander helmet.” A mixture of pride and heavy dread churned within him.
Wherever he was right now, Kanan… Kanan needn’t know.
The thing moaned again, and it was an inhuman sound. It hit the access panel to the galley, which had lights, blinding Ezra once more, and escaped inside. Before it went in however, Ezra could have sworn it was…
“Chopper?!” He glared in the darkness, giving chase. “That droid is so dead, dead, dead!”
He opened the galley doors, bright lights flooding, but Ezra was ready this time, squeezing one eye shut as he entered.
“What the—” Ezra started after recovering.
Everyone was there. Before him stood Chopper, mechanical arms out in mid-gesticulation. It looked like he’d been about to lock Ezra out. The rest of the Spectres stood there like tookas in the headlights, all in suspended degrees of action.
“What’s going on?!” Ezra said exasperatedly, and if it sounded more like a whine than anything, well... he was entitled to it. “I’ve been c-calling you sleemos for ages!”
“Umm...” Kanan said, spatula in hand. “You’re up. Early.”
“And what in the Great Prairie Winds are you doing?” Ezra asked, gesturing wildly at all of them. The initial panic still hadn’t subsided and it was clear in his voice. He was in desperate need of something to exhaust it on.
“Woh-waahhh!” Chopper said, and Zeb consequently knocked him on the dome.
“You were supposed to distract him!” he growled. “You had one job, you measly bucket of—”
“Distract...?” Ezra repeated.
“It doesn’t matter now!” Sabine said, holding several different tubes of colored frosting. There was a smudge of what looked like more colored icing on her cheek.
“I don’t understand,” Ezra intoned. His initial distress was rapidly being replaced by hurt.
“... surprise?” Kanan offered lamely, and for the first time Ezra took in the state the galley was in, the numerous bowls and serving trays, the sizzle and smell of cooking meat, the counter and table heaped with more food—was that a cake?—than he had ever seen in his life. Which didn’t amount to a lot, really, but for Ezra it very much was.
“Oh my god... we’re going to die, aren’t we?”
“What? No!” Hera said.
“There’ll be a fleet of Star Destroyers waiting for us at the end of our jump.”
Sabine snorted. “They wish.”
“There’s something wrong with the Ghost and it’s about to explode any minute—”
Kanan raised his arms in a placating manner. “Kid—kid, we’re not in any kind of danger right now—”
“Then what’s with all the preparation? Why is there so much food? That's what I'd do if I were about to die... just hole down and eat up all the food I had stored for the month because it’ll be useless anyway.”
Hera looked troubled by that, then seemed to compose herself enough to store that information for later. “Ezra,” Hera said soothingly. “I promise you, nothing is wrong right now.”
“So nothing’s wrong with all the lights going out? The heating? And Chopper assaulting me in the dark, what’s that for?” Here he sent the droid a scowl, and Chopper had the grace to look cowed. Slightly. Maybe. “But for the hyperdrive, the rest of the ship doesn’t have any power!”
“Assaulted? Doesn’t have any...” Hera rounded on the droid. “Chopper! What did you do? I never told you to do any of that!”
Chopper warbled, pleased with himself. He rumbled out of the room, Ezra aiming a kick at him as he passed. A few seconds later heating and the rest of the lights came back on, and Ezra felt considerably warmer.
He also felt like an idiot.
Hera pinched the bridge of her nose. Ezra made to turn and leave the room, probably spend the rest of the day in the vents with a stash of crisps, sulking and ignoring everyone, serve them right, when she reached for him quickly with an apologetic look, drawing him close. She spoke softly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Ezra. We didn’t realize Chopper would do those things. He tends to… overachieve.”
Seriously? Ezra thought. No kriff.
“We just wanted to surprise you—”
“Oh, thanks for that, my heart’s still beating double-time, so it worked smashingly.”
“—for your birthday,” Hera finished.
“... Uh...” Ezra blinked. “Uh?”
Kanan stepped forward. “I know the last few days following your birthday haven't been too great for you. We didn’t think it was the right time to celebrate, and Hera and I thought you might need the space. But now might be good?”
He offered a tray of jogan slices by way of apology.
Ezra took one, staring at the sliver of fruit, but he was still confused. “That’s what this is? Why…? Whatever for?” Scuffing the floor with his bare foot, he mumbled, “My birthday’s probably just a waste of food…”
“No, Ezra,” Kanan said firmly, setting the platter down. He joined Hera and placed a comforting hand on his other bare shoulder. “This, you, would never be a waste of food, nor would you ever be a waste of anything. We want you to have this as something joyful, something you’d remember.”
Ezra raised his eyebrows incredulously.
“Except for that part with Chopper,” Kanan quickly amended with a slight wince. He resumed anew. “Look, I know it’s different for every person, place, or culture, but for what it’s worth… we wanted to celebrate with you—”
“—the day you stole our blasters,” Sabine piped in cheerfully.
“The day the top bunk with a scrawny Loth-rat on it fell on me,” Zeb added imperiously, but his mouth was turned up in a grin.
Chopper rolled in, probably to add some more, but a quick glare from Hera sent him scuttling back out.
“Your very first of days, and the rest leading up to you joining our crew,” Hera said warmly, and Ezra had to swallow around the lump in his throat. He was not tearing up, no, sir.
“If I can finish?” Kanan said exasperatedly at the room in general, grumbling something about them “stealing his thunder,” but a quiet giggle had him looking back at Ezra. The kid’s eyes were twinkling.
Kanan sighed and smiled fondly. “For all it’s worth, late though it may be… happy birthday, Ezra Bridger.”