Chapter Text
“What do you mean, you’re leaving?”
Sabine straightened in her seat, keeping her eyes level and face flat. Her hands, clasped together on the table, clenched tightly. “I mean that I’m leaving, Hera.”
The Twi’lek’s eyes narrowed as she rested her chin in her hands. “Spell it out for me.”
Sabine’s fingers clenched tighter. This was it.
“The war is over. It has been, for over four years, and Lothal is safe, prospering, and protected under Governor Azadi’s leadership. I made a promise nine years ago that I’m planning on keeping—I’m going to go find Ezra.”
At that, Hera seemed to wilt slightly. She had a sudden, tired look about her eyes and a tension in her shoulders that Sabine had noticed the moment the Ghost had landed in Capital City’s spaceport, Jacen and Chopper in tow.
Yes, the war was over, but wars left scars. Garrel, Attolon, Lothal, Yavin, Hoth, Endor, Pandem Nai, Cerberon, Nadiri, Jakku, Mandalore—they all had left their scars.
“I…see,” Hera said slowly. “…I knew it was only a matter of time, Sabine, but…why now? What’s changed?”
Sabine drew in a steady breath. “Three days ago, I received a message on the holonet.” She pulled out her datapad and slid it across the table. “See for yourself.”
Hera picked it up and read.
It was quiet for a few moments as she studied the message. Chopper sat in the corner, slumped slightly forward in his low power mode on the charging dock. Down the hall, Sabine heard the sounds of Jacen watching a holo of some kind, and the sound of hovercars driving by out the shuttered window. The sun was high in the afternoon sky, and lines of light flooded her small kitchen.
She was really going to miss this place. Azadi had given her the old two-storied property after the city’s reconstruction, and she’d lived there for the past 9 years when she wasn’t fighting for the Rebellion or, later, relocating the refugees of Mandalore. Now that the New Republic had been established and the Imperial Remnant was mostly dealt with, there was little need for warriors and military generals—only politicians and advisors and policy-makers.
She had been in a meeting with Azadi and the local council when the message came through, so it wasn’t until late evening that she had the chance to read it. Under the light of the twin moons, she had read and reread the message until the words were engrained in her memory:
To Sabine Wren, of Clan Wren, House Vizsla, of Mandalore;
Su cuy'gar, Sabine. It’s been a long time.
I’m not sure what Ezra told you after his venture into the Jedi temple on Lothal, but in short, I survived the destruction on Malachor. I am sending this message to you not only as an ally of the New Republic and as a former member of Phoenix Squadron, but as a teacher and friend of Ezra’s.
While he was within the Jedi temple, I was able to communicate with him, and I made him a promise: when I found my way off Malachor, I would find him. Little did I know that would mean learning he was MIA along with the entire Seventh Fleet.
Instead of joining back up with the Rebellion in the fight against the Empire after the destruction of Alderaan, I followed the trail. Without Senator Organa and General Sato, I had very few contacts within the fleet, and didn’t feel that General Syndulla would be very appreciative of my presence after Kanan Jarrus’s death.
However, things have changed. The New Republic has been successful in warding off the Imperial Remnant, and I have finally uncovered some information on the whereabouts of Ezra Bridger and Grand Admiral Thrawn’s Seventh Fleet. While the New Republic would certainly appreciate the latter, I have decided that the former is of greater importance to you, your family, and the people of Lothal.
I will be landing on Lothal in one weeks’ time after departing Chandrilla. Chancellor Mon Mothma has provided me an escort to Lothal, but beyond that, I will be going back to Wild Space, and if need be, the Unknown Regions, to find Ezra.
I invite you to join me on this journey, but be aware: I have no one left in the Republic to mourn me. Those that would have are either long dead or unaware of my survival. If I do not find Ezra, I will not be coming back. I will likely live the rest of my life in the Unknown Regions should such come to pass, and you will return alone.
These are the stakes.
If you are willing to take the risk, you can meet me at the spaceport when I arrive on Lothal. I will discuss the information I have gathered, and make sure that General Syndulla is aware of the movements of the remnant Seventh Fleet.
Ni cuy' Ni ceta par mandalor. Gar adate ganar Gaa'tayl ni birov. Val cuyir Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la.
Ni Ke'pare par gar,
Ahsoka
Hera lowered the datapad and looked up, eyes hardened. “Are you absolutely positive this is legitimate?”
Sabine huffed out a breath. “Hera, come on. You would know that better than me. Only a select few agents were given the Fulcrum identification, and Ahsoka was one of them—the codes are legit. She’s alive and has been looking for clues about the Seventh Fleet’s disappearance for years—and now, she finally has a lead.”
Hera glanced at the message again. “Seven years is a long time to be searching for a missing-in-action Imperial fleet.”
“I don’t pretend to understand the whims of the Force,” Sabine said. “I know she skipped over the whats and the whys in her message, but once she knew Ezra was missing, Ahsoka went out and found information that could help me find him. Lothal is her last stop before heading towards Wild Space, and I’ve decided to go with her.”
Hera suddenly put the datapad on the table and looked down the hallway. Jacen’s laughter echoed through the room.
“Alright.”
Sabine blinked. That was unexpected—she was anticipating an argument. “‘Alright’? That’s it?”
Hera snorted, and looked back at her. “What did you expect me to say, Sabine? That it’s too dangerous? That you have a duty not only to Lothal, but to Mandalore, as well? That you shouldn’t do it, or that it’s been too long for any viable clues to have survived?” She shook her head and sighed. “No. You’ve obviously thought this through, despite the potential risks and problems that might come up. You’ve nurtured Lothal’s reconstruction and environmental plans brilliantly. You don’t need my permission to do anything, and yet, here you are.”
Hera leaned back. “So what do you need from me?”
Sabine stared. Hera knew her better than anyone, yet she had still been surprised that the Twi’lek had gotten straight to the point.
She looked away. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, Hera. It could be weeks, it could be months, or it could be years. Ezra could have died on the Chimaera nine years ago, if it crashed; he could have gotten the fleet lost in deep space and died there, or he could have been killed by Thrawn himself. He could be wandering alone on a planet or making his way back here one transport at a time—I don’t know. But I will find out—even if it takes me years.”
She took a breath. “I know he was like a son to you and Kanan, in the same way I was your daughter. He’s my vod, my brother, in every way but blood, and family is one of the most important things to a Mandalorian, especially these days.” She pushed away the sudden and violent thoughts of burning and desiccated Mandalore and continued. “I made a promise. If he’s dead, I’ll bring him back home, to Lothal. If there’s nothing to bring back, at least I’ll know what happened, and I’ll tell his people.
“But if he’s alive? I’m going to find him—because family is more than blood, and family needs to stick together.”
Hera eyed her for a moment. “And?”
Sabine sighed. “Ahsoka will be here in three days. I’ve packed almost all I’m bringing, and all I have left to do is inform Governor Azadi and the Lothalian Ministry Council. I don’t have time to tell Zeb or my tal aliit where I’m going, and…well, I was hoping you’d be able to tell them for me, after I leave.”
Hera gave her a sad smile. “You think that they’d stop you?”
Sabine grimaced. “Yeah. I’m pretty transparent, aren’t I?”
Her kir’manir buir suddenly got up and made her way around the table, and put her hands in Sabine’s. “I just know you, Sabine. That’s what happens when you’re someone’s kid for over a decade.” She breathed in and let it out. “Look: I trust you. If you think you can find Ezra, and bring him home? I’m not going to stop you. I want him back just as much as you do, and I’m sure Zeb feels the same way. I’ll do what you ask, though—I’ll let them know after you leave.”
Sabine suddenly felt very, very sad. She squeezed her hands. “Thank you, Hera,” she said. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re my kid, Sabine, just as much as Jacen. I’d do anything for you.”
Sabine sniffed, and managed a crooked smile. “Now you’re gonna make me cry, Hera.”
Hera smiled back. “We can’t have that now, can we?” She stood up and made her way to the hallway entrance. Tapping Chopper gently on the dome, she asked, “You’re here for three more days, right?”
Sabine nodded, rubbing her eyes. “Yeah? I’ve got a meeting with the Ministry Council and Azadi tomorrow, but other than that I’m free.”
“Well, I’d say we should make the most of your time, then. Jacen!” she called. “Come here, sweetheart! We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”
・◦━◯━⌾━●・。●━❍━●◯━◦・
The heat of the afternoon slowly gave way to the cool of evening.
Sabine took Hera, Jacen, and Chopper to one of Capital City’s outdoor markets, where farmers who had once lost their land to the Empire now sold the fruits of their labor, merchants traded their various crafts, and locals gathered and socialized. They were usually very festive affairs, with live local music, various samplings of Lothalian cuisine, and demonstrations of the arts.
Hera had taken to the small samplings with delight, as had Jacen. The young boy was soon racing around the nearby square, pointing out all the colorful beads, rocks, and prints on display: “Sabine, look look look! Look at those! What do you think they’re made of? Do you think that Chopper would like one? Or momma? Or do you want one?”
She had ended up buying some bracelets and charms for all of them, leaving both a happy Ithorian vendor and young Twi’leki-human. Chopper had accepted his charms with grace, as he always did with Jacen, and had even gone so far as to call them acceptable. The rest of them shared matching bracelets with yellow and brown stones wrapped in twine.
By the time the moons started to rise, the festivities had passed their peak, and most of the vendors had closed up shop to join their families and friends for the various outdoor shows hosted by the local diners and bars. String lights and lanterns cast a warm glow over the outdoor seating, and the scent of burning nitrocella torches hung in the air. Crick-beets chirped in the background of conversation, and Sabine found that she didn’t want to leave.
She sat and ate with her kir’manir aliit, and listened to the speaker utter the words of ancient Lothalian myths: those of the the spirit Loth, and of the mother of all loth-wolves Lloba and her son, the blind wolf Llop; those of the betrayal of man against the spirits, and of Llop’s warnings of doom; of Lloba’s and Llop’s transformations into Lloba’al and Llop’al, the twin moons.
This was Ezra’s home—his culture, his people. He had given everything to protect it. He deserved to see it again, without the stain of Imperial rule. If he was alive out there, Sabine would do everything in her power to make that a reality.
・◦━◯━⌾━●・。●━❍━●◯━◦・
Soon enough, the night grew darker and the locals started to make their way back home. As they walked through the main street of Capital City, with Chopper warbling about the dirt and food stains on his wheels, Sabine asked, “Have you decided if you want to stay with me?”
Hera let out a sigh, and adjusted a sleeping Jacen on her shoulder. “Only if you’ve got the space. I don’t know if I’d make it to the spaceport—I feel dead on my feet.”
“Don’t worry about that. Jacen can sleep in the guest room, and you can take mine. I’ll survive sleeping on the couch for one night.”
Hera smiled. “If you insist, but I’m taking the couch—bed’s too soft,” she said. “I was meaning to ask: do you attend this sort of thing often? I don’t think I’ve seen a market that busy in all the times I’ve visited.”
“I try to make the time, when I can,” she said. “The larger markets like the one you saw tonight only happen on the last day of the month for the four months of summer. It’s a commemoration of the hard work farmers, miners, and crafters put in when the heat and weather are at their harshest. This one was the last, which is why there were so many people and events.”
“That’s pretty amazing,” Hera said. “I remember my father telling me about similar events that would happen on Ryloth, before the war—though instead of in the summer, it would be on jihsi cliyerslan, the last day of our winter season. The family would celebrate the survival of their crop and children through the desert snowstorms, and mourn those that had passed. It was the traditional time to add to our kalikori, and share the stories that we would pass on.” She frowned. “I don’t remember if I ever celebrated one, because of the Clone Wars. Ryloth hasn’t rebounded the way Lothal has, but it’s something I want to look into doing again, now.”
She looked up at the twin moons, surrounded by bright, twinkling stars. “We lost so many people to the Separatists and the Empire. Even more to slavers and pirates. I can only imagine how much knowledge and history was lost with them.”
Sabine’s heart ached—the familiar feeling of loss and anger at the horrors of war. “Yeah. I know the feeling. I wonder sometimes where Mandalore would be today if it had the chance to recover like this,” She took in a breath as they turned a corner. “With every Mandalorian we find a relocate, we get news of over a hundred that didn’t make it. The Empire failed at ridding us of the galaxy, but it would seem bounty hunters and warlords are doing their best to make it a reality.”
Hera closed her eyes in painful memory, and held Jacen a slight bit closer. “You know… when Thrawn captured Ezra and I on Ryloth, all those years ago, he told me war was in my blood—that I was forged by it, that it’s all I’ve ever known. I hate him—hate him so much with every fiber of my being for what he did to us—but he was right. War made us do terrible things, made the galaxy a terrifying place to live, but it did do one thing I will never regret—it made me a family.”
They turned another corner, and Sabine’s apartment came into view. “Yeah,” Sabine said with a sad smile. “I guess it did. If you and Kanan hadn’t picked me up, I don’t know where I would have ended up…” She thought for a moment. “Actually, with how many enemies I made in my teens, I probably would be lying in a ditch or floating in an asteroid field somewhere. This is definitely better.”
Hera gave a startled laugh and shook her head. “Let’s get to bed. I don’t want you to be late to your meeting tomorrow.”
They opened the door, and did just that.
・◦━◯━⌾━●・。●━❍━●◯━◦・
Sabine woke at the break of dawn with a scream on her lips and an empty feeling in her gut. Her dreams had been plagued with broken images of the Imperial Academy on Mandalore, the tear-stained faces of her blood family as they whispered horrid tales of what they’d escaped, the feeling of Kanan’s hand on her shoulder as he complimented her art for the first time, holding Jacen when he was born, the glowing red eyes of Thrawn and hundreds of faceless Imperials murdering Ezra for stranding them in deep space, Ezra’s voice over his final recording—“…I can’t wait to come home.”
Still in bed, she eyed the bundle in the corner of the room. Under a pile of blankets, her armor sat hidden and collecting dust, too dangerous to be worn nowadays. But maybe…
She sat up and took a breath. She’d worn Lothalian-styled clothing for years now, terrified that some wannabe bounty hunter would put her life in danger for some meager beskar scraps while Jacen was visiting. She got up and walked over to the bundle, kneeling down and carefully removing the blankets. Her helmet sat, covered in dust and still as bright as the day she repainted it before Mandalore fell.
Today, she’d wear her armor under her robes, and she’d be proud of it.
・◦━◯━⌾━●・。●━❍━●◯━◦・
When Sabine walked into the kitchen, helmet under her arm, she found Hera sipping a cup of caf and reading a news datapad. The Twi'lek lifted her head to great her—she froze. “Sabine?”
“I’m alright, Hera,” she said. “Our talk last night just reminded me of a few things—y‘know, just things we shouldn’t forget. The things that make us who we are.”
Hera smiled, hesitant at first, then growing soft. “Alright. Stay safe out there, and I’ll see you this afternoon. Give Azadi my regards.”
Sabine nodded, and gave a sloppy salute. “Yes, ma’am, general!”
Hera scoffed and shooed her away, and Sabine walked out the door with a smile.
The sun was still low in the sky at that time of morning, but already the streets were packed with speeders, hover cars, and people walking the pavement. Overhead, the roar of engines marked the arrival and departure of transport shuttles and freighters. She took a deep breath of air and walked towards the Capital Building, held her head high, clutched her helmet under her arms, and ignored the bewildered and starstruck stares that followed.
・◦━◯━⌾━●・。●━❍━●◯━◦・
When she finally arrived a half-hour later, the receptionist, a friendly female Gotal by the name of Trahl, did a double take. “Ambassador Wren?! I don’t believe my eyes, is that you under all that armor?!”
Sabine laughed. “I don’t even have my helmet on, Trahl, of course it’s me.”
Trahl shook her head. “My, my, dear! You’ll give someone a fright wearing all of that!” She gestured for Sabine’s passcard and continued. “Is there a special occasion I should know about? It’s not everyday you see a Mando openly walking around in Beskar.”
Sabine winced and handed over her pass. “Not really a special occasion, ma’am. I’ve made the decision to leave the council.”
The Gotal’s eyes widened as she placed her hand over her lungs and digested the news. “You? Leave? You’ve been on Lothal for years now! Tell me, Ambassador, what’s prompted this? Does Governor Azadi know?”
“I’ve been discussing it with him for a few months now,” she replied, retrieving her pass. “After this meeting, Lothal doesn’t really need my help anymore. I’ve kept a promise to a friend for many years now, and now I want to complete it; I don’t know when or if I’ll be back, but I want to hope I’ll see everyone here again.”
Trahl nodded solemnly and unlocked the gate to her right. “We Lothalites know the value of a promise kept, Ambassador Wren. I wish you well on your journey.”
“Thank you, Trahl,” Sabine replied, bowing her head slightly. “That means a lot to me.” ‘
She walked through the gate and onto the turbolift that would transport her to the top floor of the Capital Building. She pressed the call button, and walked through when the turbolift doors opened. She tapped the button for the 160th floor, and watched the city through the glass windows as she climbed higher and higher.
The grey steel of Imperial architecture had long since been replaced by the bright white towers popular with Lothalian artists of the post-imperial age. The tall spires had been designed to represent both the rebirth of the planet’s ecosystem after years of mineral harvesting and drought, and the common and popular rock formations that made up a vast majority of the planet’s landscapes.
Sabine thought it suited the planet perfectly.
The turbolift chimed, indicating that she had reached her destination, and when the doors opened she walked through. In front of her, small groups of Lothal’s various ambassadors, ministers, and other government officials chatted in friendly tones, discussing politics, gossip, and sometimes nothing at all. The two large and elaborately carved double doors leading into the meeting room added a majestic feel to what was meant to be a simple pre-meeting space.
To her left, Sabine heard Azadi call out a greeting. “Ambassador Wren! Glad to see you could make it!” As she glanced over, she could see him in a small group of three others—the Minister of Refining, the Minister of Finance, and Lothal’s Republic senator, a greying human male by the name of Buchav. She gave a smile and a wave as she made her way over.
“Good morning, Governor,” she replied, ignoring the looks the other three gave her attire. “General Syndulla sends her regards.”
“Ah, Hera’s on planet again, is she?” Azadi asked. “How is she? And young Jacen?”
“They’re doing well. They arrived yesterday and were planning to spend the week, though I’m not sure if they’ll extend their stay.” She produced a datapad and handed it to him. “It’s about our discussion two days ago.”
He gave it a quick read, then sighed. “I knew this day would be coming soon, but in my humble opinion it’s come far too fast.” He turned to the others. “If you would get the everyone ready for the meeting, I need to speak to the ambassador before we start.”
The senator nodded. “Of course, governor.” He glanced at Sabine again before asking, “Is there anything we should be worried about, Ambassador?”
“Nothing that concerns Lothal, senator,” Sabine said smoothly. “If anything, I’ll be out of your hair soon.”
The senator raised his eyebrows. “I see.” He turned to Azadi, bowing slightly. “Governor.”
Azadi nodded back, and walked Sabine away from the steadily increasing crowd of eyes.
“We’ll talk more of this after the meeting,” he started, “But I have to ask you: Are you sure you want to do this now? After all the work you’ve done for us, you’ve gotten yourself into quite the powerful position here. You’ve helped so many and built our economy up from almost nothing—walking away now means nothing is guaranteed when you return.”
Sabine smiled, and nodded. “Yes, Ryder. We’ll discuss the specifics later, but I’ve made my decision, and I have Hera’s support. I’m going to bring him home.”
Azadi took a look at her face and nodded, a sad smile slowly but surely forming. “Lothal will be the better for it. Now,” he said, voice a little stronger, “let’s get this meeting started.”
・◦━◯━⌾━●・。●━❍━●◯━◦・
After the festivities of the previous night, this meeting was a traditional event representing the success of Lothal’s economy. The state of the planet’s imports, exports, taxes, education, military, defense, housing market, judicial trials, and tourism were discussed among the council.
The Minister of Refining and the Minister of Environmental Impact gave a presentation on Lothal’s current mining and refinery situation, and how the increased funds from tourism had bolstered their environmental recovery efforts. The mining and refining process of doonium and other precious metals had gone through a complete regulatory overhaul, aiming to be more environmentally friendly while still bringing in sales to the economy. So far it had been quite a success, and other planets in similar situations had been taking some pointers.
On that same note, the Minister of Tourism and the Ministers of Finance reported that the increase in visitors had led to a population increase as well as an increase in tax funds and commerce. With more people, more business was booming, and more opportunities emerged for entrepreneurs and craftsmen alike.
Soon enough, Sabine and the Minister of Defense, an older human man by the name of Amos Kohyn, gave their report on the state of the Lothalian Security Force. After Chancellor Mon Mothma passed the Military Disarmament Act, planets under the sphere of influence of the New Republic were expected to train, build, and arm their own militias with the help of special funding granted by the Senate.
It was supposed to prevent the rise of another Emperor; the late Palpatine had seized control of the entire Grand Army of the Republic in one fell swoop. Sabine thought that the New Republic’s lack of a military force so soon after decades of chaos and war was shortsighted, and dare she say it, naïve. She would’ve thought Mon Mothma would know better, but that was the past. After what the Empire had done to Lothal, she made sure the planet and its people would always be able to fight back.
So in the years after the Battle of Endor, she, Ryder, Hera, and, later, Amos, had grown Lothal’s security. More people meant more funds to build better defense platforms in orbit and more towers on the ground. The ruins of the Sienar Fleet Systems factories dotted across the surface meant that they had an abundance of TIE Fighters, Interceptors, and even a squadron of Defenders to add to their number—with some updates, of course. AT-DPs, AT-ATs, speeder bikes, troop transports, tanks, and much more had been left behind by the Imperial forces as they fled the planet.
To add to those numbers, the Republic had granted them multiple squadrons of X-wings, Y-wing bombers, and A-wings, as well as a fully armored and refitted Imperial Star Destroyer, named Starbird Home, which was emblazoned with New Republic blues and golds in a design Sabine had had been commissioned to design herself.
It was certainly a lot more friendly looking with a coat of paint.
At this point, most of what Sabine was doing consisted of slowly passing on her duties to Amos, checking up on the recruits and commanders within the militia, and keeping up to date on any conflicts arising in the Outer Rim. Nothing had been seen or heard recently, but there were always rumors of Imperial holdouts on some of the more remote systems. Better safe than sorry.
Of course, these duties were all officially secondary to her “official” role as an ambassador to the Mandalorian people—a role that hadn’t seen much use in recent years, due to…recent events.
She updated the council on those matters, and noted that recruitment had increased steadily over the course of the past few months. Soon, there would be no need for more officers and pilots to fill the empty positions needed to man Starbird and the orbital defense platforms. They closed with statements regarding their military readiness and budget.
“—With Starbird, Bridge, Llop, Lloba, Duo, and Trio squadrons all up to full strength, we can start turning the budget towards maintaining what we have, rather than taking on more fighters,” Amos said. “If it’s used strictly for research and development within our own institutions, the militia can be updated without a deficit.”
Governor Azadi nodded his approval. “Thank you, Minister. Does any of the Council have questions or concerns?”
Nobody raised their hands or spoke up, so Sabine and Amos thanked the Council and the meeting went on.
・◦━◯━⌾━●・。●━❍━●◯━◦・
It was early afternoon by the time everything wrapped up. Outside the giant curved windows, smooth white clouds drifted lazily across the Bay of Rahn. Small sail barges floated calmly above the waves as fisherman and sightseers drove back and forth on the deep blue waters.
Sabine sat back in her seat, one hand under her chin and the other draped across her helmet sitting in her lap. She could feel the smooth paint beneath her fingers, the brushstrokes of a time in her life where death was always at her back. Kanan, then Ezra, then Jedha, Scarif, Alderaan, Yavin, Hoth, Endor, Mandalor, and every planet and frigate and fighter in between.
The armor was painted for them—all of those lost, but especially Kanan and Ezra. The grey base was for mourning, through day and night and dream. The yellow on her chest plate was for remembrance, never forgetting who you fought for. Purple was for good luck and fortune, through finding life and purpose through the constant death of war.
Finally, the deep red flowing from her right shoulder—the one Kanan used to wear his pauldron on—was for honoring a parent and leader. He was both to her, despite the fact they’d only known each other for around five years.
Before she left, she would visit the memorial with Hera and Jacen. It was always a somber affair, but Sabine’s heart felt lighter whenever she told stories of the two brave Jedi who had saved Lothal from the evil Empire—and Jacen loved to hear about his father and long-lost brother.
Perhaps she’d go that afternoon, if time permitted.
She broke out of her thoughts as Azadi and the Minister said their goodbyes. A few seconds later, the double doors clicked shut, and Sabine and Ryder were alone.
He took a deep breath and sighed. “Well then. Let's get this over with. Your office or mine?”
Sabine smiled sadly. “Yours will do, Governor. Lead the way.”
They walked out of the meeting room side by side, and made their way back through the antechamber onto the turbolift, where they were transported to one of the lower levels of the Capital Building. For the second time that day, Sabine watched the city through the glass—though the trip was much shorter this time.
When they arrived on the 133rd floor, the turbolift doors opened to reveal a long hallway lined with large paintings, murals, and tapestries. Each one depicted significant events in Lothal’s history, from ancient pre-colonial art, the first Republic envoy to the planet, the founding of Capital City, the (supposed) extinction of the loth-wolves, the Imperial occupation and subsequent liberation, concepts of Capital City’s new architecture, and everything inbetween. While waiting for meetings with Ryder in the past, she had spent countless hours analyzing and interpreting almost every piece of art in the hallway. She hoped to show it to Ezra when they got back.
(If they got back.)
At the end of the hall, two guards stood at attention outside Ryder’s office. He greeted them and opened the door with his pass, and Sabine followed him in.
Azadi’s office was very different than that of the late Governor Pryce. While it had the same wraparound windows present in the offices of the old Imperial Command Center, complete with privacy shades, the walls were a lightly textured stone. More paintings and tapestries, this time of the spiral mountains present around the planet, hung on the walls around monitors and shelves full of hard-copied flimsi books.
His desk was a light wood, complete with stained carvings similar to those of the ancient Lothalian cave paintings. Embedded in the wood was a holoprojector and a large virtual holocomputer, used to indicate incoming messages and files. The chairs were of the same wood and similar design, though much simpler, with soft cushions for comfort.
As they took their seats opposite each other, Azadi logged into his holocomputer. “Alright, lets get this started,” he said. “You’ve spoken to Amos about this?”
“I have,” Sabine replied. “I informed him almost immediately after I received the message and decided what I wanted to do.”
“And how did he take it?”
“Surprising well, I think. I have a feeling he knew something like this would come up, sooner or later—he’s been taking on more of my duties, even more than he did after the fall of Mandalor.”
“I see,” Azadi said, finishing the login procedure and sitting back in his seat. “What’s left over, then? I’ll see to it that others in the militia have the proper clearances and experience to take on the work.”
“I’ve thought a little about that,” she said, considering. “I definitely want Commander Dahvid to take over the assignments of personnel—he spends enough time in the simulator bays to know the strengths and weaknesses of people in the field. Minister’s Aid Talyah can take over the paperwork part of things; I’ve been training her for a while now, and she more than deserves the promotion.”
She pauses, stomach tightening at the thought of the next subject. “I… don’t really have anyone to take my place as Ambassador to Mandalore at the moment, though.”
Ryder grimaced knowingly. “Yes… How long has it been since our last Mandalorian refugee?”
“…Six months?”
“That long?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Well then,” Ryder said with a sigh. “I’m sorry to be the one to say it, Sabine, but I don’t think we’ll be getting many more of your people here. It’s been years since the Night of a Thousand Tears, and most Mandalorians that survived have already been relocated or hidden.”
“I know,” she said, heart feeling heavy. “I guess… If you do hear from anyone else while I’m gone, just contact Hera. She’ll know what to do and how to do it discreetly.”
“Done,” Ryder said. “Anything else?”
“I also want Hera and Jacen to have my apartment. I’ve put aside a substantial sum of credits towards the rent that should last for a few years; when that runs out, Hera can do what she wants with it.”
“What about the Gauntlet?”
“I want it to be in Hera’s name, but she and I have agreed that it will be the property of my tal aliit—my blood family. If it's ever safe for Mandalorians to be out in the galaxy again, I want them to have something of our culture left for them.”
“Also done,” Ryder said. He pulled up some files on his holocomputer, transferred them to a datapad, and handed it to her. “I have some documents for you to sign—just procedure, as you know. Please read them thoroughly and write your signature in Basic and Mando’a on the lines at the end.”
And so she read. For the next hour, she read the standard non-disclosure statements, reminders that her job was not guaranteed to stay available during her leave; the reduced pay statements, the benefits that her time in service to the Council had granted her.
On and on she read.
By the time Sabine finished reading, Azadi had become engrossed in a file opened on his holoprojector. She waited a moment for him to finish, and when he showed no signs of doing so, she said, “Ryder?”
He jumped, as if startled. “Y—yes? Ah, right. Does everything seem to be in order?”
Sabine glanced at the datapad. “It seems so. I just need a stylus to sign.”
He passed one over.
As she hovered the stylus over the lines that would terminate her position, she eyed Ryder. He had started reading the file again, completely focused on its contents and not even giving her a second glance. She would have thought that her leaving the Ministry Council on such short notice would have him focused on everything going right, especially considering their long history.
Something’s wrong…
Sabine carefully placed her stylus on the desk. “Is… everything alright, Governor?”
Azadi slowly turned his head towards her. His eyebrows were furrowed, as if what he was reading was confusing the hell out of him. He didn’t look worried, per se…just…unsettled?
“This report I just received...” he said slowly, measuring out his words. “…It’s from the Militia’s Orbital Monitoring Station.”
Sabine’s blood turned to ice. “What does it say?”
Ryder shook his head, trying to seem unperturbed. “Nothing much. Just some odd readings gathered on the far side of the system a few moments ago. Looks like an energy surge of some kind, but it’s gone now.” He shook his head again and looked over, pointing at her datapad. “Have you signed yet?”
Sabine stared at her datapad, the two blank lines that would decide her fate for the next few years. She was going to be leaving in a few days anyways; they didn’t need her help. Just…
Something wasn’t right. The gut feeling she’d had hadn’t gone away, and despite the fact that everything seemed normal outside—sun still shining, ships still coming and going, barges still out in the bay—the world seemed tilted on its axis.
The Orbital Monitoring Station picked up weird stuff all the time—that was nothing new. Solar flares, changes in the sun’s magnetic weather, previously unknown asteroids and comets coming in from out of system, and the odd broken-down ship or freighter on the fringes of the system that needed fuel or repairs. But none of that went straight to the governor’s desk.
Sabine tried to push down the feeling, to bundle it up and worry about it another time, long after she’d left.
It was nothing.
(Something is WRONG.)
She shook her head, put it in her hands. “Something’s wrong, Ryder. How often do you get reports like this?”
He looked at the report, then back at Sabine. “Not often,” he admitted.
She looked at her datapad one last time, then said, “I want to see what’s up. I’ll sign after I figure it out—just to make sure it isn’t something big. It’s just—“ She huffed out a laugh, feeling sick. “—I somehow have a really, really bad feeling about this.”
Ryder raised his eyebrows, frowning. “Are you sure, Sabine? It could really be nothing; probably just a new recruit who’s jumping at the chance to find some new meteoroids, or a false scan.”
“Officer Norah wouldn’t just let something like that slip to your desk, Ryder,” she retorted. “You know how particular she is about these types of things.”
“I know, I know,” he said, rubbing a hand down his face. “…How about this? We’ll go down to LMC and see what’s up ourselves. While we’re there, you can let your people know your plans, even if they do seem to be…changing up a bit.”
“Sounds fine by me,” she said, gathering up her things. “Is there a hovercar on your landing platform?”
“You know there always is.”
“Then we’ll take a ride in that, and I’ll have the chance to give everyone a proper goodbye.”
The feeling in her gut hadn’t lessened at all.
(One last time.)
・◦━◯━⌾━●・。●━❍━●◯━◦・
The Lothalian Militia Center was located not too far from the Capital Building, on the edge of the spaceport and surrounded by hangers and smaller technical and training facilities that made up the bulk of Lothal’s defense force.
As Azadi’s security sped them through the city, Sabine sent Hera a quick update and watched the sky. It was impossible to see the cause of the anomaly from the surface of the planet; if there was something happening on the other side of the system—on the outer reaches, if what the report said was correct—it would be absolutely invisible to both the naked eye and the orbital stations, which kept a closer eye on the common hyperlanes.
The clouds still drifted lazily, the sun still shined, and the motions of the freighters and shuttles in the air made it clear that nobody was aware of anything out of the ordinary going on.
As they parked at the entrance of the LMC, Sabine noticed that there was a fair amount of activity going on. Not too much more than usual, but…
There were techs refueling the starfighters sitting on the flight line.
She could feel the blood rushing in her ears. “Ryder?” she asked warningly.
“I don’t know, Ambassador,” he said tersely. “Let’s get inside and talk to Amos.”
They quickly made their way through the front doors, where a security guard spotted them—doing a double-take at Sabine’s attire—and motioned to the turbolift.
“Commander Wren, Governor Azadi,” she said, saluting quickly. “Minister of Security Amos asked me to escort you to Central Command.”
“At ease, Captain,” Sabine ordered. “We heard that there were some odd readings on the edge of the far system. Any updates?”
As they walked into the ‘lift, the captain made a so-so motion with her hand. “Not really, sir. I think Sensor Officer Elias said there was some kind of signal coming in from a location near the energy surge, but they haven’t been able to parse it out.”
“Do we know what caused the initial burst?” Azadi asked.
“No, Governor, not exactly—somebody was saying it resembled the energy signature of a vessel exiting hyperspace, but with a burst that powerful? That’s either one massive ship, or a lot of really small ones. But Officer Norah would know more than me.”
Sabine instantly thought invasion fleet—but that was insane. Lothal was prospering, yes, but that didn’t mean that they held some kind of strategic value, especially when compared to some of the more powerful planets in the Republic. They even had their own military, which was quite massive when many systems in the Outer Rim didn’t have much more than a single patrol protecting their resources!
Azadi was starting to look ill in the same way Sabine felt. “Have we received any visual or auditory data?”
“No, sir, not yet.”
The turbolift doors opened to a buzz of activity in the Central Command Center. About a dozen sensor officers were focused on their instrument readings coming in from the OMS, and in the center of it all stood Minister Amos, Lead CCC Officer Norah, and Sensor Officer Elias, who was holding a datapad.
They hurried over to the group, who looked grim. “Governor Azadi, Commander Wren,” Officer Norah said severely. “I take it you’ve heard.”
“I received your report ten minutes ago,” Azadi said. “Something about an energy burst on the far edge of the system?”
“It would seem it’s more than that,” Amos said gravely. “The energy signiture was confirmed to be that of a hyperdrive—but how many, we don’t know.”
Sabine took a look at the readings around her. “Any developments with the signal coming in? The one that followed the burst?”
Officer Elias nodded and handed her his datapad. “Yes, ma’am. It looks to be a transmission of some sort, but the signal is experiencing extreme interference. We’re putting it through filters now to try and make some sense of it, but so far we have nothing. As a precaution we’re getting all of our fighters ready for launch.”
Sabine nodded and read the report. Those were definitely the energy signatures of a hyperdrive—there was no doubt about that. It was massive, and larger than one would expect from at least three Imperial Star Destroyers.
This was insane.
“And to think I was planning on leaving,” Sabine said, feeling out of breath. “Who’s in charge of filtering that signal?”
Norah pointed out a captain in one of the stations to her left. “Captain Martas, Commander. He and his droid are down there.”
She quickly took the small set of stairs down to the sensor area. Captain Martas, a young male Twi’lek with deep blue skin, was staring intensely at his screen, shifting filters left and right over a simulation of the signal’s wavelength.
“Captain?” she asked, coming up to his side. “What’s the situation here?”
He looked up, startled, then grinned in recognition. “Commander Wren! Good to see you up here; I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me!”
Sabine rolled her eyes, not in the mood for banter but appreciating his attempt to take light of the situation. “Jacen would never let me forget you, Martas,” she admitted. “But now’s not the time. What’s the issue with this signal?”
His face smoothed out, and he stared intensely at his screen again. “I think the issue lies both at the source of the message and at our end. Neither I nor ED-4 recognize the signal type, and it seems that whoever is trying to send this message has a faulty transmitter.”
“You think whatever—or whoever—is out there…is in danger?”
“Perhaps,” he said. “As you no doubt know, the signal started a few moments after the initial energy burst. My guess is that they needed time to repair their transmitter before sending out their transmission—which is very likely a distress signal.”
Sabine could feel her blood pounding in her ears. “If it’s a distress signal, wouldn’t they be transmitting on all frequencies?”
“One would assume so, but the fact that the wavelength, frequency, and code are not found in our Republic or Imperial databases tells me we’re dealing with something completely out of our depth here.”
Before Sabine could respond to that statement, Martas’ astromech ED-4 beeped out an excited string of Binary.
“ED-4’s got the signal from OMS isolated,” Martas announced, earning the attention of the entire command center. “Applying standard filters now.”
Sabine held her breath as he transferred the incoming signal to the speaker at his station. There was a loud burst of static, followed by more static but at a more reasonable tone. There seemed to be increases in volume where words should be, but none of it was coherent.
Martas pressed a button on his headset and spoke into the mic. “OMS, this is CCC. Realign your dish .003 degrees to your port side.”
The static flared again, but this time something recognizable came through:
"—is—ra’Bri—…—-sary of the Ch—-..—sonar—.——-.-eet Sh——-walk——-.-.-.—asylum und—-.-./——-/othal .—.-/—/..w Repub——-..-.//—-.nemy force-.—-///—-aged our hyperdrive-.—.-..-./-.-.—’re flying blind ou—-.-.—support is fail——.-.—.-ick and wound——.-.-.//—location is unkno.-..—.-.——-..ght of Lothal’s mo…-.-.—..help us—-.-.—..—"
The message repeated over and over again, garbled as hell and incomprehensible. The four people standing above her started a heated discussion about their next step. She could swear something was familiar about that voice, but it wasn’t clicking.
“Can you clear it up any more than that?” Sabine asked Martas tensely.
“Working on it, Commander,” he replied. “ED-4, try masking this intensity, here.”
The droid beeped an affirmative, and finally the message cleared up—and the contents of it had Sabine’s heart stopped dead.
“—This is Ezra—idger, em-s-ary of-f-f-f-f—of the Ch-ch——iss Expan—o-ary Def—se Fleet—hip Nigh—-t-t-t-t-t-Nightwalker. W-w-w-ww-w-We request a-a-aa-a-aid and asylum under the governorship of Loth-th-th-thal and the New-w-w-w Republic. E-E-E-E-nemy forces have damaged our hyp—-drive an——ensor systems; we’re flying blind out her—-ife support is failin-w-w—w-w-w-we have sick and wounded on board. Our location is unknown——by the light of Lothal’s moons, pleas—— help us—-”