Chapter Text
Grian nearly groaned at the sound of footsteps on the ramp of his ship. He managed to suppress the sound, and even further suppress his relief when he realized that it was only one set. One rhythmic set of footsteps clicking on the ramp. Not the ten he would expect from stormtroopers, or the usual two from regular inspection teams. Just one.
He pushed himself out from beneath the ships’ control panel, pushing his hair out of his eyes to meet those of Inquisitor Scar. Clad in nearly all black, Scar looked almost uncomfortable as he stood, hovering in the doorway to the cockpit. His lightsaber hung at his side, its circular hilt half concealed by his cape. Scar had forgone his mask entirely, an unusual thing for the inquisitors. It was held in the crook of his arm, pressed against his side.
“Hello,” Grian said as he sat up, glancing over Scar’s shoulder to make sure there were, for sure, no stormtroopers present. Scar slightly inclined his head in greeting, slipping inside the door. It shut behind him with a small plume of fog. He walked forward, towards Grian, and offered a gloved hand. Grian took it with little hesitation, allowing Scar to help him to his feet.
“Hi,” Scar said as Grian dusted himself off. It was a little awkward, neither quite used to casual greeting yet. It still made Grian smile, though, at the fact that Scar was at least trying. He wasn’t sure what to expect from the Inquisitor, really.
Scar took a moment to look around the cockpit. Grian didn’t think he’d changed much since the last time Scar had been on board, but, who knew, maybe he had. Grian waited until Scar finally leaned heavily against the copilot’s seat, waving a hand. “Don’t let me disturb you. I can talk while you work.”
Grian raised an eyebrow. Scar might be a slightly kinder Imperial, but it was odd and foreign to be offered a choice in matters. Still, Grian lowered himself back to the ground and slid back beneath the control panel to continue on his repairs.
“I have another job for you,” Scar began over the gentle sound of shuffling wires. Grian remained silent, hoping Scar took it as a cue to continue. Over his work, Grian could hear him sigh and lean further into the cushioning of the seat. “We’ll be flying to Coruscant to pick up and escort senator Pearlescent Moon.”
Grian hummed to show he heard. Transport jobs were common for him. He was a pilot, after all, and he’d been chosen by Scar to serve as his personal pilot. As he’d learned soon after his promotion, Scar had a disdain for using TIE fighters and ordinary imperial ships. He’d said they scared people away, especially when the job wasn’t to freak people out.
Grian had been able to keep a pre-Empire vessel hidden away for his own use, and Scar had already known about it when he approached Grian. It wasn’t the oldest Republic vessel, but it had enough differences that it didn’t quite classify as Imperial in the Empire’s records. And Scar’s knowledge of it had been the whole reason he’d come to promote Grian in the first place- that had been quite the summoning. Scar had then promoted him to a role that was yet to have a name, temporarily just the right hand man, and quickly gained and approved the permits for Grian’s uncommon and, at the time, unapproved ship.
He’d also learned that the smaller size of his ship allowed Scar to escape his own usual stormtrooper escort, something the Inquisitor seemed to try and do as often as he could. Missions like the one Scar was now informing him of often relied on Grian as both the pilot and extra protection. Though as an Inquisitor, the Empire had enough faith that Scar could certainly hold his own, the extra protection looked good for them. Even though Grian was sure they’d prefer stormtroopers. Lots and lots of stormtroopers.
(He also knew, too, that Scar wasn’t the most graceful pilot to ever join the Empire. Grian was certainly happy to put his own skills to use to keep Scar from crashing in a pit of flames from a bad turn.)
“We’ll be taking her to a counsel on Lothal-” Scar cut himself off when Grian hit his head on the module above him in surprise, toolbox clattering to the ground with a resounding crash. In less than a minute, Scar was, surprisingly, at his side, ducking beneath the panel with concern written all over his face. Grian didn’t have the brainpower to even begin to process that, all his thoughts having stalled to an utter stop when Scar had uttered the name Lothal.
“Lothal?” Grian repeated stupidly. He was still blinking with shock, and now from the recovery of pain. Pain that was fading too fast for him to comprehend, that he felt had something to do with the hand Scar had rested on his leg. “A counsel on Lothal?”
Scar nodded slowly. He didn’t say anything until Grian stopped blinking at him, and even then, he merely motioned for Grian to follow him out from under the control panel.
“Yes,” he said, finally, after having Grian sit in the pilot's seat. Scar had returned to leaning against the copilot’s chair, though much less casually. He was standing upright and at attention, as though he were afraid Grian might completely pass out if he spoke anymore. “A counsel on Lothal to discuss the Rebellion's presence on the planet. Senator Moon personally requested to attend. She mentioned she had ideas as to why there may be such a large rebel presence, and what can possibly be done to… encourage them to leave.” Scar’s eyes flicked away from Grian as he said this, and towards the door, once again checking to make sure they weren’t being watched. “We can discuss more of those details on the way, if you wish, but that’s the gist of it.”
Grian nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak. Somehow, Scar seemed to understand, offering him a small smile. “We leave tomorrow.”
With that, he turned around, cape swishing at his heels. From somewhere beside him, Grian's astromech, Grumbot, gave a beep.
"Yeah," Grian said, distantly, shaking his head. "Let's get back to work."