Chapter Text
The young street rat entered old Jho’s, filled with bustling locals taking the opportunity to relax whilst not under the empire’s watchful eye, hearty laughter filling one of the last free places on Lothal. Ezra approached the bar, his most recent score safely secured in his rugged backpack.
The other day he was lucky enough to come across a shot down tie fighter, robbing the pilot blind as he pretended to aid him. Among the gadgets he managed to “procure” was the data disk for the flight computer, usually worthless as imperials would wipe the device after returning from a patrol once the data was uploaded to the imperial network. However the “ace” apparently had an ego and preferred to keep record of his victorious dog fights, keeping all of his flight data on hand, what a laser brain
Stuff like this always sold well on the black markets, smugglers usually willing to pay a pretty penny for rare intel on imperial patrols, making their own line of work easier. The only problem was Ezra had recently lost his middle man, Ferpil Wallaway. The Xexto had taught Ezra every he knew about stealing and usually helped him sell stolen tech on the black market, for a fee of course, but the master pickpocket had recently met his demise to the end of a blaster. Whilst Ezra missed his friend, he learnt long ago to not get attached, people in his lonely life came and went, be it by their own choice or their luck finally running out in this cruel galaxy. It was just how things were.
Approaching the bar he spotted Jho, cloth in hand as he dried recently cleaned glasses, ensuring the happy patrons could continue to drink his ale’s. The male Ithorian always had a soft spot for Ezra, being another one of the few to aid him during his earlier days on the streets, often turning a blind eye to Ezra stealing from drunks or rummaging through his bins after hours when he was really desperate, unlike most other bar owners in the capital who often treated Ezra as nothing more than vermin.
Squeezing through the small crowd, his well-trained hands emptying a couple of pockets on the way, he made it to the bar.
“Hey Jho” Ezra greeted, looking left and right before leaning over the bar slightly, “Is the buyer you told me about here”, he asked in a hushed voice, not wanting to announce he had something of value.
The older Ithorian pointed towards the far corner of the bar, “He is over there” he said, concern filling the older man’s large eyes as he rested his hand on the boys shoulder preventing him from making his way over, “These aren’t the sort of people you should be dealing with Ezra, are you sure you want to go through with this?”
Ezra yanked his shoulder free from the aliens grasp, rolling his eyes at the frankly stupid question. The one problem with Jho was that he still viewed Ezra as a child, something he hadn’t for years. A child didn’t sleep on roof tops next to dirty generator exhausts to fend off the cold or hide from gangs and imps in the sewers, a child didn’t have to scavenge for mouldy scraps just to survive.
“I’ll be fine Jho”, he reassured, “it’s just a sale”, doing a mock salute as he disappeared back into the crowds.
He navigated his way to the corner, once again having to squeeze through the regular drunks drowning their sorrows. He spotted the buyer sitting in the corner booth, a broad Devaronian with two horns protruding from his head, one of which seemingly snapped in half. Ezra had heard of Vizago before, the crime Lord well known for distributing illegal goods in and out of the sector and under the empire’s nose. Guarding his table stood two enforcer droids, their towering height intimidating those who dared got to close. He was certainly not someone to be trifled with.
As he went to the booth, one of the thug droids grabbed his arm, it’s metal grip digging into his wrist, cutting off his circulation to his hand, “State your business” it asked in a emotionless voice, raising his arm above his head to restrict his movement.
“I’m here to make a sale, you stupid bucket of bolts” The street rat yelled, grabbing his picking tool from his shin guard and ramming it into the droids hand with expert precision. He quickly twisted it, causing the droids mechanical thumb to fall limp, releasing his arm. A lot of Ezra’s earlier scores where from dissembling unattended ships and droids for parts, often at night to avoid being spotted by the owners. He could reduce these clankers to piles of scrap with his eyes closed if he had to.
The IG, pulled back it’s now disabled manipulator and went to grab him again with it’s other before it’s owner spoke up, “Let him through”, the droid halting mid swing before stepping back, allowing Ezra to take a seat.
The crime lord looked at the street rat, red eyes meeting blue. Ezra hid his emotions with a mask of indifference, making his facial expression unreadable as the well-built Devaronian continued to study him, trying to get Ezra to squirm under his gaze.
Huffing he pushed a glass towards the teen, the golden liquor nearly sloshing over the edges.
“I swear they get younger every year” He muttered, clearly making assumptions due to Ezra’s age.
Without hesitating, Ezra brought the glass to his lips, taking a large but slow sip as the man watched, the unknown liquor burning his throat as he swallowed. This was far from his first experience with alcohol, cheap liquor being far easier to get hold of on the back water planet than antiseptics or pain killers. Ezra knew the older man was testing him, having him take a drink that could have easily been poisoned or spiked as a show of trust.
Vizago gave an approving nod as Ezra sat the glass back down, reaching under the table to pull out a brief case.
As the man revealed what was inside, Ezra had to force his eyes to not bulge out of his head, having never seen so many credits in one place before, that’s probably more than I made my entire time on the streets he thought.
“Do you have the disk?” The crime lord impatiently asked, snapping back his attention
“Off course I do?” Ezra cockily replied, grateful the shock of seeing so much money didn’t make it to his face.
With the slide of his hand, the disk was on the table, the crime lord snorting at Ezra’s sleight of hand, “Nice trick”, he commented shaking his head as he took the data disk, glancing towards the entrance to ensure they wouldn’t have any unwelcome company.
Using the lid of the case to block the view of any potential snoopers, he slotted the disk into a small holoprojector, displaying its contents between them. The crime lord focused on the data, ensuring it was the real deal before he purchased it. “Seems legit” he commented, shutting of the hologram, “How did you manage to get hold of this” he inquired, curious to how someone so young could pull this off.
“With great difficulty” Ezra lied, playing it big. The crime lord didn’t need to know lady luck basically gifted him this.
Vizago seemed unsurprised by the vague answer, most thieves keeping their methods a secret. Removing one of the stacks of golden credits, he counted them out, “I will give you two thousand credits for the chip” The crime lord instructed, attempting to leave no room for negotiation.
Whilst that would be enough to ensure Ezra wouldn’t need to steal food for the next few months and leave plenty leftover to get a new power generator for the tower, he certainly wasn’t born yesterday.
“We both know that data is worth at least 5000 credits” Ezra stated. Most would call him an idiot for trying to barter in this situation, the teen outnumbered, outgunned and outmuscled, but Vizago was far from holding all the cards. Ezra did have other options when it came to buyers, the same could not be said for the crime lord. This data was a rare commodity that could ensure Vizago’s future ventures went without fault but if it fell into the hands of a competitor, his clients could flock on over to the more successful syndicate, leaving him out of pocket. Sure, there was very little Ezra could do if the Vizago just robbed him here and now but that also had its consequences. Vizago was respected and honourable enough that his clients trusted him, but trust was something easily broken. If word got out that he stole something just because he didn’t like how negotiations were going, it was a sure fire way to drive off potential future clients.
Ezra leaned back in his seat smugly as the older man thought through his options, annoyance clear in his eyes yet with a hint of intrigue.
“Look kid” The Devaronian began to speak, the belittling name making Ezra thrown, “I don’t really do freelancers, you should count yourself lucky I agreed to meet you in the first place” He admitted. Ezra knew this of course, most syndicates preferring more reliable and consistent “workers” than relying on goods from newbies, Ferpil would frequently get those trying to scam him with counterfeit junk at his pawn shop.
Vizago started counting out more credits, which Ezra took as a good sign. “So here is my proposition, I’ll pay you three thousand now and give you the opportunity to prove yourself” He said smugly, also pulling out his own data chip, placing it in front of the teen, “In two days, the local imps will be transporting some cargo through the capital for the local barracks, including a crate of sixteen blaster rifles, you manage to deliver them to me at the given coordinates, I’ll pay you the rest of the five thousand plus another six for the blasters”, Taking a swig whilst he waited for the teen to respond.
Ezra sat their as he thought over the deal, Vizago was clearly trying to set him up for failure, attempting to get the data at a discounted price but the possibility of more credits did appeal to him. Undertaking such a job would be new to the young thief and very different from his more opportunistic approach but he believed he could pull it off with some careful planning. There was also the problem that if he said no, he would be making himself out as a coward and Vizago was by far the safest buyer for him, the other groups of pirates for more likely to just take the data and dump him somewhere nobody would find him, not that anybody would care to look if he disappeared.
He cautiously picked up the disk and credits and then extended his other arm forward.
“Deal” He finally replied, the crime lord shaking his hand with a vice grip
“So what do I call you?” Vizago asked, now that they could be working together in the not too distant future.
“Dev” Ezra replied, deciding to not reveal his actual name
“Well my friend, I hope you live to bargain another day” he said as he rose from his seat to leave, “And if you don’t… Eh” shrugging his shoulders to show that he really didn’t care, just satisfied with the deal he made.
Remaining at the booth, Ezra twiddled the new disk in his hands, surprised by how well the sale went considering the three thousand credits that now weighed down his pocket, something he had never experienced before. The promise of future work was also a bonus, as long as he succeeded in stealing the blaster.
“Looks like I have a job to do” He said to no one, finishing his drink rather letting It go to waste and leaving the bar.
Two days later
Ezra strolled through the street market, pushing a storage crate in front of him. With a clear plan in mind, Ezra looked out for a potential mark.
Mid way to the main square he found a not to uncommon occurrence on Lothal, imperial officers harassing a helpless farmer.
“All trade must be registered with the empire” A lean officer said, looking down his nose at the farmer. yeah, so the empire can take half the profit, Ezra thought as he watched events unfold.
Surprisingly the meek farmer spoke up to the imperial, “I remember what it was like before your ships showed up, before you imperials ruined Lothal like the rest of the galaxy”, saying what everybody else was thinking.
Not to Ezra’s surprise however, the officers didn’t take to kindly to the man’s truthful words, immediately detaining him and his goods, accusing him of treason for speaking his mind.
“You can’t do this” The farmer shouted as he was dragged away, the more portly officer helping himself to a jogan, “Oh yeah?” he called out, “Who’s going to stop us, you? You”, pointing towards a couple of citizens who looked down in shame, not knowing how to help.
Seizing the opportunity Ezra left his crate and went up to the imperials, with his head down and arms reaching out, appearing as a beggar, “Hey Mr, spare a Jogan?” He asked, sounding as feeble as possible.
“Move along Loth rat!” He ordered, not attempting to hide his disgust towards the teen. Keeping up the act, Ezra profusely apologized to both officers, his quick hands discreetly swiping the comm link from the one of their belts.
“Not looking for trouble” He said as he walked away, grinning as he made his way out of ear shot, “But it sure has a way of finding me”.
It pained Ezra to leave the farmer in the predicament he was in but for his plan to work, the imperials couldn’t catch wind of the missing comm link. Not my problem, he told himself as he retrieved his crate.
Entering an empty alleyway, he opened up his crate, revealing the cadet uniform inside. He managed to come across it the other day, a mother selling her sons uniform to try and make enough credits to escape this force forsaken planet, her daughter recently disappearing at the local academy. The son apparently wanted to try and investigate what happened to his sister by snooping around but the mother refused to let him go back, having already lost one child. The uniform set him back fifty credits but was conveniently his size and would add to his helmet collection.
He slipped on the white and grey uniform, disliking the plain colours, orange suiting him far better in his mind. Mounting the cadet helmet on his head, he exited the ally, appearing as an imperial cadet who had been given the grunt work. Another disadvantage of his attire was the lack of weapons, feeling naked without the energy sling he had constructed years ago but he couldn’t risk giving himself away.
He made his way to the main square, the shipment exactly where Vizago said it would be. The troopers and officers expected nothing as he made his way to the centre of the group. Ensuring none of imps where looking his way he activated the comm and deepened his voice, “All officers to the main square, this is a code red emergency, stay on high alert”.
Whilst to most the tactic may seem odd, the troopers around the teen all looked outwards away from the speeders, searching the roof tops and surrounding streets for trouble, unaware the thief had already slipped by.
Ezra hastily swapped his empty crate with the one containing the blasters, barely attaching the decoy before more imps arrived, the officers from earlier amongst them. Silently hoping they may have let the poor farmer go in favour of dealing with the “code red emergency”, he made his leave, chuckling to himself as the officers argued about the mysterious order, “I almost feel bad for them, almost” he said to himself, grateful the bucket hid his smug grin.
As he left the square, he felt a sudden humming in his mind, an indescribable instinct that drew his eyes other to the end of the street, towards a stranger. The tall man had a roguish look to him, armour covering one of his shoulders and upper arm and a blaster pistol hanging from his belt. As if also sensing the pull aswell, he began to turn around, Ezra feeling the need to hide but couldn’t risk blowing his cover. The man’s emerald eyes immediately landed right on the teen, his quizzical look felt as is it was piercing his helmet. Ignoring the gaze, Ezra walked forward unfortunately in the direction of the mysterious figure.
Thankfully he seemed to know better than to openly stare, looking away from the teen as he made his towards the square. Ezra couldn’t help notice as he man discreetly tapped his blaster as he passed an archway, a beastly creature that the teen recognised as Lasat emerging from the shadows.
“Interesting he muttered” As the man repeated the same action with a Mandalorian in the most colourful armour he had ever seen. It didn’t take a genius to figure out they were up to something and if Ezra had to guess, they were after the shipment he had already stolen.
Ezra quickened his pace to avoid the upcoming crossfire, his suspicions confirmed as an explosion echoed throughout the streets.
“GET THOSE CRATES OUT OF HERE, KEEP THEM SECURE AT ALL COSTS” an imperial officer bellowed in the chaos, unaware that they were now guarding nothing more than a couple crates of fruit, those pirates are going to be pissed one they realise.
He had prepared for a more eventful escape, a hot wired speeder waiting nearby but it was unlikely the imperials will catch on to him now some pirates had stolen the empty crate, both parties believing it to contain the blasters.
Holding back a laugh at the chorus of blaster fire far behind him, he attached the crate to his speeder, hiding the imperial logo behind a worn rag that he laid on top. Reasoning that an imperial cadet riding a speeder through the grass plains could appear to be suspicious, he removed the uniform and stored it in his bag, a sigh of relief escaping his lips as he reattached his sling to his wrist, feeling that bit safer now he had his trusty weapon back.
Well that way easy, he thought to himself, grateful lady luck had graced him once again.
The three spectres sped the stolen speeder’s up the ghost’s ramp with the stolen cargo, Kanan not wasting a moment pulling out his comm, “spectre 1 to spectre 2, we are on board”, with that the ramp swiftly closed and the ship sharply jolted as Hera sped them away from danger.
He sighed in relief as he heard Tie’s far in the distant, unlikely to catch up to them before they left the atmosphere, “nice work out there guys” he said to Zeb and Sabine who had dismounted their speeders, feeling a hint of concern from the young mandalorian as he made his way up the ladder, “I’ll tell Hera that the op was a success”, he also wanted to inform her of the strange presence he felt from one of the cadet’s but the rest of the crew didn’t need to know about that for now.
“Kanan wait” Sabine said as she removed her helmet and started opening the crates, “None of these crates are for weapons transport” She informed, “The empire usually stores fire arms and explosives in blue crates whilst general supplies like food or medication are transported in red ones” sharing the knowledge she picked up from the academy.
“Karabast” he heard the Lasat cursed as he glanced over the crates they had stolen.
“I noticed whilst we were speeding away but I didn’t want to distract you two during the escape” said the Mandalorian, a look of frustration on her face.
Zeb started forcefully opening the rest of the crates, not waiting for Sabine to unlock them, in hope that the imperials had just neglected protocol. With each one just revealing fruit he gave another agitated grunt, his patience finally running out when one didn’t even contain that, “This one doesn’t even have anything inside”, slamming the lid back down.
Just are luck Kanan thought as he felt the ship jump into the safety of hyperspace. The crew was running dangerously low on credits, with only enough to keep the ghost fueled for a few more days. They had also wasted the last of their precious explosives and blaster cartridges to acquire these practically worthless crates, they would most likely have to delve into their backup gear for their next op that they usually kept on hand in case they got attacked or ambushed.
Leaning his elbow against the ladder, he massaged his forehead in attempt to relive his stress, “I guess I’ll have to tell Hera the op wasn’t a success after all”
As he entered the cockpit, Hera looked back at him as she fiddled with the hyperspace computer, planning on jumping out soon so they can make their way back to Tarkin town to sell the basters they totally had.
“Now that’s what I call a routine Op” She congratulated as she spun round in her chair to face him. Kanan had to admit that the plan went without a hitch, if you didn’t count that they had nothing to show for their efforts other than some fruit.
“Right…” He nervously replied, “About that”, scratching the back of his head as Hera’s gaze pinned him to the spot.
“What happened“ She asked, no patients in her voice, force she could be scary when she wanted to be.
“You know how I said we would go, grab the cargo and escape with the blasters” he said, Hera slowly nodding, “Well their may have not been any blasters amongst the shipment” He admitted wincing.
“Well that’s just great, that’s what we get for trusting a tip from your PAL Vizago” She lectured, throwing her arms up in the air, knowing they desperately needed the creds, “Well at least we got supplies for Tarkin town” She added, finding a silver lining.
“I’ll speak to him once we get there, he seemed pretty confident on this intel so maybe it was just an honest mistake.
“I would like to speak to him aswell this time, we can’t afford any more fruitless missions if we wish to stay afloat, otherwise we might as well put the ghost in storage” She said, Kanan deciding to not make a joke of the op being far from fruitless, fruit being all they managed to get in the end. It looks like Vizago might be facing the wrath of Hera Syndulla when they landed, Kanan not envying the Devaronian whatsoever.