Chapter Text
A golden hue marked the edge of the horizon, the sun blazing above, washing over him as he stepped out from his durasteel roost. A chill hit him with a shuddering breeze as he stretched his arms high above his head, pulling sleepiness and sluggishness from the muscles stiffly wound deep in his back and shoulders. Sleeping on a cot was less than comfortable- even more so without a pillow. He strolled toward the edge of the tower, breathing in the fresh air and reaching out to hold the railing so he could look out, over his kingdom of gold.
Ezra felt the painful ache of hunger climb up his throat as he leaned against the railing, drawing his eyes to the plains below. A sharply-angled shadow fell over his tower, roving leisurely, like it owned the place, as a deep rumbling echoed through the hills. He blinked to adjust to the darkness that blocked out the warm sun as a loud, trilling warble pressed uncomfortably down on his ears. The massive ship careened right over his tower as it continued north, right towards the capital. With sloping, white skyscrapers and an ethereal city that used to be great spanning the right side of Korca Bay’s coast, and the boorish, ugly Imperial factories scarring the left side.
His parents, the Sumars, everyone he knew growing up always continued to call it Loktal, the true name of the city- not Capital City, a ridiculously simple moniker used by the Imperials. After they were taken, though, the name merely floated as a whisper low on the streets of downtown, and what was now known as the slums.
The slums was where Ezra spent most of his time before he discovered the abandoned tower early in the year by sheer luck, and the chance of an offhand rumor. Pair it with Old Jho’s slick hands nabbing the security key, and it was a recipe for success. The maintenance guy who used to work there drank himself incoherent and had a penchant for loose lips.
Ezra was just lucky he was convincing enough with the starving puppy look (as if he wasn’t anyway) to convince the old barkeeper to let him take the place for the cold winter ahead, and then a time after that. Jho had easily taken pity, like he always did, handing him the keycard with a ruffle of his hair.
“Kid. Are you there?” The loaned commlink clipped to his belt screeched to life as his temporary boss’s smarmy voice crackled through the tiny speakers. He plucked it from his belt loop, pressing down on the button to speak.
“Yes, Vizago. I’m here.” He said, a bit annoyed. They’d arranged for this job a few days ago, but it wasn’t even time yet. But Vizago had always been pushy, and weird. Safe to say, Ezra wasn’t a fan.
“Then you’d best get out there, yes? They are moving the shipment in two hours.” He ground out. Ezra rolled his eyes, retreating back into his tower to begin collecting his things for the day.
“I’m leaving as we speak. Goodbye, Vizago.” He shut the comm off, annoyed at his pestering. Whenever he arranged jobs with Ezra he was always so nosy. Constantly contacting him, sometimes even at ungodly hours of the night while he was trying to sleep. He was lucky the idiot paid reasonably well, even though Ezra had to fight for it more often than not. He knew that he was expendable in Vizago’s eyes, and had to fight to prove that he wasn’t to be rid of so easily.
He stuffed his tools and the last of his rations in the pack, deeming it too early to eat. He would find something in the city to sate his appetite and save the more filling ration bar for dinner so he could sleep soundly. He attached his slingshot to his arm, and clipped his sheathed vibroblade horizontally to the back of his belt. Swiping the carabiner with his speeder keys attached, he headed for the tower’s clunky elevator in the center of the room.
He wasn’t sure what this shipment was or why it was so important to Vizago to make him so antsy, bugging Ezra constantly despite telling him not to worry what he was stealing. He knew that the payout was going to be more than enough for him to stock up on some non-perishables and water, and to get a space heater so he could wait out and hunker down for the coming winter in his tower without much worry.
Ezra stepped out of the elevator and shoved the access keycard in his backpack, approaching his speeder. Well, stolen speeder. But it was rusted to shit and needed extensive repairs when he found it, so stealing it was really a gift to the mechanics that didn’t have to expend the credits to fix it back up just to sell it for less than it was initially worth. He fixed it easily just scrapping for parts and using what was around the abandoned tower.
He mounted the vehicle, jamming the key into the starter just under the handle. The speeder rumbled to life, the loud engine sputtering and blowing dark smoke out of the exhaust. He gave the thruster a few pulls, pressing hard on the break, cleaning out the pipes to allow better airflow to the engine. He would have to find fuel soon. Ezra looked back up toward the cityscape, the Star Destroyer still crawling toward the coast. He hoped whatever that was wouldn’t cause trouble for him, letting go of the brake as the speeder then cruised off into the hills.
The chilly headwinds felt nice against his skin, carding through his hair. A nice wake-up call for the no-doubt perilous and irritating day ahead. He couldn’t find it in himself to seize optimism for himself. He was just so tired, and it felt like he would never be able to stop fighting to survive long enough to rest.
Vizago’s secrecy always ate at him on these kinds of jobs, the kind that paid a lot. He was always left wondering if the real reason he didn’t tell him things was probably because he didn’t want to spook Ezra with the prospect of being arrested or killed, always needing a reckless street rat to fall back on. Since he had nothing to lose, no family waiting for him, no friends to watch his back, he was the best employee to abandon if a job went sour, more specifically, he wouldn’t be very morally responsible if Ezra got arrested. He’d probably reason that he was doing the street-rat a favor, with the way most people treated him. That left a stale taste in his mouth.
As he entered the city, he stashed his speeder in an alley, pulling a tarp from the storage trunk underneath the seat. He unfolded it and draped it over the speeder, then attached a lock around the steering column to a bolted grate in the ground for extra security. He clipped the carabiner to his belt loop, and headed for the lower city’s main square. This was where the shipment was supposedly going to be. The only clue Vizago had given him was to keep an eye on the Imperials, because they were the target.
This made him a little nervous. He’d stolen from pirates, smugglers, and gangsters alike, but it was rare that he stole from the Imps. He didn’t want to draw that kind of troublesome attention to himself. He could handle the rats in the slums and creeps in the cantinas, after all, they were very predictable. Easy to read. He couldn’t handle the endless might of the Empire, so this job was a major risk. That was exactly why it was supposed to be worth the payout.
Ezra wandered through the familiar side streets and alleyways of the capital’s lower district, knowing each path like the back of his hand. A few held some unpleasant memories that he quickly shuffled from the forefront of his mind, entering the lower market district with the intention of finding himself some breakfast, he still had some time before the supposed shipment was supposed to be there.
“Identification, now.” A deep, accented voice demanded to his left as he entered the market. Ezra stopped, leaning against the wall and attempting to look as nonchalant as he could as he peered over his shoulder. That old bag Yoffar was being hassled by Imps that seemed to have a higher status than the usual Troopers that gave him crap. A tall, thin-faced man, and another towering fat one with a stupid looking smug grin on his face.
Yoffar was an annoying old Gotal, always accusing Ezra of stealing from him even when he didn’t and confused him with other street rats. In retaliation for his poor attitude, Ezra did end up stealing more than a handful of his jogans, which he knew he threw out the remainder at the end of the day anyway. Always said they were ‘bruised and unsellable.’ But it wasn’t right to let him get arrested for something as stupid as jogans. So he would help him, like he always did.
“I’m just trying to sell a couple jogans here!” The old fart argued, indignation written all over his face. Here we go, Ezra sighed, turning his head away as he waited for the Imps to get on with it so Ezra could save him. Again.
“All trade must be registered with the Empire.” The ghostly one said in a snooty tone. He had a feeling this wasn’t going to end very well.
“I remember what it was like before your ships showed up,” Yoffar spat. “Before you ruined Lothal like the rest of the galaxy!” He glared up at the Imperials, spouting out the same shtick he always did when he got himself in trouble with the Law. As if they would listen, or something. Ezra never understood why he didn’t just shut his mouth. The pale one pulled out his comm. Uh oh…
“This is LRC 0-1, I’m bringing in a citizen on the charge of treason,” the tall one smirked. “Take him!” He ordered the gaggle of troopers that had surrounded him.
“You can’t do this!” Yoffar protested as he was forcefully taken up and pulled away, the fat Imperial picking up his basket full of jogans and taking one for himself. He chuckled, in a comically sinister way.
“Oh yeah? Who’s gonna stop us?” He turned, looking at other people who had witnessed the spectacle but too afraid to speak up. You could be charged for treason for anything, it seemed. Ezra huffed, squaring himself. Time to put on his best starving-orphan act. He crept forward, holding his arms up as if he were afraid, hunched over, ready to swipe the comm resting perfectly vulnerable on the thin man’s belt.
“E-excuse me, sir? Could you spare a jogan?” He asked innocently, disrupting the space between the two Imperials. He could feel their disgust without even seeing their faces.
“Move along, you dirty loth-rat!” The Imperial ordered, taking another bite from the jogan to spite him. Ezra flinched away from him, turning to the side, and swiping the comm from thin-face with deft fingers.
“Sorry, sorry! Not looking for trouble.” He apologized, turning and hurrying away as Yoffar yelled and struggled weakly against the Troopers. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. “Sure has a way of finding me though.” he muttered under his breath, tossing the comm up as if it were a brand new toy. When he was sure that he was far enough out of sight, he crouched behind a crate and cleared his throat, grinning mischievously.
“All officers to the main square! This is a code red emergency, I repeat, a code red emergency!” He put on his best impression of a stuffy Imperial accent, deepening his voice. He peered around the crate, watching as they grew alarmed and rushed off, the fat man dropping the basket of jogans and rushing off with the Stormtroopers in tow, leaving Yoffar to his fruit. He grinned, heading back toward the old man. He had begun to shovel the jogans back into the basket, grumbling under his breath. Ezra knelt down, holding out the comm to him.
“Stay on alert, this is a code red.” He said one last time, peering up at Yoffar, who seemed confused. “You know, this is the second time I’ve saved your ass from jail, old man.” He said, taking in the shock on the old Gotal’s face. “You’ve really gotta stop giving them a piece of your mind. What if I’m not there next time?” Yoffar took the comm, looking defeated and heaving a great sigh. He tossed it swiftly to the ground to make it look like the stupid Imp dropped it.
“Thank you, child.” He picked up a few jogans and handed them to Ezra, but the boy cheekily grabbed a few more. The Gotal snatched his wrist, brows furrowed angrily. “What are you doing?” He seethed. Ezra paused, glaring at him as he yanked his arm back from his clawed grip, taking the jogans he had earned.
“It’s not like you’re hungry , Yoffar.” He spat back, standing up and leaving the old jerk to pick up his own fruit. It’s not like I was taking the whole bushel! Ezra fumed, taking an angry bite out of the sweet fruit. The jogan felt like rocks settling in his gut, but he needed to eat something if he was going to get this job done without getting shot. As he approached the main square to view the fruits of his labor, he took a shortcut to the rooftops to observe, perching the jogan between his teeth as he scaled up the gray building, using awnings and the rods connecting satellite dishes to heft his way to the roof.
He wiped the fruit juice from his chin as he made his way to the ledge, kneeling down on knobby knees to enjoy his breakfast while he waited for the right moment to snatch the shipment currently being loaded on three speeders.
Well, there’s the first problem. He couldn’t drive three speeders at the same time. Vizago wanted the full shipment, too. That was the requirement, and he knew from experience that the sleemo didn’t pay for half. As he finished the first jogan, he tossed the pit off the other side of the roof, taking another from his backpack and continued formulating his plan.
He’d have to get the drop on them, take one speeder, and somehow lure them away so he could get the other speeder’s crates as well, getting rid of the Stormtroopers in the process without blowing up the goods. The only way he knew he could lose the Troopers would be in the nearby gulch, just outside of the city by a few miles. It wouldn’t be the first time he had to use that ravine to his advantage. Oftentimes the people he dealt with weren’t native to his home planet, and knew nothing about any of the local geographic features or even the city at all, which was good business for Ezra but quite terrible for them.
Just as he’d finished his second jogan, he heard the faraway howl of a wolf in the back of his mind. He tossed the pit over his shoulder, standing and backing away from the ledge. The howl came from his right side, pulling him in that direction and pushing him down on the back of his shoulders at the other end of the building’s rooftop.
There was only a single man standing below, in the middle of the street as others went along with their business, broad shoulders armored haphazardly, brown hair pulled into a short, choppy ponytail, clad in green and grey. A powerful blaster at his hip, and other gadgets on his belt. Ezra found nothing that would make him stand out. But the howling grew louder, making his head ache dully as he wondered why his brain was so adamant about him watching this stranger.
There was this loud, screeching barking in his head that erupted like a bomb, shoving Ezra to the ground with a jarring thud, pressing himself to the wall of the ledge. There wasn’t a sense of danger, but there was adrenaline coursing through his veins. Ezra took a breath, confused when his head went completely silent. No howling, no barking. What was all of that noise for? Some stranger?
Ezra peered over the stone, observing the man as he walked forward, and patted his thigh twice. Immediately after that, a large, broad-shouldered, barrel-chested, gruff-looking alien came out from the shadow of an arched doorway, standing a few paces behind the human. He had some kind of rifle strapped to his back, and seemed more like a brawler than a heavy shooter. He came forward another few steps and patted his thigh three times, and a woman who was leaning on a crate stepped out and patted her leg twice. She was fully armored with a helmet that he thought looked Mandalorian, covered in paint splotches and abstract designs. There were double blasters strapped to both of her legs, and she looked like a mercenary for sure. But the man, he couldn’t place him. A roguish gunslinger? The ringleader?
“Very interesting…” Ezra muttered to himself, watching them work. He was well aware now that they were gunning for the shipment he was tasked with stealing, but if they were going to get the hard part done for him, then he wasn’t going to complain. Maybe he could learn a few tips and tricks, while they were at it.
The armored woman headed toward the two speeders with a casual swagger, confident in acting the part of minding her business while the Imps were waiting for the shipment to be cleared before they left. She tossed something over, attaching itself to the back of a speeder trunk, and he could see clearly a faintly blinking light that grew faster and faster as she walked the other way. Seconds later, it exploded, upending the whole speeder, and the Imp that was standing there just moments before.
The entire square was thrown into chaos, and Ezra knew it was time for him to jump in.
Just as the two men went to board the bikes, Ezra hauled himself over the ledge, landing gracefully on the back of the closest speeder and using his momentum to slide forward into the seat. Taking a handle of the yoke, he grinned up at the shocked beast, saluting with two fingers. He yanked back the steering vane, reversing out of reach of both of the men that tried to swipe at him.
“Thanks for doing the heavy lifting!” He grinned triumphantly, taking off through a wall of dark smoke, directing himself toward the city’s edge. If he could lose his new friends in the gulch and chain those crates together from the crash, then Ezra would call this a job well done.
Except for the Stormtroopers now on his tail, and the blazing alarms now bellowing throughout the lower district because of that lady’s explosives.
Ezra took a breath, calming himself. He needed to stay focused if he wanted to get out of this alive and free of handcuffs. He revved the engine and leveled the yoke, the speeder pulling upwards as he rode clear above merchant stalls and tarpauline awnings, drifting the vehicle around corners and trying to keep the Troopers and the gunslingers off balance. When the new age machinery purred like a loth-kitten under his handling, Ezra mourned the fact that he’d have to destroy the speeder after the job was done. He wasn’t looking for an Imperial bounty- as far as they knew, this crew had done the stealing, not him. Not after he lost those Troopers.
He felt something land on the back of the grav-locked crates, making his tail end swerve uncontrollably for a few heart-pounding moments. Ezra looked back, eyes widening when he saw that the armored woman had landed on one of his crates and was now pointing one of her blasters at him.
“Nice moves, kid!” She praised, sounding a lot younger than he’d previously thought. She then pointed her blaster down between the two crates, and in his panic Ezra violently maneuvered the speeder in a swivel motion, throwing the woman off before she could take a crate. She hit the ground rolling with an agitated cry, and Ezra smirked. Not today, lady.
“If the big guy catches you, he’ll end you!” She yelled, shaking her fist angrily as she picked herself up from the clouds of dust. Ezra chuckled, revving the engines again and picking up speed, dodging blaster bolts from behind, hunching low to the handles and trying to throw the Imps off of his tail as he led them through a maze of inner city blocks. He was almost to the outskirts- he could smell it. The scent of the earth and grasslands, not hunks of stone and metal and rotting garbage.
He stood up on the footstraps, finally exiting the city and heading straight for the ravine ahead- he could see it, so close. Out on flat grasslands, he had to try harder to avoid the blaster bolts and keep his speed ahead of the two Imps behind him, and the angry sleemos behind them. He bobbed the speeder to and fro, wincing when a bolt whizzed past his ear. Stars, he couldn’t get a karking break, some good luck? Anything?
C’mon, Universe, I really need this!
It took only a few minutes to reach the hill that led into the drop of the gulch, and Ezra smiled. If those Imps were still behind him, then they wouldn’t be very soon. Pulling the thruster as far back as he could, he bent his knees and accelerated up the short hill, pulling the whole speeder up with all of his body weight to jump off the cliff and down into the ravine, turning to the side.
Ezra let out a thrilled whoop, because despite the situation he was in right now, this really was the most fun he’d had in years. He didn’t make a habit of getting into speeder bike chases.
With practiced ease, Ezra whipped and bobbed through clusters of rock and through tight corners, he could hear the shrieks and explosions of amateur riders behind him, and with the silence following the last blaster fire, he took a look behind him for just a split second, and saw no Troopers, nor any gunslingers.
Frang. They didn’t follow. How am I going to get the rest of those crates? He swore under his breath, continuing through the gulch at a slower pace to give the speeder a break from all of that excitement. He smacked his fist on the handle, pursing his lips.
Those gunslingers that were chasing him, they wanted these crates too. But Ezra wasn’t sure he wanted to risk getting shot over whatever this cargo was and risk losing what he already managed to get Maybe… just this one time, Vizago would accept an incomplete shipment because of the circumstances. Who was he kidding, though.
Ezra sighed, pulling the thruster back as he made his way out of the ravine with heavy shoulders. He really just couldn’t win lately, could he?
It almost made him yell in frustration when he heard the high-pitched whining of a TIE fighter coming up on his tail.
“Stop the speeder now and surrender!” The voice from inside the TIE demanded with a crackly voice, and Ezra rolled his eyes.
“Yeah right.” He muttered, shaking his head at how insane all of this was. He’d never been chased by a TIE before, and the anxiety building in him was beginning to rip him apart. Hands shaking and clammy under his gloves, chest heaving, eyes flicking from the horizon in front of him to over his shoulder. He definitely wouldn’t survive a TIE’s cannon fire, that’s for sure. Was this really all worth it? Why did he accept this stupid kriffing job?!
He started to panic just a little bit, eyes wild looking for any way to disappear, but the next significant piece of land he could use was miles away, and he knew that gravely. Maybe if he could get across the river and into the mountain range, he could somehow get out of this mess. But that was just wishful thinking.
“If you do not stop, I will fire!” The TIE’s speakers blared again, and Ezra’s breath left him. Kriff kriff kriff kriff KRIFF!
Maybe he really would rather die than enter some karked-up Imperial child services, or even prison since he was a street rat, a thief, a con, and the son of two tratiors. Yeah, right. He’d never get out of jail. Death was better than imprisonment, chasing the door to freedom that would remain locked for the rest of his life.
He braced himself for whatever was coming next, zig-zagging the speeder and reversing the sides sporadically, standing up on the footstools again, taking one fearful look at the TIE following him. But high above that TIE was a ship, a freighter by the looks of it. He did a double-take. Was this the gunslingers ship? Were there more of them?!
As he was momentarily distracted, the pilot saw his opportunity. The shot of a cannon cried out and hit the ground just below his bike, sparking the fuel-line and blowing him off of the vehicle. It sent him careening into the grasslands, his body smacking like a ragdoll into the ground, rolling over rocks and down the gently sloped hill. He hit his head so hard on the gravel that the world went blurry, his limbs slack as the debris of the speeder landed and impaled itself into the ground around him, the body of the vehicle skidding to a stop just at his back. The heavy thud of the crates rolled down the hill just in front of him.
He heard another explosion, but it was muffled to his ringing ears. He flinched, curling in on himself and praying the dizziness and pounding headache would pass soon. Several minutes later, he heard the crunch of gravel under footsteps, the sound of anti-grav activation, and a myriad of voices. Ezra was hardly able to keep his half-lidded eyes open as the stinging pain of smoke in his eyes and lungs made him groan, coughing pathetically.
“Wait, he’s over here!”
“Kanan, you can’t seriously-”
“Don’t argue with me right now, Sabine.”
“Get back into the ship, Specter One! We’ve got TIEs inbound!”
Against his will he felt himself be pulled up into someone’s arms, cradled as if he were a small child again.
But he didn’t really know what was going on anymore, everything was too fuzzy… and dark. The world was spinning and the smoke was hurting his glassy eyes. Man… he was really tired.
Kanan ran up the Ghost’s ramp with a half-conscious teenager limp in his arms, following Sabine and Zeb, who were towing the two missing crates from their full shipment. He knelt down in the cargo bay as the ramp closed behind him, carefully depositing the child to sit half-leaning on the wall. He wasn’t waking up… Kanan just hoped he wasn’t dead, despite the karking headache he just caused them all when it was just supposed to be a simple, easy operation.
The Ghost heaved a great shudder as the hull was struck by a piercing shot of laser, and Kanan headed for the ladder.
“Watch him.” He told the two, pointing at the boy. Zeb growled under his breath but knew better than to argue. Sabine nodded and didn’t say anything, looking down at the kid through her helmet. She had her blasters out, which he thought was overkill. He made his way to the cockpit, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn’t understand why that boy would pull something so stupid, but he really did do well keeping those buckets on his tail long enough to let them get themselves killed in that ravine.
Kanan wasn’t going to follow that obvious trap, not knowing if the kid was armed or had more friends in the gulch, and called for him and Zeb to retreat to the Ghost with what cargo they had and track the last of the crates that way. They were lucky to get to the boy before he was blown to smithereens, even though he technically already was.
As he entered the cockpit, he readied himself for the badgering questions Hera no doubt had for him. There were sirens blaring throughout the Ghost, adding to the stress of the situation.
“You said this was a routine op. What happened down there?” She asked, tapping away, beginning the calculations of a hyperspace jump they no doubt had to make if they wanted to get out of this cleanly. Chopper warbled indignantly at him, and Kanan sighed.
“Chopper, please. It’s been a difficult morning.” He wasn’t in the mood for the droid’s antics. He leaned against the chair, looking down at the targeting system.
“He’s got a point, love. We have four TIE fighters closing in!” She pointed at the screen, eyes narrowed at him. “Spill it, now.”
“Hera, how about a little less attitude and a little more altitude?” He snarked, regretting his choice of words immediately as she side-eyed him and jerked the ship over into a skilled maneuver to avoid more TIE fire, throwing Kanan into the co-pilot’s seat.
“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you did that on purpose.” He grumbled, glaring at her.
“If you knew any better we wouldn’t be in this situation!” Hera snapped, her eyes betraying her repressed fury. “Seriously, Kanan. What happened?” She demanded, glaring back at him. He sighed, nodding toward the cameras displayed above the Ghost’s auxiliary panels.
“He did.” He nodded his head at them, where he left the teen leaning, unconscious by the ladder. Zeb was sitting next to him on one of the crates, Sabine standing by. It seemed the two of them were talking, most likely unsure of what to do.
“A kid tripped you up?! Must be some kid,” she remarked the latter under her breath. “Keep going. Why is he unconscious?”
“Aren’t you a little busy at the moment?” He pointed out, hoping to avoid the topic at hand.
“Kanan, I swear to-”
“Fine! The op was going perfectly until Sabine blew up the first target. Then before we knew it, that kid dropped in and stole the speeder. We chased him until he lured the buckets into the gulch and they got rid of themselves. But there was that TIE, and I called you. I couldn’t let him get blown up, but that TIE got a lucky shot, and now he’s here. Are you happy?” He explained, with a bit of snark in his voice. He was annoyed at this perfectly easy job going sour because of one smart-ass kid.
“Yes.” Hera smirked, “He sounds impressive.” She had that tone, the one where she was thinking about things. Like when they met Zeb and Sabine.
“You’re not thinking what I think you are…” Kanan reeled at the implication.
“He held onto a crate of blasters with a pack of troopers on his tail, and managed to lose them all on his own without firing a single shot. That’s not impressive to you?”
“Hera, that’s not my point. He’s a street-rat! Wild, reckless, dangerous, impulsive! And I just saved him!”
She gave him that look, the one he hadn’t a chance to argue with. He groaned.
“We’ll talk about this later.” Kanan shook his head, running to the aft gun as they entered into deep space. It was time to get rid of their tail, he’d had enough of the sound of blaster fire for one day, but he had a feeling that it was far from over.
Ezra woke with a gasp, blinking rapidly as dirt and ash irritated his eyes. He curled in on himself, body sore and aching. His head pounded in tune with his heartbeat as an incessant blaring of sirens rattled his brain. He tried to take a deep breath in, but his lungs caught on dust trapped in his mouth and nose and he hacked a few heaving, painful coughs. He pushed himself up, stiff and tense, and rubbed his eyes to clear them.
“Hey loth-rat, you with us?” A raspy voice asked, sounding a bit annoyed, a shadow falling over him. Ezra looked up, seeing the armored woman from earlier knelt before him, with that big beast crouched by the crate.
“Where am I?” He asked, his voice almost a strained whisper. Shakily, his hands felt for the ground. The smooth, cold metal under his gloved palms sending shocks up his arms. “What happened?” He asked, a little more insistent, eyes raking in the room he was in. The ground shuddered and shook beneath him, throwing him back into the wall. Ezra grit his teeth and groaned as whatever wounds he had were jostled along with his aching body. Stars, he felt sick.
“You got blown up, and you’re on our ship, kid. Try not to freak out.” The beast said apathetically, peering down curiously at him. His long, pierced ears twitched with every noise the ship uttered.
“He’s hurt. What should we do?” The woman asked her crewmate in a hushed voice.
“Just wait for the big man. This’ll be over soon enough.” The beast’s voice was deep and rumbly, accented in a funny way that he hadn’t heard before. The soothing way he spoke would’ve brought him some ease if he didn’t think they were going to kill him or something.
“Specter Five I need you at the nose gun!” A woman’s commanding voice sounded throughout the ship, echoing into the hold. Ezra looked up and over and all around. This must’ve been the cargo hold, where the crates were… all six of them.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“On my way!” She responded, rushing to a ladder on the far side of the hold.
There was a ramp on the other side, but he was laid near another ladder that led up to a balcony. Ezra felt a little hopeless, sitting there, pain pushing against every part of him, his head fuzzy and spinning. Knowing he failed the one job that might’ve really helped him out for a while, the stress of the upcoming winter. Now being on some random ship where might die because he crossed these people. It made him kind of want to cry, but he wasn’t going to do that in front of strangers. Especially not this beast that was watching him with those steely green eyes, unnervingly quiet. He folded his arms around himself, tucking his knees close, hurting too much to try and chatter his way out of whatever was coming to him.
“Still with me, kid?” The man asked, head tilted. Ezra shut his eyes and nodded, swallowing.
“Yeah.”
Zeb observed the kid as he slouched against the wall, slow moving and clearly in loads of pain. The annoyance from his preliminary actions in the lower city square faded into the background as his deeply-hidden soft spot for children made his chest tighten at the sight of the injured boy. He was black and blue from the slide he’d taken when the TIE blew his speeder to hell, the evidence smeared across his face and clothes, his jumpsuit tattered even worse than it probably was before. He knew the look of a street rat well, and this kid was no exception. His narrow face was covered in gravel cuts, he had a bloody nose and a split lip that was oozing, and he looked absolutely exhausted.
With his irritation rearing its ugly head, he sighed. He really wanted to know why the kid had to go and blow their op. There had to be some other reason than being a little shit and gunning for goods to sell for credits. Stars knew the kid probably needed them, but Zeb didn’t fancy sloppy interference. If you were going to interrupt the job, then you best know how to do it right. He did remarkably well keeping the buckets and even he and Kanan on their toes, swerving through block after block chasing the kid. Keeping up with his speed when he was outrunning the Imps wasn’t easy, screeching to a halt outside of that gulch where they heard the Imperial speeders blow themselves to bits. But the kid was gunning for those crates. Why?
The ship jerked before he felt the smooth transition of hyperspace pull them into the lanes.
“Specter Four, get the kid up here.” Kanan’s voice sounded over the Ghost’s speakers, calmer than before. The fight was over. The Lasat stood up, stretching his tight back.
“Need a hand?” He offered, holding it out. The kid looked up at him, eyes still half-lidded. He took a moment, and then stood on his own, bracing his body against the wall as he used the crate to push himself to his feet. He was wobbly, uneven for a few moments. Zeb was waiting to see if he would fall. When he didn’t, the boy gestured to the ladder. The Lasat narrowed his eyes.
“After you.”
Hera stood up from the pilot’s chair, taking a breath to calm her nerves after the firefight. She wasn’t expecting so much action this morning, and it took her by surprise, as much as she was reluctant to admit that considering nothing was very surprising anymore. She exited the cockpit, entering the common room, where Kanan and Sabine sat, Zeb coming up from the hall. The boy was behind him, sluggishly trailing through the hall. He was holding one arm close to his chest, and he was covered in dirt, dust, bruises and cuts.
“Fetch me the first aid kit would you?” Hera asked quietly. Sabine gave a nod as she headed for their meagre medical bay. The boy stumbled in the doorway for a moment, tripping in the gap. Zeb took his arm, but the teen violently flinched and backed up, a dazed look of defiance in his eyes.
“Whatever you’re going to do with me,” he ground out, “just get it over with.” Hera’s brow furrowed, her lek curling behind her. Pretty jaded, for a kid. She didn’t meet many in her line of work. Just the victims of Imperial oppression, really.
“We’re not going to do anything to you,” she said, taking the first aid kit from Sabine. “Why did you go for those crates? I bet you knew you wouldn’t be able to get them all by yourself.” She asked, gesturing to the couch. Reluctantly, the boy sat down. She glanced at Kanan briefly, who was staring at the boy in a way she couldn’t decipher. The teen seemed hesitant to answer, but sighed. Hera poured some antiseptic on a cotton pad, and slowly reached out, an offering. The boy’s brilliant blue eyes flicked up to her, and he turned his cheek. A silent affirmation.
“I was supposed to get them for a job.” He hissed when the antiseptic touched his face. Hera cleaned the cuts carefully, and smeared some of the dirt away with her thumb.
“Who hired you?” She took his chin, turning his face over and getting the other side. The boy’s brows furrowed.
“A Devaronian. Cikatro Vizago. Old Jho said he was looking for hires again, so I talked to him the other day, and he offered. Dunno why, since he wouldn’t tell me a thing.” He muttered scornfully. She furrowed her brow, eyes widening slightly in surprise. The boy looked at her funny, and she tossed the cotton round down, crumpled from her fist. “What?” He asked. “Do you know him?”
“Yeah, because we were on the same exact job.” Kanan interrupted, arms folded, his anger seeping out into the room. He looked at Hera, mildly disgusted. She couldn’t believe it either- since when did Vizago hire kids? He hated kids. She drew her gaze back over from Kanan, pursing her lips. This day was just getting better and better. Her lek squirmed with the distaste and frustration rising in her. Vizago had better have answers for this boy. But, business first.
“My name is Hera Syndulla. This is my ship, the Ghost, and my crew. Kanan, Zeb, Sabine, and Chopper.” She fastened a few small strip bandages to his face to cover the cuts, frowning at the already swollen bruises. She then grabbed a pill bottle from the kit, a painkiller, and handed him one. Eyeing it warily, he accepted.
“Ezra Bridger.” He mumbled, uneasily watching her crew with the deepest blue eyes she’d ever seen. He took the pill dry, swallowing uncomfortably. His brow furrowed, which she found kind of endearing, especially when he bristled like a Tooka kitten. “I should’ve known Vizago would do something like this.” He brushed his hands off, tiny pebbles stuck in his gloves falling to the floor. “He always finds an excuse to scam out of paying me.” He explained, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Yeah, well. Job’s not over.” Kanan quipped.
“I want a share when it is done, then.” Ezra demanded.
“What?!”
“Absolutely not!”
“WABABABABAB!”
Ezra rolled his eyes when Zeb, Sabine, and Chopper exploded, completely against the teen’s demands. He looked at Hera, unamused, as if to say, Seriously? She chuckled, standing beside him and squeezing his shoulder.
“It would only be fair if we gave you at least fifteen percent.” That would land him about one-hundred and fifty credits of the thousand that were marked on those blasters that Vizago wanted. “Kanan was impressed at how well you managed around those Troopers. Isn’t that right?” She looked at Kanan, raising her eyebrows, daring him to lie to her face. She knew he was thinking about something, and she knew that that something was the boy standing beside her.
“Yeah, sure.” He mumbled, looking away. Ezra frowned, though he disregarded it quickly.
“I want twenty.” Ezra bargained sharply. Hera huffed a laugh. She liked this boy, but for all of the other things she had to pay for, it was the best she could offer. Besides, he did just about fifteen percent of the work and needed a rescue, which subtracted five. That was an adequate amount to offer, in her mind. But she was amused at his boldness.
“You’re funny.” She patted his shoulder, and turned tail, her lekku curling contentedly behind her as she returned to the cockpit. Tarkintown was the next stop, so she had to scramble the Ghost’s signature so the Imperials wouldn’t know any better when they returned.
“I know I am!” The boy retorted hotly, just as the door hissed shut behind her.
The kid was… twitchy, to say the least. Sabine didn’t blame him. He was alone, on a ship full of insurgents that were armed to the teeth with explosives, blasters, flat knuckles, hard skulls, and sharp steel. He most likely had a concussion, and was definitely injured more than just a couple scrapes and bruises, if the way he was holding his wrist and swaying on his feet said anything. Clad in a warm shade of orange, a mop of deep-colored hair with vivid hues of a raven-esque blue that she hadn’t ever seen on another human naturally. He also had the most shocking shade of blue in his eyes that she’d ever seen- and she thought Kanan’s bright, teal, almost seaglass color was strange enough when she met him.
She was still pissed off at the kid’s reckless actions, throwing her off of the damn trail of crates. She was too pissed to admit that it was a smart move, and she would’ve done the exact same thing if she was in his shoes. But she was still pissed. She had a right to be, she told herself. The kid jacked up the job, and it cost them precious time.
But, well… he was on the same stupid job for some reason. It was ridiculous to think that Vizago would give this kid a job that required a crew of at least three to get done. What was he thinking? Was he trying to kill him or something?
Well, she wouldn’t put it past that creep.
But the fact that he wanted a karking share-?! UGH! It riled Sabine’s hackles well enough, the kid was asking for a punch to the nose with all of that concussed, street-rat arrogance. The fact that Hera agreed? Even more frustrating! They pulled off all the work on that job, while the kid stole one-third of the shipment and almost got it blown to bits, which would’ve cost them their whole payment if Kanan hadn’t saved his sorry ass from the rubble!
She glared at the kid through her blackened visor, keeping her shoulders square and her movements calculated. She could tell he was intimidated by her, if not intrigued. He certainly had wary, wandering eyes crawling over the whole crew. Sizing them up, as if he were readying himself for a fight.
“Where are you guys meeting Vizago?” He asked, leaning back against his palms on the Dejarik table. “‘Cause he told me to meet him across the Frozen River.”
“Hera’s taking care of it.” Zeb said. “We have other places to be.” He said, purposefully vague. The kid couldn’t know too much, otherwise they wouldn’t know what to do with a loose rat spilling their secrets.
“Your turn to watch him, Kanan.” She jabbed a finger out, peering from the corner of her eye as the boy gave her a careful once-over. He probably hadn’t seen many Mandalorians in his life. Lothal was a breadbasket planet, and while it was bustling with activity with a population of a few hundred million, it wasn’t a place for combatives. It was peaceful, and that’s what she liked about it so much. Plus, it gave her abstract inspiration for her pieces. Much calmer, a distraction from her impressionistic work and rebellious graffiti designs that held a lot of visual noise. She focused on other forms of art, for improvement, mostly. Lothal’s horizons were fantastic for improving shape language.
She headed to the galley, fancying herself a drink of water from the tap. She placed her helmet on the counter, running a hand through her short hair to release the strands from their flat-locked prison.
Sabine couldn’t shake the way Hera was talking earlier, though. The same way Kanan had talked when he found her. The thought of another person joining the crew, for some reason, left a sour taste in her mouth. The last person to join was her, and that was… three years ago, since she was nineteen now. But the Captain was intrigued. She couldn’t deny herself that there was something odd about that boy, but joining up? She wasn’t sure the kid could learn quickly to fend for other people than himself. If he was a walking liability and a costly mouth to feed, she was sure he wouldn’t last long. She didn’t think he had the kind of guts it took to be a part of this crew.
It wasn’t even about spite, either… just one look at him, and Sabine felt bad for that kid. She doubted he had family, working for a crook like Vizago- more than once, it sounded like. At least neglectful parents, if they did exist. But from the looks of it, in her own experience, he was on his own and fending for himself. As much as she wanted to help those in need, she knew a lost cause when she saw one. Ezra Bridger could be dangerous- to himself, and to others.
He just wasn’t worth that risk. Sabine wanted to make sure Hera knew that, when this was all over. She glared down at her cup, empty now. She pursed her lips, heaving a great sigh. Still thirsty. And her back hurt something fierce.
Ezra had stuffed himself in the corner of the room on the floor, too awkward to take a seat on one of the booths or the wicker-wooden chair. The painkiller Hera had given him worked wonders, despite the angry gnawing at the measly jogans in his half-empty stomach. The big beast, Zeb, and the man, Kanan were watching him from the other side of the room while they talked, quiet enough for Ezra not to hear.
Kanan was strange. There was something about him that was loud in Ezra’s head. Almost like the buzzing of a menacing bloodfly, poking and prodding at him in a way that made his fuzzy head only hurt worse. He stared at the man from over his folded arms, perched on curled knees, thick brows furrowing in confusion.
Why are you so loud?
The moment he thought that in his head, Kanan jerked up, looking around, then landing his weirdly bright eyes on him. He seemed visibly spooked for a moment, Zeb catching him on the shoulder. The beast looked at him sharply, eyes narrowing. Ezra flinched back, retreating into himself.
What had he done now?
Kanan waved a hand, standing up. He spared him one odd look as he turned to enter the hallway and head back to the cockpit, most likely. He dug his nose into his arms, willing his eyes shut.
He just hoped that this ride would be over soon. He had a hard time even fathoming that he was in karking space. He hadn’t looked out any of the viewports yet, hadn’t really thought about leaving the common room. It was making him a little sick, which his weeping stomach and fuzzy head were not too happy about either.
The ship gave a soft jerk, and then dropped, which made his stomach lurch as he grappled to the wall in shock. He heard a soft, smug laugh from across the room coming from the beast. Ezra leveled Zeb with the fiercest glare he could muster with how much he wanted to hurl right now… it only made the jerk laugh harder.
A muffled conversation approached the doorway as it hissed open, Hera and Kanan re-entering the room.
“-don’t worry about it, then.” Hera said, obviously finished with their conversation. She looked around the room for him, confused when she finally found him in the corner at her shoulder. “We’re here. Zeb, mind grabbing Sabine?” She asked the beast, then approached Ezra, holding out her hand to help him up. He stood gingerly, careful on shaky legs.
“I’m guessing you’ve never been to space?” She asked, a little amused.
“I’ve never been on a ship before. Just speeders.” Ezra mumbled. Hera seemed quietly surprised, tilting her head. She smiled.
“Hopefully being back on solid ground will ease the sickness quickly. Come on,” she wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Her touch was careful- but warm. Comforting, almost. People didn’t really tend to lay hands on him in a friendly way, at least.
“Will you help Chopper, Zeb and Sabine while Kanan and I talk to Vizago?” A little ruffled that he couldn’t talk to Vizago himself, Ezra kept silent and nodded.
“Just tell him that I’m going to take his other horn when I see him next for me, will you? Oh, and I guess return this.” He asked, adding an exaggerated drawl to his sarcasm. He handed her the commlink from his belt that Vizago had given to him. Hera laughed softly, taking it from him as she guided him down the hallway.
“You got it.” She patted his shoulder as they entered the cockpit and descended the ladder down into the cargo bay, where the girl and the beast were removing a few different crates rather than the actual shipment. He did a double-take when he saw the Mandalorian didn’t have her helmet on anymore.
She had brightly colored hair of deep indigo fading into orange and a a pretty face, dotted with beauty marks. Her default expression seemed to be hardened. She held herself high, the elegant slope of her features and the way she straightened and broadened her posture gave her an air of superiority. Ezra was a little starstruck, but kept his surprise to himself as he moved out of Kanan’s way, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Grab a crate, pull your weight.” Sabine ordered, a little harsh.
“Right. Sorry.” Ezra mumbled, rushing over and activating the anti-grav on the last crate. He pushed it along, eyes adjusting to the darkness outside of the Ghost’s bright hold. When he could make out the landscape, he was relieved to see that it was familiar. Lothal, thank the stars. He was afraid that he’d be stranded on another planet with no way home, fearing this crew would just leave him there in retaliation for him ruining their mission. He took in a breath, savoring the fresh smell of drying cottonwood leaves and spine tree sap, the sparse cluster of trees and brush dotting the prairie all around sporadically.
In the middle of the prairie, the Frozen River rushing in the distance, chock full of slush and sea ice racing through the valley, the Ghost was settled near a town he knew all too well. Jho had said long ago that it was named ‘Tarkintown’, after Grand Moff Tarkin, Governor of the vast Outer Rim. It was a makeshift refuge for farmers that had been forcibly removed from their property when the Imperials decided they wanted their land. He sighed, making his way down the hill after Sabine, his heart weighing heavy.
This place never failed to tug at him- just the feeling of despair hanging like fog. Acrid and thick. It was like he could taste it, infecting him too. He knew how these people felt. He’d known the exact feeling for a long time.
He followed them into the center of the encampment, seeing many of the people he used to speak with when he was young, when his parents were still alive. Being friends with the Sumars meant that they hung around with a lot of farmers… it was hard to see them so broken down, now. Ezra tried to avoid Tarkintown if he could help it. There wasn’t anything he could do for them.
He set the crate down next to Zeb and Sabine’s, popping off the lid as they did. When he saw it was assorted vegetables and fruits, he was surprised. When he looked over, he saw Sabine’s crate held different hardy breads, and Zeb’s was full of sealed ration bars. It made his stomach growl voraciously. Ezra looked away in embarrassment, stepping back from the crate as he folded his arms around himself. He was fine because he could fend for himself. These people couldn’t, so they needed it more.
“Who wants free grub!” Zeb exclaimed, a satisfied grin on his face. Ezra watched as the starved and downtrodden people, people he once knew, descended on the crates with fervor. They sputtered pleases and thank you’s and cries of gratitude, shaking hands with the two Spectors as Ezra stood idly by. Watching. He knew the people of this encampment were receiving aid- he just didn’t know it was from these people. This rag-tag group of rebels. Fighting the Empire, giving back to the people.
Ezra felt a hand grip his shoulder, and he looked up from the ground. He flinched back, almost violent. He tried to act as non-chalant as possible.
“Thank you, thank you so much.” A man said earnestly, looking down at him like he was a saint. In his arms, a child was wrapped around him. A little boy. Ezra swallowed the lump in his throat.
“You’re welcome.” He responded, voice thick. The man’s tired eyes squinted as he smiled, nodding. He then took for himself and his son, and Ezra felt as if he couldn’t breathe as he watched them.
I didn’t do anything. He thought, remorseful. He did nothing to deserve that kind of gratitude. Nothing at all.
“You okay, kid?” Sabine asked, still cold as ice but eyeing him with something akin to concern. She nor Zeb didn’t seem to like him much, and well, to be fair… he did steal part of their bounty, and chuck her off the back of a speeder.
“I’m fine. Just haven’t been back here in a while.” He replied, shrugging. “It’s… always hard.” He rubbed at his chest, throat still irritated from the smoke inhalation when his speeder got blown to bits. A few coughs choked their way out of his throat, itching to escape. He dug his face into his elbow to minimize the noise. Ugh. He was so dry.
“Yeah,” she huffed a mirthless laugh. “It’s always hard coming here. Knowing that the Empire left these people to die.” Her thin brows furrowed. “You should get something to drink for that cough. Just don’t touch anything. I’ll know if you do. Galley’s the door on the other side of the common room, if you remember.”
He had no doubt in his mind that she would, in fact, definitely know if he touched anything.
“Got it. Um, thanks, Sabine.” He half-smiled, pulling at the cuts on his face. She dipped her head.
“You’re welcome, Ezra.” She replied, turning back to the crates. She beckoned a timid child forward, kneeling down to her level, and Ezra turned his back with haste.
Kanan liked alcohol more than he liked Vizago, and that was saying something. Because he’d been clean for about eight years now, and detested the stuff since he’d been crewing with Hera. She didn’t allow alcohol aboard, to support him. She rarely drank anyway. Point was, he really didn’t like Vizago. He liked him even less, now, actually. If that were possible.
“Any problems procuring these lovely ladies?” Vizago asked, brushing his hand over the blasters. He picked one up, holding it out, looking through the sight and grinning with almost childish excitement. That did not ease Kanan’s mind at all whatsoever.
“Nothing we couldn’t handle. Your intel was accurate.” His brows furrowed. “This time.” He added, glaring at the crates and the reminder of the antics of the mission earlier that day.
“We got the goods and took a bite out of the Empire.” Hera chimed in. “That’s all that matters.” She glanced at Kanan briefly, still obviously bothered by Ezra’s explanation from earlier. Vizago’s IG-RM droid bodyguard was holding a case of credits, one thousand of them that were meant to pay for this mission. The Devaronian took out a meagre stack, methodically picking them up, and dropping them in his palm. Kanan held out his hand expectantly, not up to dealing with Vizago’s theatrics today. He dropped a few, then a few more, and then stopped. Grinning at them.
“Keep going.” Kanan urged, annoyed. He owed them the whole damn case. He grit his teeth when Vizago pulled back.
“I could, or… I could stop, and trade the rest of the bounty for a bit of intel you’ve been begging after.” He teased, perking Hera’s attention.
“The Wookiees?” She guessed.
“The Wookiees.” He gave her a dastardly grin. She’d been hounding after a mass-protest, arrest, and disappearance of Wookiees for weeks now, ever since she’d heard about it from Fulcrum.
“What do you know?” She asked, planting her hands on her hips.
“I’ve acquired a flight plan for an Imperial Transport carrying Wookiee prisoners- those specifically that served in the Old Republic who protested against the Empire’s presence on Kashyyyk. I do not know their destination exactly, but I know it is a labor camp they are being sent to.” He explained. Vizago took the case from the droid, shuffling the rest of the credits he still held onto in there. “What do you say?”
Kanan looked to Hera, asking with his eyes- was she seriously going to trade a full payment for this intel? Especially when he put a kid into a firefight blind? She thumbed at her chin, looking at the ground. She met Kanan’s eyes, a spark of defiance in her gaze.
“You’re going to pay me what you owe me, give me that flight plan so I can rescue those Wookiees, and, the next time you see Ezra Bridger, you’re going to apologize. Or, I could send the Imperials a big, anonymous tip all about a local Devaronian crime lord that’s been chronically stealing their property for months now.” Hera stated, her voice low and unquestionable, holding out the commlink the boy had given her. Vizago bristled, snatching it from her. She kept her hand out, waiting for the case, glaring at Vizago with almost vaguely murderous intent if he didn’t pay them what they were promised for the trouble they just went to.
He scowled as he shoved the case at her, fishing the data chip from his pocket and throwing that at Kanan, who nearly dropped it in surprise. She didn’t stumble as she tucked the case under her arm, Kanan dropping the handful he’d been given back into the rest of the stacks.
“Whatever that scum-rat told you, he’s lying through his teeth.” Vizago snarled. Hera didn’t seem to pay any mind to this… Kanan didn’t either. The kid wasn’t lying- he knew that. If he did, he would have told Hera. He knew that the kid was in over his head with that job, and it seems like Vizago knew that too.
“Oh, and he also told me to tell you that the next time he sees you, he’s going to take your other horn.” Hera finished with a vicious smile. “Pleasure doing business as always, Vizago.” She turned tail, her lekku swinging over her shoulder as Kanan trailed after.
Once they were out of earshot of the rock cluster, the gunslinger bellowed a victorious laugh.
“You’re amazing, you know that?” He informed her.
“I do. But it’s always nice to hear, love.” She responded smugly, bumping shoulders with him. “He wasn’t about to scam out of paying us.”
“Damn right.” He chuckled. As they approached the Ghost, Kanan noticed Zeb and Sabine still handing out food to the locals of the refugee camp, but Ezra was missing.
That kid was… strange.
Why are you so loud?
It was an innocent question, but loud and jarring. Kanan hadn’t ever felt anyone else speak to him through the Force so clearly. Not since Master Billaba or Grand-Master Windu. He’d never run into another Force Sensitive before- not since before the Purge. Ezra’s presence was… stifling, almost suffocating. Like a raging wildfire, not able to snuff itself out.
When he picked the boy up from the smoking remains of the speeder, electricity raced through his hands, up his arms, and snapped into his brain. Like buckling a belt, flicking a lighter, or charging a blaster. It felt natural, familiar, even. But why?
He’d raced to tell Hera what he felt when the boy had said that so loudly without even opening his mouth, and she’d suggested testing him. Let him snoop, she had said. Let him find Kanan’s Holocron, if the Force truly called to him. If he does, then they could wait and see.
Since a Holocron was a Force-charged object, it was always making noise. It would be hard for the kid not to notice it and be intrigued by a shiny, interesting artifact if nothing else.
He and Hera were peacefully quiet as they boarded the Ghost’s ramp, filing up into the cockpit. She uttered out a greeting to Chopper as the droid rolled by to join them. Just as Kanan was going to sit down and wait for Sabine and Zeb to board so they could debrief their next mission, he heard the familiar sound of his lightsaber igniting down the hall.
Kanan froze, whipping around and marching down the hall to the crew quarters. Hera was hot on his heels, as was Chopper. He was instructed to let the kid snoop, but Kanan didn’t realize he’d find his lightsaber.
The door slid open to his quarters, and Ezra froze, his back turned to them as a blue hue engulfed the dimly lit room. He turned, grinning sheepishly.
“Careful,” Kanan scolded. “You’ll take your arm off.”
“I know you won’t believe me, but this thing was calling me here. It’s like it wanted me to find it, or something.” He explained, tensed as if preparing for a violent reaction. He held the sword out, his already blue eyes even brighter against the light of powered kyber. Kanan rolled his eyes.
“You’re right, I don’t believe you. Now hand over the lightsaber.” He shoved his hand out, curling his fingers. He needed to find a better hiding spot, he supposed.
“Lightsaber?” Ezra muttered, almost as if he’d forgotten the word. “Isn't that the weapon of the Jedi?” He asked, timidly curious as he switched the blade off and admired the build of his most sacred possession. He clenched his jaw. His Holocron was missing too.
“Give it to me, and get out.” Kanan ordered, conflicted feelings sprouting as the boy handed back the weapon. He seemed somewhat afraid- of Kanan, at least. Stiff as he walked between them to leave. He sighed, shaking his head as he detached the head from the body of the saber’s grip and clipped them separately to his belt. Hera turned to watch the kid go, teeming with curiosity though her face betrayed her. She was worried. About what, he wasn’t sure.
“Now we wait.” Hera said, glancing up at her partner and patting his shoulder. “Get the others, tell them we’re having a debrief. We’ll have to get moving as soon as possible if we want to save those Wookiees.”
“Right.” Kanan muttered, setting out to find Zeb.
Ezra wandered into the Galley, where he was supposed to be before he got distracted by the howling again, drawing him to what he knew now as Kanan’s room. Though he had to give the lightsaber back- still incredible to think about, he at least got to keep the weird cube. Hopefully it was worth something, if he wasn’t getting paid for the trouble he went to. As much as he thought Hera was nice, he didn’t trust her to keep her word. Not when the crew succeeded in the job. Fair and square.
He found Sabine there, drinking out of a painted cup. She eyed him, frowning.
“Not too good at following directions, are you?” She asked, voice dry.
“It’s never really been my specialty.” Ezra replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “So, what are you guys? You’re not thieves exactly.”
“We’re not exactly anything,” she shrugged. “We’re a crew, a team. In some ways, a family.” Her face betrayed nothing as she looked at Ezra, maybe a little annoyance shining through. Man, she really didn’t like him, did she?
“What… happened to your real family?” He dared to ask, averting his eyes awkwardly.
“The Empire,” she replied tersely. “What happened to yours?” She seemed genuinely curious. But before Ezra could answer- not like he wanted to, the doors to the galley hissed open behind him. Chopper strolled through and Zeb hung back in the doorway, watching him. Whatever kindness he’d held earlier in the cargo hold was gone as he regarded Ezra with nothing but contempt.
“Kanan wants us in the common room,” he directed Sabine. Knocking on Chopper’s dome, he pointed to Ezra. “If he tries anything, sound the alarm. Or shoot him.” He chuckled, pointing his forefinger and thumb at the boy. Sharp claws, he noted. Chopper warbled, not as if Ezra could understand him or anything, but he seemed bothered by the task. Zeb glared at the astromech.
“Shush. Just watch him.” He ordered the droid seriously.
The two left, leaving Ezra with the droid. He folded his arms, glaring down at him. He wanted to know what was coming next. He wasn’t going to be lied to or coddled, either. He looked up and over trying to find a ventilation system where he could stealthily listen in. Ezra smirked when he spotted a vent embedded in the ceiling close to the cabinets. Perfect.
He ignored the droid’s protests as he hefted himself up on the counter, using his spanner to unscrew the bolts, leaving the grate hanging open on its back hinges. He braced himself and jumped up, squeezing himself up and into the vent.
He crawled horizontally for a short way, trying to knock around the vent as quietly as he could, hoping his noises were disguised with the regular sound of the ship’s internal systems humming in the backdrop. He came to a vertical drop, maneuvering his small body around in the semi-tight space to drop down feet first, pressing his arms and legs tight to the walls to slow his descent as much as possible.
He touched down with a gentle tap, squeezing himself down to his stomach and crawling forward, finding no grate cover in the stowage closet. He leaned out of the vent, touching the floor with his hands and slowly pulling himself out, touching down hip first and curling his legs out of the cramped space. He released the breath he was holding and scooted close to what looked like the door, pressing his ear as close as he dared to.
“-ull of Wookiee prisoners,” He heard Kanan say.
“They were soldiers for the Old Republic,” Hera added.
“I owe those hairy beasts, they saved some of my people.” He wondered who Zeb’s kind of people were.
“Mine too.” The Captain agreed.
“If we’re going to save them, we’ve got a tight window. They’re being taken to an unknown slave labor camp. If we don’t intercept this ship? We’ll never find them. I have a plan, though…” Kanan paused, and Ezra pulled back just as the stowage door slid open. He felt the wave of anger that wasn’t his own wash over him and froze, turning tail when his instincts told him to run, shoving himself back into the vent halfway through before he felt something catch his legs. He yelped as the beast threw him to the floor, banging his head for the second time that day.
“Zeb! That was unnecessary!” Hera shouted, pushing him back when he cracked his knuckles and inched closer toward Ezra.
“Can we please just dump him already?!” He growled, growing more and more pissed off the longer Ezra was aboard.
“No, we can’t.” Sabine folded her arms. “The kid knows too much.” She warned, raising a brow as Ezra pushed himself up and away from the grumbling beast. Hera shoved through them and helped Ezra up.
“We don’t have time to take him home anyway. We need to move now.” She said, keeping a steady hand on his shoulder. “I’ll keep an eye on him.” She snapped, pulling him along toward the cockpit.
“I’m sorry about that. But you shouldn’t have been snooping, kiddo.” She squeezed his shoulder.
“Sorry for being such a pain in your ass today.” He apologized halfheartedly, throwing himself down into the co-pilot's seat as she tapped away at the control pod, lifting them from Lothal’s surface and speeding off into the atmosphere.
“Oh, you aren’t the biggest pain we’ve ever endured, so don’t feel too bad. The vents were very creative, by the way. Reminds me of someone I used to know.” She chuckled. Ezra managed a small smile, watching her multitask like a pro. His eyes flicked to and from the viewport as they reached the depths of space and were released from Lothal’s pull. He watched intently as the stars swirled around them, coming no closer but not far away.
“Wow…” he breathed, curling back in the chair, eyes glued to the viewport. The stars stretched and contorted forward like neverending lines, as if his vision was permanently blurred. A vivid blue hue overtook what the starry backdrop was, and shot them forward like a sling. From there, it became thick and watery looking as they spiraled through the tunnel. Like they were flying through bacta gel or something. Glowing and undulating, as if it were alive.
“Welcome to hyperspace.” Hera spread her arms, showcasing the lane.
“What’s hyperspace?” Ezra asked, turning to her, legs swinging and fidgeting excitedly. This was amazing, it was so beautiful… He couldn’t tear his head away for too long, but he caught the way Hera was looking at him. Smiling, like she was enjoying his reaction.
“Hyperspace is a dimension that can only be reached by going faster than the speed of light. It’s still mostly a mystery, been that way since before the Old Republic era. But using hyperdrives allow ships to manipulate its fuel- hypermatter made from the chemical reaction between solar radiation and planet cores- more specifically named Coaxium, to push ships into a calculated simu-tunnel. Hyperdrive engines and primitive hyperspace travel methods being invented is what allowed exploration of the entire galaxy,” she explained, a little awed herself even though she seemed to know so much about it. “It’s amazing, right?”
“Yeah, it really is.” Ezra pulled his knees up, hugging his legs close to his chest. He couldn’t deny that nerves were getting to him with all of this crew’s ‘mission’ nonsense. Did they think they were as well equipped as the Imperials or something?
“You know, I’m not against sticking it to the Empire, but… how can you do it? Who goes this far?” He asked, a bit incredulous at how far they would stick their necks out, just waiting to get chopped by the Imperials.
“We do. And we do it because someone has to care.” She answered, a bit curt. As if there were nothing more to it than that. Ezra held his tongue, resting his chin on his knees as they sat there. He became entranced by the tunnel of hyperspace.
Stars, this felt like the second longest day of his life.