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3ABY
Hera hated the cold. Despite the fact that she had layered up with the warmest clothing the Rebellion had to offer—including a fur-lined parka she was pretty sure had recently seen action at Hoth—the wet chill had managed to infiltrate every part of her body. Even her lekku with their bantha wool wrappings were not spared. Luckily, the body walking close beside her was warm.
"Hmm," Kanan said, nose lifted to the air. "Something smells good."
Hera found that hard to believe. They'd already walked through several more malodorous neighborhoods of Kijimi City, the streets lined with uncollected refuse. Hera supposed that public sanitation was not as much of a priority to the local cartels as the flourishing spice trade. She'd already pulled her scarf up over her nose to block as many of the smells as she could. But now she dared to pull her scarf down an inch or two for a tentative sniff.
Instead of the smell of rotting trash, she caught a faint scent on the breeze—savory and a little bit spicy—that set her mouth watering. She glanced around the square for its source and spotted a small food stall, clouds of white steam billowing from beneath its low, tiled roof. It was little more than a shack, just enough room for an L-shaped counter lined with metal stools, but the yellow lanterns inside cast a welcoming glow on the snow. A culinary droid was hard at work behind the counter, looking like some kind of mechanical cephalopod as its many long, jointed arms worked in a flurry of motion, chopping and pouring and stirring all at once.
"Duradan soup," she read from the menu sign. "It does smell good."
"Maybe we should try it."
Hera arched an eyebrow in Kanan's direction. "Something tells me Rebel Command wouldn't approve of us delaying the mission for a bowl of soup."
She couldn't see his eyes through the dark visor he wore to disguise his blindness, but she was sure he was rolling them. "Right. The mission."
Kanan sighed, giving the air one last, longing sniff as he shoved his hands deep into his pockets and away from the cold. The slush on the cobblestone streets splashed under their boots as they walked. "So why did Rebel Command send us all the way to this frozen wasteland?"
Up ahead, Hera caught sight of a pair of stormtroopers on routine patrol. She took Kanan by the elbow, casually steering him onto a side street to avoid them. The Empire had a presence here on Kijimi, but their authority was merely symbolic—everyone knew the cartels were really in charge. Still, better not to risk an encounter.
"Three days ago, one of our courier ships was intercepted in the Toshara system," Hera murmured, carefully looking out for eavesdroppers. She still held Kanan's arm.
"Empire?" he asked,
"No. Pykes. In addition to killing the pilot and taking the ship, the Pykes also recovered a list of active Rebel operatives. So unless we can recover the list, we'll have to pull all of our spies out for their safety. Years of infiltrative work gone up on smoke."
Kanan nodded, the corners of his mouth pulled down into a thoughtful frown. "And where's the list now?"
"Our informant with the Pykes says that the Syndicate smuggled the list to Kijimi inside a shipment of spice. The shipment was being held by a merchant here in Kijimi City, disguised as antiques."
"Why would they bring it here? I thought Kijimi was Ashiga territory."
"It is, which is why the Pykes are planning on using the list as a bargaining chip with the local Imperial office to cut out the Ashiga."
Kanan nodded with a quiet "ah" of understanding. "Sounds like an easy enough job," he said, rubbing his cold-reddened nose with a sniff. "So why are we here?"
They were quickly approaching the Ashiga-controlled neighborhood of the city. Up ahead, Hera could see an entrance guarded by two Melitto dressed in red and gold, hoods pulled up over the shiny green carapaces where faces should be. They had no discernible mouths. Instead, they wore masks where a mouth would be, connected by breathing tubes to the rectangular devices on their chests that allowed them to survive in the atmosphere of Kijimi. Both guards carried heavy blasters—there was no getting in that way.
"Because," Hera replied, diverting their steps down a nearby alley instead, "what should have been a simple pickup has turned into an all-out turf war. The Ashiga Clan found out that the Pykes were trying to cut into their market and took the shipment."
"And the list with it."
"Exactly. And the Ashigas have a hive mind, so they are the one cartel we haven't been able to infiltrate."
Kanan heaved a sigh. "We always get the fun jobs."
Hera looked over at him with a smile, giving his chest an encouraging pat with one gloved hand. "Just like old times, huh?"
"Sure," Kanan replied, stretching his arms over his head with a soft groan, "except my back didn't hurt quite so much then."
"Get me that list and I'll give you a massage later." Hera pulled a holoprojector from her pocket and checked her map. "This is the back of the building," she said, confirming the coordinates. She stashed the projector back in her pocket. "C'mon, there should be another door up ahead."
She took a step forward but Kanan reached out to put a hand on her arm, pulling her up short. His head turned slightly to one side, his face dropping into a frown of concentration "More guards up ahead," he said at last. "But there's some kind of opening behind this wall. Maybe a ventilation shaft? Could be a way in."
Hera scanned the stones that made up the exterior of the building, crisscrossed with a tangle of power lines. Then she spotted it, a metal grate higher on the wall. It looked large enough to squeeze into.
"I see it, but I'll need a boost," she said, examining the distance. "Think you can take care of those screws for me?"
Kanan's eyes closed, his brows knitting together in concentration. A gloved hand drifted up toward the grate and Hera heard a soft grinding sound. Then, with a light tickling, the screws fell loose from their housings, scattering and rolling across the cobbles.
"Too bad Ezra's not here," Kanan said as he braced his back against the wall, making his hands into a step. "He's our vent specialist."
Hera planted her snowy boot in Kanan's gloves and felt a giddy rush in her stomach as he heaved her upward. She grabbed the grate covering the vent and carefully lowered it down to him before shimmying into the opening.
"What, don't think I can handle it?"
She was speaking into her comlink now, keeping her voice to a low whisper. The metal sides of the vent were cold and they echoed.
"No," came Kanan's reply. Not even the staticky hiss of the comms could hide the wistfulness in his voice. "I just… miss him."
Hera couldn't argue with that. They all did.
"I'll stay here and secure your exit," he continued, brushing off the somber tone. "The last thing we need is you getting stuck inside there."
Hera pushed her way forward with her elbows. There wasn't even enough clearance to crawl. She tried not to think about the years of cobwebs she was probably picking up. "So I'm on my own?"
"I'll try to guide you as best I can from out here."
"You got a schematic of the building that I don't know about?"
"No." She could hear the smile in his voice. "I've got something better."
Hera could see that the vent up ahead came to a junction. She hesitated, unsure which way to go.
"Take the left," came Kanan's voice through the comlink. "In about four meters you should be able to drop down into some kind of storeroom. There's a vault on the west wall protected by an energy barrier. Our missing antiques might be in there."
"How did you—?" Hera shook her head—"You know what. Never mind."
She would have thought that in all her years of being married to a Jedi, she would have learned not to ask. And yet, he still managed to surprise her.
Hera dragged herself forward until she came to a grate in the ducting beneath her. She inched forward to peer through the gaps. Below, she could just make out a small, dim room filled with crates—the storeroom Kanan had sensed. Quietly, she shifted to snake a hand down to her belt to retrieve her multitool.
"Any guards I need to worry about?" she whispered as she began removing the screws holding the vent cover in place.
"One, just outside the room," came Kanan's reply. "I can also feel a big energy source nearby, probably the generator for the barrier."
"Can you cut it from there?"
A long pause.
"No."
Sometimes Hera forgot that Kanan's Force abilities, although astonishing, did have their limits. Luckily, she should have the tech she needed to get through the barrier and into the vault. She removed the final screw from the vent cover, setting it safely aside where it wouldn't accidentally fall and make a sound. Then she gripped the metal grating with her fingertips, giving it a sharp tug. It didn't budge.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me."
She removed her gloves with her teeth, shoving them into her pocket. Then she grabbed the grate and pulled again, a little harder this time, but it remained firmly in place. She could see around its edges where it was rusted and corroded. She could probably knock it loose, but not quietly. Hera held her comlink to her mouth.
"Vent is stuck," she whispered. "I think I can get it, but it's going to make some noise."
Kanan's response was swift. "Wait two minutes and then go for it. I'll be off comms for the next five minutes or so."
"What are you—?"
"Just trust me."
So Hera waited. The duct was cramped and her back was beginning to ache. Then, just when she was starting to get antsy, she heard a commotion coming from outside. Whatever Kanan was up to, she hoped he knew what he was doing.
She slipped the edge of her multitool beneath the edge of the vent cover and pried with one hand while the other jerked the grate hard. The metal popped free with a loud bang, nearly smashing into her face in the close quarters. She froze, listening carefully for any sign of the guard. But whatever Kanan had done, it must have worked—she didn't hear anything other than the faint buzz of the energy barrier.
Her legs went through the opening first. As she slowly lowered herself with her arms, Hera found herself very glad for all of the pull-ups Zeb had incorporated into her strength training regimen. A nearby storage crate made a convenient step as she lightly dropped down into the room. She went still again, listening for any sign of detection. She could hear voices, but they were faint with distant. Carefully, she climbed down from the crate and began her search.
There were no lights here—the insectoid Melitto that made up the Ashiga Clan were blind and had no need of them—but Hera could see a little by the faint red glow of the energy barrier. She pulled the small flashlight from the pouch on her belt to conduct a proper search. Nothing, of course, was labeled in a way meaningful to her. She couldn't help but think that this mission would have been much easier if Kanan could fit into vents. She cracked open a few of the crates but all she found was a jumble of illegal blaster parts, several hundred packs of nutrient fluid, and a few of the complicated breathing apparatuses she'd seen on the guards. There was no sign of any spice-laced antiques or the datadisc hidden within them.
"Found the list?"
Hera jumped a little as Kanan's voice snapped through her comlink. He sounded a little out of breath.
"Not yet," she replied, tossing aside a datapad she'd found. Even if she'd had the time, she couldn't read it—it had a tactile screen, similar to the custom one Kanan used. "It must be locked up in the vault."
"Well, the guards finally dealt with the blind drunkard who accidentally wandered into their territory, so you may want to pick up the pace."
"Accidentally, huh?" Hera could help but smile to herself. "Poor guy. Hope he makes it home okay."
"That kind of depends on you now. Wish I could help more."
"You did great," Hera assured him. She glanced at the chrono on her wrist. "Going comm silent for the next ten minutes."
"Copy that. See you soon, sweetheart."
Hera planted her hands on her hips, examining the energy barrier. It stretched from floor to ceiling like a wall, but if she stood at just the right angle, she could see through the haze of red light. From what she could make out, the contents of the vault were fairly nondescript, held within locked storage crates and barrels. But there, tucked in a corner, she saw a faint glimmer: a pile of antique bronzium vessels. And tucked among them, a round jewelry box—a seemingly small prize but it's true worth was incalculable thanks to the tiny datadisc she knew was hidden in its false bottom. That was what she was after.
Hera laid out her tools and got to work. She could see the lengths of power conduit feeding the barrier and followed them to the point where they came out of the wall. She would need to cut into panel to see more. Fortunately, her vibrocutter was more than up to the task.
Hera gingerly pulled away the squarish bit of wall she'd cut, careful of the glowing hot edges. She could see the generator now and studied the mess of wires, carefully poking and prodding. She was a little rusty, but before Sabine had come along, she and Chopper had handled all of the maintenance on the Ghost. Certainly a little power generator would be no trouble. She scanned the connections, mapping the flow of energy in her mind.
There. If she cut that bundle, that should interrupt the power from the energy cell. As far as she could tell, there was no backup power source. With steady hands, she picked up her cutters and snipped cleanly through the wires.
As expected, the energy barrier disappeared. What Hera had not expected was the sudden, piercing blare of an alarm at the same time.
Her comlink crackled on her belt. "Hera—"
"I know, I know! Just keep my exit clear."
She sprang forward, snatching the bronzium box. The door to the storeroom burst open behind her and she spun, drawing her small holdout blaster and firing in one motion. The Melitto guard convulsed as blue energy sparked between the joints in their carapace. Hera was halfway into the vent before the stunned body even hit the floor.
When Hera made it back to the end of the shaft, Kanan was there to lift her down. Back on solid ground, she rubbed at the stiffness in her spine with a wince. Kanan had been right before; she didn't remember her back hurting this much during missions when they were younger. Off in the distance, she could hear the clamor of swift footsteps and the distinctive humming sound of the Melitto language.
"Seems like that went well," Kanan teased with a crooked smile. "You get the list?"
Hera rolled her eyes but felt for the datadisc she'd stashed in her pocket anyway.
"Got it," she confirmed. The commotion was getting nearer. She grabbed Kanan by the hand, pulling him into a run. "Now let's get out of here."
He grinned. "Now this feels like old times."
The fresh snow creaked under their boots as they ran, turning down twisting streets. The city was maze, but Hera was prepared. She had studied maps of Kijimi City while in hyperspace, planning all their possible escape routes. She led the way now, keeping one hand clenched around the disc in her pocket and the other on Kanan's hand.
"Wait!" His steps faltered and he stopped in the middle of the street. The snow was falling thickly now, covering his broad shoulders as he stood absolutely still, head cocked as if listening for a faraway sound. Hera knew he was tuning into whatever supernatural sense the Force had granted him.
"Ashiga." That was the only warning he gave before grabbing her by the hand and pulling her into the shadows of a narrow alley nearby. Only seconds later, Hera heard them, the squeak of boots on fresh snow, the hiss of their breathing tubes. Her back brushed against the cold stone building as Kanan stood like a shield in front of her, gloved hands planted on the wall on either side of her. Their breaths frosted in the air, mixing and swirling together as they waited one heartbeat, then two.
The sound of the Ashiga gangsters retreated into the distance, leaving only the snow-muffled noises of the city in their wake.
"They're headed back to the hive," Kanan murmured, the Force telling him more than their ears could. "We should be in the clear now." But despite his words, he made no move to leave her space. And Hera felt no hurry to rush him.
"You know what this reminds me of?" she asked softly. Her hands came up to brush the snow from his shoulders. "Lothal. When we were hiding from those troopers."
There were very few good memories associated with that time, but Hera liked that one. Kanan must have remembered too because his body pressed against hers, a hand wandering to her hip.
"But this time there's no Zeb to interrupt us," he added with a sly smile.
He leaned in to kiss her but Hera stopped him with a finger to his lips.
"If you think I am unfastening any part of my clothing for a quickie in this freezing alley, you are dreaming."
"Mrs. Syndulla!" Kanan clicked his tongue in mock disapproval. "Such a filthy mind you have. I would never dream of suggesting such a thing."
"Oh no?" Her gloved hands stroked down his biceps where, under his coat, she knew his skin was tattooed with the same clan markings that decorated her lekku. "Then what did you have in mind, Mr. Syndulla?"
He shrugged. "I hear Kijimi City has a nice bathhouse."
Hera scoffed. "That's a front for Crimson Dawn."
Kanan brushed off her objection with a casual wave of his hand. "The minerals in the waters are supposed to have healing properties."
"Will they heal brain damage?" Hera reached up to gently rap her knuckles against his forehead, her thick gloves cushioning the blow. "Seriously, what has gotten into you?"
"I just thought that since this was our first real time away together since Jacen was born—" he flashed her a hopeful smile—"it might be nice to enjoy ourselves a little."
Hera's response was skeptical. "On a spice runner planet?"
"Look, I'll take what I can get. In the wise words of Master Yoda—"
"'Beggars choosers cannot be.'" Hera had heard it so many times, she could finish the sentence for him. "Yeah, yeah. But what about the mission?"
Kanan rubbed his beard with a thoughtful hum. "May I?" He held out a hand. Hera pulled the datadisc from her pocket and dropped it into his palm.
Kanan tipped his hand and the disc fell to the cobblestone.
"What are you—?"
Before Hera could stop him, he stomped down on it hard. The small disc crunched beneath the heel of his boot, spraying its tiny metal innards across the snow. Hera stared in wide-eyed shock at the remains.
"Our objective was to keep the list out of enemy hands, right?" Kanan asked calmly. "Well—" he gestured toward the metallic smear on the stones that had once been a datadisc—"mission accomplished."
Hera opened and closed her mouth a few times but no objections came to her. If the list was destroyed, it certainly couldn't be used against them. And Rebel Command had no need for a list of their own people. Mission accomplished.
"C'mon, Hera," he coaxed, running his hands soothingly up her arms. "Between our three-year-old and the Rebellion, we hardly ever get any time off. I mean, how long has it been since we've even been on a date?"
"How long?" Hera gave him a quizzical look. "Kanan, we've never been on a date."
The corners of his mouth tugged down into a frown. "No, that can't be right."
"Okay." She folded her arms over her chest. "Name one."
Kanan thought for a moment, "What about that time we were on Florrum and we ate at that place with the great curried ronto."
Hera let out a short laugh. Clearly his memories of that trip were very different from hers. "You mean when we were on Florrun to retrieve the ships that Hondo Onaka 'borrowed' from the Rebellion, and you nearly got sold to the Hutts?" she asked incredulously. "That was not a date. That was a mission."
"But it was kind of fun, right?" Kanan must have sensed her glare without seeing it because he held up his hands in surrender. "All right, not a date. But what about that time we went to the theater in Hanna City? You're going to tell me that wasn't a date?"
"Also a mission. We were lifting that Imperial watchlist from an ISB director, remember?"
"Well, what about Rion? We spent two whole weeks there."
"For a mission."
Kanan flashed her a grin. "Yes, but I recall doing a lot of things with you on that trip that definitely were not mission related."
"Sex isn't a date, love."
He leaned closer. "Not even if it's really, really good sex?"
Hera scooped up a handful of wet snow and flung it at his head.
"Okay, okay!" He shook the snow from his collar. "So enlighten me. What makes something a real date?"
Hera honestly wasn't really sure. She'd picked up Kanan when she was eighteen and they'd been together ever since. Admittedly, her dating experience was pretty slim. "Well, for one thing you have to ask," she said—it seemed like a safe bet.
Kanan smiled. "Okay, easy enough. What else?"
Hera thought for a moment. "It should be planned, not just something you stumble into on accident. Something more than just sitting around and hanging out."
"Okay." He stepped closer. "Is that it?"
He was standing very near now, nearer than he needed to be. Not that Hera minded—it was cold and he made an excellent wind break. That was probably why she was suddenly feeling much warmer in her heavy snow coat and pants—no other reason.
"No," she said, reaching up to carefully remove his visor. She liked seeing his whole face, flushed from the cold. Gently, she traced the long bridge of his nose with a fingertip. "All of your attention should be focused on your partner."
Kanan hummed thoughtfully. His body was so close that she could feel the sound. "That shouldn't be a problem," he said in a low voice that had Hera's whole body breaking into a warm blush. "You've had my attention since Gorse."
But Hera wasn't finished. "And one last thing." She poked a gloved finger into his chest. "No mission."
Kanan laughed, his frozen breath shimmering in the air. "Well, if those are the requirements, I doubt either of us has ever been on a real date.
Hera just shrugged a shoulder with affected nonchalance. "If you don't think you're up for the challenge…"
"I didn't say that!" He caught her hand in his, tracing a thumb over her palm. "And since technically our mission is over now…"
Hera fiddled with his collar. "Yes, Kanan?" she asked innocently. "Do you have something to ask me?"
The corners of his curled into a smile. "Hera Syndulla, my beloved wife, mother to our child, love of my life... may I take you on a date?"
Hera bit her bottom lip but couldn't hold back the wide grin spreading across her face. "Yeah, I'd like that."
His arms wound around her waist, holding her close to him. His warmth was a welcome relief. "I was thinking a bowl of Duradan soup in the square?"
"And a trip to the bathhouse afterwards?" Hera added hopefully. At Kanan's raised eyebrow she added. "Crimson Dawn or not, I think I could use those healing waters. My back is killing me after crawling around in those vents."
Kanan chuckled softly. "Anything you want. This is our first date after all."
"Only had to wait—" Hera paused to do the math in her head— "fourteen years for it."
He flashed her a grin, as bright and charming as ever. "But who's counting?"
He leaned in to kiss her, warm lips brushing against hers. She let herself melt into him, the adrenaline of their chase fading away. If anyone was still searching for them, they would only find a pair of lovers in the alley, not two fugitives.
"Fourteen years," Hera sighed, the words turning to mist in the frozen air. "Hard to believe."
"I'll make it up to you." Kanan's voice was a deep rumble beside her earcone as bent his head to press kisses to the side of her throat. One of his thighs pressed between her legs, teasing the growing ache there. Hera laughed lightly as his beard tickled her neck.
"Sex doesn't count," she reminded him. "Especially not the kind that happens in back alleys."
He made a disappointed sound. "Not even if it's really good?"
She playfully tugged a loose lock of his hair. It had grown out and then some since the short crop he'd given himself on Lothal. The dark strands were streaked through with grey at his temples now. What a wonderful thing, Hera thought as she stroked his beard.
"Not even if it's really good." Her fingers found the way to the front of his coat, feeling the hard planes of his chest even through the bulky fabric. "But let's not rule out the possibility entirely. I still owe you a massage when we get back to the Phantom."
Kanan let out an interested hum, tugging her closer for one last, lingering kiss. "Aye, aye, captain," he murmured against her lips, his voice simmering with suggestion. But then he smiled brightly, taking her by the hand. "All right, let's go get that soup. We can even start a whisper campaign that it was the Pykes that hit the Ashiga vault."
Hera laughed as he lead her out of the alley and back onto the snowy street. She let her head rest against his shoulder as they walked, enjoying the warmth of his hand around hers. Soon she could smell that delicious, spicy scent on the air again and she sighed happily.
"Breaking into a spice cartel's vault, followed by soup and a bath," she teased, playfully bumping Kanan with her elbow. "A bit unconventional for a first date, I suppose."
"But, somehow, it seems just right for us."
Kanan glanced down in her direction. He flashed that small, crooked smile he saved just for her. A giddy rush filled her chest, like she was eighteen years old and seeing him for the first time all over again. Even after all these years, he still made her heart race.
"Love you," he whispered, squeezIng her hand.
She gave his hand an answering squeeze. "Love you, too."
And that felt just like old times.