"Remember, if you see something, say something. Your empire is counting on you."
The droning voice of the public address system rang in Sabine's ears, prompting her to pull the grimy hood further over her head as she tried to shrink further into the line for the ticket vendor. Though barely audible over the voices of hundreds of travelers, the looped message was the only sound she could clearly hear, accompanied by the feeling of a thousand sets of eyes focused directly on her. Squeezing the small duffel she carried to her chest, she could feel the rigid outline of the armor plates carefully stacked inside. Normally, the armor would be locked in a snug embrace around her body. Now, the grey pieces were nothing more than a beacon for Imperial authorities, a heavy reminder of her past reality that was rapidly slipping away.
Even on Ord Mantell, a planet known for its vast criminal networks and illicit underworld, the Empire's watchful eye remained a persistent threat. Desertion was a high crime in the Imperial system, even for a fourteen-year-old, and the Empire had already proven its willingness to use its extensive resources to get her back. Every patrol she dodged and every checkpoint she skirted seemed to tighten the noose around her neck, making it only a matter of time before the dragnet completely closed and snuffed out her nascent freedom. Her last encounter with the Empire had left the grievous wound that hobbled her now, and had torn away the last semblance of trust and support she had. With no one left to turn to, getting off-world became a necessary risk – less a chance of starting over, more a chance of survival.
Despite the diverse assortment of species that milled along the scuffed halls of the concourse, she still felt a spotlight being cast around her. Sabine's attempts at altering her appearance seemed to cry out on their own for more attention; the dye she had hastily applied had failed to set correctly, creating reddish blotches throughout her brunette hair instead of the intended auburn tone. Her lopsided smock, pulled from a back-alley trash compactor, couldn't stop the feeling that countless gazes were penetrating straight through to her core, highlighting her like a fire in a thermal scope. The only comfort she felt came from the synthleather belt clasped tight around her waist, securing the two Westar blasters firmly to her sides.
"Ma'am?" a disinterested, electronic tone called. Sabine snapped to attention, finding herself standing directly in front of the robotic teller. "Your destination," the droid repeated. Sabine hesitated, her eyes glancing to the departures board, searching for the earliest outbound flight.
"Dantooine," she muttered, pushing a crumpled wad of credits into the small opening in the window of the booth. A sudden pang of fear shot through her; she hadn't even checked the price of the ticket. The meager pile of credits, acquired from an unobservant customer that had been in the same aisle as the hair dye, was all Sabine had left. The droid silently took the currency, first eyeing it, then her. After several seconds, the whining sound of a printer generating her boarding pass allowed her to release the breath she had unconsciously been holding.
"Gate one-nine-one. Have a pleasant trip." Grabbing the ticket, Sabine turned and joined the throng of people moving towards the boarding area. Deep in the industrial district of Ord Mantell's capitol, Libertine Interplanetary Spaceport largely catered to spacers, freighters, and those without the means to fly into one of the ports closer to the entertainment or governmental districts. The poured-duracrete walls housed few amenities or decorations, save for a handful of electronic displays announcing the most recent departures and arrivals. Cowing her head to shield her face from the florescent lights above, she pushed deeper into the crowd, praying that any cameras surveilling the terminal were too old to have been integrated with Imperial facial recognition software. A flash of white plastoid in her periphery sent another chill through her body as she spied a pair of Stormtroopers idly watching the flood of passengers move through the hall.
Trying to put as many bodies between herself and the patrol, she didn't see a particularly hurried Rodian moving through the crowd in the opposite direction. The two collided, the Rodian's arm knocking hard against her torso. Stuttering a quick apology, the Rodian continued on his way past her. Fighting to remain upright, Sabine bit the inside of her lips to suppress the cry of pain that was actively fighting to escape her throat. Staggering on down the hallway, she slipped a hand under the poncho to press against the throbbing gash in her side, willing the pain from the unexpected impact to end. She could feel the soiled bandage beneath her jumpsuit slipping out of position yet again, the dirty cloth stretched beyond its ability to hold in place for much longer. Shifting the duffel into her other hand, she pressed her elbow tighter into her side to hold the wad of gauze, eyes darting around the terminal for a secluded place to readjust the dressing. Ahead, the flow of passengers slowed to a standstill, something obstructing their movement to the gates beyond.
"Attention, passengers in the concourse," a new voice boomed across the address system, forcing Sabine's heart to skip a beat. "Due to heightened security concerns, additional identification checks will be occurring at all outbound gates. Please have identification and boarding passes ready for inspection." Sabine stopped dead in her tracks, her stomach in free-fall. True to the announcer's word, a team of Stormtroopers stood between her and the gate, collecting identification cards and comparing them against the datapads they held. An olive-suited officer stood nearby, his eyes drifting from the troopers over into the crowd. Slowly turning around, Sabine began pushing her way back towards the ticketing booths.
"You there!" a voice called over the crowd. Sabine pressed on, quickening her pace.
"You in the black! Stop!" Chancing a glance over her shoulder, she saw the officer with his arm outstretched, pointed in her direction. Their eyes met, and he began pushing his way through the crowd towards her. Heartbeat pounding in her ears, she spun around to see the pair of troopers now pushing through the crowd towards her as well. Grip tightening on the straps of the duffel bag, she felt a rough hand grasp her shoulder.
"I ordered you to hal-" As the officer pulled her shoulder, Sabine swung her body as hard as she could, bringing the weighted duffel into a low arc that slammed into the officer's groin. The Imperial cried out in agony, doubling over and collapsing to his knees. Hearing rapid, booted footsteps approaching, she drew one of her blasters and pivoted towards the approaching Stormtroopers. Not expecting a weapon, the trooper fumbled the release of his holster, struggling to draw his own blaster. Taking a step towards the trooper, Sabine jammed the barrel of the pistol under the soldier's breastplate, squeezing the trigger. The muffled bark of the blaster echoed against the duracrete walls as the trooper collapsed towards his partner. Leveling the blaster at the second trooper's neck, she didn't hear her second shot over the shrill shriek of a nearby passenger. As the second soldier began to pitch backward, she turned back towards the fallen officer.
Still on his knees, the officer had only just begun to push himself up from retching on the floor, one hand reaching for the sidearm on his belt. The sights of her blaster aligning between the man's eyes, Sabine met the officer's gaze again. The exclamations of frightened commuters quieted as time began to dilate, the abject terror in the man's eyes dominating her vision. She tried to turn her eyes away, but her body felt locked in place, her sight remaining fixed on the fallen officer. Clenching her jaw, she forced her mind to focus on the olive uniform. Hatred began to burn through her veins.
Her blaster echoed once more. The Imperial slumped to the ground.
Shouting. Running. A riot of motion erupted in a blur around her as she turned away, her legs beginning to propel her in a sprint along with the rest of the crowd. Another voice was blaring over the address system in a futile attempt to restore order while yellow emergency lights flashed like lightning along the grey walls. Spying a door along the far wall marked EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY, Sabine pushed her way through the stampede and charged shoulder first through the barred door. The door flung open easily, and she rushed into the tiny stairwell, her footsteps clattering down the metal staircase. As she burst through the doorway at the bottom, the deafening roar of engines momentarily fazed her as she found herself standing on the edge of the flight line. A cargo droid trundled along pulling a series of baggage sleds a few meters away, obliviously continuing on as Sabine clambered aboard one of them and pulled the retaining flap closed behind her.
Heaving for breath in the darkness, Sabine let out a frustrated growl as she slammed her fist against a nearby piece of luggage. The initial spike of adrenaline was beginning to wear off, causing the nuisance throbbing of the wound in her side to intensify into burning, radiating pain. Fumbling to reposition the failed dressing, she peaked through a gap in the curtain. Across the flight line, military transports raced towards the main terminal, dozens of white-clad troopers trying to contain the hundreds of civilians that were now pouring out of every door of the building. The terminal disappeared from view as the sled banked to the right, passing fuel tanks and parked shuttles on its way towards the cargo terminals. Through the small slit, she watched a freighter gently rise from behind the walls of one of the circular bays, its engines erupting into vibrant blue flames as they pushed the craft towards the sky. Fortunately for her, profitability trumped security in the Imperial system; despite the chaos gripping the passenger terminal, the industrial side of the spaceport remained open for business.
As the hoversled neared a small alcove along the wall of the complex, Sabine carefully dropped from the slow-moving trailer, rolling to a stop with a grunt of exertion. Slinking along the shadows to an unguarded maintenance door, she slipped into the cargo concourse. As the door sealed out the furious rumbling of engines, she was struck by the relative tranquility of the terminal. While the wide duracrete passages were similar in design to the passenger concourse, only a handful of pilots and mechanics walked between the various bays. At the far side, a pair of loader droids babbled quietly as they slowly trudged from one hangar to another, massive crates pinned between their yellow, forked arms. Slowly edging out from the doorway, Sabine walked silently down the hallway, avoiding idle glances as she trailed the droids. The droids paused as they arrived at their destination; a set of durasteel doors, 94 emblazoned on them with block aurebesh lettering, slowly beginning to split apart with a baritone groan.
Maybe, if I can get onto a freighter unnoticed… The nascent plan was suddenly cut short by a mechanical whirring above her head. Looking up, Sabine found herself staring into the buffed-glass lens of a security camera, pointed directly at her.
Fierfek.
At once the warning klaxons throughout the hall began to wail anew, the ear-splitting tone sending the other pilots scrambling for the shelter of their hangers. When the loader droids paused their movement to investigate the source of the commotion, Sabine bolted for the still-opening bay doors, eliciting a string of binary curses as she darted between the legs of one of the behemoths. Inside the hanger, stacks of crates rested around a small Corellian freighter, its loading ramp still extended as it awaited the arrival of the rest of its cargo. Not pausing to look if anyone was still in the hanger, she dashed up the ramp. The cramped cargo bay, half-loaded with an assortment of unmarked crates, bore the same faded green and yellow paint of the hull, but no other distinguishing features save for the ladder that led deeper into the ship. More importantly, one of the crates had been left opened and empty towards the rear of the bay. Throwing the duffel inside before clambering in herself, she pulled the door secure behind her.
Fighting to stifle her ragged breathing, Sabine sat in the darkness, both blasters now drawn and clenched in trembling hands. In the distance, the rhythmic pulse of the alarm continued, now accompanied by the pitchy shriek of sirens approaching. A deep, metallic thunk echoed as the hanger doors locked into their open position, followed by the unmistakable clatter of plastoid armor and dozens of footsteps.
"Cameras spotted her just outside the bay," the monotone voice of a Stormtrooper began. "First team, start checking the crates outside. Everyone else, on me. Sweep the ship." Hearing footsteps vibrating on the loading ramp, Sabine pressed herself against the back of the crate, holding her breath as her hands clenched harder around the grips of the blasters.
"Excuse me, what do you think you're doing?" A defiant, feminine voice cut through the walls of the crate, almost drawing a gasp from Sabine with its bluntness.
"Conducting a search of the area, miss-"
"That's captain to you." Sabine lowered her weapons a fraction, mildly impressed and wholly shocked by the attitude of the unseen individual. The trooper stammered, equally taken aback by the response.
"Well, captain, we have reason to believe an armed fugitive boarded your ship-"
"So, that gives you license to come aboard as well? Where's your warrant?" The click-whirr of a blaster arming signaled a negative shift in the conversation.
"I have extenuating circumstances, captain" the trooper retorted, clearly done with the pilot's obstruction. "Now, step aside, or I'll be forced to detai-" The sound of another person sliding down the ladder cut off the trooper again and another voice, this time male, joined the argument.
"Is there a problem here?"
"No problem, love. Just more Imperials conducting warrantless searches," the feminine voice replied dryly.
"Enough!" the trooper barked. "You two will comply with my lawful orders, or we will use force!"
"Easy. No need for this to get out of hand. Besides," the second man paused, his tone shifting from placating to almost leading. "You need to check Bay 96 first." A pregnant pause filled the cargo bay.
"We need to check Bay 96 first." Incredulous, Sabine heard the footsteps resume, this time down the ramp and away from the ship. A few muffled orders were barked, then the footsteps gradually departed, the braying of the alarms once again dominating the area. She shook her head; while corruption had always been a fixture of the Imperial system, Stormtroopers accepting bribes was a new low for their oft-touted "discipline."
"Well, that was close," the female voice muttered. "They said they were searching for some…" The words trailed off, empty silence sending a tremor down Sabine's spine. Peering at the small slit of light leaching through the base of the crate's door, she could see the shadows of motion approaching outside. A metallic floor panel nearby groaned as the weight of muted footsteps compressed it. Whoever they were, they clearly knew she was there. Raising her blasters, Sabine coiled herself like a spring within the confines of the box, and took a slow breath in. Holding the breath for a moment longer, she launched herself through the side of the crate with the fiercest shout she could muster.
Immediately the blasters were torn from her grasp, seemingly ripped away by some unseen hand. An arm slammed into her collarbones, breaking her momentum and sending her tumbling backwards as it began to curl in a lock around her neck. Primal panic began to flood her senses as she felt herself begin pulled into a powerful embrace, her attempts to pull and claw at the limb unable to break its hold. As she threw a pointed elbow behind her, the attackers other arm wrapped around her midsection, pinning her arms to her sides and slamming hard into the wound on her abdomen. An undignified howl burst from her throat as daggers of pain tore through her core. The cargo bay spun as the arms pulled her backwards, dragging her towards the floor.
"Careful! Don't hurt her!" the feminine voice exclaimed.
The arm at her midsection slackened, giving her enough room to slip an arm away and claw at the hold on her neck. The two rolled to their sides, the legs of an orange flightsuit filling her vision. Sabine fought to turn her neck, to see a youthful Twi'lek woman staring down at her, a small holdout blaster held passively at her side. To Sabine's surprise, concern was obviously written across her face, the green skin of her brow knitted together. The man's arms twisted under her armpits and slid behind her head, relieving the pressure on her side but rendering her arms useless. She bucked helplessly against the hold, completely trapped by the man's steely grip.
"Take it easy! Easy!" the man grunted, rolling them both upright while trying to secure her flailing legs with his own. Utterly exhausted, Sabine half-heartedly squirmed in the grip, finding no room to maneuver.
"Let… me… go…" she rasped out, hoping that her rage carried in her voice rather than the unadulterated fear that now grasped her. The Twi'lek stooped down in front of her, returning the blaster to its holster and resting her forearms on her knees.
"We will, but you have to quit fighting us," she soothed, looking over Sabine with gentle eyes. "We're not going to hurt you." Sapped of all strength, Sabine slowly relaxed, letting her arms hang awkwardly in the man's grip. She waited for the hands on the back of her head to snap her neck downward, but instead felt the pressure gradually lift, slowly uncoiling from around her body. Staring at the woman, Sabine found herself sitting in the lap of the unknown man, panting for breath as the thumping of her heartbeat returned to her ears.
"That's it," the woman intoned. "You're going to be okay." The man's arms continued to retreat from under her own arms, gently shifting her onto the floor beside him. Cautiously, she turned towards her attacker, to find a man not much older than the Twi'lek staring back at her. Hardly even breathing heavily, the only sign of their struggle was a few strands of hair pulled loose from his otherwise-neat ponytail, trailing down across his face to interrupt the radiant teal of his eyes. His gaze seemed to penetrate through her, and she shifted her eyes uncomfortably towards the floor.
"What's your name?" the woman inquired, head tilting to intercept Sabine's falling look. With a hardened face, Sabine gave a halfhearted shrug.
"Names don't matter." The woman pursed her lips as if she was going to protest, when the man suddenly rushed to his feet, the sudden movement making Sabine jump. He leaned out from a stack of crates, then ducked down as a crimson bolt sailed over his head and exploded in a shower of sparks against the far wall.
"Our friends are back!" he yelled, drawing a slender blaster from his thigh and returning fire as more bolts tore through the air above them. The woman sprang from her crouch to a panel on the wall behind Sabine, furiously keying commands into the display. Pulling herself to cover behind the crate, Sabine felt the deck shudder with the groan of the engines powering back to life. The loading ramp began to raise, slowly shrouding a dozen troopers in the hangar outside from view. As the door thudded to a close, the woman turned and shot up the ladder with practiced ease. The man followed suit, pausing to retrieve Sabine's blasters from the ground and tuck them into his belt.
"Stay here, and hang on!" he shouted as he bolted up the ladder and through the door. Pushing herself to her feet, Sabine steadied herself against a stack of containers, only to be thrown back to the floor as the ship lurched violently, sending stacks of crates sliding across the floor. Pulling herself to the ladder, she clung to the metal rails as the ship banked upward, toppling the unsecured cargo. As the ship's gravity began to normalize, Sabine clambered up the worn rungs and through the unlocked door above. Following the hallway, she wandered into what appeared to be a crew lounge, a dejarik table and benches tucked into the corner and flanked by hallways. The ship shuddered again with the sound of impacts, followed by the unmistakable screech of ion engines passing nearby.
Before she could head towards the cockpit, one of the adjacent doorways burst open as a squat astromech tore into the room. Manipulator arms flailing angrily over its orange, angular head, the droid spotted Sabine and attempted to confront her, only to have its own inertia and another jolt of the ship send it spinning into the wall. Angrily shaking off the blow, the droid approached her with a series of bellicose tones, gesturing manically back down the hall the way she came.
"Like hell I'm going back to the bay! I've almost been crushed twice!" Sabine shouted over the thudding of another blow to the ship. The droid warbled furiously, extending a shock prod from its body that crackled to life with blue electricity. As her eyes darted around the room for a place to hide, a powerful blow sent the two sprawling backwards as the lights flickered under the strain.
"Chop! We're about to lose the shields!" the woman's voice crackled over the room's intercom. "Reroute the auxiliary power or we're done!" Seeing the droid kicking impotently on its back, Sabine pushed herself back to her feet and pulled with all her strength to get the droid back upright. Shaking its head and beeping in frustration, the orange droid turned and began to return down the hall it had come from.
"Wait!" Sabine called, as the droid halted at the doorway. "This is a VCX-series freighter, it's got a dorsal turret. Where is it?" Placing its manipulators defiantly on its sides, the droid gave a dismissive warble. "Look, if we're going to make it out of this, you guys are going to need all the help you can get. Where is it?" The droid looked to her, then to the closed door leading to the cockpit, then back again. With a mechanical sigh, the astromech pointed towards a ladder at the far end of the room and disappeared through the door to the back of the ship.
Arriving at the top of the ladder, Sabine looked out of the transparisteel dome to see the black void of space, the blotting of stars streaking and shifting as the ship dodged brilliant green bolts of energy and a small swarm of TIE Fighters. Clambering into the unoccupied gunner's seat, she fought down a sudden wave of vertigo; though she had spent plenty of time in the gunnery simulators, the computers never truly replicated the disorienting disconnect between the ship's artificial gravity and the visual stimulus outside. Breathing deep to calm her stomach, she powered up the targeting computer and slipped a nearby headset over her ear.
"You know, if you could actually hit something, they might back off of us for a second!" the woman's voice barked through the earpiece.
"Easier said than done!" the man's frustrated voice retorted. Pivoting the turret over the rear of the ship, Sabine watched two fighters approach in a tight pair. Making a snap estimate of their path, she input the distance to the targets and squeezed the triggers. Having taken the previous lack of fire from the turret for granted, the pilots were unable to react in time, their crafts colliding with the red lances of plasma and exploding brilliantly behind the engines. The other pilots veered wide of the craft, determined not to make their comrades' mistake.
"Wait, who's shooting behind us? Chop, I need you on the shields, not the gun!" the woman shouted, confusion dulling the anger in her voice. A series of warbles flooded the intercom. "The girl? What is-"
"Two more, at your one-oh-four," Sabine cut in, guiding the turret over the right side of the ship. "They're going to fly high-to-low, and make a pass on the underside." True to her word, the two fighters darted towards the underside of the ship, seeking cover in the blind spot of the weapons.
"Get ready, I'm going to line you up!" the woman called, the tension in her voice now lost to complete focus. The stars in the transparisteel above her pitched wildly, framing the two TIEs in her sights. Sabine pulled the triggers and watched the fighters vaporize into a yellow bloom.
"Got 'em!" she nearly shouted, a sudden rush of exhilaration washing over her.
"Two more approaching from the rear," the woman called, as a cascade of green lasers showered the hull around Sabine's turret. The lighting once again failed, returning with the red flash of warning lights.
"I've lost my rangefinder!" the man shouted. Sabine watched the fighters circle around, before beginning another approach from the left side of the ship.
"Manually set your range to two-thousand. I'm going to push them into you," Sabine called, rotating the turret to face the approaching fighters.
"Got it," the man's voice replied. Aiming just above the pair of targets, she sent a barrage of laser fire toward the approaching craft. Seeing the incoming fire, the pilots dodged sharply towards the front of the ship.
"Now!" As she rotated back towards the front, she saw a spray of red rip through the wings of both craft, unable to react to the second lethal stream. Spinning wildly into the void, the ships collided in another flash of amber light. The remaining fighters pulled further away, trying to regroup from their losses.
"Got an opening!" the woman shouted. The stars and fighters around the dome elongated and fused into brilliant blue light as the ship leapt into the silent maw of hyperspace. Sabine leaned back into the seat, exhaling deeply and wiping anxious perspiration from her forehead. Staring into the whirling lights outside, she felt a tinge of relief and exhaustion. For the moment, she was out of the Empire's reach.
The sound of voices at the base of the ladder broke her moment's reprieve.
Well, on to the next problem… she thought dryly as she slowly set the headset aside and moved towards the exit. Sliding down the railing back into the room below, she turned to find the man and woman standing at the base of the ladder, arms crossed. A wry grin turned at the corner of the man's lips, while the woman smiled more fully.
"Nicely done up there. I was beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with the guns, but it looks like it's just operator error," the Twi'lek said, giving the man a gentle jab in the ribs.
"I still think it's the computer," the man defended, as the Twi'lek rolled her eyes.
"Thanks," Sabine mumbled, folding her arms around her chest. The man's piercing eyes once again met with hers, forcing her to drop her gaze while keeping the two's hands in her field of view. The woman took a cautious step forward, placing a shoulder between the man and Sabine.
"My name's Hera. This is my co-pilot Kanan, and the droid you met earlier is Chopper." The woman leaned slightly, once again catching Sabine's gaze with her gentle emerald eyes. "What can we call you?" Sabine dropped her eyes to the floor, pulling her arms even closer to her.
"What are you going to do with me?" She looked up again to the woman, whose eyes now bore a hint of sorrow as she straightened back to her full height, one hand gently resting on her hip.
"Well, our hasty departure makes returning to Ord Mantell a bit impractical," Hera began, the wry smile once again pulling at the corner of her mouth. "As it was, we were supposed to link up with… an associate within the next two rotations. Until we complete that meet, you'll have to stay with us." Hera exchanged a quick glance with Kanan, then turned back to Sabine. "Once that's done, we can take you where you need to go." Sabine slowly looked to Hera, then to Kanan, then slowly nodded in agreement. Looking her over, Hera turned to a closet tucked into the corner of the room. Retrieving a small medkit, she extended it to Sabine, nodding towards the door behind them. "The trip will take us nearly a rotation and a half. There's a refresher down the hall, help yourself to the hot water and anything else you need." Warily accepting the plastoid container, Sabine turned it over in her hands, her eyes once again returning to Kanan's belt.
"Can I have my blasters back?" she muttered, disgusted at how the words sounded coming from her mouth; if her family knew how quickly she'd lost control of her weapons, they'd have disowned her again. Hera and Kanan exchanged a longer look, then to Sabine's amazement, Kanan pulled the blasters from the small of his back, offering the grips of the pistols to her. As she reached out to pull them away, Kanan's grasp remained firm on the barrels, his eyes locking with hers before slowly releasing his hold. Slowly returning the pistols to their holster, she backed away towards the hallway, watching Kanan and Hera until the door slid shut between them.
The refresher wasn't much larger than a standard closet, the gunmetal basin and toilet no more than a few decimeters from the opposing side. Despite this, Sabine was pleasantly surprised to find a small shower tucked into the opposite wall, a fresh towel clamped to a retaining pin on the back wall. Setting the medkit on the basin, she gingerly eased herself out of the bodysuit, slowly unwinding the filthy gauze from her midsection and gritting her teeth as the soiled patch peeled away from the raw flesh underneath. Exposed under the sterile white of the room's fluorescent lighting, the angry crimson swatch across her side was coated in dirt and grime, but had not begun to bear the red tendrils of infection. In the center, the wadding of gauze that filled the deepest part of the perforation had turned to a dull iron color, the clotting agent long since activated. Even so, she dared not pull it out on her own, instead grabbing another pad from the medkit and pressing it gently over the wound.
Pulling a blaster from the holster, she slowly edged into the shower stall, angling her body to keep the jet of water from spraying the open wound. She ignored the gash's biting sting as water began to seep through the gauze, instead savoring the sensation of the warm water starting to lift tension as it cascaded down her shoulders and back. It had been days since she had been afforded such a luxury, as evidenced by the murky pool of brown and red that swirled around the drain between her feet. Setting the blaster on a small ledge on the wall, Sabine pointed her face into the stream, slowly letting the sound of the running water flood out the torrent of thoughts running through her mind.
A tapping at the door broke her from the trance, sending her fumbling for the blaster. Cursing herself for being so careless as to let her guard down around people she hardly knew, she pointed the blaster at the door, hardly able to control the intense sway of the muzzle induced by the tremor that was now enveloping her entire body. As her mind poured over endless horrible possibilities, her eyes remained fixed to the still-closed door.
"I found your bag," Hera's voice called through the door. "And I also found you something clean to wear, even though it might be a little big." The blaster in her hand drooped a fraction as Sabine continued to stare at the closed door. "I'll leave it here, take your time." A quiet patter of footsteps slowly faded away from the other side of the door, leaving Sabine's ears once again filled with the sound of running water. Slumping against the wall of the shower, she heaved for air as her knees threatened to buckle under the shaking of her legs. When her constitution finally returned, she quickly scrubbed the remaining dirt from her body and wrapped the towel around herself. Peeking out of the doorway, she found her duffel sitting on the floor, a beige shirt and grey shorts neatly folded on top of it. Pulling the bag inside, she found the contents as she had left them, the grey plates stacked neatly next to the helmet. The half-used packet of hair dye, which miraculously hadn't spilled throughout the day's events, sat nestled beside the helmet. Sabine looked into the mirror at the reddish-brown blotches that stained her hair. With a sigh, she turned on the water in the basin and grabbed the packet.
As she tentatively entered the common room, the musk of warm food immediately struck Sabine's senses. Seated at the dejarik table, Hera greeted her with a warm smile. She did her best to force a smile back, shifting nervously in the baggy shirt that hung over her diminutive frame.
"So, there was a person under all that dirt," Hera teased, earning a blush from the girl. She patted the seat next to her, shifting to make room at the table. "Would you like something to eat? We mostly just have rehydrated rations, but I was able to find some fresh fruit." Sabine nodded cautiously, sliding into the seat next to the pilot. The rational part of her brain told her to begin with the nutritionally-balanced ration, but she found herself gorging on some unknown fruit, hands sticky with its pinkish juice. Hera took another spoonful from her own ration packet, studying Sabine as she ate. Her bangs, still wet but already showing a deep scarlet from the fresh dye, weren't long enough to conceal the way her eyes continually darted to each of the doors. "Take all you want," Hera cajoled, making a short gesture to the duffel that the girl kept within arm's reach of her. "If you want, I can wash your suit while you eat." Sabine paused mid-bite, eyeing Hera cautiously. After a second of reflection, she wiped some of the juice from her hands and unzipped the duffel bag, pulling out the flight suit. As she reached to hand the suit away, the self-tied wrapping of her bandage slipped, eliciting a wince of pain. Hera looked at the stained flight suit, then to Sabine, whose head hung in a mixture of embarrassment and anguish. "Can I take a look at it?" Hera coaxed. Sabine looked up, fear and resignation etched in her expression.
"Your co-pilot… He doesn't come in." Hera nodded, sliding out from the table and kneeling in front of the girl.
"He's in the cockpit, on first watch." Sabine slowly nodded, hitching the shirt up to the base of her sternum as Hera retrieved a set of gloves from the medkit. Unwinding the slackened wrapping from around the girl's waist, Hera bit her lip as she slowly removed the gauze pad covering the gash. "What did this?" she asked, blotting away some of the weeping fluid from the edges.
"Blaster," Sabine grunted. Hera nodded in acknowledgement as she cautiously swabbed the shallower portion of the wound. Hera worked in silence, only punctuated by Sabine's occasional hiss of pain or the groan of the hyperdrive shifting power. Reaching the discolored knot of wadding, Hera shifted through the medkit, picking up a fresh patch.
"On the targeting computer, were there really any problems?" Hera inquired. Sabine looked to her, puzzled.
"Well… other than the rangefinder being out, there was a bit of a lag in the controls… It's probably something to do with the target solution not populating correctly into the-" Sabine's words were cut short by a cry of agony as Hera quickly pulled the wad free, spraying bacta into the gap and repackaging it with sterile gauze. Sabine doubled over into Hera's shoulder, choking for breath between the throbs of pain.
"I'm sorry," Hera said, pressing a clean bacta pad over the wound while gently rubbing circles along the girl's heaving back. "I'm so sorry." Sabine fought to regain her composure, straightening up from Hera's shoulder and mustering the strength to raise her arms so that she could begin wrapping the bandage around her waist. The fabric glided through Hera's hands with a practiced ease, holding the bacta pad snugly to her body. Sabine looked the woman over as she worked, mind still cloudy from the sudden impulse of pain but now keenly intrigued by Hera's gentle proficiency.
"How… where did you learn to do this?" Sabine mumbled. Crossing another lap of fabric around her waist, Hera gave Sabine a wistful smile.
"My home was one of the hardest regions hit during the Clone War," she explained.
"Ryloth?" Sabine interjected, eyeing the unique design of Hera's sidearm. Hera's smile widened as she nodded.
"Everyone did what they could to help. Those too young or too old to fight helped take care of those who could – cooking, cleaning, tending to the wounded. Whatever we were able to do." Fastening the end of the bandage with a set of clips, Hera helped ease Sabine's shirt back down and retrieved a small container of medications from the kit. "The war ended, but then the Empire rose up. And when I left Ryloth, I found that there were many, many people that needed my help just as badly. So I never really had a chance to forget the skills I learned."
"So why did you leave? Why not stay and fight?" Sabine inquired. Hera chuckled, shaking her head gently.
"My father wanted me to…" Hera trailed off as Sabine's gaze fell at the mention of family. Opening the pillbox, Hera extracted a pair of capsules and placed them into Sabine's hand, closing her hand around the girl's. "We don't always get the choice of whether to fight or not. What we do choose is how. And why." Sabine stared at Hera for a long moment, until the older woman smiled and retrieved a glass of water from the table, handing it to Sabine. "Those will help with the pain and keep down infection, and the patch should have the worst of it healed over in a little while. For now, though, you need to rest." Sabine hesitated again, then nodded, slowly rising from the bench and following Hera down the hall. They stopped at one of the crew rooms, empty but for a small bunk and a shelf on the wall. "I'm in the room just down the hall on this side, if you need me." Nodding, Sabine took a step into the room, before turning back to face Hera.
"Sabine. My name's Sabine." Hera's eyes brightened, the gentle smile lighting up her face once more.
"Glad to meet you, Sabine. Rest well," Hera said, as she turned and departed down the hall. Sabine keyed the door closed behind her, setting her blasters beside the bed and slipping between the sheets. As soon as her body touched the mattress, fatigue washed over her, the stillness of slumber taking hold moments later.
Hera stepped into the cockpit, sliding into the pilot's seat next to Kanan. Kanan smiled, extending the mug of caf he held to her, which she gratefully accepted.
"How's our guest?" Kanan asked, as Hera took a long sip from the cup.
"Resting." The two lapsed into silence, staring out into the whirl of hyperspace.
"Did you see the armor in the bag she was carrying?" Hera asked. Kanan nodded folding his arms over his chest.
"Mandalorian. Almost certainly a custom set, too. There's no way she stole it from someone; that was given to her by family." Hera balanced the mug on her lap, running an inquisitive finger along her temple.
"But then what is she doing out here, alone? Family is everything in their culture." Pinching the bridge of his nose, Kanan's brow furrowed in thought.
"Something else is in play here, something bigger." Hera turned, staring intently at Kanan as he broke from the reflective pose to meet her gaze. "We need to start finding answers." Hera nodded, leaning back into the chair.
"Well, we have the answer to our first question," Hera said. "We have a name."
Author's note: The revelation of Sabine's backstory was by far my favorite moments of season three, and was the impetus for this story. The cover art is courtesy of the incredible Lledra on Tumblr. Up next, meeting "the associate." As always, comments and critique are greatly appreciated!
All the best,
JA