Always in Motion
by Lady Dawson
Chapter One: Not Alone
Pain . . . that was the only thing that he could think about as he stared blankly at the wall opposite of the cot that he was lying on; grey, like the rest of the cell and just like the rest of the Imperial Star Destroyer, without a speck that was the wrong hue. Everything was the exact shade that it was supposed to be, without even a trace of color or warmth, Ezra Bridger thought as he curled up onto himself on the hard cot.
He had alternated between plotting escape plans and staring in despair at the cell door, afraid that the torture droid was just gonna come back.
They'd caught him after his first escape attempt, when he'd tricked those idiot bucketheads into letting him out of his cell, and he'd managed to make it all the way to the hanger before they recaptured him, stunning him. When he woke, he was back in his cell and all of his stuff was gone again, though this time they had found that box thing that he'd stolen from Kanan—and whatever that thing was, Agent Kallus knew exactly what it was.
That's when they had turned to torturing the information out of him, trying to "extract" anything they could about Kanan and the others; Ezra had tried to explain, again, to the guy that he didn't know anything. But it hadn't mattered to the agent and it hadn't stopped them from inflicting pain onto him, especially after they found out who his parents were.
Suppressing a shiver in remembrance, Ezra wondered how long had passed since they last came and when they were due to come back.
Hopefully, without the torture droid, though he doubted that.
Closing his eyes briefly, his eyes snapped open as something tickled the back of his mind and he sat up quickly, looking wildly around at his surroundings, but of course, there was nothing else in the cell except for him. But he was sure that he had . . . felt something, something that he had felt before, back on Lothal, right when he first met Kanan and the others.
Ezra frowned in puzzlement; no, that wasn't quite right. Yes, it was similar but it also felt different, though he couldn't put into words why it felt that way. Whatever it was that he was . . . sensing, for lack of a better word, it wasn't the same.
Slowly, he slid his legs over the cot, dropping them down onto the hard concrete floor, tremors running through him as he walked over to the steps leading up to the cell door. He had no expectations that Kanan and the others would come rescue him; even if they hadn't left him here, after he risked his life to save them, he knew that he couldn't trust anyone. Eight years on the streets taught him that; he had just forgotten that for a moment, until they proved that they were exactly like everyone else.
But it wasn't them; he didn't know what it was—or who it was—but it most definitely wasn't them.
Flinching as he felt something probe his mind, Ezra instinctively pushed against whatever it was, catching a flicker of surprise from whomever it was doing it. He didn't know how they were doing it, but they definitely sensed him.
Taking a deep breath, he wished that he had his slingshot—or even better, a blaster—anything that could be helpful in defending himself, but they had made sure that he was unarmed when he was first put here, never mind after his escape attempt . . .
They wouldn't even have any silverware when they fed him at random hours—and that was when they remembered to feed him at all.
So he was left with nothing but his bare hands to defend himself, which really wasn't much; the torture droid had left him exhausted and weary and it was taking everything that he had just to stay upright, but he wasn't going down without a fight, he thought savagely. He'd survived on his own, in the streets, for eight years, without anyone to depend on; he could take care of himself.
Hiding underneath the stairs—it had worked well enough before, to trick those bucketheads into letting him escape—Ezra waited for whoever it was to come looking for him, his heart beating rapidly in his chest with every breath he took, trying to ignoring the pain coursing through him.
And come they did.
It didn't take five minutes before the cell door opened and Ezra felt the same presence that he'd felt before step inside—no, not one person but two, he thought, chancing a quick glance. One of them was a stormtrooper and the other . . . well, he couldn't quite see that person very well; they were hidden behind the bucket.
Ducking his head again, he hoped that he might be able to avoid being seen and maybe, just maybe, he could chance an escape again.
What he wasn't expecting was the sudden grunt of surprise and then the sound of someone falling met his ears.
Ezra poked his head out just in time to see the buckethead tumble to the bottom of the stairs, his helmet askew, before his head snapped to look instead at the girl standing at the top of the stairs, a few years older than he was eighteen at most.
Ezra's first impression was that she was someone of great power; a princess, maybe. She drew power around her like a cloak and there was something of intimidation in her ice-blue eyes. But then, she wore clothes that were more akin to a pirate or a smuggler than of royalty. And her sunshine blonde hair hung freely around her, not like some of the extravagant hairstyles he'd seen on Imperials. And the way she held herself was that of a survivor, someone who had gone through a lot in a short amount of time . . .
She walked into the cell, her gaze lingering on the fallen stormtrooper as though reassuring herself that he was indeed unconscious before she turned her gaze to the rest of the cell, almost as though she were searching for him, and he held his breath as she completed her journey down the stairs, turning to look directly at her.
"There you are." She sounded relieved, which didn't make sense to Ezra but she smiled at him. "I was starting to think that they'd dragged you off somewhere or I'd gotten the wrong cell—or worse, the wrong ship." She paused, tilting her head towards him. "Are you gonna come out of there or you just gonna sit there?"
Slowly, Ezra crawled out from behind the stairs, using them to balance himself, his electric blue eyes clashing with her ice-blue ones.
"What do you want?"
She blinked, clearly surprised by his tone, and her smile faded slightly. "Well, there's a number of things I'd like, none of which are really possible anymore," she admitted, "but I'd settle for getting out of here, wouldn't you?"
Ezra stared at her, nonplussed.
"Kid," she said with aggravated patience, "do you want to get out of here or not? Because I did come a long way just to rescue you, but if you'd rather stay . . ."
"No!" he said without even thinking about it, because really, who would want to stay inside of an Imperial prison cell? At least, who would want to that was in their right mind?
No one he could think of.
This seemed to satisfy her as she nodded as though she had expected this.
"All right, then," she told him, gesturing to the open cell door. "Then what do you say we get out of here before anyone figures out I'm here and then someone will have to rescue both of us?"
She had no sooner said anything than alarms blared from outside the cell and Ezra started, looking around.
"Of course, they may have already figured it out," she continued dryly, looking worried momentarily but there was no time for her to say anything because the cell door had started to move slowly downward, to seal them both back in.
But she just threw out her hands out, ice-blue eyes narrowing in concentration, and as Ezra watched in astonishment, the door stopped moving.
He gaped at her. "How are you doing that?"
"No time," she replied, throwing him a brief look. "Here, take my blaster and go; I'm right behind you."
Ezra threw her a quick look, not expecting that, but he hesitated only for a second before grabbing her indicated blaster—noticing a long cylinder hanging from her belt next to it—and did as he was told.
She waited until he was out the cell door before she raced up the stairs and threw herself through them just before it closed.
"That was close," Ezra observed.
"That was the easy part," she replied, tossing her blonde hair off of her shoulder before surveying him. "Sure you're up for this, kid? Because I can only promise you one thing: it's gonna be a hell of a fight getting out of here. And I can't guarantee that we will."
He swallowed, throwing a glance down the empty corridor that would most definitely not remain empty for long.
"A chance is better than no chance, right?" he said quietly.
She smiled faintly, clapping her hand onto his shoulder and instinctively, he flinched away in remembered pain, and she dropped her hand away.
Briefly, he glanced at her and she was just looking at him, something of understanding flashing behind her eyes, but she said nothing, just let him decide.
Taking a deep breath and gripping the blaster tightly, he said grimly, "Let's do this."
Though she looked at him with something of concern, the girl nodded before tilting her head to the blaster.
"You know how to use one? Because we don't have time for a lesson . . ."
"I know how to shoot, yeah," he said, gripping it tightly. Really, it felt good to have a blaster in his hands. "Anyway, I shoot better than those bucketheads do."
She laughed, mirth filling her eyes.
"You'd be surprised how well they shoot when you need them to shoot badly," she told him with a grin. "You got a name, kid?"
"Ezra . . . Ezra Bridger."
With a nod, she replied, "I'm Cassie Windchaser."
If he wanted to say something else, he didn't get the chance because blaster fire suddenly was shot near his ear—or where his ear would have been had he not sensed something coming and moved out of the way just in time.
Cassie glanced at him quickly, then redirected her attention back to the stormtroopers and, moving faster than he thought possible, took both of them down before he even had a chance to blink, snatching up one of their blasters.
"Let's go, kid!" she called, seeing he hadn't moved.
Yanking himself out of his trance, Ezra ran after her, struggling to keep up as Cassie raced through the corridors, determined to get off of the Destroyer as soon as possible.
For a moment, his mind flashed to what had happened last time he was escaping Imperials with someone.
Afraid he would get left behind again—or more accurately, afraid of what they might to him when that happened—Ezra tried to catch up with her, but Cassie had already slowed down, having seen that he was having trouble keeping up, and waited for him catch up before rounding the next corner.
After that, she kept a slower but steady pace.
"Thanks," he gasped.
"Don't worry about it; we should probably get you check out when we get back to my ship."
"Where is it? On the hanger?"
"No, but that's where we're going; I snuck onto one of the shuttles in order to get on this ship and that's how we're gonna get off. Difference is, this time we're gonna have to steal one," she said with a slight grin.
Ezra stared at her, thoroughly convinced that she was out of her mind, but he ducked his head to avoid being hit by blaster fire before he could form any sort of protest, firing back. His aim was fairly accurate, but Cassie was having trouble with the one she'd snagged. It was probably heavier than she was used to and it wasn't like they were good to begin with.
But they were still managing to fight their way through the Destroyer; bucketheads appeared almost around every corner, but Cassie was quicker than them, taking them down even if the blaster didn't help.
And she seemed to know when they were coming, because she would throw out her hand to stop Ezra before moving forward to engage.
"Kid, you holding up okay?"
Ezra hadn't noticed that he was swaying slightly until she reached out to steady him, but he forced himself to stay upright, nodding at her.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
She frowned doubtfully. "You sure you can make it?"
"I can make it."
"And if we have to run?"
He opened his mouth, then closed it, suddenly not so sure; the torture droid had taken a lot out of him and he'd used up whatever strength he had left just to make it here. Pain felt like it were pressing down on him and he sank against the wall, realizing that he might not make it out of here after all.
Stupid . . . he never should have gotten his hopes up.
He looked up as Cassie knelt down to his level, looking at him squarely in the eye, electric blue meeting ice-blue.
"Ezra, listen to me, okay? No matter what happens, I am not going to leave you in this place; I did a lot to break in here and there's no way that I'm gonna leave you behind, got it?" He stared at her uncomprehendingly. "We're getting out of here, even if I have to carry you."
Despite everything that he knew, everything that he had believed up until this point, Ezra believed her. Sincerity ran through her eyes and for the first time, he actually believed that they would make it out of here and even if they didn't, he wouldn't be alone.
"I can make it," he promised, allowing her to help him stand upright again. He had to make it; otherwise they'd both be trapped in this place.
She regarded him critically, and then smiled.
"Yes, you can," she agreed, unclipping the cylinder that had been hanging on her belt up until that point. "So what do you say we given those 'bucketheads,' as you called them, a fight they'll remember?"
"Sounds good to me."
Satisfied, she glanced around the corner and Ezra peeked around her, seeing the hanger beyond them; they had almost made it.
"Just about," she agreed without looking at him, scanning the area, "and we're gonna take that shuttle there." She pointed to the one in question before turning to him. "Ezra, I want you to promise me something; you get to that shuttle. Don't worry about me; I'll be right behind you, but you get to that shuttle and you prep it for departure. Set in coordinates for whatever system you can think of; you know how to do that?"
"Yeah . . . I mean, I did it once . . ."
"Good enough; we just need to get away from here, it doesn't really matter where, so long as it's not in the middle of a star. We can change course once we're out of here, got it?"
"Got it," he agreed. "Here, you might need this." He tried handing her the blaster back, but she just shook her head.
"Keep it on you," she advised. "I've got this."
He frowned at the cylinder, wondering how that was going to help them, but his mind flashed to a similar one he'd found in Kanan's chambers and something of wonder flashed through his mind.
Before he could ask, though, she said, "Are you ready? On three . . . one . . . two . . . three, go!"
Ezra ran for the shuttle with Cassie pushing him ahead of her, both of them racing for the shuttle, and suddenly there was blaster fire everywhere as bucketheads were everywhere and he could barely move without being hit.
A cry left his lips as he felt blaster fire hit his side and he would have crumpled had Cassie not grabbed him, shielding with her own body, and then he heard a hiss, looking up to see a blue blade in her hand, coming from the cylinder.
She held it high, letting the Imperials see, and all of a sudden, blaster fire stopped and Ezra, gritting his teeth as he gripped the wound, saw that they were all staring at her, then at each other and back again, like they weren't sure what they were supposed to do.
Taking advantage of their distraction, Cassie pushed him to the shuttle. "Run, Ezra!" she shouted at him. "Go! Get the ship ready for takeoff!"
Running like his life depended on it—because really, it did—Ezra ran up the ramp and into the shuttle, not pausing until he had reached the pilot's seat.
"Navigation . . . navigation . . ."
He found the star chart, but it had been years since he'd set in coordinates and last time, the TIE fighter had been mostly smashed up and he was just curious as to how it had worked. But he had to do this, he thought, looking up to see Cassie deflecting blaster fire as the troopers—having finally been yanked out of their daze—shot at them. If he didn't do this, then they would be recaptured—or worse.
Forcing down the panic, he finally managed to program coordinates into the shuttle, starting the shuttle's departure.
Or at least, he almost did but a sudden blast knocked him sideways out of the seat and he screamed, suddenly on the floor with fire erupting throughout his body.
"Deep breaths, Ezra; just breathe. Pain can be controlled; don't think about it. Just breathe and focus on the task at hand, Padawan."
Ezra blinked as he heard Cassie talking to him, but that didn't make any sense; she was outside the shuttle, fighting the troopers.
Shaking his head, certain that he had imagined it, Ezra crawled back to the pilot's seat, hauling himself up into it, and returned to what he was doing, not stopping until the shuttle had started rising into the air.
Outside, Cassie saw him and changed direction, running instead at the ship, somersaulting at the last second to land inside of the shuttle.
"Good job," she said, "but you'd better let me fly."
That sounded like a great idea to Ezra and he staggered out of the pilot's chair, slumping instead into the co-pilot's so she could take over, watching as she took hold of the controls, flying out of the hanger, avoiding the troopers by flying so low that they dived out of the way to avoid being hit.
"You're crazy!" he exclaimed and she laughed at him, a glint in her eyes as she flew even lower. "This isn't flying; this is suicide!"
"You want me to slow down?"
"Are you kidding?" he asked with a grin. "I love it!"
Cassie laughed as she took another swing at the troopers and then, suddenly, for the second time in his life, Ezra was in space.
"Coordinates are locked . . . Lothal?" she asked, with a raised eyebrow as she looked over at him.
Ezra shrugged. "They were the only coordinates I knew offhand," he said by way of explanation.
"Works for me; we'll worry about picking the ship up later," she said, navigating her way around the Destroyer, avoiding the fire that way aimed at them as she flew over the starship, punching something on the controls.
And then the stars turned into a blur as the Destroyer disappeared behind them.
AN: And here we are with my first Star Wars Rebels story! I hope you enjoyed the opening act and am looking forward to any and all reviews (seriously, though, guys, I need to know if people are reading any of my new stories, otherwise they might get the dreaded delete button). I have chapter two done, just needs refining and chapter three is on the way. But only if you guys are good and review!
Lady Dawson