Author's Note: This story is set some time after the events of the most recently broadcast Star Wars Rebels episodes 'Empire Day' and 'Gathering Forces'. As such it makes no presumption as to the fate of Ezra Bridger's parents, but it does follow the established canon of the series and references events (such as the rescue of the Wookiees from Kessel) from the 'Spark of Rebellion' feature-length pilot.
I wanted to maintain the series' ambiguity regarding Hera and Kanan's relationship. It is never officially established whether Hera and Kanan are a couple (despite Hera repeatedly calling Kanan 'Love'), though it is strongly hinted at. Ezra's attraction to Sabine, however, is fairly obvious. Consequently, I thought it would be great fun to throw Han Solo into the mix and see what happens between the characters. But, I didn't want to skimp on the action scenes, so expect plenty of starship battles, blaster fights, double-crosses, and a few twists.
Star Wars Rebels is produced by Lucasfilm and Lucasfilm Animation. I make no money from this story.
Enjoy.
Dramatis personae
Kanan Jarrus - Human male
Hera Syndulla - Twi'lek female
Ezra Bridger - Human male
Sabine Wren - Mandalorian female
Garazeb "Zeb" Orellios - Lasat male
C1-10P "Chopper" - Astromech droid
Han Solo - Human male
Chewbacca "Chewie" - Wookiee male
Hondo Ohnaka - Weequay male
A long time ago in a galaxy far,
far away...
STAR WARS REBELS
The Kessel Run: A Mysterious Commission
Nar Shaddaa, Y'Toub System, Hutt Space – 50:30 Local Time – 04 BBY
As much as Hondo Ohnaka loved the chaotic urban sprawl of Nar Shaddaa – particularly the wanton anarchy and unregulated commerce that could make an ambitious man extremely wealthy – there was something to be said for the simple pleasure of escaping the all-encompassing grime of the city planet's surface and relaxing in the peaceful confines of a bar. And The Towering Spire was among his favourites.
The Towering Spire was an old style saloon in the decaying western quarter of the equatorial loading docks. Isolated from most of the criminal activity that plagued the city streets, and identified simply by a small poorly lit neon sign, The Towering Spire had become a relatively safe haven for some of the moon's more 'reputable' citizens. Or at the very least, those citizens who weren't affiliated with gangs.
Hondo swept through the bar's swing doors, endeavouring to suppress his natural swagger. He wasn't entirely successful. The conversation ceased abruptly as all eyes swung towards him; his plan to remain unobtrusive betrayed by his innate flare for a dramatic entrance.
The former pirate leader was sporting an elegant scarlet overcoat with armoured shoulder pads over supple leather boots, trousers, and a white shirt, his attire and swarthy scaled complexion making him look every inch the gentleman brigand. Two weequay subordinates clad in simple leathers followed him at a respectful distance. He waved his hand at them, silently ordering them to hang back.
The conversation in the bar gradually rose again as the clientele either lost interest in him, or decided he wasn't an immediate threat. Hondo scanned the room, looking for his contact.
It was a few seconds before he spied a figure sat huddled in a corner table booth, veiled in shadow. Cloaked and hooded, the contact's features were completely obscured, only a slim gloved hand was visible clasping a tall glass.
Hondo smiled and moved across the room to sit at the booth in the seat opposite the figure.
"Were you followed?" his contact demanded; the voice calm and authoritative, and unmistakably feminine.
"Have you ever known me to be careless?" Hondo replied, his heavy accent betraying his Sriluur roots. "I must say, I was surprised by your call. The last time we spoke you were… less than enthusiastic that we should meet again in public."
"Situations change, Hondo. I can't trust doing this over the comms. And I need your contacts. This is a business transaction. Nothing more."
"Things must be desperate if you're asking me for help."
Hondo's contact cast a quick glance at his men watching them from the bar. "I don't recognise the men. What happened to your old bodyguards?"
Hondo waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, I had to let them go. I got them into a situation they couldn't handle. The details don't matter, but I needed to vacate a former client's premises rather more swiftly than they could run. They fell behind."
"Always looking out for number one, Ohnaka?"
"It's kept me alive up to this point."
"Don't even think about crossing me," the woman warned in a low and deadly voice.
"Oh, I have better survival instincts than that," Hondo assured her. "Not that I don't enjoy your company, my dear, but we probably shouldn't be seen together for too long. What can old Hondo do for you?"
"I'm in need of a crew. To retrieve something for me. Something I can't reach myself. They have to be fast, experienced, reasonably honest, and, above all, dependable. I need professionals, Hondo."
"Oh, let me put your mind at rest, my dear: if there's one thing I can be guarantee it's that my contacts are nothing but professionals…"
Starship Freighter 'Ghost', Planet Lothal, Lothal System – 08:00 Local Time
"You stinkin' pile of poodoo!"
"Your head's so empty a braintick would starve to death, ya dweezer!"
"Oh, blow it out your exhaust port, bantha breath!"
"Fedding vac-head!"
"Nerfherder!"
"What is going on in here?"
Hera, the Ghost's Twi'lek pilot and owner, stormed into the cargo bay, fully expecting to see the bay's occupants locked in a death grip. Ezra, a young human of fifteen, and Zeb, the purple-skinned Lasat and ex Honour Guard from Lasan – who really should know better! – were standing practically nose-to-nose while trading menacing insults. She glared accusingly at them, her light-green head tails twitching in annoyance. "Have you two got nothing better to do than throw curses at one another?" she fumed.
The pair grinned at Hera and each took a step back.
"Relax, Hera. Zeb's teaching me," Ezra explained.
"Teaching you? What are you talking…?" Hera glanced down, only now noticing the flash cards in their hands. "What exactly are you doing?"
"Ah, just brushing up the kid's vocabulary," Zeb growled happily. He turned back to Ezra and referred to his cards. "Alright, one more. If I was to use the expression 'Picking between One and Fourteen' what would it mean?"
"Choosing between two equally bad outcomes," Ezra said promptly. "The saying comes from the Lythos System where miners had to choose between working on fiery Lythos One or frozen Lythos Fourteen. It means you're in trouble no matter what you do."
"There you go!" Zeb congratulated. "Kid's a natural, Hera."
"This is a lesson?" Hera exclaimed.
"The more expressions from different parts of the galaxy the kid knows the more he can blend in with the crowd wherever we land. These are survival skills."
"When I told you to make yourself useful this isn't exactly what I had in mind, Zeb."
"We all gotta play to our strengths, Hera. And the kid's turning out to be one of my best students."
"How many students have you taught?" Ezra asked.
"Including you? One!" Zeb admitted.
Hera groaned in frustration and turned away from them, making for the cockpit, the bickering pair trailing behind her. "Where's Kanan? He should be instructing you, Ezra!"
"He was taking a call," Ezra explained.
"Kanan!" Hera yelled.
"Yeah?" a voice responded.
The cockpit door slid open at the far end of the corridor and Kanan appeared. Brown haired and blue-eyed with a well groomed goatee on his chin, Kanan cut a dashing figure – a figure that Hera had appreciated ever since they'd first met. Behind him, 'Chopper', the white and orange Astromech droid, was nipping at his heels.
"Where have you been?" Hera asked Kanan.
"On the holocomm. I've been speaking with Hondo."
"Hondo?!" Hera exclaimed. "What does that old pirate want?"
"He's got a job for us. Simple recovery of an item. Get in. Get out. Get paid. Easy."
"It's never is easy when Hondo's involved. And need I remind you we're not mercenaries or pirates. We're soldiers, Kanan."
"Like I could forget. But he's paying handsomely for the item. Enough to fund our missions for a full solar year. But he's also got information. Details of Imperial Troop transports from Nar Shaddaa. He's willing to part with them once we complete the job. It's practically a free pass to the Empire's movements, Hera."
"Nothing comes for free, Love. Where's the job?"
"Well, that's the catch. It's at the heart of the Maw Nebula."
Hera's expression hardened. She folded her arms and gave Kanan a stern glare. "Are you talking about going through the Kessel Run?"
"Really?" a voice called from the far end of the corridor. A young woman in purple Mandalorian armour bolted from her room. Sabine Wren, her colourful mop of blue and gold hair contrasting sharply with her tan skin, sped towards them. "We're going to see the Kessel Run? Seriously?" She was practically bouncing on the spot.
"What's the big deal?" Ezra asked. "We've already seen Kessel. Place was a dump."
"We've been to a Kessel, not the Kessel," Hera replied.
"There's more than one?"
"Oh, yeah," Zeb replied ominously. "The planet we rescued the Wookiees from was renamed by the Empire years ago. But it's not the original Kessel. The Empire wanted to instil fear in the slaves sent to the New Kessel because…" Zeb paused and scowled. "Because the original is far worse!"
"So, what is the Kessel Run?" Ezra asked.
"Smuggler's route through the Maw Nebula," Zeb replied. "And not the safest part of the galaxy. You sure about this, Kanan?"
"It's nothing we can't handle," Kanan assured him.
"This information better be worth it," Hera muttered.
"Hondo's a pirate and an outlaw but his information is always good," Kanan replied.
"Oh, I've always wanted to see the Kessel Run!" Sabine enthused "And to paint it! I can see it now… Smuggler ships silhouetted against the vibrant colours of the dust clouds. Oh, this is going to be sweet!"
"You see what you've started," Hera accused Kanan.
But Sabine's enthusiasm was not abating. "I've heard that the fastest ship completed the run in just 13 parsecs."
"13 parsecs?" Ezra frowned in confusion. "Isn't a parsec a measurement of distance?"
"Well, yeah. Obviously," Sabine replied.
"I don't get it. How can the fastest time be 13 parsecs?"
As one, the team turned and gave Ezra the look. They usually reserved it for when Ezra's knowledge of a particular subject came up wanting. It was an expression he knew all too well – mostly sympathetic, slightly condescending, and more than a little annoying.
"You don't know much about the Kessel Run, do you?" Sabine said cuttingly.
"Err… Not really," Ezra admitted.
Chopper emitted a slew of disparaging whistles.
"Well, it's not like there was a class about it on Lothal," Ezra replied.
Kanan smiled and grasped Ezra's shoulder. "Don't worry, kid. You're about to get first-hand experience."
Kanan gathered the team around the holographic game board in the rec room. After tapping away at the controls for a few seconds, a holoimage of a spectacular purple and blue hued nebula materialised in the air above the board.
"This is the Maw Nebula," Kanan proclaimed. "A massive dust cloud in the Kessel Sector. It stretches from the planet Formos on the edge of the nebula all the way to Hutt Space." The holoimage changed to show a line of highlighted planets running along the edge of the dust cloud. "The official route skirts the nebula entirely allowing safe access to the trade corridor that travels into the very heart of the cloud, and to the original Kessel."
The image changed again, zooming in to the nebula; a small, brown potato-shaped planetoid appeared in the air. "It's not much to look at but this planetoid is one of the most important trading posts in the galaxy." Kanan tapped away at the controls and a meandering route through the nebula from Kessel to the planet Formos was highlighted. "The smuggler's run is through an 18 parsecs stretch of the Nebula that completely bypasses the official trade routes and the Imperial patrols. That is the Kessel Run."
Ezra pointed to a dark area on the holoimage close to Kessel. "Why don't the smugglers go through this area?" he asked.
"Because they'd be crazy to try," Hera replied.
"That's the Maw cluster," Kanan explained. "It's the largest collection of black holes in the known galaxy. Pilots avoid that area like the Rakghoul plague!"
"The safe route past the Maw – and I'm playing fast and loose with the word 'safe' – is through this Nebula arm." Hera pointed at a narrow corridor that was swarming with meteors. "It's a densely packed asteroid field known as The Pit!"
"Sounds charming!" Zeb muttered.
"You can't jump to hyperspace in the nebula," Kanan continued. "The only way through it is to navigate in realspace. That's 18 parsecs of avoiding the black holes, asteroid fields, and Imperial convoys that patrol the area. Oh! And also while trying to stay out of the clutches of the other smugglers."
"Are there lots of smugglers using this route?" Ezra probed.
"Kid, it's like a free-for-all out there!" Zeb replied.
"What's so important about Kessel?"
"Its spice mines produce Glitterstim." Sabine explained to Ezra. "It's… mostly used by the medical industry."
"Yeah, mostly!" Zeb snorted.
"But that's not what interests us," Kanan explained. The image changed once more to show a blue and red octagonal holocron with ornate symbols carved into it. "Hondo wants us to retrieve this holocron. It's owned by one Roto Shar, the commander of the Imperial garrison in the capital city, Kessendra. He has an office in a building known as the Citadel."
"Security's pretty tight on the Citadel. Might be difficult," Sabine mused.
"We've broken into facilities way more heavily guarded than this," Kanan assured her.
"I still don't see how the fastest time for the Kessel Run is 13 parsecs," Ezra groused.
"I didn't say fastest time, I said completed run," Sabine replied. "The Kessel Run is the safer long route around the black holes. But smugglers with a fast enough ship chance going through the Maw as a short-cut. Few of them make it. But if you're quick enough you can navigate through the black holes without getting caught in the gravitational pull. So the faster your ship, the fewer parsecs you need to complete the run."
"Not that we're going to risk doing that with the Ghost!" Hera said firmly. "Nice and safe for this mission."
Zeb rolled his eyes. "Well that's just great! So, if we don't get arrested by the Empire, we have the opportunity to crash into an asteroid, get killed by smugglers, or be compacted into a singularity. Why can't we go anywhere nice?"
Formos, Kessel Sector, Outer Rim Territories – 18:50 Local Time
The Ghost came out of hyperspace into Formos's standard orbit, decelerating to more comfortable relativistic speeds. The image of Formos filled the cockpit canopy, the planet's sickly yellow-hued atmosphere and brown cloud formations making it look distinctly uninviting.
"There it is. Formos," Hera pointed. "Gateway to Kessel."
"Looks er… nice," Ezra commented.
"It looks like what it is. A hive of scum and villainy!" Kanan said.
Zeb nodded in agreement. "Yeah… But on the plus side they do great gornt-burgers there!" Kanan gave Zeb a cockeyed glare. Zeb shrugged. "What? It was a long trip. I'm hungry!"
The ship powered its way through the atmosphere. Hera brought the Ghost into the main docking bay of Formos Spaceport. The VCX-100 freighter settled down gently onto its allocated berth, its landing rockets sending out jets of flame.
The crew emerged from the ship to be greeted by the planet's sweltering heat. Formos had been an industrialised world for millennia, but was starting to feel the effects of its rampant pollution. There was a significant build-up of greenhouse gases in the atmosphere, but, unlike more prosperous developed worlds in the galaxy, Formos couldn't afford the costly atmospheric purifiers that kept the greenhouse effect at bay. A few more centuries of industrialisation and the air on Formos would likely become unbreathable.
Kanan led the team down the boarding ramp into the vast open-air docking bay. It was crammed with freighters and starships from all over the galaxy; though most were of Correlian design, nearly all of them displayed evidence of carbon-scoring or blaster damage that served as testaments to their violent past.
"Remember," Kanan began, "we don't want to draw attention to ourselves. So, we need to blend in with the crowd. We're smugglers making the run just like everyone else here."
"Don't think much of the competition," Zeb commented, nodding towards the freighter on the adjacent landing pad.
In the next berth stood a Corellian-made YT-1300 light freighter. Saucer shaped, with a starboard mounted cockpit and two triangular mandibles mounted on the front, the freighter's battered grey hull was rusted and littered with battle-scars that left little doubt as to the owner's occupation.
Hera wrinkled her nose at the sight of a ship in such a neglected state, while Chopper warbled a few contemptuous beeps.
"What'd he say?" Zeb asked.
"He said 'What a heap of junk!'" Sabine translated.
"Well, I guess he'd know junk when he sees it!" Ezra joked, and promptly yelped as he got a shock from Chopper's charge arm.
The crew weaved through the crowds towards the hub of the spaceport: The Grand Nebulae cantina.
A rodian bouncer was standing watch at the doors when they arrived, looking people up and down before waving them through. He turned his gaze upon the Ghost's crew and held up one meaty fist.
"We don't want any droids!" the bouncer snarled.
"What's that?" Zeb growled in response.
"We don't serve droids here. You'll have to leave it outside."
Zeb cracked his knuckles. "Where we go, he goes…" he began, but Kanan quickly stepped forward to calm the Lasat.
"We're not here to cause trouble," he reminded Zeb. "And we don't want to draw any unnecessary attention. For the moment, we'll play along." Kanan turned to the little Astromech. "Chopper, you'd better go wait on the ship." Chopper squawked and tweeted indignantly. "Yeah, I know, I know. It's just for the time being. We won't be here long,"
Chopper gave a final loud trill of annoyance, accompanied by a few unseemly gestures directed at the bouncer with his maintenance arms, before he spun and moved off towards the docking area, wittering to himself heatedly.
"I'm really starting to hate this place," Zeb muttered as the bouncer waved them inside.
It was clear as soon as they walked in that the Grand Nebulae cantina was wildly overselling itself. The place was a dive!
The bar was cloaked in a perpetual neon gloom. A Twi'lek singer with a reedy voice was singing a forgettable song. Seedy looking figures skulked in the shadowy corners of the room as they talked in hushed tones. To cap it off, the place reeked of stale alcohol.
"When does happy hour start?" Zeb asked the rotund human behind the bar.
"It never ends!" the barman replied in a low voice. "You guys doing the run to Kessel?"
"Why would you think that?" Kanan hedged.
"All Runners got to register."
"What? You have a register for this?" Sabine asked in astonishment. "That's seems very… organised."
The human barman leaned forward, the light illuminating his scarred right cheek and blind eye. "We're not going to send you all off in one go, now are we?" he growled. "Imperials get suspicious if they see more than a few ships at a time 'round Kessel. There's a schedule for safe transit. You stick to that schedule or you risk exposing everyone's run. You do that and you get on our bad side. And there ain't nothing more deadly than an army of smugglers out gunning for you. We don't play nice, girl!"
The crew looked around the bar. The room had fallen silent as all eyes watched the group carefully.
"Where do we register?" Kanan asked diplomatically.
The barman jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Back room." He pointed at Kanan and Zeb. "Only two of you. Leave the youngsters."
"It's my ship!" Hera protested.
"And it's our rules!" the barman replied. "Obey them or leave. Problem?"
"No problem. We'll go," Kanan assured him. He turned to Hera. "We won't be long. Hold the fort."
"Just like always," Hera replied.
She watched Kanan and Zeb retire to the back room.
"Can I get you something?" the barman asked.
Hera ordered three Lopez softdrinks for herself, Ezra and Sabine. Once they had their drinks the two teenagers moved off towards the novacrown machines in the corner. Hera toyed with the ides of following them, but thought better of it, deciding instead to stubbornly remain at the bar watching the back room. She glanced around, acutely aware of the many eyes watching her from the darkness. It was rare enough to see a Twi'lek pilot, but a Twi'lek owner of a ship was doubly unusual. She half expected at to be approached by one of the lowlifes in the room, and, as it turned out, she didn't have to wait long before someone did.
"It should be a crime for a beautiful woman to drink alone," a voice behind her said.
Hera rolled her eyes and turned to face the speaker.
Behind her stood a human man dressed in a cream shirt, cut low in the chest, and wearing a black waistcoat. He had a pair of dark blue trousers with a blaster pistol strapped to his thigh and tall black boots. He was clean shaven and boyishly handsome with strong features. Only a small scar on his chin marred his face, making Hera wonder idly how he'd got it. He looked every inch the rogue, and, much like Kanan, just a shade dashing.
"Oh, I never drink alone," Hera replied. "I have this for company." She pulled out her own blaster pistol and placed it on the bar.
"A woman after my own heart," the man chuckled, tapping his side-arm. "It's not every day a pilot as… accomplished as yourself graces us poor slobs with her presence."
"You obviously haven't been frequenting the right bars. You should get out more often."
"I'll take it under advisement," the man agreed. He raised his glass in greeting. "I'm Han Solo. Captain of the Millennium Falcon."