I was always a little disappointed that Sabine and Kanan didn't get that many meaningful interactions in the show. So, this is my way of fixing it. But just having them have a little chat would be kinda boring. Instead, let's see how things develop if Sabine a little more of what Ezra and Kanan have.
Sabine Wren was many things.
She was a defector, for she had ran away from the Academy. She knew that at any given moment, should someone catch her, she would be court-martialed as a formality. The sentence for defecting was death, just like most other crimes in the eyes of Empire, even if people weren't aware of it. Of course, crimes done in the name of the Empire...
She was a traitor, branded as such not only by the Empire, but much more importantly, by her people. Not only had she brought a great shame to clan Wren when she decided to defect, but also for her work with the Empire. The weapons she designed were a stain so great on her white canvas-of-a-mind that it would take her a lifetime to pint it over with good deeds, if it was at all possible.
She, like her father, was an artist. And even though she'd been chased halfway across the galaxy and back, it didn't stop her from searching for an output to her frustration with her current situation. Even now she moved the spray paint from side to side in a rush to finish the piece she was currently working on before someone saw her. The world was her canvas. Or so she liked to think. And Imperial property was the best canvas there ever could be for the young artist.
She was a bit of a mercenary. Nothing out of the ordinary for a mandalorian. It allowed her to move more freely, or at least Sabine liked to think so. It also helped to get food on the table, wherever that table would be at any given time. Even after what happened with Ketsu, keeping her mind busy with mindless work was one of the few things that kept her going even if joining the Black Sun was now just a pipe dream turned distant memory. And, again, if she could mess with the Empire and get paid, then who was she to complain?
But it was the newest title she'd acquired that she was still struggling to figure out. Smuggler. The word itself felt filthy to Sabine, even when left unspoken. The people she traveled with called themselves as such, but to her expert eyes, they didn't fit the stereotypical 'smuggler' archetype that was so common place. Yes, they were rough around the edges and moved with enough swagger to bring just the right attention to themselves, but their actual work didn't align with what she had in mind when she first signed up to go with them.
She took a step back to get a better look at her work, using her fingers to frame it all. She wondered what her father would think of this piece much like she did with every piece of work she'd ever done. The colors were much brighter than what she usually used, which was saying something, but the contrast with the dull gray wall was just what a place like Kaller needed. Especially these days with Stormtroopers marching everywhere. Funny how they didn't patrol anywhere near their own barracks, but Sabine patted herself on the back for that. After all, it had been her doing. Calling for backup for something that wasn't happening on the other side of the city while the rest of the crew got to work getting the medical supplies they were supposed to recover.
Sneaking off the rooftop, the mandalorian landed expertly on an alleyway and merged into the crowd seamlessly. All she had to do now was wait for the call to return to the ship and then they could go off world before the Imperials even knew what hit them.
She was precisely fifteen minutes away (walking speed)—no more, no less—from the dock where the ship sat, its engines still for the first time in weeks. Even as she moved with the crowd, she made sure that she didn't stray too far away from that magical number. Stopping at a vendor's stall, she feigned interest in an item and went to examine it while she waited for the flow of the crowd to change once again, the voice of the vendor filling her ears but not her thoughts.
That's when it happened. For as long as she could remember, Sabine had always had these...hunches every now and again. It was hard for her to describe, but it was as if her whole being noticed a splash of color in an otherwise dull world all of a sudden. She would react to things a second before they happened, or take the most impossible shots that no one else in the Academy could. Back during her days at the Academy, it earned her the admiration and respect of her superiors and peers alike, though back then it didn't happen as often as it did after she'd left.
Here, in the "wild"—more so in the Outer Rim than closer to the Core—it helped her stay out of trouble she didn't want to be involved in. Usually. So when she felt something inside of her flare up, she instinctively put back the item she'd been checking out before looking all around her, a hand gripping at one of her blasters, but keeping it holstered.
Her eyes quickly scanned her surroundings, searching for what could possibly be out of place—a buckethead that should be there, even. Her mind was alert, telling her to act natural and to just return to the ship. Yet, her gut was telling her that whatever this was, it was important. But the feeling began to fade almost as quickly as it had appeared, leaving Sabine to let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. It wasn't out of relief. No, she felt like something had been ripped away from her. Something important at that.
Taking some uneasy steps, she searched again for the feeling. A voice on the back of her head nagged that she shouldn't wander too far off, but it was quickly silenced by the determination the artist felt at that moment. It was as if she was chasing a sudden burst of inspiration—a muse! If there was something that could get her mind to lose focus on a task, it always had to do with art. Those that knew her better could attest to that.
She felt it again. You're not getting away that easily, she thought, smirking as she followed the path set before head by her mind like drops of paint on the ground. Every step she took it was as if the colors around her got more vivid in front of her eyes. It ultimately led her to an out-of-the-way medicenter, its large, clean sign standing out from the durasteel wall behind it. Without a second thought, she entered the place.
Though the outside left much to be desired, much like the rest of the city, the inside of the medicenter was as clean as any other she'd been to—minus the shady ones, of course. The white floor and walls almost shone to the point that she could make out her reflection on them from how clean they were. Behind a central desk stood a single droid tapping away mercilessly at a datapad. Almost as if it knew that she'd been staring at it, its head turn to her.
"Welcome," it said, its voice as flat as it could get. Not the best type of droid to put up at a reception if she had to choose. "What are your injuries?"
"I, ugh..." Sabine bit the inside of her cheek. Of course it would be suspicious for someone to go to a medicenter out of the blue without reason; She should've thought of something before going in there blind. Her eyes looked around the room as her mind tried to figure out what to say next before she was kicked out. A trail of blood on the floor caught her eye. "I was looking to get some bacta strips!"
The droid tilted its head slightly at her, its fingers not stopping as they continued inputting onto the datapad. "You do not look in need of bacta strips. You have no lacerations, bruises, nor burns."
The trail of blood stopped as it hit a door. There was some movement behind said door guessing from the little shadows that she could spy coming out from under it. "Oh, they aren't for me, silly," said the mercenary, trying to play it off with a nonchalant wave of her hand. "My brother was messing around with his blaster and, well…"
An awkward silence. An agonizing silence. Sabine could feel sweat forming on the back of her neck. Weird. When had been the last time that happened? Not since the she split with Ketsu. Wrong way around.
"Understood," said the droid, finally. "I will gather them for you. How many will you need?"
"Two should do the job," she said, a grin beginning to form on her lips as the droid showed her its back. She took a few careful steps to follow, her eyes still glued to the door with the blood stains. "Busy day?"
The droid opened up a door to what could only be described as a supply closet before it began to rummage through the contents on a shelf. "No. Only one patient so far. Stab wound to his back."
"A literal backstab, huh? Always thought those were more figurative." She chuckled to herself.
"Any living creature can be punctured anywhere on their skin," said the droid, obviously not impressed with her attempt at a joke. Walking out of the closet, it extended a hand to Sabine. Exactly two bacta strips. Sabine took them and handed over some of her credits in return (she was supposed to get new paints with those credits). "I can now see why your brother shot himself. It must be hereditary."
Sabine tried her best not to scowl, willing herself to laugh it off. She knew that this was her queue to leave. In any normal situation, she would've done so. But her gut feeling was pulling her eyes towards the bloodied door once again. She wondered just who it was that was being treated in there and why exactly it mattered to her.
"Is there anything else I can do for you?" the droid asked.
"Is there a chance you could tell me who it was that got stabbed?" Sabine asked in return. She was somewhat hopeful, though that hope was slim. After all, the droid had already given her some information on the nature of the patient's injury. Maybe getting a name out of it wouldn't be hard.
"No," it returned with finality.
"Figured," she admitted, deflating somewhat. Deciding to retreat while she was ahead and not to bring more suspicion onto herself, the mandalorian took off. Though the front door to the medicenter closed behind her, the feeling she was getting was still screaming at her to look at what was behind that other door.
She looked at her commlink, thinking that it was about time to get called back to the ship. With her little expedition, she had to be much further away from the dock now than she'd intended. The smart thing to do now would be to head back to the market and pretend to loiter until the call came. Her legs, however, didn't take her towards the market. No, Sabine found herself marching towards the back of the medicenter to an air duct that was just wide enough for her to fit into… Good thing she wasn't claustrophobic.
Sabine would now need to add "infiltrator" to her many titles, for she had gone undetected as far as she could tell. Having somewhat memorized the layout of the clinic had been helpful. Only a few minutes in and the artist was already looking down at the room that had eluded her.
The room wasn't anything to write home about. Small, full to the brim with equipment that had to be older than the Clone Wars, except for the bacta tank that sat in the middle of it all and some shelves full with medical supplies. It was hard to believe such a place was even operational, especially after seeing how much time, effort, and likely credits had been poured into the front of the building and its sign.
A handful of medical droids—looking more like battle droids with the amount of blood that covered their bodies—stood around a human male that laid on a medical table. A small group stood just to a side, watching. She could see the fear in the young boy—a few years younger than herself, if Sabine had to guess—as he tried to get a glimpse of what was being done to the man. A twi'lek woman in an orange flight suit of all things looked on with wide eyes and a line so thin on her lips that it was hard to even see she had a mouth. Behind them both stood a… A lasat! She took off her helmet and set it aside, not really believing her own eyes.
All the reports she read said that the lasat had gone extinct. The Empire made sure of that, she thought bitterly as she watched on, remembering the recordings she'd uncovered once upon a time. The large, yellow eyes of the lasat were glued onto the man on the table, though his large, furred hands rested on each of his companion's shoulders. Whether that was to anchor himself or to offer some comfort to his companions, Sabine couldn't say.
The room would've been eerily quiet except for the medical droids work if it wasn't for the orange astromech hurling insult after insult in binary. Now seeing the astromech with mismatching legs on the room, swinging its arms erratically around, Sabine determined that that was the oldest thing in the whole building, if not the whole city. She also had to acknowledge the fact that never in her arguably short life had she ever heard any droid use that many profanities in a row. It was strange to believe that someone would allow such behavior, especially when a memory wipe was such an easy thing to do.
Sabine's eyes drifted back to the man when he was lifted off the table. He was expertly secured to a harness before being put inside the bacta tank, which quickly filled up with bacta.
When all but one medical droid was left with the odd bunch that still looked to their friend inside the tank, the lone medical droid spoke up. "Your friend lost a considerable amount of blood," they said, their voice precise and lacking any sort of emotion whatsoever, not unlike most of the doctors Sabine had ever met, including those made of flesh and bone. "The next few hours will be crucial to his survival. I do not expect him to wake up any time soon. In the meantime, you all should get some rest."
The twi'lek reached out to the tank, laying her hand flat against its surface. Sabine felt almost as if the woman in the flight suit was touching the man instead of the tank. Without looking away from the patient, the twi'lek asked the droid, her voice just loud enough to not be a whisper, "would it be okay if we waited here for a while?"
"That is acceptable," the droid quickly answered. "Visiting hours are limited, however. You may not stay here for the night. You will have to find lodging somewhere else."
The lasat didn't seem too pleased with the way the droid was dismissing them if his frown was anything to go by. He'd already raised one of his fists when the twi'lek shot him a glare that even Sabine would cower from had it been aimed at her. The lasat grumbled something and instead rested his forearm on the tank, trying to act as natural as possible.
"That'll be fine," answered the twi'lek, her soft and thankful tone not really reaching her eyes. "Thank you."
A small nod from the droid ended the conversation. Before long, it was only the boy, the lasat, the astromech, and the twi'lek that stood in the room.
"Karabast!" cursed the lasat from the top of his lungs as he dropped his arm from the tank in favor of crossing both of his arms over his chest. He turned to look at the twi'lek. "How does Kanan Jarrus of all people get stabbed in the back?!"
The question made Sabine scrunch up her nose. The same way anyone else gets stabbed in the back? Humans didn't have eyes on the back of their heads. It was inevitable—getting backstabbed, that is—something that would happen to most people at least once in their lifetime. Not always literally, obviously, but getting backstabbed wasn't always done with a weapon…
Her mind jumped back to Ketsu and then to herself. How she had nearly done the same thing to all Mandalore because of her arrogance and pursuit of knowledge. Not even Sabine herself, who often boasted about being able to predict most outcomes and who could trust her gut feelings every time, could escape such things.
Not getting an answer seemed to frustrate the lasat even more. "What good is being a—"
"Zeb!" The blue haired boy, broken from his trance, practically yelled the name to cut off the larger man. The two stared at each other, both wearing scowls that, had they not being from two different species, would match each other enough to confuse them as being related.
"Sorry, sorry," the lasat, Zeb, relented. He took a step back, one of his hands rubbing the back of his neck back and forward, his eyes on the ground before turning to look at the twi'lek once again. "But seriously, Hera, what good's the Force if it can't see someone coming at him with a blade?"
The Force? Sabine felt herself being pulled into the conversation, that feeling she'd been having jumping a bit. The Force wasn't something people openly talked about. Mostly because it always lead to talking about the Jedi, which was never a good idea. She pushed the thought out of her mind. The Force was as dead as the Jedi. Those who claimed to wield it were often proven to be scammers of some kind. That was the best case scenario. Worst case, 'troopers would come and take them somewhere.
Hera let out an exasperated sigh, a hand rubbing the frustration out of her forehead before she turned to look at Zeb. "We don't know what happened, Zeb," she scolded the lasat. "Just pray Kanan wakes up and tells us."
"He'd been acting strange ever since you told us we were coming to Kaller," the boy pointed out. "I mean, just think about it, right? He was blanking out on our way here, looking around all the time once we made it to the city… Kanan yelling? I know I haven't known him for as long as either of you, but I've never heard Kanan yelling like that before. He'll just give that disappointed look and keep quiet. Maybe he'll shake his head. I've never even heard him so much as raise his voice at you, Hera!"
Sabine narrowed her eyes, not really believing what she'd just heard. It wasn't as if yelling was such a strange thing for someone to do. Everyone did it once in a while. So either this Kanan guy had really good control over his emotions, or something was wrong with his head. For now, she remained skeptical, favoring the ladder option.
"The kid's got a point," Zeb said, breaking the silence. "There's a reason Kanan is Specter One. He can keep his cool better than anyone."
For the first time, the astromech piped up that he'd been there when it all happened. Or at least that was the short version minus all the profanities and unneeded insults.
"That's right," the boy said, looking on in surprise as the realization hit him. "Kanan took Chopper with him. Now we know what happened. Kanan must've hit his head at least ten times getting out of his bunk today."
The astromech didn't seem to like that, though it did make the lasat chuckle and the twi'lek smile sadly at the old astromech.
"Did Kanan say anything to you, Chop?" Hera asked, some hope slipping to her words.
Chopper went on to describe everything that happened in great detail, and Sabine had to admit, she was impressed. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd been impressed by someone, and that was saying something given the people she ran with these days. From the way the astromech put it, Jarrus was able to get the lay of the land with a single glance, getting the information they were looking for without much trouble. He took down five armed men without using his own blaster, and "recovered their lost honor" before being injured. But more than any of those accomplishments, it was a single name that got her really interested in the story, and it seemed like she wasn't the only one to pick up on it.
"Who the kriff is Kasmir?" Zeb asked, looking over at Hera. The hair on the back of Sabine's neck stood up. Both of her hands immediately found their way to her holstered blasters. In her mind, she could picture the Kasmiri, waiting for her at the spaceport—Janus and Jondo waiting for her to get back. She swallowed back the bile starting to form, trying to think rationally.
Hera seemed to think about the name for a while, a hand at her chin. After a moment, she shook her head. "He's never mentioned that name before…"
"Not like it matters," the boy cut in. "Kanan said that he'd never been in Kaller before."
There was a pause. All seemed to agree on that point…unit they didn't. Zeb and Hera both looked like they'd just solved the whole mystery, though for some reason neither of them looked all that happy about it. "That's right," said the twi'lek with some sense of guilt in her voice. "Kanan Jarrus has never been here before…"
"Yeah, that's what I said he said," responded the boy, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest.
After that, the lot remained quiet, just hanging around until the droid that had treated their friend came in and informed them that visiting hours were over and that they were welcome to come back first thing in the morning to check on the patient. It would take another hour before Sabine felt safe enough to move about, however. She had to make sure that no droid knew she was hiding in there. The last thing she wanted was to deal with bucketheads.
Lifting the grill she'd been looking through and setting it aside, the young woman jumped into the room without a worry in the world. The only other person in there at the time was in a bacta tank, not likely to wake up anytime soon. She couldn't help but notice that the feeling she'd had for hours now was still present. Whatever it was about, it involved the many in the tank. Kanan Jarrus.
"You there, Sabine?" a familiar voice asked through her commlink. She cursed her luck. The call was late, but couldn't it have come in a bit later at this point?
"Yeah, I'm here," she called back, pressing down the button on her commlink. "Got caught up in something. I had to hide for a bit until the coast was clear."
A sigh from the other side of the call. "Well, hurry it up. We're already behind schedule as it is."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it," she said, rolling her eyes. She looked at the only source of light in the room—the bacta tank. The man was being held up in there by the harness, his long hair floating wildly in the bacta. For whatever reason, she was getting a feeling like she'd seen him before.
"...You know you're supposed to let go of the button once you are done, right?" came the voice again, startling Sabine.
"As if I would forget something like that!"
"Then what's on your mind?"
Sabine was silent for a moment, not sure what to say, a nagging feeling starting to make its way to the back of her mind. "Jondo, you've been traveling with Kasmir for a while, right?"
"Where is this coming from all of a sudden?"
To be honest, I'm not too sure myself, thought the mandalorian. "Well, I just overheard someone talking about him, and got me wondering if it was worth looking into."
"Not all that surprising. Kasmir used to run around this parts since before the Clone Wars up until some twelve years ago or so…"
"Yeah, he said as much before I left… Just wondering why his name would come up now of all times."
"Could be that someone saw the Kasmiri docked? Say what you want about the name, the ship itself stands out just as much with that paint job you gave it. Twelve years isn't that long ago either. A lot of things might've happened between then and now, but it's not as if a whole generation came to pass since then. There will be a lot of people here that still remember Kasmir. For better or worse."
She took a step closer to the tank, almost as if it was calling to her. Her armor and colourful hair reflected against the smooth, transparent surface of the tank. "Does the name Kanan Jarrus ring any bells to you?"
Jondo's answer came without a single drop of hesitation to it. "Sounds like a pseudonym of one Janus Kasmir, if you ask me. Too similar, not really creative. But no, never heard of him. You should ask Kasmir himself if it's got you that worried."
"I'll think about that. See you in a bit," she said, finally cutting off communications. She could ask Kasmir directly in all fairness, but she wasn't too inclined to take his word on half the things he said. She could still remember the time the smuggler had tried to convince her that he'd traveled with some Jedi after the Clone Wars ended and how he'd taught this Jedi about what life was really about. As if, she immediately thought as the memory resurfaced. The Jedi were a relic of the past. All of them dead…
For whatever reason, her heart disagreed with her mind. In this case, it almost made sense why. The Empire used misinformation to get its way. It was a common practice. The chances of the Jedi being guilty of any of the crimes that they were chased for were slim to none. Not that it mattered. All of them are dead, she thought again.
Without a second thought, she reached out for the tank, her hand examining the material. Transparisteel, she deduced by the feel of it. No expenses spared there, at least. So distracted she'd become with what she was touching that when Jarrus jerked the first couple of times, she didn't even register it. It was only when his hand moved towards hers that she instantly pulled her own back. The surprise of the sudden movement made her gasp and take a step back. Her balance was off thanks to one of the many wires that powered the bacta tank, making her trip and land on her rear. From inside the tank, Jarrus was looking straight at her. Maybe even through her. It sent a chill down her spine.
Sabine Wren forgot how to breathe then as she stared back. The panic she was feeling from the surprise and then from the thought of the man alerting the medical droids of his condition and her presence there were overwritten by the same feeling that had brought her there in the first place. The man was mirroring her unblinking look, or at least that's what she felt he was doing. The more logical answer would be that he still hadn't regained his full sight and probably thought of her as one of the people that were with him—maybe the twi'lek Hera, or the boy.
The mandalorian's heart was beating fast when she finally gather her thoughts once more and made to stand up. Taking some careful steps, she approached the tank once again. For some reason, she wanted to put her hand on the other side of the tank from where his lay. A shake of her head made her rational brain take over. Sparing one last look at Jarrus, she used a few crates that lined the walls to make her way back into the air ducts. Jarrus' eyes were still on her. She could feel it all the way until she closed the vent. She left the place without a second thought.
Plateau City had the same layout of most cities. Sabine had studied enough about such things in the Academy and put the knowledge to good use. Though she was further than she'd first expected from her destination, it wasn't hard to find the docks. Most of the market area was desolat by the time she came past it making it easier to move along, though now she was a lot more conspicuous because of her bright armor. Not that anyone would bother her. Most people knew better than to bother a mandalorian if they wore their helmet. She'd barely walked inside the hangar when someone called out behind her.
"You're late," said the cloaked figure of a tall, red Devaronian, a crimson lense poking out from under his hood. The man was leaning against the entrance of the hangar, arms crossed and head low. He came to her side and matched Sabine's pace as they walked towards the ship that laid on the middle of the hangar—the Kasmiri. "You're never late."
Sabine could feel his eyes—eye, really, with the other being the lense—were on her. She let out a sigh. "I told you, I got caught up with something," she told him, not stopping her march towards the ship. "Besides, I don't want to hear anything about being late from you. You guys took hours longer than you should have in the first place!"
Jondo dropped the discussion, likely in knowing that it would happen again once Kasmir joined them. For that at least, Sabine was thankful…
Before they could reach the Kasmiri, some figures were already making their way down the ramp. The first one was exactly who she expected to see. Kasmir seem to be talking animatedly with the other two, laughing at one of his own jokes. Likely a deal was going on, for she could see him pulling out all his old negotiation tricks. It was the other figures that made her stop on her tracks at the base of the ramp.
One of her hands went to her blaster as she watched them all descend. Kasmir looked her way, telling her with a single glance more than he could with words in the same amount of time. Her hand relaxed, instead going to her helmet to remove it.
"Ah, the crew's all gathered up, that's good," said the Kalleran as he came to a stop between Sabine and Jondo. Setting one hand on each of their shoulders, Kasmir grinned and looked back at the tall lasat and the twi'lek woman. "These two here will help me deliver your supplies. The red one to my left is Jondo, while the green haired one—" He took a second look at Sabine. "—that dyed her hair blue now is Sabine."
"A pleasure," said Jondo, his face remaining neutral, much better than his trademark frown.
It took Sabine a little time to get over the initial shock, but when she noticed that all eyes were on her, she quickly tried to rectify herself. "Ah, um, good to meet you."
Kasmir clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Poets as always… Not the most talkative now, are we?" His eyes were on Sabine, who could only shrug in response. "And here I've been telling Captain Syndulla about how you never stop yapping about this and that…"
"I take no offense," said the twi'lek. Captain Hera Syndulla. She offered a gentle smile to the younger woman and then a nod to Jondo.
"I don't 'yap'," Sabine argued, but her words went ignored.
"Yeah, a little quiet once in a while is good," Zeb added from behind Captain Syndulla, a faint grin of his own showing on his lips. He chuckled. "Kids these days never stop talking. Can't even go a full cycle without feeling like they need to say something!"
Kasmir and Jondo chuckled themselves, but Sabine didn't appreciate someone judging her when they'd barely exchange a few words. Hera smiled at her sympathetically, but the mandalorian couldn't help but notice that there was no denial of what was said. It made the artist wonder if mayhaps that boy she'd seen with them before was really all that talkative. Not counting some of the sass he displayed earlier, the kid had been pretty quiet back at the medicenter.
"We should go," Hera said with a brief look at Zeb, who nodded in agreement. "We can meet tomorrow to work out the finer details of the job. It shouldn't be too hard though."
"First thing in the morning then," confirmed Kasmir as he and Hera shook on it. "I don't know who this Kanan guy is, but do thank him in my stead."
"Will do," Hera said flashing a strained smile. With the exchange done, she nodded back at Zeb who made a mock salute towards Kasmir before the two strangers left the hangar altogether, exchanging a few words just out of earshot. Sabine was sure to follow the two retreating figures until she couldn't see them anymore before she turned her attention back to Kasmir.
"What was that all about?" Sabine asked, genuinely curious about the turn of events that would lead the same people she just so happened to have spied on to work with the likes of Kasmir. They went from knowing nothing about Kasmir to suddenly asking for his help for a job? That doesn't make any sense.
"That, my dear girl, is the easiest job we'll be getting for a long while," said Kashmir, looking overly proud of himself with his chest puffed up and both hands on his hips. "A supply run to an out-of-the-way backwater planet that no one even cares about. But the best part is that it's in route to our own drop off."
"Almost sounds too good to be true," said Jondo, an arched eyebrow questioning the reality of Kasmir's statement.
The Kalleran scoffed and placed a hand on his chest from indignation. "When was the last time I got it wrong?"
Jondo's one word answer was something that Sabine had been hearing about to a small extent ever since she joined the crew of the Kasmiri. "Lahn." She knew about the planet only from some research she did on it. Nothing really remarkable there, though Jondo did tell her that he used to be a crime lord on the planet for some time before he joined forces with Kasmir. Although, as to what exactly this miscalculation Kasmir had done on the planet, the mandalorian had no idea what it could be. The records there were empty.
Kasmir waved a hand dismissively, clicking his tongue as he made his way up the ramp of his ship. "Different times, old friend. Different circumstances too," explained Kasmir. "Better get some rest while you still can, you two. Tomorrow morning Captain Syndulla and her crew will bring over the cargo and then we can leave this Force forsaken planet."
With a frown, the youngest member of the crew walked up the ramp before it closed. It was getting late, and her body was finally showing some signs of fatigue. With all the thinking she'd done, she'd almost forgotten that she'd spent almost the entire day moving around nonstop. Heading to her "room", which really was just a corner in the cargo hold that had been adapted into some living space. The Kasmiri was large, but not large enough for three living quarters. Even Jondo's quarters looked to her like they were added on much later than all the other modifications the ship had gone through.
She wouldn't complain about her accommodations. At least she had a bunk to sleep on and some storage space to keep her valuables, which was more than she was able to afford when living day to day on whatever planet she would find herself on.
Laying down on the bunk, Sabine tried to get some shuteye, but try as she may, even with the clock clicking over and over in her head, sleep eluded her. That nagging feeling that she'd had before came to her mind. The whole situation was too bizarre for her to ignore. Something Sabine Wren did not like about life as a smuggler was what she didn't know… Which was why she'd gotten herself a datapad. Pulling it out from under her bunk, she scanned the net for any information she could find on Captain Syndulla and her Crew, even going as far as tapping into the Empire's databanks from a backdoor she'd left for herself before she left the Academy.
The Captain was easy enough to find. Her record was remarkable for a twi'lek, especially one coming from Ryloth. She's been doing this for a while, Sabine thought as she kept on reading the file. It seemed that, though she was a suspect of numerous cases involving robbery and such, none of these could actually be linked to her.
The lasat, Zeb, had a similar record, though not as extensive. Garazeb Orrelios used to be a Captain of the Lasan Honor Guard, a title given only to the strongest lasat warriors. But with the fall of Lasan, it seemed that he'd become a drifter, his records showing a lot of reckless endangerment, public intoxication, and assault. But at one point, it began to look rather similar to that of Hera Syndulla, which could only mean that was the point they joined up.
Of the astromech, Chopper, Sabine could find nothing about. Not that she really tried. Without its serial number and identification code, which she was sure would be changed often given Captain Syndulla's line of work, she couldn't even find anything other than his model, which didn't tell her anything she didn't already know.
If she was disappointed not to find anything on Chopper, it was no surprise at all to find nothing about the boy either. Not only did Sabine not know the name of the kid, but he looked so young that he'd probably only joined up with Captain Syndulla recently.
Finally, leaving the best for last, the artist typed in the name of the man in the tank. 'KANAN JARRUS''. The lines on the file, along with a picture, filled up the screen. But for someone that looked to be in his late twenties to early thirties, the file was large enough for a troublemaker that had lived for twice his age, if not longer. Much of Jarrus' record was filled with minor infractions, from public intoxication like Zeb's, to smuggling like Captain Syndulla's. But then there were odd crimes here and there. Prostitution (soliciting and providing), theft of many, many kinds, selling dangerous substances. The man had done it all. But there was a single line that made everything else vanish in her eyes. 'SUSPECTED JEDI. APPROACH WITH CAUTION.'
The dots that had formed in Sabine's mind for some time now began to connect. Jarrus knowing Kasmir. Kasmir's story about running with a Jedi. The strange pull she'd felt that ultimately led her to that medicenter (was he calling for her?) But then, why wouldn't Kasmir know the name Kanan Jarrus? The way the Kalleran put it, they were together for some time. But then, Kanan Jarrus only showed up on the Empire's radar when he was seventeen. Before that, Jarrus was a ghost. No place of birth, no birth certificate, no medical history, no parents… Nothing.
Before Sabine knew what she was doing, her feet were already moving. She walked all the way to the cockpit, where Kasmir was idly running the ship through some diagnostics. He didn't get a chance to look at her before she thrusted her datapad forward, letting him see nothing but the information on the screen.
"What's this all about?" Kasmir asked, his hands taking hold of the datapad and scrolling through the many tabs she'd left open. "Looking into our employers, are we? Smart girl. You never know what you can find. Good dirt can mean more credits for us. You're learning quick! I'm so proud I could shed a tear."
Sabine pressed her lips into a hard line. It was more like he was trying to humor her instead of actually looking at what was right in front of him. Swatting one of his hands away, she selected the tab that she was most interested on. Kasmir looked at her, ready to complain about her attitude, she was sure, but before he could even let a single word out, she pointed at the picture and asked, "is this the guy you talk about all the time?"
The faintest sign of recognition flashed across Kasmir's face before he furrowed his brow. He never answered Sabine's question, but now his focus was entirely on the file. She kept looking at him as he read on, taking note of the slightest changes of his expressions. Much like she did, Kasmir stared at the last line for a long time. Never would've she thought possible for someone to look so young and so old at the same time.
"Damn it, Caleb," Kasmir muttered under his breath as he went to stand up, tossing back the datapad to the mandalorian. He made his way out of the cockpit and walked towards his quarters, Sabine following close behind. Opening a drawer, he rummaged through it as if on a mission. Without looking her way, he said, "go get Jondo. We're going to meet Captain Syndulla right now."
"Right…," was her response. Maybe Kasmir isn't such a big liar after all, she thought while walking towards Jondo's quarters.
It took some time before the whole crew found themselves walking out of the Kasmiri. Sabine had already explained the situation to Jondo, who looked surprised to hear that Kanan Jarrus was a Jedi. The three of them walked quietly, Sabine with her helmet on, Jondo with his hood covering his horns, and Kasmir with some sort of box in his hand. A box Sabine had seen once before. Not long after joining up, she'd found said box while clearing space in the cargo hold for her the space that became her quarters. She'd been curious and taken a look inside. But she only got a peek at the contents, as Kasmir snatched it away from her and stored it in his own quarters.
"So," Sabine began, trying to break the silence than had befallen them. "What exactly do you plan to do now, Kasmir? And what's with the box."
"This," Kasmir lifted the box, though he didn't bother looking her way, "is not of your concern, girly. Just know that if this 'Kanan' really is who I think he is, then things just got a lot more complicated."
Sabine's throat felt a little dry. Did Kasmir had some beef with this supposed Jedi? Whatever it was, she was getting a bad feeling with all of this.