Chopper twootles mournfully and rolls back and forth in front of the door to the Ghost's small refresher, moving in a way that might be called pacing if it were a living creature doing it.
"What's going on?" Sabine asks. The droid beeps and burbles some more. Sabine edges past Chopper, and knocks on the refresher door.
"Hera?" she calls. There is no response, but Sabine can hear something that might be someone behind the closed door kicking at the metal washbasin inside the small room. "Are you alright?" she asks.
It's a stupid question, because Hera is obviously not alright. The captain of the Ghost has also never been the type to lock herself into a refresher, so clearly the situation – whatever it may be – is past all established expectations.
Sabine glances at Chopper, but he just whistles sadly and waves his claw-like appendage in a way that is entirely unhelpful. Sabine rolls her eyes.
"Please open the door," she says. She feels downright stupid talking to a solid wall, but she knows that Hera can hear her.
If they were anywhere other than on the Ghost, she could blow the door down.
Sabine sits down, ready to stubbornly wait all day alongside Chopper, when the door slides open behind her. She turns around, and her jaw drops when she realizes that Hera has been crying. The Twi'lek's eyes are red and puffy, and there are tears still visible tracking down her cheeks. Sabine is absolutely certain she has never seen Hera cry before, not even when Kanan died. She knows that doesn't mean it didn't happen, but it probably happened when Hera had gone off somewhere private. Whatever this is, it's different.
Sabine's about to get up, but Hera surprises her by sitting down next to her, right in the middle of the corridor. Clearly, she doesn't care about obstructing traffic. But who's around that would care, anyway? There's no one else on the Ghost right now. The absences are painful, for Sabine and Hera at least, and maybe even for Chopper.
Hera draws her knees up to her chest and looks over at Sabine. She looks lost and vulnerable, and it shakes Sabine a little bit. Spectre-1 shouldn't be vulnerable. Sabine puts on a smile and waits a few seconds, hoping that Hera might smile back. But she doesn't.
Sabine closes her eyes for a minute, wondering what she's supposed to do now. Girl talk? She's never been good at girl talk. "Can I... help?" she suggests awkwardly.
Now, Hera does smile, as she shakes her head gently. "I don't think this is something you can help with," she admits.
"And what is this, exactly?"
"I'm pregnant," Hera murmurs. Shock washes over Sabine. She hadn't imagined Hera could get pregnant. What is the leader of their crew going to do with a baby? She tries to do math, while also racking her brain trying to think of when Hera could've gotten pregnant. They've had shore leaves, and missions when Hera was away from the rest of the crew, but...
"Is it...?"
Hera is already nodding. "Yes. The child is Kanan's."
Kanan's. One last legacy left behind by the Jedi Knight. No wonder Hera was crying in the refresher.
"Are you happy?" Sabine asks quietly.
"I don't know. I just... I miss him so much. Kanan would know what to do. How to be a parent."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Look at what a good job he did with Ezra."
"And look at what a good job you did with me."
Hera is staring at Sabine, still looking a little dazed. Sabine wonders how long Hera has had to wrestle with this news. Is it only minutes old, this revelation?
"Do you want this?" Sabine asks. Still quiet. It's as if she is afraid to speak at full volume, afraid she'll break the fragile peace that has settled over the two of them. Even Chopper has gone silent, a couple of paces away.
"I do," Hera says, almost before Sabine has finished asking the question. "I want it more than anything."
"Than you have nothing to be afraid of. You'll figure it out."
"You really think it's that simple?"
"Since when is anything we do simple?"
"I guess you're right." Hera still looks overwhelmed, but she sets her jaw and there's a spark of something familiar in her eyes that floods Sabine with hope. This is the Hera she knows, the one that can take on the entire galaxy without backing down. The Twi'lek sighs heavily, then gets to her feet. "Are you coming?" she asks Sabine, as she heads for the cockpit.
Sabine smiles.
The two of them sit in the pilot's and copilot's seats, talking about names and personality traits and looks, imagining the child that does not yet exist. Hera relaxes somewhat as she and Sabine swap stories, their favorite memories of Kanan. Sabine is openly laughing at some of the stories Hera tells, and though the Twi'lek doesn't laugh so freely, she is at least smiling by the time they've talked for an hour or so.
At some point, Chopper wheels into the cockpit, a tray balanced in his claw. "Thanks, Chopper." Sabine reaches over to take the bottle of Lothal-brewed ale he's brought in. She frowns, wondering why he hadn't brought another bottle for Hera, but then she sees the jug of meiloorun juice, and she remembers that pregnant people aren't supposed to have alcohol. Not even to celebrate their own pregnancy. Hera doesn't seem left out though. The juice makes her smile even more.
The two of them sit quietly, staring at the rolling fields of a healing Lothal visible through the viewport, sipping at their drinks.
"You're still planning to stay?" Hera asks, nodding at the horizon.
Sabine frowns. "You're not?"
"I've never been made for sitting still." She rubs her belly, which is flat and shows no sign of pregnancy, not yet, and looks thoughtful. "Little Spectre-7 here probably won't take well to being grounded either."
Sabine leans back in the co-pilot's chair and raises an eyebrow. "Do you really think I'm going to let you fly off alone after what you just told me?"
"I'm not alone."
"Chopper doesn't count."
"That's not what I meant."
"Force ghosts don't count either, Hera," Sabine says, more quietly.
But the Twi'lek is already shaking her head. "I meant the Alliance."
"You mean the Alliance that failed to help us liberate Lothal? That Alliance?"
"Sabine, if we're going to have any chance of stopping the Empire, we have to fight together. You know that as well as I do."
"You're pregnant," the young Mandalorian reminds her.
"All the more reason to fight for the future."
"You think a war that hasn't ended in over a decade is going to end in less than nine months?"
"I'm pregnant. I'm not incapacitated. I can keep running missions for Mon Mothma. The Ghost is still the Ghost. This ship is my home, Sabine. If this unborn child isn't safe here, there is nowhere in the galaxy where he or she will be safe." Sabine looks out at the flatlands, vaguely curious what Kanan would have to say about all this. "You're not protesting," Hera points out.
The girl shrugs. "Mandalorian, remember. If you're determined to fight, you should be able to fight. They say the women of my people give birth on the battlefield."
Hera grins. "I will try to avoid anything quite that drastic."
"But you're serious about this? This Rebel Alliance thing?"
"I meant what I said. We fight together or we don't fight at all. And they need all the help they can get."
"You're right about that much," Sabine mutters.
"You don't trust them."
"I have trust issues. But that's not your problem."
"You know you're always welcome on the Ghost."
"Yeah, I know. But I... I sorta promised Ezra..." She trails off, and just for a moment her face contorts with grief that makes it obvious that Hera is not the only one who'd lost someone. Hera reaches out and brushes her hand over Sabine's shoulder.
"Ezra's not dead."
"You don't know that."
"You're gonna give up on him? After everything?"
Sabine shakes her head. "No, I'm not giving up, I'm just... I'm not giving up," she repeats. "I'm keeping Hukaat'kama."
Hera frowns. Sabine rarely speaks Mando'a with her, so she's never picked up much of the language. "What's that mean?"
"Literally? 'Watch my back.' But it's also like... what you say when you're waiting for someone to return from a faraway battlefield. You're sort of like... keeping guard, for them? Does that make any sense?"
"Yeah. It makes a lot of sense."
"Good."
Sabine draws her knees up to her chest and looks out at the grasslands. She spends one final night on the Ghost before Chopper tweedles and prods at her with his electric arm. "Fine, Chop, I'm going. Karabast."
Hera grins. Every member of the Ghost's crew had quickly picked up on the curses in each other's native languages, and now use them interchangeably, and frequently.
Sabine lingers at the bottom of the Ghost's ramp. She turns back to meet Hera's eyes. The Twi'lek leans against the doorway at the top of the ramp. "Change your mind?" she asks the younger girl.
"No. Just... call me when the kid is born?"
"I'll call you long before that. I'll tell you about every twinge and craving."
Sabine is torn between being disgusted and kind of proud, that Hera trusts her that much, that she's going to be such a big part of this kid's life. She grins, and reaches into the pocket of the cargo pants she's wearing. She uses an underhand toss to throw a circle of lightweight plasticrete, about the size of the palm of her hand, up to Hera.
"What's this?"
"It's for the kid."
Hera looks down. On one side of the rough faux-stone is the familiar orange flare of the Rebel Starbird. On the back, there is a painting of... "Kanan," Hera breathes. She brushes her thumb over the curve of his cheek, he chest twinges as she takes in the image. The smile on his face, his long hair brushing over his shoulder (Sabine had always known how much Hera hated his stupid haircut), his eyes closed but not covered. He looks like he's laughing. Maybe he is. Hera tries to imagine when Sabine must have seen him like this, in order to be able to paint it. Or is she just painting him the way they both would've wanted him to be?
"I mean... I guess it's for you too," Sabine says.
"Thank you, Sabine."
"You're not crying again, are you?"
Hera shakes her head, although there are in fact tears in her eyes. Sabine rolls her eyes. "Don't cry. If you cry, I'm never going to be able to let you leave, Syndulla."
"I'm not crying."
She turns away from the ramp, and heads back toward the cockpit. Chopper wheedles and splats and then follows her. The ramp closes. Sabine tromps through the grass until she's far enough away for the ship to safely take off, and then she sits on a rock and watches it break atmo.
A moment later, her com crackles with a coded message, text only. She flicks the button.
May the Force be With You, Spectre-5. Keep the Home Fires Burning.
Sabine shakes her head and starts the long walk back to Lothal City. She just hopes the Alliance realizes how lucky they are to have Hera Syndulla flying in to save their shebs.