A/N 4-27-2016: In this installment we see Ezra climbs things, and Sabine's in the field. They say that the reason why the Hunger Games was so gripping was because the author ended each chapter with a cliffhanger. Also, it took nearly a month to pin down which Outer Rim planets would appear in EPBS. Mainly since, where exactly in the Outer Rim is Lothal?

Chapter 2: Junction City

Junction City was a lot like Lothal in some ways. Both had seen better days, had a strong Imperial presence on planet, and attracted more than their share of colorful characters. Many sentients preferred walking the streets and more ranged travel on planet needed speeders. Most of the buildings were one to five stories high, and the structures were made of local sediment mixed into sturdy clay bricks and spread across the outer walls. While Lothal focused on agriculture, mining, and hosted Sienar Systems Laboratory, Junction was primarily a trade world nestled by the nexus of the Hydian Way, the Thesme Trace, and the Gordian Reach. Ships and freighters cruised through the atmosphere and most headed to the center and heart of Junction City, the Grand Terminal.

The Ghost's docking hangar was a small and removed from the busiest parts of Junction City. A somewhat shadowy business that rented out bays to ship captains by the hour with no questions asked.

Eyes skating across the crowd, Ezra mapped the main paths and busier side streets. He minded the twinge of warning at some alley openings. Lothal City had areas like this where beings knew to keep a blind eye to the rougher elements or risk a vibroblade in the back. Or blasted brains.

He'd already found the safest and busiest routes from their hangar to other parts of the city. He'd also found unsafe and busy routes, the most likely to be mugged in streets, most likely to find spice dealers alleys, and enter and end up dead for your trouble areas. Pleasant neighborhood, really.

He'd also managed to spy a few rooftop routes. Not that he'd gone climbing, yet. Kanan wanted him to keep an eye out for trouble and get to Ghost at the drop of a cred. But Ezra also needed to find the fastest and safest ways back to the Ghost for all the Specters. After Kanan's distraction Sabine and Chopper would split off and come back separately from the main group. He wanted to have two routes back for every group.

Following the crowd's flow Ezra passed an establishment that wore its grime and disrepair with a spiteful forthrightness. The sharp scent of alcohol wafted out accompanied by thunderous howls and the crash of breaking glass and furniture. Bar fights. He tucked it away. Lots of bar fights. How distracting.

Ducking into a promising side street Ezra scaled the closest drain and crawled onto the roof. He really didn't want to get acquainted with a strange city's sewer. Unlike Lothal, Junction City's might actually function. That left his other preferred method of travel, the rooftops. People didn't spend nearly enough time looking up.

He scanned the roofs. Spotting a slender spire jutting out of a rectangular block pretending to be a building, Ezra clambered upwards. His fingers dug into the cracks in the pockmarked surface. Time and slapped together craftsmanship had left the building's outer plaster uneven. Entire feet of the mud plaster had weathered away revealing the underlying brick. A secure structure but one with some bricks sunk too deep and others sprouting up like weeds, perfect handholds.

Ezra scaled the tower and swung into the abandoned belfry. Four large openings only marginally covered in corroding wire mesh gave way to a bird's eye view of the city, and, the perfect view of the market and the Grand Terminal. From up here it was easy to spot a riot of color and a familiar dyed head vanishing inside the spaceport.

…

Sabine had brought eight bombs for this mission, three smoke bombs and five explosives. Ten seemed excessive for a mission that focused on data corruption and controlled prototype disruption, so she had pared down to eight. Sabine's part was simple: use Kanan's distraction to slip explosives on the prototype crates. Chopper would steal the datapad carrying the backup blueprints and run. Sabine would chase after him, plant a sleeper virus in the pad, and plug into the nearest holonet terminal and upload a nasty mess into the holonet. Risky but workable.

Chopper idled by her knee basking in his cover.

"Yes, S-3, I know. Use my elbow servos."

Chopper chirped, chirped, and leaned into the buffing, Sabine's cover for staying in the Terminal so long. Sabine was just one traveler waiting for her departing shuttle and taking the extra time to buff grime off her droid. She'd found a bench close to their target's docking bay, whipped out a spare rag, and started scrubbing soot off of Chopper. The buffing included coos, compliments, and promises of an oil bath. Chopper ate it up, solemnly offering each arm for cleaning.

Kanan stepped off the Grand Stair. Moving with the foot traffic's flow he glanced between a datapad in his palm and the signs marking the halls and bays. In the center of the corridor he stopped and scratched his chin. He peered at his pad practically touching the screen with his nose.

Curses, shouts, and some jostling began to fill the air. Astromechs beeped in alarm, then annoyance, and swerved around him, but the busier swarms and individuals jerked to the sides. The shifting tide of people only partly split around him. Kanan looked up from his pad long enough to start shouting back.

"—vaping stoopa!"

Kanan was really good at playing a rude, roughneck spacer. Sabine kept the unfolding holodrama in the corner of her eye.

Satisfied that he had defended his honor and cursed one of his heckler's family back three generations, Kanan shoved the pad under his arm and stalked down the corridor. Well, Kanan wasn't the only person in the spaceport stalking down the corridor unwilling to move for anybody.

Sabine gave Chopper one last swipe and tapped his side. "Ok, S-3. Get ready. You're on soon."

Rising to her feet, she tucked the cleaning rag into a pouch and slipped into the foot traffic. She moved with the flow of the crowds and slowly worked her way toward Kanan. For now she caught glimpses of his nerf tail. Zeb stalked toward them looking as grumpy as the day she'd serenaded him with Shyriiwook.

Chopper trundled along hanging at her side carefully marking the closing distance between Zeb and Kanan. Sabine's wrist comm flashed. Chopper peeled away from her side, shoving his way through the crowd with angry beeps, bwahps, and flailing arms. Sabine turned on her holoimager and began recording. Their fearless captain would appreciate the look on Kanan's face.

The collision was beautiful. Pushing through the crowd, Chopper rammed into Kanan's shins. The pad flew from Kanan's hand and arched through the air. With a shrill yelp Kanan lurched forward and smacked into opposing traffic, Zeb specifically. The two cracked their skulls together. The sound rippled through the crowd. One forehead smashed into the other in an inadvertent head butt. The two sprang apart, Kanan holding his head, and Zeb cradling his nose. Both scowled.

"Watch where you're going!"

"No, you watch where you're going, sculag."

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

The yelling shifted to shoving, and the jeer crowd quickly cleared a space around the fight. Zeb snarled and stooped to catch Kanan and throw him. Kanan dodged, mostly.

Sabine took her cue and ran after Chopper. She let out the occasional excuse me's, and sorry's, but only committed to a worried, "S-3? Get back here!"

After ramming into Kanan, Chopper had squawked in terror and peeled off as if the entire situation had thrown off his logic circuits. He zigged and zagged and sped into the one clear bay that no one had dared duck into, the bay with a guard detail of Stormtroopers and an imperial official. Chopper screeched to a stop and started buzzing. The group, Stormtroopers included, turned and stared.

Sabine pushed through the crowds. "S-3? S-3!"

She jogged to Chopper's side and hunched over resting her hands on her knees.

One of the troopers stepped forward. "This bay is restricted—,"

"Oh, thank the Stars," Sabine said and opened her eyes extra wide. "You have to do something. They're going to kill each other!"

The official, a nervous, weedy sort that looked like he needed to spend more time outdoors, glanced between Sabine and the growing commotion in the main corridor.

"I-I don't think it's necessary."

A guttural snarl ripped over the din followed by a loud shout. "I'm going to kill you, you clumsy lowlife!"

Ah, Zeb.

The official flinched back and waved at the closest trooper. "Well, go see to it. Quickly!"

Two Stormtroopers turned toward the fight. The official turned back to Sabine then stumbled several steps back. Chopper pulled at the hem of his jacket and grabbed the pad tucked under one arm.

"What is it—hey! Stop, that's mine!"

Sabine gasped, hands flying to her face and staggered back. She collided with the stack of crates and braced herself.

"Oh no, oh no. I'm so sorry. I told Buir we should have him melted down or incinerated ages ago. I'll get it back. Promise." She darted forward. "S-3, get back here. Oh, sorry!"

The official stared after her, still sputtering about the turn of events. A droid, a droid, had stolen his pad. Of all the unthinkable, Star's End, that pad had classified blueprints on it. He paled, and his heart stuttered.

"Troops, after that—,"

"Uh, sir?" The official turned and saw four blinking lights scattered across the crates. One of the troopers grabbed him by the arm and started dragging him toward the exit. "Everyone evacuate! Inform Command that rebel activity has been uncovered."

Three halls away Sabine darted down a side corridor and fished out a detonator. Between Zeb and Kanan's fight and the trooper's crowd control, the area around the hangar bay had been cleared of civilian traffic. Glancing about she spotted a fire alarm and smacked it. That should clear out the stragglers. Helmet on, she slid her thumb across the red depressor and pushed.

A sharp whistle pierced the air followed by a deep rumble bellowing down the halls. She could see it now, the bright flash and the purple smoke cloud ballooning out shooting gold shimmers into the air. With one carefully measured recipe for each explosive, the blast and shock wave would be contained within the hangar bay and vented into the air. If only she could see it in person, then she could check how the smoke cloud billowed upwards.

She shook herself. This wasn't the time to pine over her art. It was time to find Chop and start slicing. She had a datachip to corrupt.

…

Double click on the comm and the distant roar of an explosion. Time to get back to the Ghost. Ezra plucked at each Specter's force presence and the nascent bonds linking them to him. Kanan's was the strongest and easiest to read. The other bonds' strength and thickness varied, but all were well, healthy, and whole. Somehow, Ezra had even managed to form a tenuous connection with Chopper the Cantankerous, not that he could read much off of it. Ezra leaned back from the ledge and sighed. All present and accounted for, so, of course, he should get back to the Ghost.

But since he was here and had this great vantage point there was something else he should check on. That shimmering star, the quiet presence glimmering in the back of his mind. Eyes sliding close, Ezra tightened his grip on the ledge, lifted a hand, and reached back.

I'm here. Where are you?

The star shone true as if bursting clear of cloud cover on a dark Lothal night. 'Here, here, here,' it seemed to croon. 'Find me.'

Anchored in a spot deep in his gut a thread shot out from Ezra and sailed to his star.

'Young Jedi, listen.'

The light faded, but the thread remained. It stretched beyond Ezra off to the north ending at…

The Grand Terminal

Ezra rocked back on his heels and released a shuddering breath. Going by the odd lightness in his head and rush in his ears, he wouldn't care if Chopper rumbled by and knocked him flat with a swipe of his arm.

Listen. Listen for what? The rumble of engines as ships roared overhead entering and leaving atmosphere? The whine of repulsors and speeders shooting through the streets, or the sounds of a bustling market place? The shoppers' noise blended into steady hum of merchants hawking wares, murmuring and passing by? Or the echoing tumult from the newest cantina brawl?

What am I listening for? Can't I have a hint?

But the connection vanished into a fog. Well, that's just perfect. Ezra slumped over the railing and scanned the market.

Listen. Find me. Challenges. Why did Jedi training have to be so cryptic?

Movement flickered from one of the market corners. Belly scraping against the brick, Ezra hunched down making himself smaller. Something seemed…off.

One corner of the market wasn't moving. At all. A pocket of stillness lacking merchants at their stalls and customers browsing the wares on display. No one walked there. Not a creature stirred. Nothing.

A shiver shot down his spine. He couldn't hear anything from that corner. It felt…empty.

Something's not right. I feel…

Goosebumps beaded on his arms, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Ezra clicked on his comm.

"Specter 1, this is Specter 6. Something's wrong. I have this feeling—,"

The comm hissed and spat. Interference clogged up the connection. Jammed.

They know we're here.

A quick scan of the streets showed that all Imperial patrols were missing. The feeling curdling in his gut dropped like a stone. Ezra stopped moving. He slowed his breathing and wrapped himself in the Force.

Nothing important to see here. Nothing to look at. Just bricks, a lot of bricks. Inwardly, he tried to wrestle down a spike of panic. Focus, Bridger. You can't help if you're panicking. Feel the Force, center yourself. Listen to what it has to say.

Kanan really was a great teacher. But Ezra had to pick the one landmark with the great view of the city. The tower with a great view but not so great visual cover for young rebels that needed to be out of sight, now, not waving their ragged orange butt around like a flag for everyone in the far corners of the city to see.

Ezra, you idiot.

He tilted his chin just enough to look inside the belfry. No trapdoor but if he could slip out and scramble down toward that quiet, shadowy place in the market, maybe he could slip out with minimal exposure. Peeking out Ezra slipped a leg over the ledge and peered at his planned descent. Yeah, he could do it. He could drop if he needed to without hurting himself, or jump to that that roof just a bit over. Well, he said a bit…

A chill shot down his spine. Ezra snuggled into the building's shadow. Checking his handholds, Ezra stopped and centered himself. The feeling from earlier, it hadn't faded. If anything, it felt stronger like a fyrnock lurking in the shadows waiting to pounce. And it felt personal.

So what am I missing?

A flutter of silver teased his eye.

Clinging to the tower like a burr on a Lothcat, Ezra traced the movement.

Hair, it was hair falling past the hood of a dark cloak. Silver strands fluttered out from beneath the hood and shifted with the gust of the wind and the turn of a head. She watched him like a shriek-hawk. Fire burned in glinting eyes. She lifted her chin, caught his eye, and smiled.

A shadow behind her shifted. The second reflected the first. She shared the same silver hair pinned beneath a black hood. Ice gleamed in her eyes. The third remained behind the twins deep within the market's shadows. Three hunters swathed in shadows and prey insight.

It was the Spire all over again.

Ezra let go. With a bend in his knees, he landed and leaped away, headed for the terminal.

He had to warn the others. If he got caught alone, or if they cornered the rest of the crew, or found Kanan… He had to get there first.

Reaching through the Force, Ezra shoved his impressions, the fire and the ice and the dreaded certainty.

Kanan! Inquisitors!