Sabine lay in her bunk, staring idly at the dull orange paneling above her. Her body ached from the day's events, but her mind burned with unanswered questions, warding away the healing comfort of sleep.

Another close call. The "quiet, backwater town" they were promised turned out to be anything but. Instead of delivering medical supplies to a badly under-resourced clinic, the Ghost team had found themselves swarmed with Stormtroopers. One had even managed to grab Ezra for a brief moment, before Zeb's fist sent the trooper back through the fake wall he had emerged from. A few well-thrown detonators and a quick pick-up by Hera managed to stop the mission from becoming a complete catastrophe.

Too close.

Sabine hopped down from the bed and slid into the chair in the alcove underneath, scratching graphene onto a pad of scratch paper left over from the night before. Someone was feeding them the bad intel, but who? Hera and Kanan weren't naive or stupid enough to take information without verifying it, so how had they managed to get burned not once, but three times?

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. The door slid open, the light from the room highlighting the purposive look on Hera's face.

"Suit up, quietly. We're leaving."

The Phantom skimmed the rolling plains, illuminated by the gentle glow of twin moons. Sabine checked the charge on her blasters, almost subconsciously executing her pre-mission ritual. She chanced to break the silence that had dominated the two since they had departed the Ghost.

"So, do I get to know what's happening this time?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," Hera replied with a tone of understanding that caught her off-guard. She switched control of the Phantom over to Chopper and swivelled the pilot's chair to face Sabine. Hera's intense gaze made Sabine regret the words that had managed to slip past her tongue. Sabine picked up her helmet and held it in her lap, fiddling with the stalk of the rangefinder in a futile attempt to hide her sheepish look. Hera put her hand on her arm and smiled. "I know you still have your concerns about not being in-the-know about Fulcrum. I've thought a lot about it, and I completely understand not wanting to be kept in the dark. So, this time you're the one in-the-know." Sabine beamed back at Hera, intensely thankful for the display of trust.

"The three bad ops were planned off of intel we received from Vizago," Hera began. Sabine's smile fell into a frown.

"That sleemo. It was only a matter of time until someone offered him a price high enough..."

Hera smirked.

"That's what Kanan said. And that's why he's not along for the ride." The response elicited a raised eyebrow from Sabine. "The thing is, if Vizago wanted to sell us out, he would have long ago. Most of the intel we have gotten from him in the past has been good. It doesn't add up."

Sabine continued to stare quizzically at Hera. "So, what exactly are we going to do about it?"

Hera grinned in a way Sabine had thought only Ezra's mischievous face could.

"We're going to ask for a refund."

Hera took a deep breath to calm her nerves, and thumbed the Phantom's hatch release. Stepping into the chill of the early morning, she walked alone towards the towering rock spires that ringed the Broken Horn's landing site. The moons had begun to dip towards the horizon, casting jagged shadows across the hull of the light cruiser. The broken silhouette created by the breaks in illumination made the ship seem to blend into the rocky terrain behind it, undoubtedly the intent of its devious captain. As she approached, the sharp hiss of the boarding ramp descending from the hull broke the morning peace. Fluorescent lighting poured out from the ship, and approaching metallic footsteps warned of the twin IG-RM enforcers' presence. Hera stopped a few meters from the base of the ramp, eyeing the droids. As the droids made their way to the bottom of the ramp, their horned proprietor appeared in the doorway.

"Captain Syndulla, what an unexpected surprise," Vizago began, placing his hands on his hips. "Especially at this hour, and without your man. If you had let me know you were coming, I could have had a room prepared…"

Hera's lekku twitched in displeasure at the comment, but her face remained passive.

"This isn't a social call. I'm here for a refund." The Devaronian scoffed.

"What do you think this is, a street fair? You know how the business is run, all sales are final, all items as-is. Besides…" Vizago gestured to the droids, who made a point to visibly disarm the safeties of their rifles. "You don't seem to have any leverage in the matter."

"More than you know."

The droids wheeled around to face the new voice. Sabine stood on the engine nacelles of the freighter. Thumbing the control in her hand, a string of detonators at the base of the engine glowed to life, their rhythmic chiming signaling their ill intent. Vizago's expression flashed from smugness to anger.

"What is this? After all the help I have been to you and your little band, this is how you repay me? This is extortion!"

Hera crossed her arms, not bothering to hide the smug smile that crossed her face. "Extortion? No. Consumer protection? Probably. Your intel has lead us into traps three times now. I can only imaging that when word gets out that your intel is bad and you've lost your ship, your clientele will have their own questions."

To Hera's surprise, the Devaronian seemed more startled by her first statement than the threat. "To threaten my ship is one thing, but my word? That is another thing entirely."

"Prove it. Give us your source." Vizago hesitated, then let out a resigned sigh.

"I'll help you find the informant. But there's a catch."

Sabine shook her head to try to ward away the fatigue, and swore at herself under her breath. For the past two nights, sleep had evaded her like oil from water. But now, twelve kilometers between her and any friendly support, exhaustion had begun to weigh upon her mind and body, pressing down upon her and narrowing her vision. She readjusted the cycler rifle's stock in her shoulder for the umteenth time and focused down the scope. The grassy ridgeline gave her a commanding view over the entire Imperial mining complex, which had emptied of employees as the sun had begun to set. She swept the sights over the buildings, searching for any sign of activity.

A small windmill rotated at the far end of the complex, its blades casting long shadows against the sides of the non-descript utility sheds of the complex. As the blades rotated, the shadows swept along the metal siding of the sheds, given a slight orange hue by the setting sun. The shadows seemed to spin with a dance-like quality, like spirits gathering and celebrating the end of another rotation…

Tink.

Sabine was startled back into consciousness, realising that her eyes had been closed. As her head had drooped, the top of her helmet had gently collided with the scope of the cycler rifle. A barely-stifled snort of laughter from her side made her cheeks flush with embarrassment. She shifted her eyes to the direction of the chortle. Ezra lay prone beside her, electrobinoculars held tight to his eyes, unable to completely hide the amused grin that was spreading across his face.

"I'm awake," Sabine whispered with equal parts irritation and confusion in her voice.

"Is that a statement, or a question?" Ezra replied. Sabine scowled at him from behind her helmet as he rolled to his side to face her. "You know, if you need more company to help entertain you, that can be arranged," the boy said with a grin. He extended his hand out behind them, eliciting a rustling from the grasses.

"By the Force, you sic another Loth-cat on me, I'll tag you for Vizago," Sabine hissed. Ezra continued to grin, but rolled over to continue scanning. The rustling ceased.

Vizago had given them the location of his informant, but not the name. Rather, Vizago didn't know who the person was beyond the fact that the information they provided had been good previously and he had the right Imperial credentials to prove he worked at the facility. As part of Hera's deal, Sabine and Ezra were to "arrange" a face-to-face meeting between the informant and the Devaronian. The implication, however, was that they would have to deduce who the rogue Imperial was.

Sabine returned to her scan of the compound, the sun finally setting over the horizon. As minutes passed, darkness began to fall, and she could feel her eyelids becoming heavy again. She heard Ezra roll over again, this time accompanied by the quiet clicking of a backpack zipper being undone. He rolled back to his front, playing with an object in his hands.

"Take this."

"Huh?" Sabine grunted, slightly surprised by the authoritative tone in his voice.

"C'mon. Food. Bucket off. Take it." He extended his hand, a small rectangle in it. She studied his gesture for a second, before taking the object into her hand. It was soft and spongy, but still too dark to be recognized. She leaned the cycler rifle on its bipod and slipped her helmet off, placing it by the buttstock. Bringing the object to her mouth, she took a small bite. Immediately, the sweet taste of chocolate mixed with vanilla brightened her senses. She took a second, much larger bite, willing the nutrients to hit her bloodstream as fast as possible.

It dawned on her that the ration was a personal favorite of Ezra's. For a kid who had spent so many years on the streets, without knowing when his next meal would come, the gift of food was an incredibly touching gesture. Sabine broke off a piece of the bar and slipped it back into Ezra's hand.

"Thank you."

Electrobinoculars back at his eyes, Ezra smiled and popped the chunk into his mouth.

"Don't mention it."

Sabine shouldered the rifle again without replacing the helmet, and the two continued to scan in silence. The quick boost of calories had been exactly what she had needed, focus and clarity returning for the moment. As she scanned, she continued to ponder the small gesture. She decided to return the favor.

"Come over here," Sabine said flatly. Ezra's head jerked, looking at her wide-eyed.

"What?"

Sabine rolled her eyes. "The rifle, laserbrain. Get on it."

"Oh… um, right," Ezra stuttered as he shimmied over. Sabine rolled, letting him lay directly behind the long rifle. He extended a hesitant hand towards the grip, then rested the entire buttstock on the top of his shoulder. Sabine suppressed a laugh.

"You've shot a cycler, correct?"

"Of course, hundreds of times," Ezra confirmed, convincing nobody. Sabine shook her head with a smile and reached around him, sliding the stock so it sat firmly in the pocket of his shoulder. She gave his hips a little push to square him completely behind the rifle, noting the twitch she elicited from his body.

"It's not hard. Pull it in tight to you, and rest your cheek against the stock." She gently put her hands to his face, correcting his form. "There you go. Now, the sight will take care of the fact that there's some drop to the projectile, and any wind. All you have to do is place the red dot in the center of the chest and gently squeeze the trigger. And don't try for any trick shots."

"Uh, Sabine…" Ezra mumbled as he peered down the scope. Sabine grabbed the electrobinoculars and looked towards the facility. A military transport had entered from the far side. The door slid open, and Agent Kallus stepped out into the deserted street, flanked by a pair of troopers.

"Karabast. I think we're blown again…" Ezra began.

"No. They'd be up here if they knew." Sabine continued to watch the street. A door on one of the buildings opened, and a foreman walked to the small group gathered by the transport. Kallus shook his hand, and the two began to converse. "He fits the description that Vizago had," Sabine said. "Foreman rank, male, works the night shift… this must be our bad lead."

"Got it," Ezra said as he began to shift away from the rifle.

"No, you're already there. Take the shot."

Ezra looked at Sabine, his usual bravado replaced by a youthful nervousness.

"Uh, Sabine, I don't really…"

"We're going to miss our chance if you don't hurry up." She looked directly at him. "I told you what to do. You've got this."

Ezra took a deep breath and settled behind the rifle. Sabine scooted closer, peering at the target through the binoculars.

"Breathe easy. Focus on bringing down your heart rate. Relax."

Ezra exhaled, peering down the scope.

"Gentle squeeze. Center of mass."

The rifle sounded with a gentle snap.

As the projectile flew to its destination, it slowly broke apart. By the time it reached the foreman, only a small bead remained. It landed with a soft thud against his shoulder blades, coating him with a fine powder that clung to his clothes and skin, invisible to the naked eye. He brushed his shoulder, thinking one of Lothal's native insect species had run headlong into him.

Sabine changed the filter of the electrobinoculars. The man now glowed in a brilliant purple hue, while Kallus and the troopers remained a neutral blue. Next time Vizago visited the compound, they would send him the dye's unique wavelength. She looked over to Ezra with a smile.

"Not bad, kid."

Ezra rolled over to face her, propping his head with his hand. The cocky smile had returned.

"Like I said, hundreds of times." Sabine rolled her eyes.

"Don't ruin this," she said, a slight grin slipping through her unimpressed facade. The two quickly grabbed their belongings and eased away from the crest of the ridge. Once at the base of the hill, they took off at a quick jog back in the direction of the Phantom.

Author's note: Again, thank you so much for all of your support! Growing Insurgency topped 1,000 views this week, and I am truly honored for your time and attention. On a personal note, I'll be out and about in the wilderness for the next two weeks, and will not be able to update until afterwords. On a positive note, only one more week until "Imperial Supercommandos!" As always, your comments, questions, and suggestions are always welcome and encouraged.

All the best,

JA