"Spectre Six! What's your position?"
"Uh, a little busy right now?" Ezra's response was shrill, distorted under the whine of blaster fire.
Kanan broke into a run, gesturing for Sabine to follow. The force was churning with distortion. Danger. Fear. Kanan hadn't felt this much urgency since the moment when the Inquisitor's blades spun towards Ezra.
There shouldn't have been troopers here. There is nothing of value to the Empire.
Nothing save a handful of rebels and two Jedi.
How had they known?
"Spectre Two is nearing your coordinates," Kanan spoke into the com "Find a sparse location; we'll pick you up."
"How close are we?" he barked at Sabine.
"Less than an hundred meters. I'm picking up crossfire ahead."
Throwing out his senses, Kanan scouted for Ezra. The boy was holding strong, but the signatures of hundreds of stormtroopers indicated he and Zeb wouldn't have much longer.
It had been an ambush.
"Where are you?" Ezra's voice crackled with interference.
"Working on it," Sabine said, holding up her hands with a grenade tucked between each finger.
"We'll be there!" Kanan assured Ezra. "Get to open ground!"
Get out of there, kid. The mission isn't worth your life.
It was more than the threat of capture or injury in the crossfire. They were being hunted.
"Grenades launching now," Sabine said. She leapt from a mulch covered log, blinking cylinders arching from her hands. Plumes of fire exploded, evaporating into blue mist. Armor clattered.
"Spectre Six, do you copy? Spectre Six!"
Too late Kanan recognized the heady scent of frudal flowers. Fire releases them… But they were only effective if the roots were crushed beforehand.
Head spinning, Kanan looked down on the array of wilting flowers. Pulverized roots bled beneath clusters that had been packed loosely in the ground; too many for such a rare plant. Trap … all along…
"Kanan!" Sabine called worriedly.
"Go!" Kanan yanked on a trooper's helmet, forcing down the apathy that dragged on his limbs. "Find Ezra! It only affects the force-sensitive."
"What about you?"
"Now!"
She sprang from a trooper's shoulders and was instantly lost from sight. Pushing the force through his hazed mind, Kanan focused on the comlink.
"Just go… stay with Zeb… don't act stupid … get out…."
He stumbled against a tree, hoping Ezra had heard the message. The frudal flowers dulled the mind first, cutting off the force before lethargy claimed the body. Kanan hadn't even noticed when he could no longer sense his padawan.
A storm trooper stepped out of the smoke and Kanan stared at the blaster aimed at his chest. His lightsaber…. That was supposed to block energy bolts. Had he dropped it along the way?
He should have warned Hera.
As though hearing his last thoughts, the whirl of gunfire shrieked to Kanan's right. The concussion blast threw him backwards, decimating the front line of trees. Blinking sluggishly, Kanan focused on the wavering line of the ship. He knew that vessel. There was something important….
"Spectre One!" Hera's blurred form disbranched, and Kanan finally recognized that an arm was waving in his face. Dimly he tried to alert her.
"We have to leave now!" That was Sabine's voice. The hulking form leaning on her shoulder must be Zeb.
"Ez… Ezr…." Kanan tried to say.
"Hush, love. Spectre Five, where is Spectre Six?"
"…Overwhelmed…" Sabine's voice was faint. "… Find him…. Go back….."
The jungle was cut off by the Ghost's overhang, and muffled voices and glaring lights was all that Kanan comprehended for some time.
Scuffling boots intermingled with the monotone of copious voices, and white shadows swam between duracrete walls. Shaking his head only worsened the froth in Ezra's mind. It seemed easier just to lay back and let himself be dragged.
Dragged.
"Wha' the…."
"Is our guest awake?"
That voice was supposed to be familiar. Not good.
The slithering noise ceased and sensation returned to Ezra's body, accompanying a sharp rap as his elbows struck the floor. Kallus's sneering face loomed above him.
Definitely not good.
"It seems your friends have abandoned you ... again. I hope they will oblige me by returning like the last time."
And the time before that, and the time before that…. Ezra was getting used to impromptu rescues.
"Until then," Kallus continued, "You are entirely at my disposal. Take him to the quad locks."
I really, really need something snappy to say right now, Ezra thought as his wrists were grabbed again. Ingenuity didn't seem to be worth the effort. He watched the corridors slide past and tried to map out where he was on the ship. Kanan would want to know.
Classified Star Destroyer. Lots of doors. Panels on the walls for opening things. Good thing the floor is smooth, or this would really hurt right now.
He had enough wits about him to guess his brain was functioning at the worst possible level. Zeb was never going to hear about this.
Loth-rat, Lot-cat, Loth-wolf, run. Pick the locks and out I come.
Escape was hardly a problem; these bucket heads didn't know what they were doing. Waiting for the Ghost instead of sneaking out with a spare Tie… that would be harder.
Patience… Focus… Is it just me, or does Kanan really need to work on the first part?
"I trust you'll enjoy your new quarters," Kallus said as a small slot opened in the wall. "If these were my orders, I would offer you a more comfortable suite with a few droids as company."
Meaning a couple of IT-Os. Ezra snorted.
"However, I have explicit instructions as to your care. Put him inside."
A blur of movement, and he was shoved into a tiny space, feet tangled beneath him and head lolling against his right shoulder. You could've made it a little roomier! Ezra wanted to say, but the door swished closed and all he could hear was the hum of darkness around him.
"S'kay," he mumbled thickly. Could be worse. Could be better equipped, like with a ventilation shaft! But it could be worse.
He would just have to wait for mobility to return to his limbs, and then search for a way out. Every prison had its flaw.
"Seal the corridor off," Kallus instructed his personnel. "I want neither sight nor sound in this hall for the next seventy-two hours."
"Sir, the cell is impenetrable. If we –"
"I've seen that Loth-rat dupe stormtroopers before. No one enters the corridor – Vader's orders."
At the mention of Darth Vader, the imperialists snapped to alert. "Yes, sir!"
"Sir, what if the Jedi attempt a rescue?" a young lieutenant dared to question.
Kallus scowled until the man cringed away. "I suggest you double the guard around the exits, just in case."
He was equally irritated when he returned to his quarters and found a black robed visitor waiting. "You know, security locks are a privacy measure on this ship."
Darth Vader spared him no attention. Kallus wondered if Tarkin's jaw was equally sore from continuous grinding.
"Congratulations on finding the boy," he said with forced ease. "Luring them to a remote planet, importing thousands of crushed plants – what were those, anyways?"
Still no answer. Kallus' gloves wore down a little more, and his teeth crunched in irritation. "Well, you captured the little brat, anyways. Pity you lost the rest of his team."
"The boy is all that was required."
Finally, an answer!
"Indeed?" Kallus walked slowly to the drink dispenser. He selected a stim-tea and waited for the brew, calculating Vader's intentions. "Is he any more special than other Loth-rats linked to the force?"
"That is the Emperor's concern."
"Really." His gloves were squeaking again. Kallus stretched his hands, determining to end the habit. "You know, if you want the kid broken down, you can do a lot better than a rat cage. Give me a few hours with him. A jab or two from the IT-O and a dose of OV600, and you'll have all the rebels' dirty secrets."
"No one is to interfere." There was a warning there.
"Special plans?" Darth Vader was ruthless, so Kallus heard, but this jealousy over a skimpy padawan was rivaled. Kallus had a few grudges of his own to settle. "That boy has sabotaged half my battalion. I want him wiped clean." A blank memory and a few years in the Imperial Academy, and "Jabba" would eradicate the same rebels who had looked to him for hope.
"His fate will be decided by the Empire. No interference," Darth Vader repeated.
The steam rising from Kallus' tea was as curling as his stomach. "That cell isn't even force-inhibiting. It's a cargo transport. What do you expect to do; deliver him to the Emperor without preparation?" Even an additional drug dosage would weaken him enough to be susceptible to interrogation.
"You had the opportunity to please the Emperor, and you have failed. This mission is under my command now." With that abrupt dismissal, Darth Vader strode from the room.
The disposable cup crumpled in Kallus' hand, sloshing tea over his fine gloves. He hardly noticed the burn.
…
"He's going to think we abandoned him." Sabine stared at the console with glazed eyes, hoping a Tie would appear on the screen so she could blast it.
"We did not abandon him," Hera said tersely. She gripped the steering forcefully, knuckles pale. "We just can't storm in there with two of the team wounded. Kanan can't form a coherent sentence, and you know Zeb –"
"Is perfectly capable of operating a rescue plan." Leg dragging, Zeb hauled himself into the adjacent seat. Hera sighed.
"You were shot twice, and bacta isn't going to fix everything. We wait until Kanan is awake."
"And how long will that leave us before the kid vanishes for good?" Waving his fist emphatically, Zeb slammed it onto the armrest. "I say we go back and tear that outpost apart. Search every tree until we find him!"
"We are not walking into an ambush!"
"We never should have been caught in the first place!" Sabine argued. "The Fulcrum said the planet was free of Imperial control."
"Maybe it wasn't the Fulcrum who contacted us."
Everyone turned at the rasping voice. Kanan leaned against the doorway, eyes haunted and dull.
"You should be resting, love," Hera urged softly.
Kanan rubbed his eyes and shook his head. "How long?"
"You were out of it for nearly seven hours."
"The mission," Kanan insisted. "How long?"
Hera cringed and shook her head. "Several Imperial starships already left the planet. He's gone, Kanan."
"Not gone." Squeezing his eyes shut, Kanan fell into the chair Zeb abandoned, breathing harshly. "Follow them."
"We can't go in there now. You're hardy lucid, and Zeb –"
"Karabast, just turn the ship around!"
"Go," Kanan urged.
Quietly Hera turned and flipped a few controls. "Setting course."
"Finally!" Zeb thumped Kanan's shoulder enthusiastically. "Knew you'd talk some sense into 'em."
Fingering his brow, Kanan waved the Lasat away. "Just hurry."
The boy was aware of his surroundings now. Darth Vader watched through the hidden holocams as the padawan felt the walls around him, searching for a door crack or ventilation slit where he could reach a wire. He had given up pretending illness and asphyxiation long ago. Irritation was stronger than unease as he poked at the locking mechanism with the force. Darth Vader quickly shunted down his efforts.
Frustrated, the boy fell back and wriggled until his shoulders hit the wall. Initial muscle cramps would be setting in soon. The frudal flowers would have left his mouth parched and his limbs numb, but the sluggishness would eventually fade. Vader wanted his mind sharp when he presented him to the Emperor.
For now, the boy's susceptibility was to his advantage. Reaching out, Vader prodded his mind with the force. Your Master will not return for you.
There was nothing more compromising than insecurity. Pain was an influential motivator, as the Inquisitor was so inclined to note, but doubt rooted deeper than ordinary fears.
You are no longer needed.
Alone.
In time, when the boy had no one to turn to, Darth Vader would give him over to the torture droids. Then, when he was battered down by pain and fear, it would be the Sith who rescued him from his pain. When that time came, Ezra Skywalker would reach out willingly when his father told him,
I am here.
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