AN: I am so sorry everyone. I've made promise after promise that I would push out another chapter "soon," and soon happened to take two months. I've had a pretty busy summer, but I've also squandered a lot of opportunities to write. So, sorry for keeping you waiting. I'll hopefully get another chapter out soon-ish, but as you likely know, soon can be a week or a month or more. Hopefully not that long though. I'd also like to give a huge thanks to everyone who has reviewed and followed this story so far; it means so much to me to hear that kind of encouragement, so thank you. Anyway, reviews and critiques are more than welcome as always, and I hope you enjoy.
"W-wolf!?"
Mart's cry of alarm roused Hera from unconsciousness. Then the hammering feeling in her skull returned like a supernova, making her wish she hadn't woken. Furthermore, a dull ache throbbed in her gut, different from any physical wound. She'd felt it before too; after Kanan's sacrifice at the fuel depot, and both during and after their trip to the Jedi Temple. Hera hadn't had the time to speculate causes before, and she didn't now.
"What is it Mart? What happened?" She grunted, slowly peeling herself off the smooth stone ground. Though she'd barely moved, the dull headache spiked to a tempest of pain in response to the sudden motion, forcing Hera to fall back onto her knees.
"I-It's the Loth-wolves," Mart replied.
A pair of bright yellow eyes met Hera's as she lifted her head. The wolf before her had black and grey fur, and was one of four others standing guard
"Well, Thrawn's little pet is gone, and we're not dead, so I guess the wolves scared him off."
Hera hoped the wolves had done far more than just scare that thing. She stood up to survey the damage; overturned supplies, a scorch mark where she'd almost been killed by a thermal detonator, and a few bruises and scratches on Mart and herself. The Ghost didn't appear to have been damaged or sabotaged, but she'd make sure to run a diagnostic before they left. If they had time.
Oh stars, how long have we been out?
"What's happened now?" Vizago asked lazily, slowly getting to his feet. Hera frantically commed Sabine, praying to whatever beings existed that the plan hadn't been compromised. What if they were too late? What if the others had been overrun in the Dome?
"Hera? Is everything alright?" Sabine's voice crackled from her comlink. Hera breathed a sigh of relief, and the ache in her gut abated slightly. Interesting.
"Sabine! Am I glad to hear you!" She responded. "What's your status?"
"Uh, currently we're trying to escape the Command Center to get to the shield generators,"
Hera looked down at her comlink in confusion, as if Sabine could somehow see her expression. Why were they going to the shield generators?
"Why? What's happened over there?" She asked. Mart and Vizago circled around her to listen in.
"Well, Thrawn came back sooner than expected. He threatened to destroy the city, un-" Sabine's voice cut out.
"Sabine? Sabine, are you there?!" Hera exclaimed. She hadn't heard any blaster fire, but her imagination spawned endless what-if's as the three waited anxiously.
When Sabine spoke again, her voice was not filled with the strength and ferocity it usually exuded. Her voice wavered, and Hera could almost feel the pain the young Mandalorian felt.
"He threatened to destroy the city, unless Ezra surrendered himself."
Vizago blinked with vague surprise. Mart looked awed almost, but also seemed deep in thought. However, Hera's mouth refused to respond, as if her thoughts were blaster bolts hitting a ray shield. Stopped dead. Ezra had sacrificed himself to save his family and his home, just as Kanan had.
Blast it, why did I have to think that?
Hera sealed her eyes shut in pain, as thoughts of Kanan returned. Grief had seemed to toy with her mind for days now, like a nexu stalking its prey. First she'd been crippled, then forced by duty to hobble about as if her heart wasn't broken. She knew that it was not any of the rebels telling her to do this, but rather her own obligations. She couldn't afford to be weak now; she'd have time to grieve properly once Lothal was free. Or once the war was over. Someday.
Hearing of Ezra, and knowing that the son that she'd never had was following in the footsteps of the man she'd silently loved, felt like the nexu was crippling her yet again, despite the fact that she was already broken.
"Alright," Hera spoke softly. Her voice sounded as unsteady as Sabine's had. "We were attacked by Thrawn's oversized monkey-lizard."
"Are you alright?" Sabine asked, sounding more composed.
"Yes, but there's no sign of it. It may have gone back to warn Thrawn."
Sabine paused, before responding. "I'll bet that's how the shield generators went down. We've been jamming Imperial transmissions from the Dome, but the little rancor-thing was still able to contact Thrawn."
"And that's why you're headed to the generators? To save the city?"
"Yeah. Oh, and everyone else is alive, just so you know," Sabine added solemnly.
"Let's try to keep it that way. Do you need air support?" Hera asked.
"Negative; just stand by for pickup, I suppose."
"Alright. Stay safe out there."
"You too. Spectre 5 out."
Hera stared down at her comlink after the line went dead, hoping that Ezra's voice would somehow come through, as jovial as ever. She wished she could lean into Kanan's arms, or at the very least feel his presence. She wished her families hadn't been shaped by war.
Just when Hera thought she couldn't feel any worse, Mart broke the silence. "It's just like Ezra said."
Kriff.
Hera wheeled on Mart, suddenly furious. "What do you mean, 'it's like Ezra said?' What did he tell you?"
Mart's look of confusion, surprise and fear made her anger abate, but only slightly. It wasn't right to take this out on the kid, even if he'd intentionally withheld information from his ranking officer, possibly endangering the entire strike team.
It's probably not his fault. Yelling at him won't save the others.
Drawing back, Hera drew in a breath, paused, and exhaled. "Mart, explain yourself," she asked sternly.
"E-Ezra warned me that there was a chance that Thrawn would get back to the Capital before they finished the plan, and if it looked like that was the case, he gave us a special mission," Mart answered, still wary of the General's reaction.
"What mission?"
Mart glanced nervously at the Ghost. "We're supposed to go into high orbit above Lothal and send out a signal beacon at frequency zero," he explained.
"Frequency Zero? As in the old subspace communications frequency?" Hera asked. "I thought nobody used that anymore, not since pre-hyperspace travel?"
"That's what I thought too. Ezra didn't say who we were contacting."
Well this just keeps getting better and better, Hera thought, squeezing the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger. Her headache had settled to a faint pain, like background static. But her physical discomfort was the least of her concerns.
If they lived to see Lothal liberated, Hera was going to smack Ezra for his stupid heroics. Why did the Jedi have to be so damned noble, so self-sacrificing? Hera has once seen the allure of sacrifice, of dying a martyr for the Rebellion. She'd fantasized that maybe if she gave her life for the cause, then her father might be proud of her. But now she knew how selfish it was to sacrifice oneself. Kanan had valued Hera's life over her love for him, and now... she didn't even know what was left of the person he'd died saving. And here Ezra was, doing the Same. Damn. Thing. And Hera could tell from Sabine's voice alone that she felt the same way Hera had after Kanan's death; Crushed.
But now Ezra's weird behavior earlier made a little more sense. For whatever reason, his plan needed Hera to be in the cockpit of the Ghost, instead of with him and the others in the Dome.
"Alright. I don't like this at all, but I trust Ezra," Hera decided. "I won't order either of you to go along with this, but I'm going."
"The others need us either way, and I'm not about to abandon them," Mart replied almost immediately. "I'm in."
Vizago sighed, shaking his head. "Just for the record, I hated this plan from the start. But I trust Bridger too," he said.
Hera nodded, starting towards the Ghost. Her anger and grief for Ezra hadn't abated, and she knew that they were still a long way from saving Lothal and everyone else, but she couldn't let that get in the way of saving her family. But Ezra just might need saving from her when this was over.
Sabine lowered her comlink and turned around in time to see Zeb shove Melch into a cooling duct. He looked like he'd been caught stealing a meiloorun from Hera's quarters when he saw her confused gaze.
"It's part of the plan. The pig's gonna distract the troops outside, and then we'll head out," Zeb explained, handing Melch a blaster.
"Oh... yeah, I figured as much," Sabine replied quietly. She'd seen the Lasat shove many strange things into many strange places before, so she hadn't given it much thought this time. Puffer-pigs, stormtroopers, heck; he'd thrown Ezra into a storage locker on the Ghost when they'd first met.
Stop.
Sabine bowed her head in sorrow. She couldn't afford to get distracted now, not with so much at stake. Ezra was counting on them to-
Was this what he meant, when he said he could always count on me?
It made sense that Ezra was counting on them to see his plan through and trust that he wouldn't... that he knew what he was doing. But that was a given; something inside the Mandalorian told her that there was more to Ezra's affirmation. But what else was she meant to do?
"Everyone set?" Rex asked.
Sabine blinked in surprise, realizing ashamedly that she'd gotten distracted while trying to not get distracted. Kallus, Gregor, Wolffe, and Zeb stood alongside Rex, Ketsu, and Hondo before the door, having separated into the two strike teams. She returned to a console alongside Chopper and Azadi, before nodding to the clone veteran. He in turn nodded to Zeb, who rapped his fist against the cooling duct in a series of rapid clunks. The sound reminded Sabine of her escape from the mobile command center at the Jedi Temple, when Zeb and Hera had used the same signals to communicate with her.
Within moments, the sound of muffled blaster fire could be heard through the door. After a few seconds, Sabine heard the swish of the door sliding open, followed by the heavy thunk of a strong Lasat fist connecting with a stormtrooper's helmet. The blaster fire, mixed with stormtroopers yelling and the Ugnaught's squeals, faded into the distance, though they were still audible.
"Alright. Kallus, Zeb, Wolffe, Gregor; you take the north tower. Rex, Hondo, Ketsu; take the south. Azadi and I can guide you from here," Sabine delegated.
"Let's go rebels!" Zeb declared, before all but charging out the door with the two strike teams following behind.
The door slid shut, and the room went quiet. Sabine concentrated on studying the primary schematic display, tracking the comlinks of the strike team members to follow their progress down to the shield generator room. From the Command Center, she, Azadi, and Chopper had access to the entire Dome, and could remotely control almost every blast door and turbolift in the building. It felt good to be in control of the situation, to have the plan actually working, though she doubted that would last. In fact, Sabine couldn't remember the last time a plan had gone even half-well before something threw all their contingencies and timetables out the airlock. Regardless, anything to help distract her from the anxiety churning inside her like a snowstorm on Krownest was a welcome diversion.
Sabine prided herself in her ability to keep a cool head in spite of the chaos that came with her line of work. When plans invariably went awry, she was always able to adapt and respond accordingly. She was no stranger to fear, but she'd been taught since she could hold a blaster that fear wasn't something a warrior denied or ignored, but rather acknowledged. It was only when fear, or emotions in general, interfered with one's decisions on the battlefield that problems arose. And Sabine was struggling with that now, more so than she would've expected. She feared for Ketsu, Zeb, and the rest of the strike team as they dove headlong into the rathtar's den. She feared for Hera, who had already lost so much and may lose more before the battle was won. She feared for Ezra, at the mercy of the terrible, star-crushing evil that had taken so much from her and those she loved.
Sabine closed her eyes for a moment, forcing her breathing to a slow rhythm like the ebb and flow of the sea. A warm feeling, a familiar presence, grew within her, and the snowstorm calmed a little more. A quiet ringing filled the air, reminding her of... a flute? No this was more natural sounding, like wind echoing through the mountains of Lothal.
They trust you; trust them back. The others will survive, Hera will be alright, and Ezra knows what he's doing.
She opened her eyes, and got back to work.
"That will be all, Grand Admiral," the Emperor drawled regally.
Thrawn bowed slowly, and the Jedi was alone.
"I apologize for not being there in person, but governing the galaxy takes up much of my time," the old man continued.
Right, and I'm Boba Fett.
"I know who you are; and what you are," Ezra spat back. What was the point of this disguise, when he already knew the Emperor's true face? If he thought that he could fool Ezra with a kind face, he was about as smart as a binary droid. Ezra has grown up on the streets; he didn't need the Force to know a conman.
That was one other concern. Since entering the room, Ezra had felt his connection to the Force become weakened. It felt like numb, frostbitten fingers in the winter, if not losing a limb or sense entirely. He could imagine that this must've been how Kanan had felt when he'd lost his sight. The once-powerful presence of the Jedi Temple Door before him felt like a whisper, but the Star Destroyer, teeming with organic beings, was a complete void. He had no doubt it was the Sith's fault.
"You misjudge me. Can you not see the opportunity that stands here before you?" The Emperor continued, gesturing towards the Temple Door. He sounded almost offended.
"I see a part of the Jedi Temple which you stole from Lothal!"
"I had this portion of the Temple moved here, stone by stone, for you. Forgive me, but I would've thought you would thank me for this effort."
"Thank you?" Ezra repeated with disgust. "Thank you for destroying the Temple? For enslaving my people? For killing my parents!?"
How dare he expect thanks for all the Empire had done. This man had destroyed the lives of billions. Because of him and his regime, Hera's people were enslaved, Kanan's master was dead, Zeb's people were massacred, and Sabine's world was overtaken. And he expected thanks.
"My dear boy, it's you who chose to destroy the Temple. The actions of your Rebel friends require a firm hand to ensure that there is order on Lothal," the Emperor chided with a fatherly tone. "As for your parents, allow me to offer what might have been, and what may yet be."
The Emperor stepped to the side, gesturing with a holographic hand once more towards the Temple Door, beckoning Ezra to enter.
It's a trap. Don't do it, a voice warned in Ezra's mind. He's trying to trick you.
He wanted to keep being angry; to fight and make the Empire pay for what they'd done. He could hear Maul whispering in his ear from beyond the grave, telling him to use his anger to gain strength. But there was Kanan and Ahsoka, encouraging him to stay focused and let the Force guide him. There was Hera, Rex and Zeb, asking him to calm down and think. There was Sabine, reminding him that he wasn't alone, and that he could count on himself too. Ezra smiled to himself a little, and thought. If this trap was designed to kill him, the Imperial's could have done that already; they must need something from him. But what? What could the Emperor possibly want from a part-time Jedi like him? The Empire had already taken everything from his friends and his planet; all he had left to offer was his life and those of his friends. The lives of- wait a minute.
Knowledge. Were they after the knowledge that Ahsoka lives, that Yoda and Obi-Wan Kenobi survived? That made sense, but then why come here, and not an interrogation room?
Well, whatever they want, they need me alive for it, Ezra mused. And the others are counting on me to buy them time.
He slowly approached the Door with new confidence, shooting the Emperor a distrustful glare as he passed. The earthen mound beneath the Door smelled of home, and Ezra felt a twinge of nostalgia for those evenings on the Ghost, surrounded by fields of grass and Lothal's sun setting in the distance. Training with Kanan, roughhousing with Zeb, painting the TIE fighter with Sabine.
If all goes according to plan, we could go back to that.
The Temple Door led down a long, darkened hallway, to... somewhere. The end of the tunnel glowed gold, though the silhouette of a humanoid figure had begun to take shape. The voice of a ghost echoed through time and space, stopping Ezra dead in his tracks with a look of pure shock on his face.
"Dinner's ready, Ezra," Mira Bridger, his mother, beckoned. "Ezra?"
It can't be. How is this possible?
It took Ezra a moment to realize she wasn't a hologram or recording; he could feel her presence on the other side of the golden veil through the Force. His father's presence was there too, but Ezra couldn't see him yet. A small voice wondered if it was like the holographic ghost the Empire had used to reanimate Master Luminara all those years ago at The Spire, but he could tell that wasn't the case either. Kanan had said that the old master's presence had been clouded; his mother's was only distorted by time. Somehow, it was his mother.
That didn't make him any less suspicious of the Emperor.
"They are waiting for you; go to them. Open the door," the old man spoke softly. "This is what you want, isn't it? The life you deserved."
"But it can't be," Ezra denied, trying to convince himself more than anyone. All of his previous confidence crushed by shock and longing; this was not what he'd been expecting.
"Yes it can, but you must choose to make it so." The Emperor's voice was surprisingly sincere, and Ezra almost wanted to believe him. He'd convinced himself for seven years that his parents were dead, and that he was on his own. That was the first lesson he'd had to learn to survive: no one was going to come for him. Not his parents, not Tseebo, not anyone. That had changed when he met the rebels, and when they took him into their dysfunctional little family, but the fact remained that his parents were gone. And now his mother and father stood on the other side of a door, and Ezra couldn't deny the part of him that desperately wanted to be with them.
No, you can't. Don't believe him, he's obviously lying, the Jedi told himself. It's too good to be true; Maul made these kinds of promises, and you know the consequences.
But you have to buy the others time, he responded. And what's the harm in looking? It's not like you have much choice, right?
Right?
This voice triggered a warning in Ezra's mind, like a shadow slinking beneath the surface of a river, but it seemed so small, and Ezra would be lying if he said he weren't curious.
"Ezra?" His mother called again, her voice just as melodic and warm as it had been nine years ago.
Ezra didn't see the Emperor's triumphant smirk as he continued down the hall.