RUHLSAR000 Here! Apparently between the Sunday after my last update and yesterday, no one read any of my work. It was interesting to see the view graph. So, that worried me. I want to apologize for the length of this chapter. I was writing it and found the perfect stopping point and I couldn't really expand it without sacrificing the feeling I wanted for the chapter. But, that caused this to be my shortest chapter. So any who, I DO NOT OWN STAR WARS REBELS! MOUSE FOR 2016! I apologize for errors, delays, and author's notes that are longer than the chapter.
"How are things going back there?" Hera's voice enters the Phantom via Ezra's com.
"You mean besides the internal com being out, the door auto locking on me and I am pretty sure steering is whonked beyond anything resembling normal steering." Ezra fires back from the bowels of the Phantom. As he reaches for a wrench, he notices his sleeve. Its hem is far enough for five centimeter of his forearm to be visible. Granted, it was his right hand and therefore his shorter non-metal-arm-covering glove. Still, that means that the suit is getting small. Small suit means the suit is in danger of ripping. He'll need to let out the seams soon.
Ezra sighs as he remembers that he already let out the seams before he joined the crew. That had been a while and given that he is actually eating regularly, Ezra realizes he shouldn't be surprised that he has grown. No wonder his bones had been sore for a while. Ezra had actual been growing. Had the timing been better, Ezra would have laughed for joy.
Maybe he could squeeze another centimeter out of the seam. Even while being apart of the larger rebellion, having enough credits to keep this bird flying was tough especially with the arm and leg that it is going to cost for all these repairs. Ezra doesn't want to put that burden on Kanan and Hera, even if his feet are exceedingly sore at the end of any day due to his shoes being to small. Too bad they'd notice a duck tape shoe expansion. Then again, duck tape shoe expansions do severely hurt the shoes ability to protect the toes.
"Ezra?" Hera says, again.
"Sorry." Ezra says, shaking away his thought. His wardrobe problems can wait until everything is repaired. "I'm also sure that there has been a lot of damage on the exterior, that I obviously can't get to right now." Ezra goes to check the sleeves hem and judge what he'll have to do. If he has to, he can probably get enough cloth to make extensions to the sleeve and pants. Well, if Sabine is willing to part with an old paint rag. He'd rather not use his blanket as it barely covers him anymore, having had to use it for fabric scraps before he met the crew and his new increasing height.
But, as he feels the cloth, he realizes his jumpsuit is in a worse state than he thought. The fabric has thinned, like a lot. As in, one wrong tug and the fabric will shred. Which is rather impressive when Ezra thinks about it. This was a flight suit, which is meant to be more durable most clothes. The seams Ezra put in last time he let out the hem is probably the strongest part of the suit right now. With that, there is absolutely nothing he can do to the to save the suit. Its days are officially numbered, and there are no tricks Ezra can use to save it this time.
"I'm sure. Which is why we are stopping at Callali. The fuel line is leaking and we won't make it back the rebel base." Hera says.
"Isn't there a large Imperial presence there?" Ezra recalls.
"As well as a large Rebel presence." Hera informs him. "It's a trade world, centrally located in the mid-rim. A lot of people and goods pass through the planet on an hourly basis and it never stops. Though, some merchants can make a killing off the Empire, most merchants aren't so keen on the Empire's trade sanctions. Even fewer are keen on the Empire using its 'discount' on their wares... How do you even know about the Imperial presence?"
"Godmother lives there, remember." Ezra says, trying not to think of that day in Ward 4. Honestly, Hera hadn't remembered. She had been so focused on the fact that his sister cut off his hand and most of his forearm she hadn't retained much else. "Tseebo was supposed to get me to her. When he didn't, I consider smuggling myself there for a while. Dropped the idea, after a mix of realizing the chance of her recognizing me, found out about the trooper presence, and the dangers of trying to get there. It wasn't worth the risk."
"Oh," Hera says, slightly uncomfortable. "Maybe you'll find your godmother."
"Wouldn't know it if I did. I have no clue, what she looks like, what she does, or even her real name. Mom always refereed to her as Tammy." Ezra says.
"Oh," Hera says. Ezra could swear he heard... slight relief... in it. Ezra shrugs it off. Why would Hera be relieved about him not meeting someone who knew his parents? Hera wouldn't lie to him, especially when it came to information about his parents...
Ezra is hit with a wave of guilt. He is breaking the number two taken rule, which is barely ranked below rule number one: don't kriff your fellow takens over. If you find anything about a taken's family, you tell that taken no matter what, be it tribal differences or personal vendettas. Well, he couldn't exactly tell Talia that the last letters of her name that they had been unable to decipher made her last name "Syndulla". But, he could tell Hera. But, what would that do? The Wind Cell is already doing everything they can to find her and take down the trappers. It would only hurt and cause stress for Hera. Ezra sighs. That doesn't stop him from feeling guilty.
"Any word on when someone can fix the lock so I can get out of here." Ezra glances at the door. He could unlock it, easily, but the Phantom is already damaged enough without him taking out everything in that area to gain access to the controls. It would be far simpler to do on the other side.
"Sorry, Kanan is still helping Zeb with that concussion. Sabine is repairing Chopper. And I have to fix the fuel line or we won't even make it to Callali... Once we land we probably won't be able to take off until we make the needed repairs." Hera says. The Ghost really took a beating.
"No worries. I still have a lot of repairs to do in here." Ezra says. "We are getting really good at dealing with concussions, aren't we?"
"Ezra," Hera warns.
"Right. To soon." Ezra says.
Thirty minutes, a frustrating lack of progression on the steering of the Phantom and finding thirty plus more repairs needed to be made before the Phantom could be used again, Hera's voice coms through the com, again. "Approaching the Callali system. Everyone strap in." Ezra pops up out of the deck and straps himself into the pilot's seat. It will probably be the only time he'll sit there, Ezra acknowledges. After all, everyone else has a lot more flying experience under their belt and they didn't have time to train another pilot when they already have several good reliable ones.
After a few minutes, Hera's voice comes over the com again, "Ezra?"
"In." Ezra says.
Hera smiles, glances at her team in the cockpit. It had been a rough mission but they made it out. They are not out of the woods yet, but the active part of the mission is over. They come out of hyperspace. Hera notices the Phantom detach light goes off. Something large tumbles across the windshield, fast. The light must have been a false alarm. Hera checks the scanners, trying to figure out if they exited into a meteor shower.
A moment later, Ezra's voice comes through her com. "HERRAAAA!"
It takes Ezra half a moment to realize he is upside down, then not, then upside down. It takes another quarter of a second to realize, he isn't attached to the Ghost.
He has never activated his com that quickly. "HERRAAAA!" His hands take the steering wheel. "THE PHANTOM NOT ATTACHED ANYMORE!" It takes one turn of the steering wheel for Ezra to remember the steering is off.
"Hold on," Hera says.
"You're lucky I'm too terrified to snark on that." Ezra says, as he tries to stop the tumbling. Ezra maybe terrified, but that doesn't make him loose his head. He holds the wheel steady. That shows him how bad steering is, as it isn't resisting him holding it straight despite the constantly changes direction. Ezra starts checking various buttons for something to help, to see what he has available to him. "Thrusters are out. Steering's limited. Sensors, out."
"Is there anything not out?" Hera says, looking at a panicking Kanan. She holds out her hand, motioning for him to stop. Kanan breathes but it's clear that it doesn't calm him down.
Ezra presses one more button.
Ezra's voice resonates through the still cockpit, "Yeah, windshield wipers." Kanan face-palms.
"Anything useful?" Hera says.
"No, not that I can find." Ezra says. Ezra manages to see enough through the tumbling to see he is heading toward Callali Prime's inhabited moon. "I'm heading towards the moon! Kanan, any chance I could get some Force help in stabilizing!"
Hera turns to Kanan, who is already focusing. "He's trying. Anything?"
Ezra takes a moment. "No. I'll give it a shot but I am going have to go quiet for a while. I need to focus. But whether or not I can, I am not going to be able to avoid crashing into that moon."
"We'll be there as quickly as we can." Hera says, turning the ship to follow the youngest member of her crew.
"No, Hera. Tracker's down. And I'm already out of site, aren't I?" Hera doesn't answer, triple checking the Phantom's beacon, nothing. "It will take hours to find me, even with the com and that's time the Ghost doesn't have. You said it yourself; the Ghost won't be able to take off once it lands. You come after me and everyone could get stranded. If there are no repair shops near where I crash, the Ghost may be down for months. I'll be fine." Ezra says. "I need quite, guys." He turns down the com. Then, he gulps. He doesn't add that with the impact that is likely to occur if he can't get this tumbling to stop, it probably won't matter if they are there in a few hour or a few days.
The Phantom's tumbling slows as it enters the atmosphere, and with Ezra's help, slows even more. But, his relief is short lived, as he realizes he is heading straight for a large city.
A woman sighs as she leans against her balcony in her pajamas and rob, looking over the city about a fifty kilometers away. Something had tugged her awake and out to her balcony. Not that she minded. It is a beautiful summer night, with just enough of a chill to be refreshing. She is as content as she always is when she returns to her home. Away from the hustle and bustle of Calalli's capital. This is where her family was always centered. This is even where Miranda's son had been born.
Her intuition, or what Miranda called her mild Force-sensitivity, tugs her head up. She spies something large in the sky. She squints. A meteor?
Ezra has stopped the tumbling, but he is far less concerned with his well being now. If he doesn't control this piece of junk, a lot of people are going to be hurt. Ezra focus harder, moving the steering wheel as far as it can go, trying to point the ship into a deserted field. He opens his mind to the Force. Its music fills his ears. He feels it move around the Phantom. He reaches out it and gently tugs it in the direction he wants. If he pulls to hard, he'll start tumbling again. Not hard enough and he won't move the Phantom. It is a balancing act with lives in the balance.
The woman sees the object better as it gets closer. "A ship?" Then, she realizes it is going way too fast for it to be landing properly. It's going to crash! In to Calaver! It's a vacation city, FILLED with civilians. She needed to mobilize the emergency personnel. She sees it turn. She pauses, it turns more. The woman gasps, must be some pilot. It is heading to a deserted area now. It streaks across the sky, landing not that far. In fact, if she is not mistaken, he crashes on her property. "The Pilot!" The woman yells. She spins around, rushing through the large double glass doors.
Ezra is focused. He is heading to the field. Relief fills him. But he tries to stay focused, trying to slow the ship. He has no clue if it is working. The crash doesn't slow down for him, instead feeling impossibly fast. A jerk one way, a flip the other, pain coming from one side, then the other. He can't even pinpoint when darkness over takes him.
The woman jumps out of the speeder as she reaches the crash sight. She gulps as she first sees it in her headlights. She reaches over and grabs a flashlight from the glove box. There is a large misshapen crater, where the ship first impacted. But it didn't stop there. It cartwheeled at least three times, losing piece and digging an additional crater with each flip. A few small fires are scattered across the site "HELLO!" She calls, grabbing a fire extinguisher from the trunk. "Whose dead? Raise your hand?!" She extinguishes the fires. She shines her flashlight over the piece.
"...Zra.." A static filled voice fills the still air. The woman rushes towards it. Her flashlight beams over a small out of date com and then a few feet away a boy who couldn't be more than fifteen, his black hair is cake with dirt and a small amount of blood. His arm is pinned under a large piece of the hull.
She runs over to him and heaves the piece off, no doubt due to adrenaline. The boy groans. His eyes blink open. The woman's eyes widen. Those are Miranda's eyes. And the boy! Seeing him closer, it is startling how much he looks like a young clonetrooper. Maybe a little skinnier and his features a little softer, but the resembles is there. It couldn't be... Ezra? Ezra Akatsukin? His eyes are barely open for a moment.
"...Ezra..." The com buzzes again. The same male voice coming through.
The woman takes the com, "Hello?"
The man says, almost immediately, "Who is this? Is Ezra okay?"
"Ezra? As in Ezra Bridger?" The woman asks.
"Who. Are. You?" The man's voice grunts clearly worried. The woman knew this reaction. It is the reaction of catching someone off guard with correct information.
The woman smiles, "Tamara. Tamara DeLune."
Thank You Time! Thank you Fluffycotton92, Midnight Luna, Paint the Wolf, and Ichichi05 for reviewing. Your reviews always bring a smile to my face. Thank you to the staff of Favorite star wars rebels for adding Ner Vod to your archives. Thank you Trypy for following and favoriting Ner Vod. Thank you Taylor Fireheart for favoriting, following, and reviewing. You all make me so happy.
I honestly can't remember what my reaction to Darth Vader/Luke scene was. I know I was about eleven and so my story prediction ability hadn't been as developed, so I might have been surprised. But, I may have had it spoiled for me.
Question Time: How do you think I come up with my OCs' names? (Hint: I have four different systems)