"I can't believe it," Hera growled, pecking the Fulcrum's spacecraft coordinates into the database. "He was in a wheelchair! How did he even make it to a transport? How could he have escaped unnoticed?"
"Uh, he is a Jedi, Hera," Zeb reminded, scratching the fur behind one ear. The scowl he received was unfair.
"I know he's a Jedi," Hera snapped.
"Yeah, yeah, you worked with him for years before the kid got involved." Rolling his eyes, Zeb flicked imaginary rust from his bo-rifle. That slime-worm had kept the weapon immaculately clean and well-polished, but Zeb knew Kallus had impaired it somehow. Just the thought of those bloody, murderous hands clutching –
"Zeb, will you help me or will you just – " Clenching her fists on the consol, Hera muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a Huttese oath. "Karabast, what am I going to do with him, Zeb? First Ezra, now Kanan's off to get himself killed."
"Runs in the family," Zeb snarked darkly. He sobered when luminous green eyes looked up at him. Karabast, Hera looked like a kid whose stuffed ewok had been chewed by mynocks. Clearing his throat awkwardly, Zeb assured, "Kanan's probably looking for a new rendezvous planet. Hehe, any moment Sabine will flit down the hall and tell us the kid's been contacting him."
Hera opened her mouth to scold his flippancy, but the pattering of footsteps arrested her words. Swirling around, Hera watched with budding anxiety as Sabine trotted up to the consol. Sheepishly the Mandalorian swept her bangs aside and smiled.
"Well, he's awake."
"Ezra?" Hera said with astonishment.
"Mm-hm." Sabine looked unusually pleased with herself. "His face was a pre-etty interesting shade of red, but his vitals are strong. Medics say he should be walking in a week."
"You left him there?" Hera exclaimed.
Sabine shrugged. "He was in a bacta tank. I'm not voyeuristic." Pink colored her cheeks and she glanced shiftily away.
"You left him awake and unattended with only a medical droid for a guard," Hera asserted.
"Well – he's half lucid," Sabine said, brow furrowed in confusion. "I said 'hi' to let him know I was there, but it's not like he can go anywhere."
"Oh, he can." Hera whipped around, lekku slapping Zeb's jaw. "Chopper, look for a medcenter breach. Zeb, tie that kid down before he runs after Kanan. Sabine, tell the Fulcrum we have a missing Jedi.
"Eh, what makes you think the kid would skedaddle?" Zeb spoke up. "Like Sabine said, he won't walk for a week."
Exasperatedly Hera sighed. "Does anyone remember Kessel?"
Her mottled crew groaned.
It wasn't easy, pounding on glass and waiting for a buckethead to notice him. Thankfully, Leonis was shrewder than most. He chuckled at Ezra's furious expression and leaned against the glass.
"Sorry, but I'm not a medical droid. I'm not supposed to let you out of there."
Furiously Ezra waved down, cursing the breathing mask.
"Easy, Jedi. You're captured aboard a rebel vessel, by your own crew. The war is over as far as we're concerned."
Intrigued, Ezra tilted his head.
"Didn't you hear?" Leonis smiled wearily. "Lothal rebelled against the Empire. That poison affected our troopers as well, and we learned that the Empire used an illicit weapon against the planet. Too many citizens were hospitalized. The people rioted, and when Captain Stalin alerted the stormtrooper legions, many of them joined their efforts. Capital City is now under Lothal control."
How? How? How? Ezra tried to ask, pressing his hands against the glass.
Leonis shrugged. "We left a lieutenant in charge. It's peaceful work; he'll appreciate it, and he won't barrage the natives. He'll consider it a fair change from 'fresher duty, I'm sure."
Urgently Ezra rapped his knuckles on the glass. I need to get out of here!
"Zare is recovering significantly," Leonis said proudly. "He asked me to send you a message; says he admires your stealth tactics and your sabotage. I told him you were a Jedi and he nearly coughed out a lung."
Snorting bubbles, Ezra shook his head.
"He wants to meet your crew after the chaos settles," Leonis continued. Wistfully he added, "Maybe your Togruta general can help us find Dhara."
Eagerly Ezra tried to spell on the glass, 'K-A-N-N-'
"You need to … use the 'fresher," Leonis guessed, one eyebrow raised dubiously.
Yeah, sure! Anything that would get him out of this tanker. Nodding ferociously, Ezra crossed his eyes as though pained. Leonis awkwardly cleared his throat.
"I'm… um… not exactly sure how that works. I'm not a medical droid."
Quickly Ezra walked two fingers across the back of his hand, and then chopped his right hand outwards.
"You think you can walk that far?" Leonis said uncertainly.
Another jerky nod from Ezra, and the stormtrooper sighed. "I should wait for the droid…."
In a bacta tank it was easy to squirm. Cringing, Leonis reached for the controls.
"Okay, but as soon as you're finished you need to rest. I'll check with the medics on how long you can stay out of the tank."
Yes, yes! Raised from the slimy fluid, Ezra wanted to crow in triumph. Don't lose it now, Kanan. Hold onto the Force.
A ventilation hatch escape, one snitched uniform, and hundreds of pain-laden, victorious strides later, and he was bundled into a graffitied transport, sliding his hands around controls he had only seen Hera master.
There's no turning back.
Closing his eyes, Ezra opened his mind to the Force, and felt the sliding cold of Darth Vader. He met it unflinchingly, absorbing the surprise and suspicion from the other side. Smiling thinly, Ezra eased the transport into hyperspace.
It seemed ironic that the pilot's uniform he had chosen was black.
He had never felt more like a Jedi.