AN: Ta da! So I have the next two chapters really well planned out, but getting them written is going to take a little time. I also need to get a chapter of Blood of Mandalore out, since I have a wonderful reader that has drawn some AMAZING art for it. Like, oh my god. Nothing gets me writing like comments and art. I'm so easy to manipulate.
Anyway, next time! Some real shit! Enjoy, lovelies! Didn't expect this out of this chapter, but I really liked how it turned out.
Chapter 26: Snare
Moff Bo-Katan Kryze was bored. Her Imperial duties kept her busy, her duties as Mand'alor kept her interested, and very often, the two things overlapped. The Mandalore oversector she governed was massive, encompassing her own Mandalore sector and the massive cut of territory formerly known as Hutt Space. Save for Tarkin himself, she ruled the greatest territory of the Empire, though as a Moff of the Outer Rim territories, she was looked down upon by the Core World elite, as it had always been. There was a distinctive hierarchy in the Empire, one that started on Coruscant and spiraled outward, with the Core out to the Mid Rim getting preferential treatment, and everything beyond, most notably the Outer Rim where she made her home, and the reaches of Wild Space just beyond being left to the mercy of the galaxy's criminal elements.
Despite Imperial disdain for the uncultured, wild, uncivilized people of the Outer Rim territories, the Empire still lay claim to all their worlds and resources and took as they liked. They would sweep in to a world that had use to them, strip it of its resources, and when it had been used, they would abandon it, leaving the local populace prey to the criminal element that swept in to take advantage of the Empire's refuse. With their worlds ravaged, the people of the Outer Rim had few options beyond taking up illegal and illicit activities in order to survive.
And that was where Bo-Katan came in.
The Mandalorian warriors were the most fierce in the galaxy, and they served as a galactic police force, the memory of what Mandalore had brought to bear upon the galaxy's criminal element during the Clone Wars keeping most organizations from getting too large in fear of attracting Mandalore's attention. Most days saw Bo-Katan traveling from world to world with the Death Watch, establishing order on worlds the Empire discarded and giving the destitute population other options than turning to crime. What she offered was adoption, the option to abandon their struggles and come to live as warriors of Mandalore, an offer that few upstanding people could pass up.
From the ravages of the Empire, Mandalore grew, its numbers bolstered by people who's loyalty was bought when they were saved from their lives of poverty and crime in the wake of Imperial ambitions. Each world the Empire wrecked in its ambitions saw a native population turned against it, left helpless to do anything about it, each person a new criminal to add to the Outer Rim's plague of lawlessness. But Bo-Katan moved in to reclaim and reform them, making them productive members of the Empire once again, citizens of Mandalore that stood to combat the criminal element the Empire's harsh rule perpetuated. It was a win-win situation, and the arrangement had made Bo-Katan vital in maintaining order in the Outer Rim, and her close connection with Grand Moff Tarkin only strengthened her position.
It was satisfying work for the warrior Mand'alor, the job a particularly dangerous one that saw her traveling from system to system with the elite soldiers of the Death Watch to bring swift and brutal ends to the criminals they despised, most notably the ones that didn't exercise the caution of Jabba's cartel, or the ones that stood to threaten their tentative Hutt ally. Her position and her brutality had so far managed to keep Jabba in check, though years of being allowed to continue to operate had led to an increase in his reach and his vast influence, the fear of Mandalore and its Shadow King fading as time went on. One day, the corpulent slug would have to be dealt with.
One day, Jabba would meet the same violent end that the rest of his kind had at the hands of the vengeful Kenobi. But not yet. Not while the Hutt Cartel was the only thing managing the galaxy's criminal element. It was a vast crime empire that Jabba sat on, and maintaining good relations with him was essential to keeping the entire Outer Rim from rampant, unchecked criminal activity. Even with all her warriors, even with the entire Imperial Navy, there was only so much they could do.
But for now, each day for Bo-Katan was satisfying work. Dangerous work, which appealed to her vicious streak and to the Mandalorian warrior ways she embraced. Between fighting her criminal elements, leading Mandalore to prosperity under the Empire, and secretly aiding in training hundreds of Force sensitive young adults, Bo-Katan had her work cut out for her. The threat of Imperial demands still hung over her head, demands that she quietly submitted to in order to keep her people as free as possible, though the strain of their service to the Emperor hung over her wild, untamed people.
Mandalore was allowed victory and glory only through submission to the Empire, freedom only in the knowledge of their slavery, the knowledge that they would be crushed should they exhibit defiance hanging over their heads at every moment. Many considered Bo-Katan weak, a shell of the mighty Mand'alor Satine, the Mandalorian Empire crushed when her younger sister lacked the strength to stand strong against the government that had once been the Republic, a cast-off of the Shadow King, a woman that had run to the Empire for support in maintaining her power, a leader who sold her own people for her own ambitions.
Those that opposed her left to become bounty hunters, proud warriors that pledged themselves to the Shadow King they knew would one day return, even though the Empire had very publically executed Obi-Wan Kenobi, the stories of their mighty King holding fast over the years leaving them to believe that death could not hold him, that their Lord would rise from the ashes of his own pyre to call upon his children when the time was right. Most simply accepted the strength of the Empire and quietly served Bo-Katan in the hopes that one day, the Empire would show weakness and she would call upon them to rise again, to beat back their invaders and establish their own Empire that they had lost.
It was a difficult situation, one that pained her, but she held strong and sacrificed when she needed to. One day, Obi-Wan would return to her. One day, he would sound that call that would bring warrior Mandalore to unleash their pent-up fury on the Empire that had suppressed their spirit for so long. One day, they would take their souls back. One day...
But today, she was bored.
Today, she was sitting in an office on a world that didn't need her, listening to the Grand Moff talk with the hologram of an Admiral. The entire situation here was under control, and she didn't understand why she had to be there. There was some idiocy on Nar Shadda that required her attention, a prospect that she had been greatly looking forward to, since any conflict out there usually ended up being very loud, very violent, and very public. The Death Watch needed a bloody confrontation. They weren't made for stomping around a government building and making bureaucrats nervous, they were made for bloodying their enemies. The field of politics wasn't one she had ever done well. Satine took all the talent in that particular field. It's why she had been such a powerful ruler in the time she did rule. She could get her way with clever words and social manipulations. Bo-Katan had always rather solve her problems with a blaster because politics was bantha shit.
"How goes the fight on Botajef, Admiral?" Tarkin asked, and the Chiss drew up, his back straight, his hands clasped behind his back.
"The conflict, as it was, is over," Thrawn said in his smooth monotone, though Bo-Katan could detect the slightest edge of satisfaction in his voice. "The region is peacefully back under Imperial control. No casualties."
"Really?" Tarkin asked, though his tone implied that he suspected as much. "A far cry from the disaster to your career High Command no doubt anticipated."
"Perhaps..." Thrawn said non-committally. "My aid believes similarly."
"And how did you manage such a thing?" Tarkin asked, and Thrawn's impassive face showed the traces of a faint smile.
"It was a case of seeing through the planet's Governor and recognizing him to be a thief and con man. If you would like, I shall send you the report once it is completed."
"Please do." Tarkin shifted his weight from one foot to the other and looked back at Bo-Katan when the woman groaned in irritation. "Now that your mission has been completed, Admiral, will you be coming to help with the suppression of the rebel cell here on Lothal?" A small smirk spread across Thrawn's face.
"Maybe so, Governor. Has the Shadow King made himself known?"
"Not yet, but he is most certainly here," Tarkin said, pacing before the hologram as he examined his datapad. "The information you provided me was most helpful in devising this trap. His methods have altered in very significant ways since the Clone Wars. It was good to have some distance from him to reassess him as a threat." He stopped and looked back at the hologram from his datapad. "Will you be available to render your assistance in springing this trap? It would be a shame if you were unable to personally witness its execution."
"I shall do all in my power to be at your service, Governor Tarkin," Thrawn said. "If not to personally aid you, than as an observer. Regardless of the outcome, we stand to learn more about the Shadow King from this than any of our previous efforts."
"I agree," Tarkin said briskly, his eyes quickly shooting to Bo-Katan when the woman scoffed and rolled her eyes as she jumped to her feet and began restlessly pacing. She was getting impatient and agitated, as she always did when the Shadow King was discussed, a personal insult that she longed to see destroyed. "It was very kind of him to provide us with so much bait to trap him with."
"Which bait will he take, I wonder..." Thrawn quietly mused. "And he must choose. He is only one man. He cannot possibly reach for all the bait at once."
"He may very well try," Tarkin scoffed. "It will be at the expense of spreading himself very thin. This is an advantage we didn't have before."
"It would be a great honor to see your work, Governor. It is my understanding that your past efforts against him had been moderately successful."
"During the war, yes," Tarkin said, moving out of the way as Bo-Katan came storming up, her arms crossed and her gaze furious. Thrawn respectfully bowed toward the woman.
"Ni cuy' briikase at haa'taylir gar o'r jate jahaal, Mand'alor Kryze," Thrawn said, his flat monotone affecting his otherwise flawless Mando'a, and she shot him a vicious glare.
"You won't be happy to see me in a moment, Admiral," she snapped, reeling her attention on Tarkin, the Moff's back straight and tight as he looked down his nose at the woman, his commanding, confident presence doing absolutely nothing to intimidate the woman. "What am I even doing here, Wilhuff?!"
"You are one of my greatest assets, my dear," Tarkin said stiffly, and he was met with cold, harsh laughter.
"Oh, really?!" she spat. "I'm not being treated like an asset!" Tarkin sighed and started to say something, but the furious Moff jabbed her finger against his chest. "I know nothing of your plan, I know nothing about the trap, and we don't even know if Kenobi is going to show up!" She held her head high when Tarkin bristled. "Oh, I'm sorry, are we still pretending that this Shadow King isn't him?" She drew closer to the man and delicately laid her hands on Tarkin's thin chest. "Wilhuff...this man is responsible for my sister's death. You won't keep me from my revenge, will you..."
"He has threatened you," Tarkin hissed. "You know what he said he would do to you, he wants to make you his slave!" Tarkin scoffed. "The man we are dealing with has a long memory, and a very good one. He will remember the promises he made of what he would do to you when he caught you."
"If he caught me," Bo-Katan snarled. "I am a warrior of Mandalore! My people have been fighting and killing his kind for thousands of years!"
"The personal nature of your relationship makes you a nearly irresistible target, Bo-Katan," Tarkin said stiffly, his tone harsh and hard and leaving no room for debate or compromise. "If we send you out against him, he will absolutely head right for you. You are too valuable to the Empire to risk."
"Really," the woman said flatly. "Sounds to me like I'm exactly the sort of bait that you and the Admiral were talking about."
"Absolutely not!" Tarkin said firmly. "I will not allow you to become a sacrifice. For all the trouble he causes the Empire, he isn't worth you." He stood taller, staunch and commanding. "The plan we are developing will see our victory over him without risking you."
"So once again, Wilhuff," Bo-Katan said between clenched teeth, "What I am doing here? I could be on Nar Shadda right now doing actual work and instead I am here..." She reached up and ran a hand down Tarkin's gaunt cheek, the man's shoulders tightening further. "Safe under your watch so you can protect me..." She sneered. "Like some helpless, pampered Core World slut. If you had any respect for me at all, you would send me to fight him!"
"Governor Tarkin..." Thrawn said evenly. "May I offer a suggestion?" His jaw clenched tight, Tarkin stiffly inclined his head. "I believe Mand'alor Kryze is in a unique position to aid us against the Shadow King in a way our other lures cannot. As she says, she is an asset. To have her do nothing would be a waste of a valuable resource."
Tarkin stiffened further. "Admiral, I cannot-"
"I'm listening," Bo-Katan quickly interrupted, shooting a coy smirk to the Grand Moff before she turned her attention on the Chiss.
"The greatest threat that Kenobi poses to us lies in his ability to command the field," Thrawn softly explained. "He sets the rules of engagement, and in doing so, he becomes victorious. Due to the highly personal nature of their relationship, Mand'alor Kryze has the ability to divest him of that control and force him to play on our terms with our rules. An invaluable weapon against him."
"If we lose her, Thrawn, we stand to lose the entire Mandalore oversector, which includes the massive territory of Hutt Space," Tarkin said sharply. "That is a substantial loss."
"So I ask you again, Willhuff," Bo-Katan said sweetly. "Why am I here?" Tarkin's jaw clenched, but he said nothing, and a small, tight smirk came to her face. "You can't very well let me out of your sight when Kenobi's rearing his sweet, handsome face, now can you? Now why is that, I wonder..."
"You know why," Tarkin bit out, his face cold and harsh, and Bo-Katan brought her hand to his cheek, a faint smirk on her face when the Grand Moff's gaze shot away from her.
"I'm going after Obi-Wan," she said in a tone that offered no room for argument. "Either work me into your plans, or I will go after him myself." She bowed tersely to the two men. "I'll see myself out. For the sake of a unified effort, I hope you boys make the right decision."
"Don't leave the building," Tarkin commanded. "We don't know if Kenobi's-"
"I know, Wilhuff. Kriff, you'd think I'm some fragile, ignorant child with the way you're acting..." She rolled her eyes. "Even he's not stupid enough to try and get in here, certainly not after that mess he stepped in over Bandomeer. I'm going to meet with my guard and get some rest, nothing more, so relax." With a final flash of a smile to the men, she turned and left the room and stepped out into the hallway, sighing heavily as she ran a hand through her hair.
With a sharp whistle, her two bodyguards stationed at the end of the hallway swiftly turned and abandoned their position, quickly striding to stand beside their leader. Both Mandalorian warriors wore the black and red of Death Watch's Shadow Legion, the armor plating trimmed with the gold of the elite forces and the symbol of Bo-Katan's Nite Owls emblazoned on their shoulders, sitting opposite to the Imperial insignia on the other. Neither were human, and their armor had been customized to accommodate their non-human features, though what those were remained concealed beneath their helmets and heavy plating. She had a third in her personal guard, of course, but Boba Fett had been called out by his father to aid Kenobi in a particularly dangerous mission. She had been happy to send him, of course. Any chance to help Obi-Wan further his plans was a priority, though their contact had been severely limited in order to maintain her cover. She was more useful to him within the Empire, after all. She disliked the deception, but it was a sacrifice she was willing to make.
Bo-Katan smirked to herself as they fell into step beside her, her eyes drifting to the ammunition holsters strapped to their thighs. Specialized rounds, various grenades and triggering devices for explosives filled the individualized sleeved of the holsters, but these two guards carried something else. In three pieces, the parts and components of a lightsaber, able to be quickly and effortlessly assembled if ever the situation called for it. It hadn't yet, but one day, these war orphans, these Jedi younglings raised Mandalorians would have no need to hide their talents.
"Fett returned about an hour ago, Mand'alor," one of the guards said quietly. "He said he'd wait for you in your quarters to give you the full report."
"I'm glad he's returned," she said absently, a bitter taste in her mouth when she thought about the mission that had so badly failed. She hadn't heard exactly what happened, but she didn't need to. Thrawn was alive. She didn't need to know anything else. "How did the sweep of the Imperial Headquarters here go?"
"We have located several weaknesses in the efficiency of the troop patrols, Mand'alor," the other guard said. "For such a supposedly important world, their academy and their command are terribly backwards. It's a wonder they don't have a bigger rebel problem than they do."
"The ranks are rife with incompetence and negligence, Mand'alor." The guard handed Bo-Katan a datapad. "The troops are complacent. We have detained the officers responsible for allowing this attitude to persist. They await your judgement."
"Mandalorian taskmasters have been assigned to provide additional training for the troops stationed here, Mand'alor, but it will take more than that to correct the matter. The Lothal Imperial Academy needs to redesign their basic training."
"I'll pass the information along to Tarkin in the morning," Bo-Katan muttered. "If Lothal is going to be properly defended, it needs to model its academy after effective Outer Rim academies. I'm certain that Tarkin will make the necessary changes. After the rebels have been managed, there will be no purpose for us to be here." Bo-Katan stopped outside the door leading to her temporary offices and quarters. "Go tell our men that we will be leaving within the next few days. I want to get back to killing real criminals instead of these..." She waved a hand in the air and scoffed. "Smugglers. Petty criminals are beneath us."
"Even if there's a Jedi among them?" one of the guards asked, a light lit to his modulated voice, and Bo-Katan couldn't keep the smirk off her face.
"Supposed Jedi. Do you think a real Jedi would be involved with criminal activity?"
"No, Mand'alor," the guard said, his tone amused, and the guard on Bo-Katan's other side chuckled softly.
"And the Shadow King?" he asked. "The Empire's most wanted is certainly not beneath the Death Watch."
"True enough..." Bo-Katan said lightly, amusement on her face. "But there has been no sign of the Shadow King here. Best not linger." The two guards laughed in quiet understanding, their hands ghosting over the ammunition holsters on their legs.
"As you say, Mand'alor." Bowing to the woman, the guards turned to leave when the door slid open and they caught sight of their guard captain inside, and with a sigh, Bo-Katan entered the room, sealing the door behind her.
"It took you long enough to return, Fett," Bo-Katan said as she strode past the man and tossed her datapad onto the desk.
"Far too long, Mand'alor..."
Bo-Katan froze, her eyes wide and her chest burning as she struggled to breathe. The modulated voice through the helmet was affected by a clipped, aristocratic accent that she knew all too well, a smooth, pleasant drawl that sent a shiver down her spine, and Bo-Katan quickly turned to face the man wearing Boba Fett's armor. Neither moved for a long while, as if drawing closer would shatter the other like an illusion, but slowly, Bo-Katan took a step toward him, daring not to breathe as she did. When she stood mere inches from the still, silent warrior, she reached up and placed her hand gently on the side of his helmet, a soft whimper torn from her throat as she looked into the dark visor and saw two points of glowing golden light.
Obi-Wan, she silently mouthed, unable to find her voice, and she swallowed hard when he slightly inclined his head in acknowledgment, his armored hand resting on her cheek and their foreheads gently met, separated by the cold steel of the helmet, but to Bo-Katan, there was nothing between them. After so many years apart, he was here.
"I apologize for being late..." Obi-Wan whispered. "The security around here is much tighter than I was led to believe." He glanced slightly to the side, and Bo-Katan's gaze drifted sidelong to the opposite wall and up to where she knew a security camera was situated. They were being watched. She was always being watched.
"Well, you know how Tarkin likes to run things," she said lightly, though her voice trembled, and when she made to push away from the man, she found herself tightly grasping him to her instead. "I was...worried about you."
"Come now, dear..." Obi-Wan softly chided. "You know I will always return to you."
"No, I don't know that," she snapped, finally managing to push herself away, her features drawn and angry, though she couldn't hide the relief, the affection, or the tenderness within her from the Force sensitive before her. "The Shadow King is a real threat, Fett, you know that. You may be Mandalorian, but you are my Mandalorian." She drew closer again, a coy smile on her lips as she ran a hand over the armor of his chest. "All mine...and everyone knows it..."
"Mm, I hope not everyone..." he drawled, his hand resting on her lower back. "I doubt Tarkin would take kindly to that." Bo-Katan laughed softly and shook her head.
"Alright, maybe not him, but the Shadow King absolutely knows who I belong to..."
"Mm, I'm sure he does."
"It's enough to make you a target," she whispered, standing on her toes to bring herself closer to his eye level. "You could be killed..."
"Mm, noted, my Mand'alor," Obi-Wan drawled as the Mandalorian reluctantly pulled away from him. "What did I miss?" Bo-Katan shrugged.
"We're just finalizing the plans to capture the rebels. We have probe droids in the field working to flush them out. We don't have anything yet, but we will soon. There aren't that many places to hide on Lothal."
"Are we sure the rebels are even here?" Kenobi asked, and Bo-Katan nodded.
"We're positive, yes. The Imperials here are pathetic, the entire region is ripe for rebel activity." She shrugged and picked the datapad off the desk and handed it to him. "Look for yourself, the entire system has been run by lazy, ineffective commanders." Obi-Wan took the datapad and quickly scrolled through the list of defective points of Lothal's Imperial network, along with a list of the officers detained for contributing to the problem.
"I...didn't believe they could be so incompetent," Obi-Wan said quietly. "I honestly didn't think the garrison could be this ill-equipt."
"Lothal's only been relevant for a few years," Bo-Katan explained. "The leadership here isn't bad, just ill-prepared to be dealing with a supposed Jedi, which is apparently the problem here." Obi-Wan scoffed in disgust.
"I sincerely doubt that. The Jedi are all dead."
"Perhaps. Regardless of the nature of these rebels, Tarkin will see to it that the deficiencies are corrected." She smirked and laid a hand on his arm as she looked at the scrolling information on the datapad with him. "They're saying the Shadow King is here."
"Saying he is here is a very different thing from him actually being here," Obi-Wan drawled, his finger pausing on the datapad for a moment as he thought. "...who is they?"
"Tarkin and Thrawn." She felt his arm tense under her touch, the muscles quivering in their tension even though the heavy armor.
"Thrawn is here?" Kenobi whispered, a cold and dangerous hiss through the helmet's vocal modulator.
"No, but he's involved in the plan to destroy the rebels," Bo-Katan said, covering her mouth as she yawned. "I'd tell you more, but the boys haven't settled on a plan yet. With any luck, Thrawn will be here within the next day or so to help coordinate the attack."
"That would be...a great help," Kenobi said, his tone managing to remain even. "With him here, perhaps we can go home sooner."
"To something more worth our time than a group of five insurgents, yes." She plucked the datapad out of his hand and laid it upon the desk. "With any luck, the Shadow King will be here. I was promised a go at him in the event he does show up."
"I'm surprised that Tarkin is allowing that, I know how much he values you."
"As what, though?" the Mandalorian scoffed. "For all he claims to care about me, he certainly hasn't been allowing me into his confidence. I'll say this for Wilhuff, he is very good at separating business from pleasure." In the dark of the visor, Bo-Katan could see the points of light narrow, and she smiled to herself when she thought about the look she knew was on Kenobi's handsome face. Perplexed, curious, certainly displeased and irritated, his eyebrow raised as he examined her. It was a look he had given Satine many times, her older sister's personal views so often in sharp contrast to her Sith lover.
"What kind of pleasure, exactly, my Mand'alor?" the Sith asked in a low, reverberating growl that she could feel through the armor upon his chest when she laid her hand upon it.
"The kind you don't discuss with your subordinates, Fett."
"You are a tease..." Kenobi growled, the man looming menacingly over the smirking Mandalorian.
"You aren't the only man that tells me that..." she said, patting the man's chest. "I have another mission for you."
"Already?" he smoothly drawled, following the woman as she moved to her desk. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"
"Wilhuff gets jealous..." she said with a coy smirk, holding out a datacard to him. "Important work, Fett, surrounding the secret project."
"Oh?" he asked, taking the card from her. "I didn't think Tarkin held you in confidence."
"He doesn't, I don't know a thing," she quickly dismissed. "But there are matters surrounding the project we need taken care of. The supply lines are under constant attack by smugglers, pirates and rebel factions. It's not slowing the production estimate, but Director Krennic is complaining again, and Tarkin will do almost anything to get that little bitch to stop talking."
"Mm, rivalry within the ranks?" Bo-Katan scoffed.
"Hardly, Krennic is an ambitious twit and a necessary pest, since he and Galen Erso have been moving the project forward, but he's not in a position to grab for power." She sighed. "Still, we want this project completed within its three year deadline, and that means sending catering to Krennic."
"Very well..." Kenobi said, slipping the datacard into a pouch on his belt. "What will you have me do?"
"Secure the Bheriz sector. We'll be sending more troops there later this month, but I'd feel much better if you were keeping an eye on things."
"What's there that needs defending?"
"A research center, I suppose," she said with a shrug. "I'm not entirely sure, I just know that the last cock fight Tarkin had with Krennic involved the security of the facility."
"I'll see it done, Mand'alor," Kenobi said softly, his breath hitching as the woman drew closer, her eyes cast at the ground and her hands fidgeting nervously before her.
"I wish you success in your task..." she muttered, beginning to reach out to the warrior, but quickly retracted her hand. "...don't leave me again," she quietly demanded through clenched teeth, and she shivered when an armored hand reached out to lightly stroke her cheek.
"I must, my Mand'alor...you know I must."
"Why," she hissed, bitter and demanding, her hands clenching tightly around his arms. "I am so sick of hiding what we are to each other..."
"Bo-Katan, I-"
"I haven't forgotten my duty," she said sharply. "You and I have important things we must do for the sake of the Empire, but I have been too long alone in my fight, and I won't stand it a second longer." She laid her hand on the side of the helmet, her breath catching as she looked into the visor. "I know you are beside me, but I am Mandalorian, damn it, and I need to feel it, just as I know you do as well..."
"Yes..." Kenobi leaned his forehead against hers, the woman closing her eyes and letting go a shivering sigh. "Soon...soon, my Mand'alor, I promise..."
"No, now," she insisted, forceful and commanding with the conviction that rivaled what her sister's had been. "Not always, I know, contact with each other while you are doing my work endangers the mission, but..." She smiled softly when the man's arm snaked around her waist and drew her against him, a low, almost needy groan in his chest. "I worry about you, my captain. I know you are capable of taking care of yourself, but I worry. It doesn't need to be much. Something to let me know you are safe until we can be together."
"...I'll see what I can do." Kenobi took her hand in his and reverently held it to his heart, the two still for a moment before the Sith Lord turned and left the room, leaving the Mandalorian alone with her thoughts and newfound purpose.
Kanan attempted to stifle a ragged moan into the crook of Hera's shoulder as he shuddered his climax, Hera's legs wrapped tightly around him and the points of the Twi'lek's heels digging into his lower back pressing and holding him deep inside her. It had been months since they had managed to carve out any significant time for each other. Months of quietly stolen kisses in the moments they were alone in the cockpit, or tucked into private corners before a mission or after their successful return. Months of sitting together when all was quiet, lovingly bringing each other to arousal and anticipatory excitement of being one, only to have Ezra or Sabine demand their attention, or be called upon to break up yet another fight between Zeb and the cantankerous Chopper, or to be suddenly, rudely interrupted by the untimely arrival of an Imperial patrol.
If it wasn't the kids or the Imperials or their own missions that got in the way, it was Obi-Wan, and the Sith Lord wasn't at all shy about dragging the Spectres out on missions, or disturbing them at odd hours of the night for impromptu training sessions, the result of his own sleeplessness and a complete disregard for the need for mortals to rest. The result was the pair of lovers being in contact just enough to feel the ache of lingering touches and arousals met with no satisfaction, but not long enough to ever chase relief with each other. They had always agreed that their mission came first, but now, several months later, the need for each other was beginning to be overpowering.
That afternoon had been spent in intense training with Kenobi as he walked Ezra through the paces with his new lightsaber, the weapon crafted successfully the night before. As always, Obi-Wan was a hard, vicious Master, and by the time he dismissed them for the evening, Kanan was sore and sweating and covered in angry red welts from a lightsaber made to hurt, not to kill, and he and Ezra had staggered back to the Ghost tired and worn and ready to turn in for the night. As soon as they arrived back at the ship, however, Cody and his son Boba were waiting for them, the two Mandalorians demanding the Spectres come with them to fine-tune their shooting, an offer Kanan politely refused, since he was certain he was going to collapse.
It took Kanan and Hera half an hour of quiet sitting on the couch to realize that they had the ship to themselves, and within moments of noticing how quiet it was, they were frantically tearing at each other's clothing, their rush back to Kanan's room interrupted several times by pressing each other against the walls and passionately exploring with lips and wandering fingers. The Jedi's aches and pains were forgotten, soothed away by the feel of his naked, beautiful lover against him and the feel of her around him as they moved together upon his bed. Kanan hadn't realized how much he needed to feel her touch until he had expended himself deep within her and lay breathless and sated in her arms afterwards.
"I'm going to say it..." Kanan muttered into the crook of Hera's neck as he pressed his lips to the soft, green flesh. "I wasn't ready to have kids..."
"No?" Hera asked, sliding of top of her partner and resting her chin on his chest, her eyes locked with his as she ran a hand through his hair. "You could have fooled me."
"Mm, being a father was never in the cards for me."
"And being a mother was never for me, and look where we ended up." She kissed his chest, the ends of her lekku brushing Kanan's sides and making him chuckle and gasp with delight. "Face it, Kanan. You and I are the parents of a bunch of orphans."
"And what a family it is..." he drawled lazily. "The lothrat, the bounty hunter, the tin can, and the cat." He quickly kissed her. "And us, a failed Jedi and an ace pilot."
"And a Lord of the Sith," she quietly reminded, her hands tracing the red welts that still marred his skin. Kanan frowned.
"Does Kenobi really count?" he asked, and Hera lightly hit his chest, the Jedi hissing and wincing as sharp, burning pain returned to the welt.
"He counts, love," Hera said softly. "He's as lost as the rest of us."
"...yeah, I know." Kanan wiggled on to his side and held Hera close to him a hand running over her smooth head and down the squirming lekku, the Twi-lek gasping softly at the attention to the sensitive organs. "He's as big an outcast as the rest of us. Whether he likes it or not, he belongs here with the Spectres."
"He likes it," she whispered, snuggling against the Jedi, their limbs hopelessly entangled. "He's too proud to admit it, but he likes it. If he didn't, we'd all be his slaves by now."
"Yeah, that's probably the most disconcerting thing about him..." Kanan gently kissed the Twi'lek's cheek, groaning softly when he felt her hands absently stroke at his hips, his tired haze fading before the beginnings of arousal that his lover dragged from him with delicate, skilled fingers. "I love being with you like this..." Kanan said breathlessly.
"...it is nice, isn't it?" Hera whispered. "In another time, we..." She shook her head and buried her face against Kanan's chest, though the Jedi wasn't so reluctant to give voice to the deep regrets settled within them.
"We could have been together," Kanan whispered. "With nothing to stand in our way...no duty, no obligations, nothing but us..."
"That would have been nice..." Hera sighed softly. "Instead we have the Empire, the rebellion, our part to play in a greater cause..."
"You really know how to kill the mood, don't you?' Kanan said with a roll of his eyes, swiftly kissing her as he rolled over on her, the giggling Twi-lek wrapping her legs around him. "We have graciously been given this moment. We aren't going to get many like them, so let's enjoy it."
"Kanan Jarrus, you are incorrigible..." Hera said, craning her neck up to kiss the man, their lips nearly touching when the discarded comlink within the pile of clothes on the floor went off, and with a heavy groan, Kanan's head dropped to Hera's shoulder.
"Can we just pretend we didn't hear that?" Kanan mumbled, and the pilot lightly kissed his cheek, her hand running through his thick brown hair.
"Your duty calls, Kanan."
"I hate it when it does that..." the Jedi grumbled as he rolled off his lover and walked to the pile of his clothing on the floor, snatching the comlink from under his shirt and sitting on the side of the bed, the Twi'lek edging beside him, her lithe body wrapped in the sheet. He frowned when he looked at the identification of the call, the display showing encrypted symbols that made no sense at all. Kanan rolled his eyes. The Ghost was filled with people that had horrible timing, but he suspected he knew which one this was.
"Hello?" the Jedi asked after he answered the com.
"Kanan, it's Kenobi," the Sith Lord said swiftly, and Kanan frowned. The man sounded breathless or winded, like he had been exerting himself, and Kenobi never sounded like that. In the time he had known him, Kanan hadn't seen the Sith work up so much as a sweat. "News from my sources. It isn't good." Kanan felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach, could feel the Force, his constant companion, wanted or not, pull at the very core of him. The change must have been visible upon his face, because Hera sat up straight, her gaze intense and focused and her lekku betraying her unease with their involuntary, agitated twisting.
"What is it, what's wrong?" Kanan asked, his voice tight, and there was brief scuffling on the other end of the com, faint growls of effort and the very distinctive sound of a lightsaber igniting.
"Thrawn's involved in this," Kenobi said after a moment, and the two lovers tensed considerably. "He isn't here, not yet, but he's quite possibly on the way."
"Possibly?!" Kanan said tightly, his hand clenched so tight around the comlink that the edges dug into his palm. On the other end, the Sith hissed, a long string of unintelligible muttering growled to the air before he turned back to the com.
"Tu kvailas irankir. Jidai slastaj, tu kuplah dziuti," the Sith snarled. "Yes, possibly. Thrawn is too dangerous a foe to make assumptions, even when the words come from him directly." The sound of a lightsaber cutting through the air and striking through a heavy, solid object could be heard, and Kanan craned his ear toward the device to try and discern what the sound could have been. "So yes, Jarrus. Possibly."
"So, what do we do?" Kanan asked, unconsciously drawing Hera against him she the woman lay a nervous hand upon his shoulder.
"Did you make your plan for hijacking the transmission tower?" Obi-Wan asked, and Kanan groaned.
"You didn't exactly leave us a lot of time to do it, Kenobi," Kanan complained. "Since, you know, you had the need to beat me absolutely senseless."
"I didn't ask t hear your grievances, Jedi, did you do it or not?!" Kanan drew back slightly and looked at the com in his hand. Usually, Kenobi was more than willing to engage in playful teasing, but all that was gone now, replaced with the cold, harsh commands he expected from a Sith.
"We scouted the tower out today, Obi-Wan." Hera said, her hand on Kanan's thigh to lean over and speak into the com. "We have a plan, and we're ready to launch our attack as soon as you are."
"Very good..." Obi-Wan muttered. "Be ready to attack tomorrow evening."
"Tomorrow?!" Kanan gasped. "Kenobi, you said we needed to take our time to-"
"I know what I said, Jarrus!" Obi-Wan shouted, cold and harsh and Kanan felt the air sucked out of his lungs when the Force ran taught with sudden tension. "I know what I said..." Obi-Wan growled, softer this time. "But if Thrawn is coming, we need to leave."
"I thought you wanted to catch him," Hera said pointedly. "If he's coming right to you, isn't this the ideal time for it?"
"You're assuming he is coming, my dear..." Kenobi said, his tone slowly becoming more relaxed. "Unfortunately, we cannot know that, and furthermore, engaging him on his terms is not a good idea. This is a strategic retreat."
"We could just leave like Kenobi wanted," Kanan said, and Hera shot him a glare.
"We have never run just because something's dangerous and we aren't going to start now," the Twi'lek said firmly. "There are risks in everything we do. They're looking for us, Kanan. If we try to leave now, we'll be stopped."
"You think it will be easier when Tarkin calls for even more ships?" Kanan said in disbelief. "Hera, you're a great pilot. You can get us past the current blockade, I've no doubt of that. But if we're dealing with even more ships?" He shook his head. "I don't want to be caught in a trap."
"Which is why we spring it before they have a chance to fully set it," Obi-Wan said, Kanan and Hera turning their attention away from each other and focusing again on the comlink. "I'm working on something now. It will give you and the rest of the Spectres the chance to get to the transmission tower and get your message out. You are right. Words are powerful, and we need to weaken Trayvis' influence." There was a muffled shout followed by the sound of the lightsaber cutting through the air, and then silence. Kanan felt his chest tighten. "It won't be what I had in mind, but it might be good enough."
"Uh, Kenobi, what exactly ate you doing?" Kanan asked, and there was a brief moment of silence, followed by deep, sinister laughter.
"Don't you worry about that, Jarrus..." Obi-Wan drawled slowly, his voice low and menacing, and a shiver ran through the Jedi. "Stay on guard, Jedi, and be prepared for anything. I will be drawing a lot of attention to myself, but not all of it. You just stick to your plan, send your message, and get out. I'll send you guys coordinates to our rendevous as soon as I get out."
"Will do, Kenobi. May the Force be with you." The silence that fell was heavy and tense, and Kanan could feel something...wrong. Something distant and dangerous that lay unseen just out of reach, and he knew that Kenobi felt it too.
"Be mindful of the Force, Kanan," Obi-Wan whispered, his voice laced with apprehension. "There's something wrong in the very heart of it. We are...being tested."
"Tested?" the Jedi asked. "Tested for what?"
"I don't know, but what happens here will determine our path forward." He growled softly, and Kanan could feel the Sith's tension in the Force deep inside his being, the beginnings of a Force bond slowly churning and forming within him. "The way forward is clouded, even to me. Stay cautious, Spectres. Change is upon us."
"What kind of change?" Hera asked. "What does that even mean?" The com crackled with static then fell silent, the Sith Lord gone, and the lovers left alone, a chill running through the both of them. "...this is much bigger than us, isn't it?" Hera asked softly after a moment of silence, and the Jedi slowly nodded.
"Much bigger." Kanan drew the woman closer to him, and she slid into his lap, her fingers lightly tracing the faint scars upon his body, earned from a time before he was Kanan Jarrus. "No matter what happens, Hera," the Jedi whispered, his forehead pressed against hers, "know that I love you."
"I never forget it," Hera said, pressing soft, small kisses to her groaning lover's throat. Their plan was a good one, and knowing Obi-Wan, he'd make certain he was the focus of the Imperial's attention. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding she felt deep within her as she looked upon her lover. It was going to be fine. It had to be.