Halfway to Martyrdom

Chapter Five

Ezra used to only think he hated Star Destroyers. Now, he knew. Imperial Star Destroyers were the worst ships to exist in the galaxy, and the more of them he destroyed, the better.

No, this is where I started. I'm venting in circles!

He didn't understand why a ship needed to be this big. Before, Ezra could navigate the Ghost in his sleep, Force or no Force. Now, being surrounded by enemies who hated his guts had gradually overwhelmed Ezra's senses and shoved him into an anxiety spiral. To protect his sanity, Ezra had numbed himself to the Force until the moment he needed to use it again.

Unfortunately, going numb meant he lost his keen sense of where everyone was, and Ezra kept accidentally wandering into the abandoned parts of the ship. The parts of the ship where nearly every system had been taken offline. Like the plumbing, for instance.

Holy stars Ezra was a mess. Ten days had passed since stealing his uniform from Wilkes, and the stench of blood and death still clung to the fabric. The vents were coated in dust and debris, turning Ezra's hair a premature gray. His bruises throbbed, and the constant pressure to avoid direct contact was exhausting him. Sleep was sporadic, food was whatever he could snatch, and… the less Ezra said about his other bodily needs, the better.

A working refresher. All Ezra wanted was a working refresher. Why was that so hard?!

Ezra was a friendly young man. The highlights of his days were when he made connections in the soul with other creatures, forging friendships and understandings. Even a confrontation with the Empire could be exhilarating. If someone wanted to torture Ezra, they wouldn't use an audience. They would ignore him. Isolate him.

He couldn't show himself to the crew no matter how much he wanted to. If they knew he was still alive, they would capture him. Thrawn would continue his stars-awful lecture about power from the beginning. Every passing day, Ezra had to remind himself of that. Sometimes… sometimes the reminders used Kanan's voice. Just to get the point across.

So he'd done what he could from the shadows. Every time a tech got some system back online, Ezra slit a few wires on their freshly abandoned panel. Every time some power was supposed to be rerouted to the engine, Ezra let it escape into an abandoned corridor. It was times like this that Ezra really wished he understood ship mechanics better. He'd always let others in the Ghost crew handle such matters.

Despite the blunt head of his sabotage, it did have one positive side effect. Among the crew, whispers floated from ear to ear about the ship being haunted by a ghost. A cruel specter, one of their fallen crew determined to add to the asteroid field's new floating cemetery attraction. For a rebel known as Specter Six, the rumors rang poetic in a perverse sort of way.

Sadly, Ezra was not a specter in all senses of the word. This specter still needed to shower from time to time. He couldn't do that in the refreshers that didn't work. Ezra smelled terrible, and the part of him that remembered being tracked by Rukh was convinced someone could stalk him by scent if they knew to do so. Ezra had stolen a uniform so he could blend in if need be. If he walked among the (now) semi-clean crew, he would be spotted in an instant.

Ezra needed to shower completely alone. Otherwise, he would be exposed in more ways than one as he cleaned himself. Ezra's legacy would never survive if he were shot down naked.

That solitary requirement was difficult to come by in functional 'freshers; even in the middle of a shift, there always seemed to be people inside. Whether they were using the facilities or cursing about their latrine duties, Ezra never managed to catch one empty. At least Ezra knew immediately if a shower was running. People screamed every time about how cold the water was on their skin.

There was one alternative he could try, but it was risky. Ezra's scouting had revealed only a few 'freshers still online. The majority of crewmembers fought for limited space inside them, yet there was one person Ezra never encountered on his 'fresher watch: Thrawn himself. Aliens needed to clean themselves too. If Thrawn had a private 'fresher somewhere that only he used, Ezra's best chance at stealth would be to wash in that one. He could go when Thrawn was on the bridge, and no one would be any wiser.

Unfortunately, finding it first required Ezra to follow Thrawn around the ship. He had to stick close to the one person on the ship who knew Ezra wasn't a ghost. The one person who knew his tactics better than anyone else, who would have ended his rebellion for good if the purrgil hadn't come to his aid. For all his sabotage attempts, Ezra had left Thrawn alone since the battle.

He was running out of time. The longer Ezra reeked, the sooner it would be that someone found him and told everyone. Ezra's attempts to end the ship for good had all ended in failure so far. He could fight a lot of Imperials off, but he couldn't fight forever. There was every chance in the galaxy the remaining crew would kill him out here. They would survive in pieces and make it back to the Empire without him. Ezra would fail to land a permanent blow against the Empire that had tortured his homeworld. His friends.

He had to take this chance. He had to stalk Thrawn.

If he was going to do this, Ezra was going to use every advantage he had in this mission. Concentrating with all his might, Ezra called out to the Force for the first time in almost a week. Crouching in the midst of a vent passage, he held out his hand. I am one with the Force… and the Force is with me. I am one with the Force… and the Force is with me.

Back came the headache of knowing where every single person was on the ship. It was like staring at an ant farm. Ezra could see each person in the Force, could feel them moving even. But there were so many, and concentrating on any single person required a great deal of strain.

Flitting from Imperial to Imperial… everyone felt the same. Exhausted. Fearful. Enraged… but most of all, they were hateful. Hateful of the rebel Jedi who'd taken them from the fight and killed their crewmates. Ezra felt his heartbeat quicken as he searched the ship for a single man.

If Thrawn had feelings, he would feel the same as his men. But he should feel different to Ezra. More… alien. Hollow and mechanical, with the barest occasional echoes of what could pass for emotions.

After an eternity of searching, Ezra found what had to be Thrawn's mind. The person was looking at art. Sabine's art. But they didn't look at the piece with any clear disdain urge to point a blaster. There was a meditative silence in this mind. Thoughts within were whispers in a language Ezra couldn't decipher.

Thrawn was looking for something. He wanted Sabine's art to tell him… something. Ezra couldn't figure out what Thrawn wanted, but whatever it was, he'd been after it for some time.

With his concentration on Thrawn, Ezra crawled through the vents. A mental light guided his path across the Chimaera, a vision of clarity where darkness had once been. By the will of the Force, Ezra was able to make the whole journey through the vents without a sound.

When Ezra hovered directly above Thrawn, he stopped. He listened through both the Force and his ears for Thrawn to make a move. Thrawn, for his part, stood completely still. Utterly silent as he consulted Sabine's spray painted image of a Lothcat clawing a generic humanoid figure apart. Ezra could almost see it with his own eyes. Both the Lothcat and the figure were formed from blue spraypaint. The only other color was a red dot on the figure's head, one that could be blood or an eye depending on interpretation. The strokes were short and thin, like Sabine had made the painting quickly. Like she'd been in a hurry or… no. She'd been overcome with emotion. One she needed to express in image as quickly as she could before her creative vision faded. That explained the brashness of the strokes, the inattention to anatomical detail.

In a flash, Ezra remembered. He'd been there when Sabine had painted this! She'd just discovered Thrawn had removed a painted cliff face in its entirety from Lothal to further his study of the Ghost crew. Sabine had been so mad he was stealing her art that she dedicated her next painting to him. She'd hoped Thrawn would keep an image of his own demise on his ship, that it would follow him wherever he went. Sabine would feel vindicated to know her wish had come true.

Still connected to Thrawn's mind, Ezra cringed as homesickness stabbed his soul. He missed Sabine. He missed walking past her room on the Ghost and seeing what new art she'd made that day. He missed Zeb complaining about the paint fumes. Chopper screaming if so much as a speck of paint landed on him. Kanan dragging Chopper to the cockpit as he beeped out a thousand curses. Hera cleaning Chopper off with affection and humor and warmth in her voice.

Ezra missed warmth. He missed everyone.

Just as he thought that, Thrawn stiffened. He withdrew from the piece as if it had scratched him in real life. Thrawn gave the painting one final glance over, then walked out the room, a newfound confidence to his step.

That confidence should have worried Ezra. Ezra paid it no mind. His only focus was on keeping up with Thrawn. He better be off to the 'fresher… ugh. That was a weird thing to wish for.

As the Force would have it, Thrawn led Ezra straight to his private quarters. Ezra shrugged off a wave of unease upon realizing he'd found where Thrawn slept. Sure enough, there was a small refresher connected to the admiral's suite. While Thrawn occupied himself with reports at his desk, Ezra felt around with the Force for a shower stall. Aha! Got it.

Now he just needed Thrawn to leave. Maybe he should plant a diversion. Or come back tomorrow. That way, Thrawn would be on the other side of the ship while Ezra did what he needed to do.

Ezra was debating whether he should leave when he heard the chime of a comm. Thrawn's comm. Ezra held his breath as Thrawn answered the call. "This is Grand Admiral Thrawn."

"Sir. This is Trooper DL-629. You are clear to visit Commander Woldar."

Thrawn paused, his every muscle going still. "I see. Thank you for your update, Trooper. I leave the rest to you."

What was going on? Why did Thrawn need clearance to visit one of his own officers? Ezra remained in place as Thrawn left the room. He followed the departing figure down the hall through the Force. Thrawn moved briskly, stopping before a closed door one hallway over. He announced himself at the door, then entered the private quarters of another man. An… oh, an injured man. One with crutches leaning on his bedside table. Maybe this Commander Woldar had been getting medical treatment earlier, and Thrawn wanted to know when he could visit. Thrawn settled in to chat with the other officer. He showed every intent of staying there for a while.

Ezra pulled his focus back. If he wasted no time, Ezra could do it tonight. He pushed the vent cover to the refresher away, then dropped into Thrawn's private refresher. Landing in the middle of the room, he hurled off his uniform. He made sure the door was locked before consulting the rest of the space.

Aside from a stray brown hair on the sink counter, the tiny space was spotless. Everything in it was standard military issue, from what Ezra could tell. Thrawn may be privileged to have his own refresher, but he wasn't pampering himself in here.

Rushing into the shower stall, Ezra reached for the hot water switch on instinct. His hand froze on the knob before he could turn it. Everyone he'd listened to take a shower in the other 'freshers had complained about cold water. Either the water heaters didn't work, or hot water had been banned to save energy on the Chimaera. Thrawn may be the grand admiral, but he wasn't the type to except himself from rules like that. He was one of the few Imperials Ezra couldn't see pulling such hypocrisy.

So while Ezra highly doubted anyone was monitoring Thrawn's water usage right now, he switched knobs and let the freezing water knock his breath away. It wasn't Ezra's first time going without hot water. He could take it.

Gray mud streaked down Ezra's skin as the water clawed through his hair. Weeks worth of sweat and grime detached from his body as a stream of moving ice covered him in shivers. Was Ezra going to have to clean the whole shower stall to hide his presence here?

Not wanting to gift himself with hypothermia, Ezra went through the showering motions quickly and thoroughly. The cold water overwhelmed his senses and overrode his conscious thoughts. His only concern now was getting as much smell off him as possible. Only when his touch on the white towel no longer left dirt stains did Ezra conclude he must be clean.

He freed himself from the water's assault with one flick of the wrist. Stepping out of the stall, Ezra wrapped the towel around himself as if it were a blanket. He curled up in a ball on the floor, waiting for his body to regain the warmth that had left him.

He couldn't stay like this. Thrawn would come back soon. Ezra needed to recover someplace safer than this. He used a wet towel to clean the most obvious stains off Wilkes' old uniform, flapped it around to dry it, then put the half-soaked disguise back on. It was just going to pick up more dust in the vents, but Ezra would have to figure out laundry another time. Far as he knew, clothes washing didn't have the same priority as people washing did right now.

Ezra removed traces of his visit from the refresher. His heart pounded as he reached out with the Force. He blew past the stormtroopers walking down the halls back into the room with Commander Woldar. Thrawn was still in it, but conversation had grinded to a halt. He was getting ready to leave!

Time to get out of here. Ezra leapt back up into the vents with no trouble. He turned to escape the area above Thrawn's quarters.

And hit a dead end. That hadn't been there before. Had it… no. Ezra was sure this was the way he'd taken to get here. He ran a hand over the dead end, searching for its secret. His fingertips brushed the edges of the blocked passage, and Ezra bit back a scream of frustration.

There was no welding behind the dead end. Just a permacrete block half the weight of Ezra. This addition was recently (and quietly!) installed.

The trap was fresh.

Ezra scampered around the ventilation above Thrawn's quarters. Every exit had been sealed while Ezra was in the shower, even the exit into Thrawn's main room. Reaching out with the Force to open the 'fresher door revealed it had been taken offline. The door no longer opened for anything but brute force.

Ezra couldn't leave. Not without letting everyone in the area know he was here.

Oh, who was he kidding? They already knew. The only question left was who would comment on the development first. Ezra pulled his lightsaber out of his pocket, ready to slash his way to freedom in three… two…

"Commander Bridger. I hope you had the decency to tidy up after yourself."

Ezra grit his teeth. The temptation to quip back was too strong. "Yeah? Me and what cleaning supplies? You gonna let me outta here so I can go get some?"

Thrawn shook his head. Stormtroopers surrounded him as he kept his demeanor void of humor. "You would not return. You would flee to the filthy corner of the Chimaera of which you've taken occupancy and wait for your next chance to inconvenience my repair crews."

"How did you know I would try this?"

"Over the days, your presence has developed a… conspicuous way of filling a room." He sniffed. "I'd hoped you would address the issue. You'll notice I allowed you to finish your shower before arriving to collect you."

Ezra focused on Thrawn's mind as he gave his explanation. Nothing he said was untruthful, yet there was a piece absent in what he said just now. Thrawn was talking around a crucial detail, and Ezra wanted to know what it was.

So he kept the banter going. "Yeah, real nice of you. Hey, while I'm the only one with access to your 'fresher... you wouldn't have a razor anywhere, would you? I've been thinking I should try some manscaping."

"You will find nothing for that purpose contained within the room. I have left you no weapons that can aid in your escape."

"So what's your plan? I live in your 'fresher until we get back to the Empire?" Ezra blinked back a mental image of himself swimming in a filled stall, trapped like an exotic fish in Thrawn's makeshift tank. Maybe Thrawn would be a nice owner and throw some food in every few hours. Clean the tank when the algae got bad. "Doesn't seem very convenient for you."

"Don't concern yourself with my convenience. You are nothing but a pest aboard this ship. Every day the Chimaera grows back stronger, and every day your attempts at sabotage grow more pathetic."

"Is that a challenge, Thrawn? You want me to crack your ship in half? Because I could," Ezra threatened. The ripples of fear coursing through the stormtroopers was a near physical sensation.

Ezra still remembered some lessons from the Sith Holocron. He knew he could amplify the troopers' fear. Immobilize them while he freed himself.

Thrawn sensed his men's worry as well. "If you were capable of such a feat, you would have accomplished it long before now. You brought us out here so you could emulate your master, Kanan Jarrus. You, Commander Bridger, wish to martyr yourself." Thrawn shrugged despite believing Ezra couldn't see him. The vocals were for Ezra, but the physical aspect of this performance was for the crew's benefit. "You have your laser sword. Now fall on it."

Ezra shuddered. His grip on the lightsaber's hilt tightened. "Don't test me. I can kill you. I can kill all of you."

"If that was what you wanted, you would not have squandered your best opportunity. You, Bridger, are flagellating. You don't have what it takes to end this crew for good."

If Ezra was flailing, then what was Thrawn up to? Why was he talking to Ezra right now when he could be capturing him?

Gears turned in Ezra's head. His thoughts raced, giving Ezra he hadn't possessed since the last time he and Thrawn faced off. While he put the pieces together, he gave their conversation little thought. "You keep telling yourself that. If you think I'm letting you return to the Empire, you're kidding yourself."

There was no easy way into Ezra's enclosure. He highly doubted Thrawn intended to keep him here long term. So what was he waiting for? What was this confrontation meant to accomplish?

Thrawn responded, but Ezra was no longer listening. His Jedi senses had no more to learn from fixating on Thrawn. He was putting on a show to distract Ezra from something else.

But what? Ezra searched the minds of the troopers next. Most of them were wholly focused on Thrawn. They all had their ears perked for Ezra, waiting for… something.

There. The trooper in the back. Furthest from the action and next to a vent covering. He was sweating in his suit from hauling permacrete. This trooper was too exhausted to follow the conversation. Instead, his tired mind occupied itself by counting. Counting down, like one would for a… oh no.

"Dank farrik!" Ezra cried out, cutting Thrawn's monologue short. He reared back as far as he could from the dead end, put his lightsaber away, and raised his arm as high as he could in the cramped space. He pushed the concrete back by several meters, ramming it with the Force again and again in the hopes he could escape before time ran out.

It wasn't enough. The smoke bomb detonated, and sleeping gas came pouring out the under sink cabinet. Ezra had to escape it. He had to keep it back.

One arm pushing the barrier forward, the other holding the cloud of gas back. Ezra really was emulating Kanan. The thought sent a twinge of pain up his spine.

"You won't… get away with this!" Ezra pushed out through gritted teeth. If he could just push this barrier back a little more, he had an idea for who the gas could get instead.

In the corridor, the troopers had their guns raised. They heard his threat and were rearing for a fight. If they had their trooper helmet filters on the right setting, they could avoid the effects of the gas.

Once he had the permacrete block in position, Ezra pushed it from a direction that would be impossible to anyone else. He shoved it to the right, knocking the covering off and sending a thirty kilo block o' rock directly for Thrawn's head. It missed target in favor of breaking the opposing wall.

Ezra race-crawled on three limbs past the open vent, narrowly avoiding blaster shots as he did. With the hand behind him, Ezra directed all the sleeping gas out into the corridor. Fingers crossed it gave someone an early bedtime.

With that parting thought, Ezra fled the scene. He scampered off until he was safe in a dark zone of the ship once again.

That… was the best thing to happen to him in ten days. He could have been captured! Or killed!

How was he supposed to go back to haunting the ship after that shot of adrenaline?

Once the fumes of adrenaline (and sleeping gas) had faded from the corridor, Thrawn dismissed most of the troopers he had assembled for his stunt. As everyone but his assigned guard departed the scene, he evaluated what he had learned from the encounter.

Bridger continued to run loose, but no Imperial casualties had resulted from his first attempt at capture. The only damages done to either side were items of property. The permacrete block had seen to that.

Hm… Thrawn had elected to use the blocks for their weight and thickness. He had believed Bridger would attempt to cut through the block with his laser sword, as he had done to Imperial doors in the past. Such an endeavor would have been fruitless and time consuming in this case. Thrawn had expected Bridger to switch methods eventually, but he should have run out of time before that happened. The sleeping gas's effects were nigh immediate on humans.

Thrawn had believed he would be a sufficient distraction for Bridger. That had not been the case. Had something in Thrawn's thoughts given the plan away?

Bridger did not search people's minds the way in which Thrawn was accustomed. Both Lord Vader and the Emperor used their powers as a drill into the other person's head, diving as deep as they must for the information they seek. Bridger's method was more akin to a net, one that skimmed the mind's surface for whatever it chose to reveal to him.

Whatever had spooked the rebel, Thrawn would not repeat his error. He would not let his missteps evolve into mistakes.

Now, to sleep. Bridger would not go back for Thrawn anytime soon.

How could he after being caught so off guard?

A/N's: I'm super excited to post this. I wrote a good third of this chapter tonight. Fingers crossed I don't have to make edits tomorrow (though I probably will).

This chapter took a few drafts to come together for me. At first, Ezra's plan to use a refresher had a different motivation. There was also a hostage situation at one point in the brainstorming process, but that got scrapped. I know this final version is weird, but it does what I need it to while keeping everyone in character. This is the first of many direct confrontations between Ezra and the Chimaera crew. He and Thrawn both need to iron out their respective objectives. Luckily there's plenty else going on while they sort that out.

Anyway, I've got to get to bed. Hope you enjoyed the read!