Chapter 6: The Rebellion

14 BBY- 5 Years after the Rise of the Empire

"I've decided to trust you."

Kanan opened his eyes to see Hera standing over him, arms crossed indignantly over her chest with her chin titled upwards. He sat up groggily in the chair, and the memories came flooding back: The TIE fighters. The mystery ship. The pilot. The chase, the escape, the rebellion. The malicious astromech now hovering a few inches from his face with its sawblade outstretched.

Kanan cursed, jumping away from the droid in alarm, and smacked his head on the low overhang of controls in the process. He groaned tiredly. "You're gonna what now?" he asked, blinking back up at Hera.

She seemed unconcerned with his pain. "I said I've decided to trust you."

"Oh," he grunted, reaching up to rub his forehead. "That's good news." Much to his dismay, there was already a lump forming.

The petite Twi'lek started to pace the room. "For now, you can join my crew. But you have to prove yourself, first," she continued.

Her words sounded a little recited. "Didn't I already do that?" Kanan asked.

"Not yet."

He gave her a dubious look. "I'm pretty sure I already did that."

"Only partly," Hera compromised crossly. She straightened her back and tried to seem more threatening. It didn't work. "Think of it as a two-part initiation."

Kanan let his head fall back on the chair and he closed his eyes again. "Fine," he gave in, "what's the second part, then?"

Hera grinned, triumphant. "Great! When we get back on Lothal, you have to take the crates of food to the center of town and manage the distribution to the people. I'll take care of the weapons and my contact. Then we'll meet back at the ship when we're done."

Kanan blinked. "That's it?" he prompted. "That's the trial?"

"I never said it was going to be hard," Hera retorted, putting her hands on her hips. "I just have to make sure you really mean it—that you want to help."

That's fair, Kanan thought. He supposed he was just used to the Jedi-type tests where things are flying at you and you're ducking and getting hit and training remotes are constantly shooting beams at you everything's trying to knock you off your feet. Clearly, however, this was not that.

"So?" Hera urged, "are you up to the task?"

"Sure," Kanan nodded nonchalantly. He rubbed his head tenderly once more before getting out of the chair. "When do we head in?"

"Now, if we feel like it," she shrugged, glancing down at the moon. "Things should've calmed down over night, so we'll just head back in and land."

"Sounds like a plan."

Beaming, Hera spun around the pilot's chair and jumped in the seat. She turned on the ignition and the ship hummed to life. She flipped on the navigation controls, adjusted the altitude indicator, punched in Lothal's coordinates, and placed a firm hand on the lightspeed throttle. "We ready to jump, Chop?" she asked the droid to her right. He whirred excitedly in reply. Kanan braced himself as she yanked the throttle all the way back and the ship jumped into hyperspace.

After a few minutes of travelling through blurry stars and inky black, the ship arrived just outside of Lothal's atmosphere. Kanan gazed down at the planet he'd called home for the past five years and reminisced.

But there really wasn't anything memorable about it, so it was over in a few seconds. And the planet was pretty ugly.

"Chop, we're about to enter their atmosphere, so you better have the sensor scramblers on this time," Hera ordered. The astromech beeped defiantly back. "No, I don't doubt your abilities, I'm just double-checking!" she assured exasperatedly. "I don't want to repeat yesterday's events. As fun as it was, we might not get so lucky again."

Kanan smirked. "By lucky, do you mean someone like me coming to the rescue?"

"No," Hera snorted, "I mean with the crash landing. Your presence made no difference to our survival."

"Oh really?" Kanan chuckled. "That's… not how I saw it. But believe what you want."

Next to him, Hera scowled. Her grip tightened on the controls. "Whatever," she grumbled. Kanan stifled a laugh. He'd out-come-backed her.

To his surprise and great relief, they passed seamlessly through the Imperial blockade to the planet's surface. They landed in the middle of a dry grass field, which resembled pretty much everywhere else on Lothal, but it was a place he hadn't been to before. The skyline of a small village could be seen on the horizon. "Tarkintown," Hera told him upon his confused face. "It's where a bunch of refugees were shoved after the Empire made their land useless for farming. It's named after the Grand Moff of the Outer Rim."

Admiral Tarkin, Kanan realized. He'd served under Master Piell during all three years of the war.

The bitterness of betrayal settled over his tongue. How people change.

"Those four crates go to the town. Take them to the plaza-thing in the center then meet back at the ship when they're empty. I'll take these two just down the road by the big egg-rocks," Hera explained as they disembarked, pulling the crates behind her. And Kanan had thought he'd just gotten rid of his job as a delivery boy. But he did as he was told and brought them to the town, waving to Hera and glancing warily at Chopper, who was staying with the ship.

Tarkintown truly was a ramshackle: a dirt patch with some tents and sheet-metal houses thrown up on what appeared to be streets and blo6cks. As soon as he brought the crates to what he assumed was the "plaza-thing" Hera had described, people edged out of their homes, at first cautious, but growing more confident as they got closer. More and more approached, and Kanan popped off the boxes of the crates, revealing striped violet jogan fruits, orange and yellow hubba gourds, and an abundance of ruby-red apples. The sight of them made Kanan's mouth water. He realized he hadn't eaten since Telma's.

The residents of the town clustered eagerly around the boxes, some just taking one, some stuffing their pockets, and others filling rucksacks. Weary smiles and thanks were exchanged, sometimes with words but sometimes just with grateful looks from gaunt eyes. All Kanan could do was nod back, unsure what to say. His appetite faded quickly.

A little girl caught his attention, her clothes so tattered and face so dusty it was hard to guess just how little she was. With a tiny hand, she struggled on her tip toes to reach into the box to take a fruit. Kanan quickly grabbed one and knelt down to hand it to her.

"Thank you, mister!" she chirped, sparkling brown eyes and bright smile at complete odds with her ragged state. Kanan stared back, at a loss.

The girl gave him a curious look before scampering off.

Before long, the crates were entirely empty, not a single piece of fruit left rolling around at the bottom. Unsure of what to do, Kanan covered the crates and left them to find Hera.

As he walked through the tumble-down streets, passing rusty, dilapidated buildings and cross-wire fences hardly left standing, he felt conflicted.

It just wasn't… right. People shouldn't be forced to live like this. Like nothing. To live like they were nothing.

The feeling made him irritated. It made him sweat, if the harsh sun on the back of his neck wasn't already doing that. His hands fisted into his palms. All this time, this town had been here. Every hour he'd spent wandering in Capital City, these people had suffered. Even if he hadn't known of Tarkintown's existence, he should have felt it in the Force. Felt the pain, the misery. Felt something. And he'd just let it happen. He hadn't done anything.

But now wasn't the time to ruminate on such things. He needed to compartmentalize. Get the job done.

When he found Hera near the round boulders he assumed were the "egg-rocks" she'd mentioned, she was talking to a tall Devaronian surrounded by guard droids. She was bouncing excitedly. The droids seemed to be confused but entertained by her enthusiasm. Droids don't bounce.

"You mean the Wookies?" Hera asked eagerly as Kanan approached, green eyes shining.

"Yes, yes, the Wookies," the Devaronian reassured, waving his hands. "Simmer down. I'll give you all the details… if you agree to sell me the weapons for half the price."

"Half?" Hera echoed, her excitement quickly replaced by irritation, though it still bubbled underneath. "That's absurd! Do you know how expensive these are on the black market?!"

The Devaronian chuckled. "Sweetheart, I am the black market. I decide the prices. And if you want the info on the Wookies, then you'll sell at half-price. Business is business."

"Half-price is a scam," Kanan broke in as he walked up, surprising the both of them. The guard droids immediately raised their blasters.

"He's a friend," Hera said quickly, flashing out a protective arm across his chest. A kind gesture, Kanan thought, but ultimately wouldn't provide very good defense.

The Devaronian only seemed mildly convinced by her words, but he motioned for the droids to lower their weapons either way.

"Vizago, this is Kanan. Kanan, Vizago," Hera introduced carefully, slowly dropping her arm.

"Pleasure," Vizago said dryly, holding out a hand.

"It's all mine," Kanan replied courteously, grasping his hand firmly and shaking it once. A smirk edged at the corners of Vizago's mouth, returned by Kanan. It's all in the grip.

"Half-price is absolutely ludicrous," Hera went on now that the pleasantries had finished. She planted her hands decisively on her hips. "I want full credits."

"Then no Wookie information," Vizago shrugged. He ran a hand over his horns as though he was slicking them back. "That's how I'll play."
"What about three-quarters?" Kanan inquired, keeping his voice level. "Three-quarters plus the Wookie info would be an appropriate payment for the trouble of stealing these crates and giving them to you, in my opinion." He glanced towards Hera for approval.

She nodded her head confidently and stared expectantly at Vizago. "That would be a very fair trade. These crates were quite the hassle to obtain."

Vizago hesitated for a moment before giving in. "Three-quarters it is, then," he sighed, shaking his head. "As for the Wookies, I heard from a reliable source that there's an Imperial Transport ship passing through this sector sometime soon containing Wookie prisoners heading for an unknown slave labor camp," he informed, his voice lowering. "I have their flight plan. It's supposed to pass through tonight, though, so your window is small."

Kanan nodded assuredly while Hera resumed her enthusiastic bouncing. It seemed to Kanan that she wasn't fully aware of it.

"Welcome to the rebellion," she whispered excitedly into his ear.

With illegal weapons delivered, credits paid, and secret Wookie information given, the two were on their way. They boarded the ship, Kanan keeping a careful distance from Chopper, and took to the skies. They passed out of Lothal's atmosphere and through the Imperial blockade without any issues, something Kanan wasn't sure he'd ever get used to.

"How did you get so many illegal installments on one ship, anyway? The whole thing just seems so unlikely," Kanan wondered, studying the control panels of the ship.

Hera chewed her cheek. "Oh, uh… just some friends who've got the parts to do it."

Kanan gave her a doubtful look but didn't push it. Trust would come with time, he supposed.

If he was planning to stay for that long.

Was he?

"This is the spot of the coordinates that Vizago gave me, so if he's right and we didn't just get gypped, the transport should just pass right through here at any time," Hera said once they arrived at the location.

Kanan leaned forward in his chair and looked out at the stars. There wasn't a single planet or moon in sight. "So you want to ambush them?" he asked. "Because, well, I hate to break it to you, but the two of us—"

Chopper bleeped angrily.

"…Right. The three of us," Kanan corrected, "aren't really a match for a hoarde of storm troopers."

"Well, that's why I'm not planning on ambushing them. I'm going to track them and follow them back to the slave camp," Hera said plainly. "Back to the source."

Kanan's head swiveled around, incredulous. "You're going to what? Why? How? If we aren't enough to face a ship-full of troopers, how do you expect us to deal with a whole camp?"

"Who ever said we'd go in with guns blazing?" Hera countered. "We'll sneak in, playing a part—you can be the slave, and I'll be the bounty hunter, it seems appropriate—then we'll free the prisoners. Many more prisoners than we'd have freed on a single transport, mind you. And with their help, we can overrun the guards there and fly out safely." She offered an optimistic grin. "Easy-peasy-jogan-squeezy."

Kanan stared at her blankly. "That sounds like a terrible plan."

Hera shrugged. "Where's the fun without a little risk?"

"Honestly? Best case scenario, death. Worst case, life-long sentences to slavery."

Hera rolled her eyes, ignoring him. "Well, I'm the leader, so I make the plan. And the rules. In fact, I've just invented Rule Number Two: Don't question Hera's judgements," she stated matter-of-factly.

"What was Rule Number One?"

There was a moment of silence before Hera spoke again. "No stealing any of my rylothan chocolate from the top left cupboard in the storage room."

Kanan raised a brow. "Why? You don't like sharing?"

"Kanan!" she puffed in mock exasperation, "I just told you Rule Number Two, didn't I?"

The Imperial transport was taking much longer than they expected. Hours longer, in fact. Kanan was starting to doze off while Hera mindlessly twiddled with a keychain. Even Chopper seemed to get bored, aimlessly rolling around the ship looking for something to fix.

"So where are you from, anyway?" Hera asked after a while, right as Kanan's eyelids started to close. "Not Lothal, surely."

"No, uh," he stammered, caught off guard, "…Coruscant. But I wasn't there all the time. I kinda moved around my whole life." It wasn't entirely a lie, he convinced himself, considering the circumstances.

"Topside or lower levels?" she went on.

"Uh… middle-ish?"

"And your parents?"

"Never met them."

"Oh," she faltered, startled, "I'm… sorry to hear that."

Kanan waved a hand nonchalantly. "Don't be. I had some pretty good people. Like a… an older sister, of sorts," he added. Master Billaba deserved some credit, even if it was only a half-truth.

Hera nodded slowly at his words before an awkward silence settled over the ship. Kanan's eyes started to drift close again.

"I'm from Ryloth," Hera started awkwardly, "though… that's probably obvious, now that I think about it."

"Little bit," Kanan replied, keeping his eyes shut.

"My father fought in the resistance against the Separatists during the Clone Wars," she continued. "He and my mother fought together for years, before she died. They even worked with some Jedi, at some points. But I was still a little too young to remember it clearly."

Kanan's eyes opened at the mention of the Jedi, but Hera was facing away from him, her gaze resting on the stars.

"After the Empire, though, that obviously didn't work out too well. Since then, he's started his own movement. It's going… as well as one can expect it to, in these times," she murmured, disappointment slipping unevenly into her tone. "But my father's still fighting."

"What made you leave and do this?" Kanan asked, his interest piqued.

Hera shook herself and turned to face him, the faraway look in her eyes quickly disappearing. "Moved on to bigger fish, I suppose. I wasn't of much use back home, so I figured I might as well try to make a difference somewhere else."

"Well," Kanan began. He remembered the dust-covered little girl from Tarkintown. "It's working. You're really doing some good down there on Lothal for people who really need it."

When she didn't respond, Kanan turned to look at her. Her pretty green eyes were stretched wider than saucers and a whisper of a smile pulled at the corners of her parted lips. Unless someone told him otherwise, it looked as though she'd never been given praise before.

Before he could say anything, the radar started to beep and Chopper whirred loudly. Half a second later, a massive grey vessel jumped in front of them. Large black block letters scrawled across its side read IT-651.

"The transport!" Hera gasped, bolting upright and grabbing the controls. "Chopper, calculate every possible destination along their last known trajectory! Quick!"

Kanan strained to get a better look at the ship. If he were to guess, they were just letting the hyperdrives cool down before making their next jump. They might only stay there for a few minutes longer. "Can you track a ship through hyperspace?" he asked, peering at blinking icon on the radar that marked the transport's existence.

"Yes, I can," Hera said, "but only if they have an exit vector. And lucky for me, every Imperial vessel's got one of those. It's a mandatory part of their construct. Once they jump, we'll get the coordinates of where to and follow them. And with the Ghost's trusty sensor scramblers, they won't detect a thing," she finished proudly.

Kanan nodded and swallowed his unease. She'd done this before, so she couldn't be too wrong, right? All he needed to do was have a little faith in his new friend.

True to his conjecture, the Imperial Transport booted up its hyperdrive and launched away. A few seconds later, a set of coords flashed on the monitor.

"Worked flawlessly, as per usual," Hera said smugly. Chopper activated the sensor scramblers as she fired up the hyperdrive and pulled back on the throttle. "Wookies, here we come!"

They were in hyperspace for a while, but not too long, so they knew their destination was probably somewhere nearby in the Outer Rim. Kanan's fingers fidgeted nervously the whole time. He wasn't sure if it was the Force or just his gut, or a combination of both, but he didn't have the greatest feeling about the whole ordeal.

Faith, he reminded himself, have faith. Hera's not incompetent. She knows what she's doing.

They jumped in right above the planet. The rocky, dark-orange and rust-red colored planet loomed beneath them, striking instant recognition and Kanan's mind.

"It's Kessel," he stated.

"Oh no," Hera breathed.

Kanan frowned. "What do you mean, oh n—"

A flurry of beeping alarms erupted on the systems indicator. The radar display flared as several dots representing ships flickered onto the screen, all headed directly for the Ghost.

"Uh, Hera…" Kanan started. The ships were closing in fast enough that he could see them out the window.

"I'm working on it!" she said frantically, flipping switches and pushing buttons, trying to get the hyperdrive back online.

"They're closing in!"

"I know!" she yelled. She moved wildly about and yanked back the throttle as the engines whirred to life. "Come on, come on!"

The ship started to move but grinded to a sharp halt. The ship jerked to the side, sending Kanan and Hera lurching forward in their seats and Chopper rolling into a wall.

They were caught in a tractor beam.

"I thought you said the sensor scramblers would get us through!" he shouted.

"And they would have, if this wasn't Kessel!" Hera shot back, voice panicked. She continued to desperately flick switches and press buttons.

Kanan's heart thumped so hard it felt like it would crack his ribs. "Well, what's so different about Kessel from other planets?!"

Hera's motions slowed despairingly as the ship stubbornly continued to stay put. She knew it was useless. They both did. "It's… it's because… the Pykes have control here. It's their sensors that detect ships coming in and out. And…" she trailed off, biting her lip nervously.

"And?" Kanan pressed.

Hera held her breath. After a pause, she let it out, her face falling into her hands. "And the Pykes are the ones who built the Ghost's sensor scramblers, and all of her other installments, so they can still detect it!"

Kanan went rigid.

Hera slumped lower in her chair. "And… and that's not all…"

"Oh, it isnt," Kanan said flatly. His head was spinning to fast to even begin to comprehend everything.

"I… used to make some deliveries for the Pykes. Just moving credits, not spice. That's how I got the installments. And once they finished, I… I took the ship and ran."

Kanan stared at her blankly. He blinked once before he detonated.

"The Pykes?! You were laundering money for the Pyke Crime Syndicate?! And then you stole their ship?!" He ran his hands frenziedly through his hair, eyes wide and forehead wrinkled. "I… I don't even understand the words coming out of my mouth!"

"We've all done thigs we aren't proud of!"
"Yeah, and committing an intergalactic felony isn't one of them!"

"I was young! I didn't know what I was doing!"

"The Pykes sure don't see it that way!"

Kanan pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to take deep breaths. The guard ships were pulling them down to the surface, dragging them along in the tractor beam. "What do we do, what do we do…"

Hera dragged her hands over her face. "I'm thinking, I'm thinking!"

The ground got close and closer. Kanan could see the towers of smoke spiraling off the surface. "Think faster!"

"I've got it!" Hera exclaimed, sitting upright in her chair. "They'll recognize me. So I'll… I'll say you're my bounty. A really strong slave that I've brought back as an apology for taking their ship. And we can use some of the credits from Vizago, if we need to. Do you have any super-weird abilities or talents that you can use to impress them? To appear more valuable?" she asked hurriedly, staring up at Kanan hopefully.

Yeah, he could name a few. Being a force-wielder and being trained in martial arts were just a handful of 'talents' that came to mind.

"…No."

"Darn it!" she groaned. "Well, whatever. It'll have to do. Your arms are beefy enough that you'll pass for abnormally strong or something, anyway. We'll just have to figure it out as we go. It could work."

Kanan blinked. Did she just compliment his arms?

"And I promise I won't actually let you become a slave or anything," she added. "Just follow my lead."

"That's comforting," he replied tartly.

The ship shuddered and screeched. They'd landed. Guardsmen poured out of the ships that had dragged them in and ran towards them before skidding to a stop with their blasters raised and ready to shoot.

"Okay, time to go," Hera squeaked anxiously. She grabbed the coin purse full of credits from Vizago and pulled out a piece of metal wire from her toolbox. "Here, make these look like handcuffs," she said, tossing the wire to Kanan. "Chopper, stay with the ship. Keep your communicators on. We might need you for a speedy pick up some point soon."

Kanan forced his mind to stop racing with ideas of all the ways this could go terribly, terribly wrong and focused instead on bending the wire around his wrists. It looked half-assed, but it would do the job.

Hera grabbed his elbow and shoved him forwards, making him stumble. She jabbed the barrel of her blaster in between his shoulder blades.

"Ow!"

"Sorry, but it's gotta be realistic," she hissed, but she eased the pressure on his back nonetheless. "The safety on my blaster is on, don't worry."

Kanan was very worried. And there were many reasons to be worried right now. He didn't even try to count how many.

Hera pushed a button and the onramp of the Ghost slowly lowered to the ground. Outside, the air was hot and dry and swirling with red dust. Seven hired guards stood in front of them, poised and ready to shoot.

"Hi there," Hera called out uneasily, offering a slight smile.

The guards didn't say a word. The metal rims of their blasters glinted in the sun.

Kanan swallowed.

All he needed was a little faith, right?