Chapter 12: The Flare

14 BBY- 5 Years after the Rise of the Empire

Soft rose faded into a black sky. It trickled between the stars like spilled milk, giving way to a placid, quiet dawn. The wind was brisk and heavy with the scent of last night's rain.

In Kanan's mind, it was a typical Lothal morning. And also in his mind, it was the only thing he really liked about this backwater of a planet.

The dewdrops that clung to the tall grass seeped through his clothes from where he lay on his back, but he found that he didn't really care. So what if he got a little wet? It had been another exciting night of thrill and doing good for the galaxy, and he felt that a pleasant nap in the fields was well-deserved. He would not let a little dew get in the way.

An arm length away, Hera slept, too, half-buried in the grass and crumpled awkwardly on one side with her arm hooked beneath her head, a position that did not look too comfortable. There were two loth-cats snuggled up next to her, and as long as the unpredictably-feral screeching balls of fury stayed far enough away from Kanan, he was fine with that. They were purring, and he was pretty sure he could hear Hera snoring, too.

And don't ask them why they were laying in the grass instead of on beds in the ship.

It was just because they could.

There was no one stopping them.

And the freedom was exhilarating.

As the night thawed, each glinting star began to fade one by one. Kanan got lost in a half-doze, half-trance watching them, eyes fluttering open and close, consciousness slipping in and out. Hera's endearing, steady snoring together with the loth-cats' purring and the wind on the grass slowly lulled him back to sleep.

It wasn't until a finger poked him in the side that he opened his eyes again and noticed a yellow late-noon sun against a clear blue sky.

"C'mon, sleepyhead. We've got work to do."

That was Hera. And Kanan didn't feel too inclined to listen.

He hummed and close his eyes again.

"Kanan," she groaned, but he was already sliding back into deep sleep. Soft loth-cat mrrows echoed like a faraway dream.

Then something heavy landed on top of him and Kanan startled back awake, letting out a choked gasp. "What the—" he started, fully ready to take a hold of whatever loth-cat that had decided to mess with him and chuck it far, far, away, but stopped when he noticed the something was heavier than a loth-cat and much more twi'lek sized. And it was, indeed, Hera. She had rolled over on top of him and was currently staring down at him with her nose a pinch away from his.

"I'm not letting you go until you promise not to fall back asleep," she declared. Her green eyes gleamed with dogged determination and a spark of something else that looked like a playfulness, or a tease, or dare he say a flirtation with a touch of desire, but Kanan very, very quickly shooed that thought out of his head. There was simply no way that that was what he was actually seeing. It must just be the light playing tricks on his eyes.

"Well?" Hera pressed, leaning closer. Her tone was full of challenge, like she was daring him to do something. She smelled like sweet daisies and wet grass and he could practically taste it on his tongue, she was that close. "Are you gonna promise?"

"I—I uh—"

"I'm waiting…"

Kanan slammed his jaws shut. His face was so hot he might as well have stuck it in a charcoal furnace on Kessel. "Yes, I—I promise," he croaked.

Hera stayed rigid, eyeing him suspiciously. She was pressed so close against him that he was sure she could feel his heartbeat hammering through his chest.

Then her scrutinizing look broke into a bright, shining grin, and she let out a laugh so light it could've just been the wind.

"Good," she said, satisfied, and it was almost as if she hadn't noticed how her face was very, very close to Kanan's and his face was very, very, red, and never mind how absolutely crazy she was driving him.

Then she booped his nose and climbed off of him, stood up, and walked back towards the ship.

"C'mon," she called back, waving him on with a hand, "Vizago's waiting for us!"

Kanan sat up dazedly. He swallowed hard.

Hera was already gone, her headtails disappearing around the corner as she ducked into the ship.

Oh, boy, he thought. He was really in for it, now.

For the past half-year, they'd spent their time going back and forth between Imperial bases and places like Tarkintown. They'd make their expeditions to steal ("borrow!") food and weapons then give ("no, return!") them to those who suffered most under the Empire's iron grip. It was a fairly well-worked system that Hera had figured out; their little excursions had become the new routine.

None of it was ever as crazy as the incident with the Pykes, but then again, it was hard to find any adventure as crazy as a prison break from a galaxy-renowned crime syndicate.

It was just enough danger that things could get dicey, but not as much so that their lives were put on the line on a daily basis. More like, twice a week. But, as they frequently reminded each other, where's the fun without a little risk?

Hera was thriving in it. And if Kanan looked in the mirror, he'd say he was, too.

"Vizago said he'd meet us at the normal spot in about half an hour," Hera explained as Kanan boarded the ship. They briefly powered it on just to fly over low ground to get closer to Tarkintown, then started the trek towards the egg-rocks.

"Any idea what he's got for us this time?" Kanan asked, swallowing back a yawn.

"Hopefully, something more exciting than crate delivery schedules," Hera sighed.

"What, are near-death experiences not enough danger for you anymore?" Kanan teased.

She elbowed him in the side with a smile. "No, no. I just know of some other stuff that needs doing from my contact—the one I told you about, Fulcrum? —and honestly, something different to change things up a little doesn't hurt."

"Nah," he paused, "I just think you like being in danger. You know, a little risk here, a little peril there… and then maybe someone'll come to your rescue." He winked.

Hera rolled her eyes, but her light blush was unmistakable.

"Oh, I can't stand you," she muttered.

"I thought you said you liked me?"
"I'm good at multitasking."

Vizago was waiting for them surrounded by guard droids, as usual. He scrolled casually through a datapad but shut it off as they walked up.

"Well, well," he said, throwing his arms open in a lazy greeting. "Glad to see you're both still alive. Ready for the next run?"

"More crate delivery schedules?" Hera asked.

Vizago nodded.

"Sounds perfect," Kanan answered. Simplicity, routine. He liked routine.

"Well…" Hera wavered, shifting her weight to one hip and folding her hands behind her back. She twirled the toe of her boot in the dirt. "Don't you have anything… I dunno, a little more interesting?"

Vizago arched a brow. "Stealing supplies from the Empire not 'interesting' enough for you, sweetie?"

Kanan scowled. He really, really didn't like whenever Vizago called her 'sweetie'.

"No, no, it's not that," Hera said quickly, "…well, kinda. I mean, I'll always do the deliveries—they're easy enough and still good for the community—but there are some other jobs out there that need doing, as well."

"Like what?" Vizago snorted. "You wanted crates, I gave you crates. What else do you need for your little kiss-ass humanitarian missions?"

Hera gave him an annoyed look, but went on. "You know the ice planet, Rinn? I've heard the colonists there are in need of some fuel cells as of late. Know of any floating around?"

Kanan glanced in her direction. She hadn't told him anything about Rinn and fuel cells. But he supposed she was the one who took care of all the contact and info stuff.

Vizago gave her one more dubious look before sighing and taking out his datapad again.

"You heard of Ranzar Malk and his crew?" He said after a minute of scrolling, looking back up at them.

Both shook their heads.

"Figures. They're pretty big, but you guys are rookies, I guess," he put in, ignoring Hera's glower, "but they've let out a quiet word that they've acquired some more… rare accessories, fuel cells among them."

"I'm listening," Hera said.

"Problem is, they're asking a hefty price for them. A price that you most likely can't pay. I, on the other hand…"

The Devaronian grinned smugly, like he'd just had an astutely sly idea.

Of course, there had to be a way for him to profit off of all of this, Kanan realized. Nothing ever came without a price from Vizago.

"What is it you need, Vizago?" Hera sighed tiredly, mimicking Kanan's thoughts.

"Well, seeing as you're going to go visit Ran, and I've actually got some ongoing business with him 'n all… maybe you and the Ghost with all her precious little sensor scramblers could take care of transporting something for me."

"Something highly illegal, I'm assuming?" Kanan said, folding his arms over his chest.

"Young man, anything worth my time is illegal nowadays. Have you not learned this? And it isn't like you two are much better," Vizago chuckled, handing off the datapad to one of the droids. "It's just something that I picked up along my travels, and one of Ran's buyers is highly interested in it. If you deliver it to him under my name, I'll just add the fuel cells to my cost. No problem."

"Hmm… that sounds like a fair deal. What are we delivering?" Hera asked.

"Ah-ah." Vizago wagged a finger. "No questions asked, yes? Your discretion will be a part of the price."

Hera and Kanan glanced at each other. She gave him a look that said I-don't-like-it-and-I-know-you-don't-either-but-this-is-our-best-option. Kanan just shrugged his response.

He didn't understand why they couldn't just stick with the crate delivery schedules. It was simpler. Less complicated, higher success rates. But, even though he'd been there for a while, Hera still made the rules.

"Fine," she agreed, sticking out a hand. "It's a deal."

Vizago smirked, taking her hand and shaking it. "Pleasure doing business with you, as always, my dear."

Kanan scowled.

They decided they'd get a move on as soon as possible. Kanan went back to get the ship while—much to his dismay—Hera stayed back with Vizago to work out the fine details of the deal and send along the information to the man named Ranzar Malk.

Irritated, Kanan did as he was told, stalking back through the grass past Tarkintown and to the Ghost, muttering to himself along the way.

Chopper met him on the bridge after he boarded the ship, plopping down into the pilot's seat.

"Hera wants us to bring the ship over to her to pick some stuff up," Kanan grunted. Chopper beeped his understanding and went to the control unit to turn on the ship. He beeped at Kanan again as he fired up the ignition.

"I'm not grumpy," Kanan retorted. "You're grumpy."

The astromech let out a doubtful whirr.

"Well, Vizago's just stupid, okay?" he shot back. He threw his free arm up in frustration, using the other to drive. "I don't like him. He's a self-centered piece of banthashit who only cares about credits."

The egg-rocks came into view, and Chopper activated the landing gear, giving a slew of low, skeptical bleeps in the process.

"It doesn't matter if he's black market broker, Chop! I still don't like him. And I don't like the way he talks to Hera, either."

The astromech let out the binary equivalent of a cheeky snicker as he helped Kanan land the ship.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kanan growled. He quickly spotted Hera and Vizago walking towards him as the ship touched ground and moved to get out of his chair. "You know what? I don't even want to know. We'll finish this conversation later. I have better things to do than argue with an overweight glob of grease."

Chopper's mechanical chuckles echoed from the bridge as Kanan stalked off the ship.

"What took you so long?" the Devaronian joked as he approached, a guard droid following a footstep behind him.

But Kanan ignored him. Something was… weird.

He slowed as he approached. His attention was quickly drawn to the small metal box in Hera's hands.

It was… pulsing.

"What is that?" he asked, leaning back a bit warily.

"I remind you of your promised discretion," Vizago prompted wryly, eyeing him. "It is of utmost importance that this is delivered… safely."

"Sorry, Kanan," Hera apologized, "if I had known it would be so small, I wouldn't have sent you to get the ship. But now that you're here, we should get going. We're supposed to be meeting Ranzar Malk at these coordinates in a few hours." She nodded her head towards the slip of paper on the box with a bunch of numbers scrabbled down on it.

"Right…" Kanan said, but he wasn't really listening. He was still staring at the box.

At first, he wondered why Hera wasn't as equally as freaked out as him about the pulsing box. But then, after a moment, he realized that the low, beating thrum he heard from the box wasn't actually happening out loud.

It was happening in the Force.

And that only made him more worried.

"Let's go," Hera said lightly, breaking into his thoughts. She walked past him and towards the ship. His eyes stayed glued to the box as she walked away. "We've got fuel cells to collect!"

Kanan tore his eyes from the box for just a moment to give Vizago a withering glare before turning to catch up to Hera.

"Are we sure that thing's safe?" Kanan asked as they boarded, the entry ramp closing behind them.

"Probably not," Hera replied dismissively, headed towards the bridge. She held the box up to her ear and shook it. Rigid panic spiking through Kanan and he bit back an anxious yelp.

"Huh." She shrugged and set it down on the dashboard, sending a wave of relief washing over Kanan."Probably just some expensive blaster or a rare variation of spice. Who knows."

Kanan swallowed his reply, uneasily sitting down in the chair next her.

The box—or rather, whatever was inside of it—was still buzzing. Within the threads of the Force, it felt like a flare.

Kanan did not like this. Not at all.

"These are the coords that Ranzar sent us when Vizago told him about the deal. It's in the middle of nowhere, which is appropriate," Hera explained, punching in the numbers. "Chop, go ahead and fire up the Ghost. It'll take us a while to get there."

Kanan only half-listened, attention still cemented to the box. It was pulling at him, tugging, reaching.

It's like it was asking him to take whatever it was into his hands.

He stayed in a wordless daze while the Ghost lifted up and out of Lothal's atmosphere, ramping up to lightspeed and breaking into hyperspace.

"You alright…?" Hera asked him after a bit, giving him a questioning look.

"Mhm."

He chewed his cheek silently.

It was obvious she didn't believe him, but to his relief, she didn't push.

"I'm gonna make something to eat," she said, standing up and stretching. "We've got a while yet to go. Let me know if you need anything."

She placed a hand on his shoulder and let it linger for a longer-than-normal stretch of time.

And then she was gone, leaving Kanan alone with the box.

"What are you?" he murmured quietly.

He closed his eye. Tentatively, and quite reluctantly, he reached out with the Force, feeling it out, looking for answers. It was hard, and he didn't get one. He was still rusty and it felt like the Force was reprimanding him for abandoning it for so long.

But the box still called to him. It was as if it was teasing him, mocking him, just saying open me, and find out.

And Kanan didn't have the will to resist.

With a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure Hera wasn't near, he cautiously reached forward for the box, picking it up and drawing it into his lap.

It was singing, now.

His breath held, Kanan warily placed his thumb over the metal latch and flicked it open. The lid came free with a click. The Force, cold and comforting, leaked out of the box, washing over his fingers with a gentle, frigid intensity. It was achingly familiar.

And hesitating only for a few moments more, Kanan lifted the lid, revealing the source.

He stared down at it and drew in a sharp, harrowing breath.

Cubical and made of crystal in design. Ice-blue gemstone decorated pristinely with intricate gold lining. Glowing faintly, and, like a heartbeat, thrumming in the Force.

A holocron.