Saviour - Part V: Heart-Stopping
After a tense journey to the medcentre, accompanied by bakery deliverers, who are working for the rebels in secret, Kanan and Hera arrive at the medcentre and hand Zeb off to the doctors so they can properly treat him.
Big thank you to all our patient and lovely followers who have been waiting for the first story to be completed. No words can describe how grateful for you we are and thanks for all the support and comments you've given us. There's no words to describe how wonderful you truly are.
Credit to Fuzzydemolitionsquad (Grayscrunchie) for her exceptional writing skills and Eyeloch (our beta-reader) keen eye to detail. Aspiringwarriorlibrarian her story/art critiquing assistance. Pictures/co-writing/story idea by DarkDranzer
With a final pneumatic hiss, the Ghost landed in a small, seldom-used spaceport. Caked in ash and grime from Lasan, Hera's ship would probably raise a few eyebrows - except that it was one of the cleaner vessels here. It was easy to see why the place had slated for demolition, once the blueprints for Garel City's shining new port complex had been drafted.
Not seeing the need to completely dress up, since he was only posing as a bodyguard, Kanan donned his old duster jacket. It felt nostalgic and in a way 'right' for him - his current alias honoured the two people who last saw him wear it, after all.
"You sure you want to wear that?" Hera lightly teased, her voice drifting from the corridor, "The latest weather report says it's going to be warm outside."
"I'll manage, after all weren't we meant to be discreee––"
Kanan's thoughts dropped as he saw her. So did his jaw. Even though she was wearing different footwear, Kanan still recognised each footfall as Hera musically clinked down the ladder steps and onto the polished floor. He whistled low as she turned, joining him in the cargo hold.
In the brief time she'd slipped into her cabin, Hera had completely changed her outfit. The usual flight suit had been swapped for a simple blue tank top and white three quarter pants. Her pilot's cap had been swapped out for a flashier cap of fine bantha leather, its straps flowing with her lekku perfectly. A ring of polished wroshyr wood slung through a leather cord around her neck completed the effortlessly stylish look - one that suited her current alias.
As Hera walked closer, she shrugged a small bag onto her shoulder. Its colourful look was a nice distraction from the necessities it carried - her trusty Blurrg-1120 holdout blaster, replacement chargers, encrypted communicators...
"Hadn't realised how nice Jumay looks in that outfit" Kanan said with a cheeky wink.
Hera smiled. "Don't get used to it Skelly, it's only for this mission. Gotta say though, it always feels weird not wearing my proper uniform."
"Yeah, yeah...I feel the same. Hadn't realised how much dust this old thing could collect in a few years" he said, while giving it a vigorous pat down. He sneezed as the plume of dust engulfed his face, covering him in a murky halo.
"Ugh...I'll be glad once this thing's over...I could use a break for awhile…" he mumbled, while giving a long drawn out sniff.
Hera didn't reply, but instead turned to him. Noticing he looked as though he hadn't slept for days, she gently touched his arm.
"...you did very well," she said at last, letting her hand fall away, "I know he wouldn't have survived the travel through hyperspace if you didn't help him the way you did."
"Yeah…" Kanan rubbed his bleary eyes and blinked them thrice. "Just...Don't ask me to do it anymore, alright? My jedi 'muscle' doesn't get much use anymore and my body-uh, mind, isn't coping well with all this recent activity."
He was too drained to think about whether or not he had just snapped at her, though he did notice his voice was unusually harsh. His mind was still muddled by a copious fog. It was the way one felt just prior to going mad from sleep deprivation.
Kanan knew he was being unreasonable - Hera hadn't persuaded him to call upon the force. She knew how he felt about utilizing it and why. Everything today had been his decision, and in his heart he knew his choice was the right one, but the memories his summoning had wrenched from his mind. . .all the grief, guilt and shame were being dredged back to the surface, causing him even more discomfort than the exhaustion itself.
Hera's eyes were soft, understanding. She tilted her chin so as to look into his bloodshot eyes. "I'd never put pressure on you like that. Besides, if all goes well we won't even need that sort of help."
"If all goes well." Kanan grumbled, sarcastically. "Since when has that ever happened to us?" He kicked a loose screw across the floor panel. He listened to it ricochet around the hull.
Hera was about to respond with words of reassurance when Chopper interrupted her with a firm 'worp-worp.' He'd received a communique from the bakery - the delivery van had finally arrived.
"Good timing. How long was that - an hour, two hours?" Kanan asked with a wry, though welcoming, smile.
Hera briskly walked past him and descended the stairs. She jabbed the cargo door's control button with her thumb. As the ramp lowered like a dewback's jaw (complete with a low hiss provided by the door's hydraulics), Kanan caught up with the twi'lek. She whirled around.
"Remember," Hera said, "you're my 'bodyguard' Skelly Garson."
"Yeah, I know that. . .but I still don't –"
Hera pressed a finger to his lips.
Before Kanan could think, the sound of a speeder van drew their attention. Even as he blinked, Hera was striding towards the worn and featureless white van. The blocky vech came to a clunking, choking stop at the foot of the ramp.
"Like I said, good timing." Kanan shouted over the noise, following Hera down the ramp.
Kanan felt his eyeballs throb when Garel's brilliant natural light assaulted him. The sky was the brightest blue he had ever seen on the planet. It made him wonder how he managed to read, or do anything for that matter, by the glow of the Ghost's pallid illuminators. A warm breeze, imparted with the scents of Garel City's exotic downtown, caressed his face.
As the engine noise finally thumped and rubbled to a stop, the van's doors opened and out stepped a pair of felinoid cathars.
The male was dressed in a professional-looking white, double-breasted jacket - a contrast to his scuffed-up shorts. Embroidered on the jacket's right pocket was a basket of colorful fruit tarts and petite cakes, leaving no doubt of the cathar's profession. Clipped (slightly askew) to the same pocket was his name-tag. Just from the way he held himself, Kanan got the impression this "Condu Nogor" was unusually outgoing and friendly – at least for a member of the species which practically invented aloofness. The moment he left the vech, he ran toward Hera and Kanan. As he dashed he started to unfasten the jacket, taking care not to mess up his rusty, mowhawk stripe of a mane (held fast with a dependable feline hair product). His whiskers bristled as he smiled.
"Hey Jumay!" He ran up to Hera and ribbed her, much to Kanan's chagrin. "We're all ready to load. Let's get that violet sapina cake rolling!"
"Hi Con! How are you?" Hera asked in reply, warmly embracing the cathar. "Where's your better half?"
"Josi? Oh! She's coming! I just…" Con glanced about behind him, trying to find his partner. "Hey Josi? Where'd you go?"
"No need to shout, I'm well within earshot." A terse female voice said from the bottom of the ramp.
The second cathar mounted the ramp and briskly walked over to her compatriot and clients. Her straight face and wrinkled triangular nose displayed a certain amount of disdain for her partner's lack of professionalism. Her clothes reflected this too - her jacket was less wrinkled, while her dip hem blouse and skirt were far smarter but well-suited for the heat of the day.
As Kanan looked across at the two of them, his tired mind finally remembered that he'd briefly seen these two before. The lady, Josina 'Josi' Lamir, had been in this business for a long time, possibly even longer than Hera, while her partner of eight years was still being groomed for a step up in his 'position'. Josi was hoping to retire one day, after all.
Looking at the two of them with fresher eyes, Kanan spotted the fondness she'd hidden in her exasperation. She liked him; everyone knew that. Con was the annoying younger brother she never had.
"Hey Josi, nice to see you again." Hera offered her hand, which Josi took in a firm grip.
"Hello Jumay. Likewise." The cat faced alien cocked her head in acknowledgement. "I swear, everytime I see you, your skin is an even more beautiful hue of green."
Hera tittered. "Ancient Ryloth secret," she laughed a little, when Josi arched her eyebrows in confusion, "no, I'm just kidding. It's probably the noon light."
"Sameesh." The cathar swore. "And here I was hoping that secret would help put the gloss back in my coat. Clearly the products here designed for Cathars need a little work..."
Josi saw Kanan shifting around with his hands on his hips. "I'm sorry, I forgot your name…"
Kanan's cheeks flushed as he tried to spit out the name Hera gave him. Fortunately for him, Hera was right there to save him from further embarrassment
"Oh, how could you forget my co-pilot and dashing bodyguard Skelly Garson?" And blast it Kanan, how can you forget the name SKELLY?
"At your service ma'am." Kanan stared into her eyes and then gave her a cheeky wink.
Hera gave him a convenient– and not-so-subtle– stomp on the foot with the edge of her boot heel. Well-bred Cathar females didn't like courtship innuendo of any kind, unless it was kitten-making season. It took all of Kanan's willpower not to shout out in pain. Taking the 'message' on board, he gave Josi a pained, awkward smile then cleared his throat and firmly grasped the confused Cathar's extended paw-hand.
"Yeah…" he gasped out, "...sorry bout that. Mr. Garson, at your service ma'am!"
"Pleasure to meet you Mr. Garson..." She gave him an odd look, before remembering her boss had told her not to ask questions. Con looked up at the ship and whistled through his small, strangely chisel-like front teeth.
"I sure do love this ship Jumay. More and more everytime I see it. Nothing like a Corellian ship for power and function. Look at those lines! The VCX's are some of the best looking vessels around." He marveled like an excited cub, circling around the cockpit. "Oh sure, some argue that the Kuat shipyards make more dependable personal craft, but I don't believe it. I had a friend who worked for the CEC–y'know, the Corellian Engineering Corporation–and she told me–"
Clearing her throat, Josi turned to the taller cathar. "Con, let's save the cordialities for another day when stormtroopers aren't busy patrolling the street across from this old dump of a spaceport."
"How many?" Hera was afraid to ask, yet blurted it out, regardless of her trepidation.
"A couple small squads. Probably twenty-five or more. So, if you'll excuse my curtness, I'd rather we make this a rush job."
"Us too." Kanan said firmly. "Our 'cake' isn't doing so well. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to get it ready for travel."
"I'll help!" Con galloped up into the ship ahead of Kanan, then paused, scratching his head at which way to go.
Chopper rolled behind the newcomer and snapped at the cathar's tail with his clawed service arm. Con pitched a hiss. Kanan would have laughed, had the situation at hand not been so serious. The droid left hurriedly as Hera and Josi followed the two inside.
When the two bakers saw the bleeding and bandaged lasat, his gore-stained respiration mask issuing a low hiss and crackle with every breath he took, their jaws hung open. Not only at his injuries–Con turned away at the sight of the protruding rib– but also in confused bewilderment.
"So big! I-Is that...a shorthaired purple wookiee?" Con asked, as he helped Kanan move the alien's upper half onto the stretcher. Hera and Josi had his feet. The four of them struggled to situate him without disturbing his wounds.
"Actually," Kanan grunted under exertion. "He's a lasat. A very lucky one. Well, depending on how you look at it."
Hera glanced over at Kanan, sorrow in her eyes. She knew what he meant.
"A lasat." Con mouthed the word. "An actual lasat?"
Kanan nodded.
"We can't get into details, but we need to take him to Crossroads as soon as we can."
The male cathar continued to stare. "I've heard of them; never saw one before though," he babbled, pulling some black restraints out from underneath the stretcher, "didn't know they were this tough."
" ...honestly, I'm not sure how long he can hold on," Kanan sighed, "but I'd say he's been defying expectations since we got him on board."
Faces grim, the two of them click-locked the restraints tight.
"Don't-uh, didn't-they usually keep to themselves?" Con asked as he finished securing the legs.
"Usually, yeah," Kanan replied, still struggling with securing the charred torso, "they traded with a few other worlds and that's it."
"They chose to be neutral during the Clone Wars." Con said, matter-of-fact. "I heard they were asked several times, by their closest allies, to join the Republic but they rebuked them every time."
Kanan looked up at him, away from the lasat's burnt face. The cathar looked away. Fortunately, they were busy with securing the lasat to the gurney.
"I'd heard they'd rather stick to their own governing, " Kanan cooly replied, "with the galactic powers breathing down their necks, I wouldn't call that cowardly."
'Though some of the Jedi Order might have disagreed.' Kanan added, as a bitter afterthought.
Josi grunted, as she attached the oxygen scrubber to a small port beneath the stretcher. "Guess they didn't want anything to do with our glorious Empire either. . .can't say I blame them."
As Josi turned back away, Kanan saw Hera frown. Kanan found himself frowning too - Josi's statement wasn't entirely accurate.
Hera and Kanan both knew Lasan was one of the few worlds that dared speak up about the Empire's brutal regime. Repeatedly. They'd listened to a few articles and newscasts about the heated debates between representatives of the ruling monarchy and the Emperor, data now doubtlessly scrubbed from every database the Imps could get their claws into. As hostile as the two parties were, who could have foreseen things escalate to the genocide of an entire species?
Kanan was pulled from his thoughts as the four of them hefted the stretcher off the ground. There'd be time for reflection later, once the big guy was safely at a med-centre.
They shuffled their way through the Ghost's corridors, each feeling the burden of the lasat's heavy body. Chopper followed behind the group like a faithful mutt, chirping and chortling as if happy to finally see the lasat go. By the time the group made it to the hovervan, Con and Josi's legs were shaking and their faces were distorted with pain. Josi clawed at the van's back door handle and barely managed to turn it.
"Damn old wreck! Who in their right mind has a hover rig without an auto entry button!?"
"Eh...to be fair Josi, old Zoop can't afford to get those fancy ones..." Con said sheepishly, then turned to Hera and Kanan, "These hover rigs we get are usually given to us by other businesses that're closing down."
Hera understood the feeling. The Empire's financial allocations were being pushed to further their military budget, making small business owners struggle to earn more money to cover the barest of essentials. She'd bitterly noticed, time and again, that these new laws targeted small businesses with a large number of non-humans under their employ.
"Alright, boys in the back. Girls at the front." Josi said, tapping the grav-van.
Kanan and Condu nodded and leapt into the back of the van, making it wobble. The stretcher's anti-grav function started to kick in as they firmly gripped the two handles.
"Okay, on three." Kanan held up three fingers. "Gently though. Remember, just slide him in."
"Got it." The others agreed.
"Alright. One. . . two. . . three!"
The lasat in his stretcher slid across the floor of the van, his peaked skull coming to rest against the back of the driver's seat. Kanan secured the stretcher to the floor, rechecking the black restraints as he went. Condu grabbed some flour sacks and began piling them around the warrior's body.
"Straps holding him snug, Skelly?" Con asked as he hefted another bag of flour into place.
"Yep." Kanan gave the lasat a light pat on his chest, "Our boy ain't going anywhere."
"Put some empty sacks on top of him then lean the others over so it looks like a pile." Josi added helpfully, while neatly folding her jacket into a drawer under the passenger's seat.
The two men did as she said and she gave them a thumbs up.
"Yeah, that looks convin-"
Suddenly, Josi's amber eyes blazed. Her leathery nose sucked at the air.
"It's them…" She whispered. "We need to go, now." Slamming the back doors shut, she leapt into the driver's seat and adjusted her belt.
"Don't have to tell me twice," Hera muttered, climbing aboard with the aid of Josi's outstretched paw-hand. She might not have seen anyone approaching on the horizon, but she knew not to doubt a Cathar's instincts.
Chopper barked obnoxiously through Hera's comlink.
"Sorry Squawky, I got another job for you. I want you to take the ship out of orbit and send a message to our friend. Give her the price amount and tell her thanks."
Chopper grumbled but complied. He thought all the humorous, clandestine communications were a load of nuts and bolts.
"You seem to have a lot of faith in your astromech." Josi remarked as Hera pulled her safety belt across her chest.
"He's never let me down before and he won't start now." Hera smiled. "He knows who gives the best oil baths after all."
Josi's laugh had a growl to it, making it a bit unsettling. Still chuckling, she adjusted the mirror and flipped the vech's ignition. A steady hum from the starter made her roll her eyes.
"C'mon, c'mon… Don't make me push start you." She flipped the toggle up and down repeatedly and the van sputtered to life. "Ahh, there we go. You boys comfortable back there?"
Kanan winced, as a wave of uncomfortably hot, stale air rushed through the van, stirring up the flour. Con sneezed.
"Yup, we're fine. Delivery's covered up good. Let's go already!" He snorted and rubbed his snout, "Man, you didn't tell me how bad these guys stink..."
"Tell me about it," Kanan chortled, "we'll be scrubbing the cabin for weeks"
Hera turned around. "Skelly. . .he might be able to hear you."
"No offence big fella," the former padawan patted the flour bags, only to suddenly pause. Expression grim again, he reached through the bags and felt the survivor's forehead.
"Is he okay?" Hera asked, twisting around in her seat to try and get a look.
"Yeah, for now," Kanan replied, removing his hand, "though it'd be nice if we could avoid giving him heatstroke, on top of all this other damage."
"Here," Con took a quick swig from a water bottle, then grabbed a discarded rag from under Josi's seat. Soaking it, he tossed the sodden rag to Kanan, "Put this on his head - might help."
With a grunt of thanks, Kanan gently placed the damp cloth over the lasat's forehead, adjusting it slightly before re-covering the survivor with empty flour bags. Groaning involuntarily, he wiped the sweat off his brow.
"Phew," he sighed, "hadn't realised how hot the planet was going to be. Hey Josi, think we can get cold air blowing here?"
"...sorry," Josi winced, "money's gotten so tight we don't even have the funds to get the air conditioning working again. Not after we'd got the NavMap fixed last cycle."
As she spoke, Josi pulled up a mini holo-map on the dashboard. After a few seconds, four illuminated lines - all converging on one blinking dot - flickered into life. With her claw, she followed each line, pausing each time smaller red dots flanked them.
"Alright, the good news is there's more than one route we can take to get to your destination. But the problem is bypassing the checkpoints the Empire has put up to catch anyone smuggling in contraband…"
"–Or beings they don't want here…" Hera bitterly added.
Josi nodded. "So the issue here is, we need to find one with the least amount of checkpoints to go through. I highly doubt the old 'we're delivering a large cake to a Hutt's party' is going to fool all of them."
Hera tapped her chin, before pointing at the third line illuminated in yellow. "Hm. . .in that case we'll have to take the longer route - it only has two checkpoints to worry about and that means, if all goes well, there'd be less delays for us." She looked up at Josi. "We'd make better time than if we took the shortest route, naturally, but that one has the most checkpoints."
Josi nodded, "Yeah, that one goes through the heart of Slum-Town and – seeing as more contraband's found there – that'd be the ideal place to put up more checkpoints. So, longer route it is. Sounds like a plan."
Hera bit her lip. "I don't need to tell you that we need to hurry. . .but don't speed. I guess what I'm saying is–drive casual."
Josi nodded and shifted the gear, Condu and Kanan wincing as another rush of heat flooded the van. The human coughed at the fragrance of oil, while the cathar grimaced out of his jacket - tossing it over the seats in the front.
"I'll get you to the back door of Crossroads General before we're missed back at the bakery." Josi grinned, eyes narrow. "One of you will need to be on the lookout for any Imperial activity. They're like scent-hounds, sneaking around, sniffing here, sniffing there."
"Skelly can handle it."
"Good. You remember the code, right?"
"Yup. IHAPOG. I heard Aqualish prefer Ol' Glazco." Hera intoned.
Josi nodded. "Good girl. Wait for someone to reply with 'Ol' Glazco will have a field day.' That's the all-clear signal. I'll knock. I know the secret-knock by heart."
"Thank you so much for this, Josi."
Hera appreciated the cathars more than they knew. She felt a swell of pride for these two beings who were willing to risk their lives for this cause. At the same time, however, she couldn't help but feel guilty.
"No problem." Josi replied, smiling ever so slightly. "This isn't my first muumuu rodeo, Jumay. We like doing this 'special delivery' stuff. Even with deliveries we haven't seen before."
The old van jostled as Josi exited the spaceport. She held her breath when a pair of white-clad troopers jogged toward her. To her immense relief, they swerved around the van and accosted a gaggle of alien teens who were hoverboarding in the ship pit of an empty mech station. She turned right onto the street and accelerated. Casually.
With the current danger past, Hera lowered her gaze. Without an immediate crisis to focus on, she couldn't help but recall what she had seen on the desolate, broken world of Lasan. Visions of the dead crept into her mind. Ice-cold blood streaked through her veins. It seemed an eternity away now. She gripped her knees with her slender hands.
"Okay, Jumay, gonna tell you something about this particular area." Josi said, forcing herself to sound casual. "It's set up in quadrants. Like little cities inside Garel City. They're alien districts and each one we enter has a checkpoint. Unfortunately, the Imperials aren't as easygoing as the ones who busted those kids back there..."
"We'll be okay." Con called through, trying to be optimistic. "You just have to be really nice to them. You know, compliment them. . .maybe slip 'em a bribe?"
"Heh." Josi shook her head as she drove. "Sorry pal. Payday's a week away and I don't have enough creds on me. And I'm not stupid enough to touch Mr. Craxxsk's secret cred cache."
"I wouldn't bribe them." Kanan said in a warning tone. "The Imps are loyal to their emperor. Like bees to their queen. Don't want to change the subject, Josi, but we need a plan if they decide to look under these flour sacks."
"Grab one, hit it over their head, then run like hell!" Con chirped excitedly, rubbing his padded hands together.
"Heh, I like the way you think Con." Kanan clapped the cathar's shoulder. "Sounds like old times eh H–Jumay?"
"Yes Skelly . A little too much like old times." Hera replied, her voice terse. She didn't want to admit it, but she was terrified. Fear and anger twisted her guts about, but she forced herself to remain calm…
As the vech chugged its way towards the first checkpoint, the small group inside saw troopers everywhere - in the streets, on the walkways, in cantinas and in the alcoves between buildings. From the corner of her eye, Josi spied two on the roof of a bank, walking back and forth and looking bored. The long rifles clutched in their hands however, were anything but boring.
"Somebody's making a big deposit." Josi said, keeping her voice carefully neutral.
Despite herself, Hera craned her neck to get a better look.
"Don't stare at them!" The cathar hissed. "It makes us look suspicious. Just keep focused on the road."
Hera obeyed, only taking in quick glimpses at each patrol. She glanced at Josi too, noticing that she was looking and acting unusually tense. The cathar's eyes were glued to the road and the traffic signs. While held at a junction, she adjusted the rear view mirror.
"Is the big guy still breathing?"
"Yeah." Kanan nodded, gaze returning to the blue light of the blood oxygen monitor, just barely visible under the cloth sacks. The purple alien remained stable - though for how long was anybody's guess.
Sooner than expected, the ragtag group entered the first of the two zones. The checkpoint–a small toll-taker's shack really–was manned by a handful of surly looking Imperials. Skulking like hawks in a crowded cage, liable to peck at anyone putting their fingers too close.
Without staring, Hera studied the gang of three. Their wrinkled gray uniforms and caps, along with two-day beard growth and puffy red eyes, showed how long they'd been at their post. The cup of caf each of them gripped in a rough-knuckled hand only confirmed it. Hera huffed to herself. By the looks of it, the partaking of too much alc earned these 'high-ups' a miserable post. They had to put up with the antics of alien and human trash, all of them armed to the teeth, with unbelievable stories as to why they had forgotten their passes.
Far away from the trio of officers, a lone scout trooper leaned against his bike. You could tell at a glance, this was a freshly graduated cadet - a rookie with too-white armor and nervous hands. One thing Hera knew about cadets was that their superiors often treated them like nothing more than go-fers – relegating menial tasks to them such as fetching food and caf, or even standing post while one or two of them took a quick nap. She'd heard from a few sources about how the biggest screw-ups of the Imperial machine received positions like these. And how harassing the newbies gave them the power trip they'd been missing.
"Come on Hera, you can do this."
Josina's eyes darted to Hera's as the van decelerated and floated to a stop. One of the men, caf still in hand, approached the window and motioned for it to be put down. Josi forced a feline smile and pushed the window control button.
"Hello sir, are you having a nice day?"
The older trooper grunted, apparently his day was anything but nice.
"..mmph." he grumbled, after swig of caf from his thermos, "Gotcher pass?"
"Right here." She held it out for him to retrieve, all but leaning out of the window. "Say, maybe you can clear something up for me. I'm almost up for renewal. Do I call someone about that or will I be contacted?"
The man scratched his head through his gray cap and squinted down at the card. "...I dunno," he replied, focus elsewhere. His eyes flicked from picture to person, then made to hand it back to her, before twisting round to the attention of the man behind him. "Oi Hob, the—"
"What is it now, Thraott?"
"—the department issues new passes a month before the old one expires, right?"
'Hob' squeezed next to Mr. Personality and stared at Hera, his bloodshot eyes bugging. She flashed a coquettish smile and wiggled her fingers in a wave. It seemed he took several seconds to notice, suggesting he was even more tired than the others. With a passable attempt at a smile, he gave a long, drawn out sip of his Caf. Instantly, his lips scrunched in disgust as he spat it onto the ground, droplets of the mouth-warm dregs spattering across Josi's face.
"Ugh...bloody rookie got me a cold caf. What idiot can't tell the difference between a hot caf and a cold one?" He ranted, throwing the thermal cup to the ground.
Looking down, he blinked once, scowled and then stomped on it, splattering more of the liquid over the van. The first officer, who must have been 'Tharott', clenched his jaw - cold caf now dyed the hem of his uniform pants.
Regaining his composure, Hob held out his hand and fanned his fingers in a beckoning gesture.
"Give it 'ere. I'll take a look…" The tired man yawned, tugging the pass from his companion's hand, then studying it as closely as his bleary eyes could manage. "Ah. A year pass. You have the benefit of having your card sent to you but it won't be activated until you pay for it." He threw the pass back into the van, not caring that it fell through the gap. Josi's lip curled and her slit pupils widened. She controlled the instinct to tear the man's throat out with her fangs. With difficulty.
"Oh, I thought it might be something like that." She managed to say sweetly. "Thanks. You guys are always so helpful!"
"...one other thing," Tharott said, gaze fixed just past Josi, "I was sure your bakery had a branded van."
Josi's arm brushed against Con's jacket. His work jacket. While his embroidered name was covered by the folds, the Phondant Phantasy logo was still clearly visible on his sleeve. Her blood ran cold...she was going to kill him for this.
"...well," she started, trying not to show her nerves, "I took a corner badly yesterday, and blew a repulsorlift. Money's still tight, so we can't get a priori-"
All of a sudden the third officer, an obvious full-time drunkard with a lacing of red capillaries on his bulbous nose, practically knocked the other two men out of the way. Ignoring their indignant shouts, he rested his arm on the van's open window frame and leered in. Luckily, the back of the van didn't interest him at all. Josi recoiled as she smelt the rank booze on his breath. His pig eyes tagged Hera.
"Fondant, eh?" He asked, grinning widely. "Got anything sweet in there for me to munch on, luv?"
Hera imagined her fist turning the man's fat nose inside out. She leaned over Josi and smiled at him. "Sorry, we don't have any right now. I should have thought to save a couple for you checkpoint guys. Are you working tomorrow?"
"Depends if you are, beautiful. In the bakery, I mean." The man added, winking.
"I am. I'll be by early with a special treat for you."
The man leered at Hera like a Krayt dragon would a succulent young bantha. He leaned in, totally ignoring Josi's presence. The cathar felt like the middle of a triple-being sandwich - and not in a fun way.
"Say, I'm curious. Is it true what they say about twi'leks, that those brain tails of yours are super sensitive?"
Hera giggled, "Yeah, though probably not as much as a chi'kan's ego" The tips of her lekku coiled. The man's smarmy grin remained unchanged, giving her some relief that he didn't go berserk over the Ryl insult.
The scout trooper standing a few feet away turned his helmeted head slowly in the direction of his superiors. He spoke, and his squeaking voice told Hera that he was clearly the least experienced –not to mention youngest– of the gatekeepers.
"D-Do you make those cream filled strudel pillows with the crystal sugar topping?" He asked Hera.
There was a sudden change in the officer's personality. The smarmy grin on his face was replaced with a brutish snarl.
"Aren't you supposed to be standing guard, ya useless glass maggot?" He barked. " Get back t'work!"
The young scout trooper flinched at the larger man's yelling, scurrying back to his post. The officer muttered a curse under his breath, then turned back to the two women, erasing his snarl and replacing it with a genteel mask. "Sorry 'bout him, still new 'round here...can't even get a bloody Caf order right, can ya imagine?"
"It is hard to believe." Hera tittered. "Every Imperial I've met so far is a virtual wellspring of professionalism . Isn't that right Josi?"
"For sure. Things on Garel have never been so orderly ."
At this the man beamed, being too drunk to understand the thinly veiled insults directed at him. Hera could smell his fermented breath up close - nearly gagging from the stench.
"Well...we best be off," she winked, "otherwise our boss'll be the next one to rip off our heads if you get my meaning."
"Rip your pretty heads off? That'd be a crime." He pushed himself off the door.
The drunkard raised the barrier and gave Hera a salacious wink. The other two men didn't bother waving. They were more interested in their chronometres, counting down to the end of their shift. The solitary scout was now looking over the streets with his macrobinoculars – trying to avoid any further yelling from his superiors – so didn't pay them any further notice. Hera thought to herself how ironic it was that the youngest of the group seemed to be the most dedicated to his job. Josi wasted no time hitting the accelerator and peeling off.
As they turned a corner, Hera could finally drop her bimbo facade. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and made gagging motions with her finger while Kanan glowered towards the window. Josi gripped the wheel tightly. The smells of caf, sweat and cheap alc still lingered.
Con hastily pulled his jacket off the seat and put it underneath, nervously rubbing the back of his head.
"Ah damn it…" he muttered, clearly ashamed of himself, "…this is my fault"
"You're right, it was." Josi replied coolly, she inhaled sharply through her nostrils, "Condu, you need to be more careful about this - if they know where we work they can easily track us down at their leisure and arrest us and even Mr. Craxxsk. We can't afford to get sloppy, things are getting more dangerous now."
"Yeah," he sighed, "I know. . . it won't happen again. I promise."
Con looked sadly at the back of her headrest, he couldn't see her expression but he could tell whenever she was disappointed – it was much worse than her temper. He dejectedly gazed at his legs, unsure of what to say or do to fix the situation he accidentally created.
Kanan felt sympathy for Con's situation, but his mistake had nearly blew their cover. Rubbing the back of his head, he couldn't think of anything to say to alleviate the poor cathar's shame and the sudden, terse silence that took over the hot, clunky hovervan was killing him. He cleared his throat.
"And they say aliens are depraved creatures." Kanan spoke, voice low. "That pervert's lucky he shut up when he did. I was about to throw a flour bag at his booze-addled cranium."
Hera turned around. "As much as I would've loved to have hit him, or for you to have thrown that flour bag, we can't risk the Imperials holding us up with someone dying in the back." she tilted her head towards the large bags of flour, "Besides, I've handled worse. At least we made it through without any problems."
"Yeah, well, that's only the first checkpoint. We still have one more before we reach the medcentre…" Josi said, only now wiping the Caf from her face. "And I don't think they're gonna be as 'friendly' as the ones we just met."
The van fell unusually silent as they drove to their next destination. Both women were clearly disgusted by the previous gate keepers – along with the awkwardly terse conversation Josi gave to her colleague. During the next few minutes of the journey, they only spotted a squad or two of stormtroopers, doing routine patrol through the streets the vech flew past. Hera heeded Josi's advice and kept her eyes glued to the windshield.
All too soon, however, the holo-nav showed Hera that the second checkpoint was close. Sighing to herself, she shut her eyes and breathed deeply - readying herself for another bunch of-
-a sudden jolt from the van brought her back to reality. Looking up, she groaned - a queue of six speeders lay ahead of them, and the first in line appeared to be getting a complete shakedown.
"Dammit…" Josi hissed as she removed her foot from the breaks "It's them… "
"Who?" Hera asked, looking around through the corners of her eyes.
Josi pointed to the tollbooth. "The oldest looking one, Thomcol Brutsel. . .he's the Checkmaster of this area and a nasty piece of work - everyone running the checkpoints reports to him. " she growled under her breath.
"You know him?" Hera queried, trying to keep her face neutral while her stomach sank.
Ahead, Stormtroopers with contraband-detecting droids circled the vehicle, while a frightened family of pantorans stood by watching helplessly. She instantly picked out who Josi referred to, Checkmaster Thomcol Brutsel – a grim-faced man, with steely eyes and silver-streaked black hair.
"Yeah, bastard got my cousin arrested on a fake warrant a few years ago, after he contested a small traffic violation."Josi explained, grip tightening on the wheel. "Soon after he was deported from Garel. My aunt's told me he's barred from ever leaving Cathar, despite the fact he was born here - only visited our "homeworld" one time! As a toddler!"
Hera grunted in assent - she knew his type, all too well. The first people who celebrated the Empire's rise to power, the most eager to join up with their military for glorious service.
As Hera watched, the man's scowl deepened. As he strode over to the family, arms tucked firmly behind his back, he seemed to loom over the pantorans despite their similar heights.
"Ma'am," he addressed the mother, seemingly the most vocal member of the family, "we will not apologize for any inconvenience. You must have watched the holonet. We recently had a tangle with a group who came through here with seven-hundred pounds of prime spice stowed in the flank panel of their family speeder. It's our job to inspect every vech that comes through here."
"B-But this is insane! You didn't check the other vech in front of us!" The mother snapped.
"That's because they had the proper pass with them. You have a retired blue pass. They haven't made those in a long time." The guard continued unsympathetically, taking out his holopad while he spoke, "Park your vech to the side, ma'am…"
The blue-skinned woman wasn't having any of it.
"The pass is still good! We paid into it two weeks ago, using the ID number on it, and nothing was said about it being retired. You let those other people go because they were human!"
Pink eyes met silver. Despite her short size and youthful appearance, it was clear she was the voice of authority in her family.
"Park your vech to the side, ma'am." Brutsel repeated, his tone becoming sharper.
"This doesn't make any sense! I watched the newscasts this morning! They didn't mention anything about full searches. We're going to be late to our daughter's dental appointment. I would have left a half hour earlier if I knew!"
"That's not my problem!" Brutsel's voice boomed like thunder. He gestured to the side of the road with an angry wave of his holopad. "I won't repeat myself again, move your vech to the side!"
The husband stepped in before his wife did something to anger the Checkmaster even further. Cursing the man in her native tongue, she let her mate lead her back into the speeder, their confused daughter following behind them. Brutsel watched as the family obediently moved their vech, before he turned to a small squad of troopers at his command. With matching salutes, the troopers – almost robotically – goose-stepped to the vech.
After watching the whole altercation, Hera turned to Josi.
"Proper pass? What does a proper pass look like?"
Josi shared her worry. "I don't know. Obviously not blue. Mine isn't blue, but it's not new either. The other Imps had no problem with it. I hope there's not some new rule those boozy sleemos didn't know about or we're in trouble."
"I think it's more that he was trying to cover up his feelings about pantorans. The speeder in front of them was full of good, 'honest' humans." Kanan said bitterly.
Slowly, jerkily, the queue moved along. Every vech, from speeder to bike to transport was gone through with a fine-toothed comb. Some with expediency, others with mind-numbing slowness. Even if they weren't running out of time, the anticipation would have been torture.
There was only one speeder ahead of the bakery van now.
"Plan?" Con asked, his eyes wide with growing fear as the man edged closer to them.
Kanan scanned the back of the van. "They're going to search. If only. . .if only we could somehow convince them I was sick with some virus. They might leave us alone and send us on our way?"
"That. . .might actually work," Josi replied, "there are paper masks back there. They're for working with the flour. We'll each put one on."
Coughing from the flour dust, Kanan started stacking bags next to the lasat. Despite the circumstances, he was ever-so-slightly pleased at how quickly he made a makeshift bed for himself.
Hera turned around in her seat, admiring his hasty handiwork. "Good. Get as close as you can without hurting him. We can't risk letting anyone see."
Con handed out the masks. Kanan was the first to put his on.
"Hey, wait." Con grabbed his water bottle and splashed some water on Kanan's face, making him look like he was in the grip of a powerful fever-dream.
Kanan didn't need any help looking exhausted, though. He might have been holding himself together better than he'd hoped for, but Kanan knew he was still running on fumes. As he let himself sink into the flour sacks, he felt the sudden, sickening realisation - in this state, he couldn't use the Force, even if he wanted to.
"Let's hope this works…" Con grumbled, adjusting his mask so it would fit around his whiskered muzzle.
"We're gonna need a little more than hope…" Josi remarked, gripping the wheel tightly. Her paw pads were sweating.
Brutsel nodded at the speeder in front of them. Even as its rider gunned the accelerator pedal, he made his way towards their van.
"Well, here goes nothing. . . " Josi said through clenched teeth.
The steely-eyed Checkmaster drew eye level with the window and tapped it with his stylus, prompting Josi to lower the window with a flick of a button.
"Hello sir, anything the matter?" she asked, pleasantly.
Brutsel didn't respond to her jovial attitude. He just stared at the two ladies emotionlessly. Even the Imperial-livery astromech droid, that trundled to his side while he spoke, seemed more outgoing.
'Now he was a true Imp.' Hera thought. This unnerved her more than the sleazy gatekeeper a few miles back. She had a bad feeling he wasn't going to be as easily fooled as his colleagues were.
"Name and purpose for entry?" he asked almost robotically – save for a hint of contempt in his voice when he saw both Josi and Hera.
"My name's Josina Lamir – Delivery Manager at Phondant Phantasy…" she flashed him her pass "We are taking- "
Brutsel ripped her pass from her hand and shoved it into the astromech's card reader. He raised a greying eyebrow, "What's with those masks?"
"I was trying to say, our coworker is sick and we're taking him to the doctor." She replied, retrieving her pass once the astromech confirmed its validity. "The boss reckons it might be the umbarian flu going around. We're all really worried so he let us close the shop. We're all really good friends you see."
Even as she finished speaking, Josi wasn't sure if Brutsel was buying it. The man barely seemed to react, but peered past her into the back of the van. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light inside.
The officer saw Kanan lying on a pile of flour bags, moaning and coughing sporadically - Con kneeling next to him, mumbling sympathy and holding his hand. Kanan's face was dripping with water. The cathar gave the Imperial servant a meek wave, but was ignored - the Checkmaster's sharp eyes had focused on a pool of dark fluid underneath some flour bags. Only the undersides of the bags seemed coated, suggesting it was leaking out from under the supposedly sick man's body. He was no med-specialist, but he did know that umbarian flu didn't make the patient bleed from the outside. He now knew these people were lying to him – he just had to catch them in their lie.
"Hm. . .seems like an awful lot of flour back there - especially just to prop up one person."
"Heh, it is a lot, isn't it?" Hera replied with cool confidence. "Ask Con back there. He had to tote it from the delivery dock."
"Yeah, thanks for all the help , ladies!" Con feigned anger.
"We weren't going to break our nails! Besides, who's the one who filled out the invoice wrong and ordered too much?" Hera leaned over Josi and both of them smirked at the man. "He's new. We just picked up the flour and haven't gotten around to unloading it yet. Good thing too. I think it makes a nice bed for him."
Brutsel ignored the women's prattle. His attention remained focused on the pool of dark liquid.
"A bed hmm?" He asked, oozing smug curiosity. "Then why isn't he lying on top of it?"
"He's feverish!" Con yelled. "He's been thrashing around like crazy."
Josi stared ahead. If the Checkmaster continued to ask questions she was going to panic. She gripped and ungripped the steering wheel. Things were not going well.
"I. . .see." Brutsel replied. Unconvinced. "Ma'am, I'm going to have to inspect the back of the van." He pulled out a pair of thin rubber gloves. They squeaked when he shoved his hands into them.
"Do you have to? We really need to get him to the doctor." Hera said, purposefully omitting the word 'medcentre'.
"It's standard procedure ma'am. We do this to everyone. Rest assured I'm up to date with my inoculations."
"Do this to everyone my eye. " Hera muttered under her breath, looking away as the Imperial gave her a stern glare.
"Open the back please ma'am," he growled, "I won't ask a third time."
"Okay, sir" Josi said, her voice pressured but agreeing. "Just be careful. I heard the flu inoculations aren't covering all the different strains that have popped up this year. Don't get too close to him…"
Brutsel didn't respond. Either he wasn't moved by the cathar's concern, or he didn't believe that the Empire's pharmacies would (or even could ) produce an inferior precautionary medication. Making his way towards the back of the van, the Imperial produced a mini flashlight from a pocket of his uniform, activating it as he drew closer.
Con dry-swallowed his fear and whispered to Kanan. "Skelly, got any ideas?"
Kanan opened one eye slightly and flashed Con a puckish smile. His hand tightened on the bag of flour.
"Just be ready for my signal. Tell Josi to floor it when we make our move."
The cathar turned and did so, signing his mentor the message with only a half-second to spare - finishing just as the gatekeeper opened the now unlocked back of the van. Brutsel glared at the red-maned cathar. "You. Get out and face the side of the van."
Con felt like he was about to faint but another smile from Kanan calmed his nerves. Obviously he knew what he was doing.
...Hopefully.
"Whoa, this is wizard." The cathar said, affecting a typical teen-aged drawl. "I'm gonna get frisked. See this Josi?"
"Shut up and let the guy do his job, fluff-kitten."
"You want me on the left or right side?"
"Left wall." Brutsel growled through clenched teeth.
Con complied with the angered Checkmaster's orders and stood in front of the van's left flank, his hands pressed against metal and his feet spread. He did a good job keeping up the amused demeanor - even though, inside, he was dying of fear. With all eyes on the younger cathar, Hera slipped one hand into her bag.
One long second later, and Brutsel entered the vech. With a deliberate slowness, he knelt next to Kanan's squirming body and reached down. He dipped his fingers in the strange fluid. It stained the tips of his gloves as he checked the colour, viscosity and warmth of it.
"Hm...interesting..." He looked at the supposedly sick man and held up his stained fingers.
"You do realize this isn't human blood?"
"Wh-what? blood?" Con asked, now right behind Brutsel.
"I told you to stay put!" He barked. "Paws on the van or I'll have you in binders!"
"Sheesh, sorry. . .I was just going to tell you the mess is from a violet sapina cake we delivered. That's just the egg jellycream filling."
"I think I can tell the difference between blood and jellycream. This substance is still warm. Body temperature to be precise." The Checkmaster's lips pursed and his nose wrinkled. "Ugh, what's that horrible smell? You're harbouring something else in here, aren't you? Another creature?"
Con's face paled as Brutsel stood back up. The man paused for a heartbeat, then moved deeper into the vech. Hera tightened her grip. A second heartbeat, and he was learning closer to the other bags of flour – some of which were stained with more of the lasat's blood. Without thinking, Con planted a paw-foot on Brutsel's rear and pushed. Hard.
"Oof! What in blazes…!?"
Before the Imp had a chance to think, a shot from Hera's holdout blaster tore through his shoulder. At the same time Kanan swung a heavy bag of flour as hard as he could, hitting the Checkmaster on the side of the head.
Squinting his eyes against the resulting flour explosion, Con kicked the Checkmaster's staggering body out of the grav-van.
"FLOOR IT!" He bellowed.
Instantly Josi's foot stomped the accelerator pedal - the van's engine producing an ear-splitting whine as the vech tore right through the quadrant border. Pieces of shattered barrier tumbling along in its wake. Few vehicles were directly ahead of them - a handy side-effect of the long, slow checks - so the female cathar stole a frantic look into the rearview mirror. Through it, she saw some stormtroopers helping the disorientated, flour-covered Checkmaster to his feet. Clutching his wounded shoulder and coughing up flour dust, the enraged Checkmaster barked angrily to the troopers, telling them to follow the van.
Josi gave an adrenaline-fueled roar, shifting the gear stick as her eyes narrowed. The lasat-and-cake-scented vech geared up with a heavy clunk - the resulting jerk throwing Con against the flailing back door. His claws screeched on metal as he desperately sort purchase. After several lifetime-long milliseconds he found his grip and clung on for his life. Wind buffeted him back and forth, right along with the door. He closed his eyes and waited for a blaster bolt to bore through his back.
"Con!" Kanan came to the cathar's rescue - grabbing his arm and swinging him back inside. The door closed with a slam, the flour from the broken bag puffing out the back of the vech like a plume of white smoke.
"You guys okay back there?" Hera shouted.
"We're fine!"
"Thanks Skelly!" Con yelled. The male cathar seemed less scared now. In fact, he almost seemed excited.
"Don't mention it!" Kanan hollered back. "Don't get cocky yet! We got speeders on our tail!"
"I don't see them." Hera craned her neck, peering into the rear view mirror.
"You will." Con howled over the sound of the engines.
As soon as he said it, they all spotted a pair of blocky speeder bikes. Saw the last of the flour blowing away in thin streams from the Patrol Trooper drivers who were gaining on them. Heard the insect trilling of their souped-up engines, getting louder and louder every second.
Hera's holdout pistol wasn't going back into her bag just yet.
Kanan stole a frantic look at the bags of flour - starting to shift around their unconscious cargo - revealing the lasat's battered and burnt purple feet. In his mind's eye, Kanan saw what was about to happen - muttering a curse, he dived on top of the bags, keeping them from falling on the lasat.
"Blast it!" Hera swore. "Okay, Josi, you're up. Show us what you got."
"With pleasure."
The female cathar's eyes rounded into dark moons. An image of the quadrant spread out in her mind like an open map. In one fluid motion, she unlocked the steering vane and stomped the accelerator. The van rollicked freely, allowing Josi to swerve around other speeders with ease. She heard angry, blaring honks and even saw a few rude gestures directed her way.
"Yeah, yeah, you think you got problems." she grumbled.
She rocketed up the street and watched the yellow light ahead - noting it'd been yellow for some time.
"Hold onto your pants!"
The van shot through the red light, presenting Josi with a few more rude gestures. Her passengers were white-knuckling whatever they were gripping, holding on for dear life. But Josi suddenly felt free, as if the galaxy had been released from the Empire's grip. All fear gone, she whooped as she swooped, grinning as she leaned into her steering vane.
The Patrol Troopers had made it through the red light and were coming up strong. Gaining on the vech, one driver began to aim their blaster cannon. . .only to power it down, seeing the risk of collateral damage from the sheer volume of traffic surrounding them. The superior acceleration and maneuverability of their CP-H Speeder Bikes would surely outclass some van that belonged in a scrapyard, after all!
With the Imps bearing down on them, Josi suddenly recognized the street coming up on her left. Almost laughing, she made a sharp, last-second turn. The troopers, six vech-lengths behind, tried to do the same, but instead swept up onto the walk, knocking down stand signs and swerving around pedestrians.
A huge herglic slowed them to a stop when he crossed in front of them. He turned and pushed out his black, billboard-wide chest and dared them to come at him– something the troopers didn't wish to do. Their speeders might be able to shrug off heavy impacts, but they couldn't! Awkwardly listening to Brustel's electronic demands to catch the van "NOW", they waited for the massive alien to amble by, before kicking the pedals and resuming their chase.
Josi gained altitude as she swished around another corner, nearly standing the van on its side through shear inertia. Kanan closed his eyes and braced the lasat's body with his own, hoping to take the impact instead of their comatose passenger. The van made another sharp left and then a right. Josi managed to stay a block ahead of the troops.
"There!" Josi pointed to a parking garage. "That's where we need to go!"
"Then get us there!" Con yelled through his cupped hands. His friend's driving had made him vech-sick.
Braking roughly as they pulled into the aperture (earning her another groan from Con), Josi cycled down the gears as she followed the duracrete spiral down. Speeder bikes whizzed down the street and out of sight, only seconds after the fast-driving cathar entered the parking garage.
After the dangers above ground, going deeper into the parking garage seemed somehow surreal. The only drama here was when Josi accidentally went the wrong way - much to the ire of a group of angry, fist-shaking tourists (who thought she was about to steal their perfect parking space). Spinning a complete three-sixty, she followed the arrows down, down, down into the looped bowels of the vast multiplex.
On sub-level seven she stopped beside an automated kiosk, sliding a clear card into a slot on the front. The kiosk beeped and the bar in front of the van raised, allowing the gang admittance to sub-level eight. Here, non-operational city vechs - covered with numbered, white and gray shrouds - sat like hulks of a forgotten age. Further on, the van passed an out-of-commission street-sweeping droid - its black optic sensors seeming to look forlornly in the direction of its missing 'hand', a twenty two foot circular brush on a pivoting metallic wrist.
The lights became dim the further Josi took them. Water dripped from the stained duracrete walls, droplets trickling along the rusting structural supports. A few slugs oozed across muddy cracks and crevasses.
"Hope there's no mynocks down here." Hera said, looking around the subterranean cavern. "Some of them like space and some like breathable atmosphere, but they all love sucking juice out of power cables."
Con swallowed hard. You didn't need any telepathic powers to realise he desperately wanted this day to be over.
The lasat made a wet rumbling noise, startling everyone.
"Kanan?" Hera sounded concerned.
Kanan removed some flour bags, revealing the lasat's battered face. Luckily, it seemed his wounds weren't worse from the erratic driving - though there was flour clinging to his skin, giving it a sickly pallor. Pushing a few more sacks away, Kanan pressed a series of buttons on the blood oxygen reader and frowned slightly at the readings. They'd made a significant decrease.
"Yeah, he's still with us. . .I don't know for how long" Kanan lifted his head. "We gotta get to the medcentre soon. I'm thinking he's not going to last much longer. Please tell me we're nearly there."
"Well I got some good news for you," Josi said, weary but triumphant, "we're almost there."
The cathar made another turn - one which led to an exit, which in turn merged into an emergency tunnel. An emergency tunnel straight to the basement of the Crossroads General Medcenter. Josi sped toward the door– where a resident coroner was leaning having a smoke– and backed into the space. She jumped out of the van even before it touched the ground, followed quickly by Hera, and administered the secret, rhythmic knock. An orb-like peeker droid extended from a stalk at the top of the door.
"Peezee estayt eeyor bishnoss." The peeker said, blinking its metallic lids.
Hera turned to Josi, who gave her a curt nod.
"I heard all Aqualish prefer Ol' Glazco." Hera breathed.
Knots formed in her stomach as she went through every single worse-case-scenario in her head. The eyeball droid extended further, scrutinizing the two women, then closed up and zipped back inside the door. A small metal hatch slid open. There, within the small rectangular space of the hatch, was the visage of a red-eyed, blue-skinned Duros. She was young – younger than Hera, as evidenced by the pinkish tinge of the skin around her eyes.
Despite herself, Hera was shocked by the duros' youth. It seemed that everyone, from young to ancient was taking part in the cause. The duros's eyes gleamed bright as she turned her head from side to side, trying to find something suspicious about the two women.
The hatch slid shut.
Hera and Josi waited patiently as barely-audible voices murmured behind the door. The hatch slid open again and the same red eyes greeted them.
"Ol' Glazco will have a field day." The young duros whispered, just loud enough for Josi and Hera to make out what she said.
The loud clanks of the door's locking mechanism made Josi's thin ear-walls crimp and caused Hera to jolt. Dust puffed from the hairline crack surrounding the door, illuminated by eye-blinding fluorescent light - pouring out into the tunnel as the rusted portal ground open.
Squinted as her eyes adjusted, Hera saw the sterile, bustling environment inside and finally let out the sigh of relief that she had been waiting to release for hours. They'd made it. The lasat would soon be in capable hands.
The medcenter orderlies were right on the beat. Two wookiees, flanking a long hover-gurney rushed the door. Hera and Josi danced out of the way of the furry freight-train while Kanan motioned them over to the back of the van. They both leaned inside, causing the vech to bob like a cork on water. When they saw the patient, their fanged mouths opened to let loose shocked and surprised wails. With nimble fingers they unfastened the restraints before sliding the stretcher out and lifting the limp lasat onto the gurney. The discarded stretcher was soaked through with fresh blood. Hera and Josi joined Kanan - the three of them gazing at the mottled stains. A transfusion was definitely in order, but would this hospital be able to give him one?
The duros woman rapidly gave commands in her native tongue, but despite the communication barrier, everyone understood what she was saying. Hera and Kanan started for the door. Josi and Con stayed behind with the van. Turning back, Kanan saw Josi pull something from the battered vech. Walking to the pair from the Ghost, she handed Kanan his coat, brushing some flour off it with a tired smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"We've got to ditch this thing before the streets are flooded with troops," Josi said softly, "and I know just the place." Her rebellious high had come to pass. Now she felt nothing but sadness for the patient she had just delivered. She prayed to her gods that he would make it.
Con was also in a melancholy mood. He hated to go - not without knowing if the big alien was going to be alright.
Josi slid behind the wheel. Con pulled himself in next to her, slamming the door behind him.
"Be careful." Kanan shouted to Josi as he stepped inside the building. "Thank you for everything."
"Hope your friend makes it through." The Cathar yelled back, over the rising noise of the starter motor. "Hey, Jumay-"
The twi'lek turned around "Yes Jo?"
"Fly free."
Hera smiled. "Live free. Both of you."
She ducked into the door before it closed. Looking back, she kept her gaze on the vech until the door was shut tight. The last thing she saw was the aft of the bakery van as it roared away down the tunnel. She frowned when she caught the sound of sirens blaring in the streets above. Whether it was an ambulance on its way to the medcentre, or their pursuers catching up, she didn't want to know.
Her attention turned to the lasat. He was so large, his feet from the ankles down were dangling from the end of the gurney. His weight and girth tested the limits of what the gurney could hold. Blood trickled liberally from his wounds now, and Hera was concerned. She knew it wasn't a good sign that the blood wasn't clotting.
She heard the grunting and squonking of frustrated wookies who were unsheathing their foot claws to gain purchase on the blood-slick linoleum floor. They howled at the nurses, who in turn yelled for the group of fully-suited doctors waiting in the wings.
They piled around the moving gurney and one of them - a tall, gray Nautolan - started to bombard Hera and Kanan with questions. Each of his tentacles was adorned with a single ornate ring and he wore a garish, shimmersilk shirt beneath his standard white coat and teal workshirt. Kanan wondered if the guy was in the middle of some mid-life crisis or if he just didn't care for strict dress codes. All he knew was that, if he started dressing like that in his later years, he'd have to give Hera full permission to brain him with an iron skillet.
"'I take it you're what we've been told to expect?"
"Y-Yeah I'm Jum––"
The doctor waved his hand.
"Don't worry about aliases here. We know who you two really are. Your friend contacted us a while ago." He nodded at the prone lasat on the gurney. "I'm Dr. Ennei Rhiz. What's the big fella's name?"
"Don't know." Kanan shook his head. "From the look of his people–I'd say 'Lucky To Be Alive.'"
Thin membranes slicked over the doctor's black eyes. He gave Kanan a brisk nod–his many lekku whipping–before swiftly pulling out a com unit from his pocket. "Nurse Deak? I just got a page from Dr. Glazco to prep the operating theatre. Yes, theatre number twelve, and get all available surgeons in there now . It's a Code Silver, emergency. Repeat: Code Silver"
The operating room loomed ahead. Hera and Kanan slowed to a stop in the middle of the hall while the team of doctors, save one, ushered the lasat inside. The doctor they'd spoken to halted front of the theater door. Waiting for the pair of them to catch their breath. They were sweaty and hot from keeping up with the gurney.
"I'm sorry, but you can't come with me through these doors. I do need to ask you one more question before I head off. . .does the patient have anyone we can contact?"
Hera and Kanan stood frozen and looked at each other in an uncomfortable silence. They weren't sure how to tell the doctor.
"He––" Hera started, but Kanan abruptly cut her off before handing the doctor a second comm link. "Contact us through this when he gets out. It's got our backup comm channel so no chance the Imp's can eavesdrop on us."
"Kanan…" Hera whispered. "Be realistic. He's–-"
"He will make it, Hera." Kanan interrupted. "We've put in too much effort keeping him alive to have him die on us now. He's proved lasat are a resilient lot hasn't he? We need to have faith in his own strength. We have to, otherwise all we've done will be for nothing..."
Trailing off, the silence lingered for an uncomfortable second, before he continued.
"..he may be the last of them, so he has to live. He has to speak for his people."
Hera's retort dissolved in her throat, the moment her eyes locked onto Kanan's. His steely resolve and fiery determination stoked her pessimistic heart with optimism - it was times like this that she was grateful he chose to stay for her.
"Is that your final answer?" Dr. Rhiz asked, unable to keep from grinning as the two struggled to regain their composure. These were good, selfless people.
"Uhh...yes," Hera smiled. "Yes doctor."
"What do you want us to do?" Kanan blurted. "If there's any way we can he––"
"I'm sorry but no," Dr. Rhiz shook his head. "You two have done more than enough. Leave the rest to us. We'll do everything we can for him."
With a swipe of his doctors' ID card on the magnolock, the door activated letting him in. It shut with a cold hiss, leaving Hera and Kanan alone in the now-barren corridor. With only the surrounding noises of the hospital to break the uncomfortable silence between them.
"You'd bet my ship that he's going to make it?" Hera said, crossing her arms.
"Made it this far," Kanan shrugged. It was the shrug which gave him away.
"I know you're trying to sound convinced, but I can tell you're not. Listen Kanan, I'm not trying to burst your bubble of hope. I just don't want you to be hard on yourself if, you know. Really, what's the chance that he'll survive?"
Kanan sighed, "Honestly, I don't know. I haven't had a vision, a glimpse into the future for a long time. Anything can happen, but it doesn't hurt to be optimistic - especially after everything we've seen."
A commotion at one of the nurses stations interrupted their reckonings. Kanan trotted up to the desk. "Is something wrong? Miss...uhh...Trolt, is it?"
Madi Trolt–as the name tag on the bespectacled, young duros they encountered earlier read– looked out from behind her holo-net caster. She pressed her translator lanyard to her throat, the colourful array of cartoon-character keychains on it jingling with every nervous movement she made.
"There's Imperial troops topside, at the entrance." She pointed to the ceiling with a thin cyan finger. "They're looking for a 'motley mix of obvious criminals' who 'may' have come here."
"Really?" Kanan's mouth twitched into a grin. "I like that. Never been called motley before. I should go up top and see how many troops were sent to wrangle four obvious criminals."
"That's not necessary." Madi said, looking as though she might faint. The poor girl wanted to do her part, but her constitution needed a healthy dose of steeling. Pale blue sweat beaded up on her noseless face. "We've got trained people talking to them. Let them handle this."
The man stroked his goateed chin as if in deep thought. Then-
"Nah, I'd feel more comfortable if I got rid of them."
"Kanan." Hera flashed the man a stern look. "If she says they have trained people, they have trained people. Honestly, you always rush into these things without thinking..."
"Relax, Captain. I've got this." He rubbed his hands together and winked at Hera before sneaking toward the nearest lift.
Hera turned to Madi, who was chewing on one of her flashy keychains and shaking like a leaf.
"He's ah . . . got it." She looked at the jangling keychains and pointed to a grumpy-looking, portly yellow twi'lek character with stylised green eyes "Say, isn't that guy from the Dembi-Loo series? I haven't seen that series since I was a little girl!"
Madi's anxiety slowly melted as her crimson eyes lit up, a smile quickly lighting up her cyan face. "Oh! You're a fan too? I've had this for years! It's great to finally meet someone who watches it!"
Hera smiled at her, "So. . .what's your favourite episode?"
Kanan exited the lift on the entrance floor. He immediately thrust his hands into his pockets and groaned.
"Credits, where am I gonna get. . . "
He saw a small herd of public relations staff and senior nurses following the administrator. He might have looked confident, but Kanan could feel fear radiating from him in waves. There were ten patrol troopers milling about the front of the medcenter, with another ten regular bucketheads standing at the ready - all with wrist binders locked to their belts. A starched-shirt and breastplated ISB agent chatted with one trooper, before spying the arriving administrator.
Kanan slipped through the throng of nurses and tugged at one's sleeve.
"It's me they're after." He said, plain as day.
"You're part of the team who brought that-" She lowered her voice, "-that thing in."
"Yeah - and if you'll slip me some credits, I'll make this problem go away."
The administrator turned. He was so relieved to hear someone say that he begged the nurses to pool their lunch credits and hand them over, which they did, willingly. Thanking them, Kanan put the small ingots into his pockets and slipped behind a potted blue-frond palm.
From this vantage point, Kanan could see a pod of dented taxi cabs, each one levitating twelve inches above the ground in the med-centre's circular driveway. Their nimbanel drivers were chewing soggy cigar stumps and talking loudly to each other about some washed up holo-drama star - who they'd gladly take into their cab. When a stormtrooper wandered near, glancing inside their cabs, they all clammed up and slouched in their seats. Kanan moved to the next potted palm, and the next after that.
A high-ranking stormtrooper, with a striped pauldron, waved his gloved hand.
"You there, suit. I need to ask you some questions."
The administrator felt the blood drain from his face. He was about to mop his brow with his tie when a nurse elbowed him. Everyone looked across the street when a ponytailed drunk lunatic sang at the top of his lungs and stomped the pavement beneath his feet.
"Fight the system! Yeeeaaaahh maaaan...Can ya feel it? Ooohhh-hooo...The Emperor's gauntlet, closing... around the common man's throat? Yeahhh yeahh. Can't do a thing…. without the bucket-heads watching. It's anarchy, anarchy! For man and ale-e-an! Fight the system! Yeeeaaahh...babe you're gonna fight the system...with meee!"
"That's him! That's one of the barrier busters we're lookin' for!" the Stormtrooper Captain bellowed.
"Is he singing one of Bluxx-Jamin's songs?" asked one of the Stormtroopers flanking him,
The Captain snarled
"Who cares!? Get him!"
The troops drew their weapons, set for stun.
Kanan bore a maniacal grin when he heard them yell halt. He made a rude gesture and ran, singing all the way. A blue stun ring bounced off a taxi's roof. Kanan whooped and launched himself through the window of the yellow vech. The surprised cabbie shook his fist and yelled at him to remove his carcass from his backseat. A rain of credits pattered the top of his grubby cap, changing his attitude considerably.
"Go man, GO!"
"Where to Mac?"
"Anywhere! Just away from here! Don't stop driving!"
The alien looked at the shining credits."Heh heh, you got it!"
Biker troops mounted. The ground troops continued shooting. The cabbie quickly rolled up his window. Kanan's grip tightened around the door handle. He needed to time this perfectly.
"Hold on to yer ponytail, pretty boy."
The taxi's rear dipped and fishtailed as it roared out of the medcenter parking circle. The hedges surrounding the curbs flew by as Kanan focused intently on them, waiting for the right moment to jump. A white swarm screamed after the taxi and the cabbie turned around, laughing.
"So what did you do? Rob the queen of Naboo?"
His eyes goggled at the sight of the empty back seat. The door swung back and closed, sending a torrent of warm air through the cab. The cabbie's hat was blown clean off his head revealing a growing bald patch.
"Well I'll be garkled!" He swore as a bolt of blue light took out his rear windshield. Shards of glass exploded into the back of the car. A few shards managed to cut his grey mustached cheek.
"Holy Happekees! Dat one was real! Okay Imps, let's play!"
Stomping the accelerator, he whipped around a corner - knocking over a trash receptacle on the walkway. One push of a button, and a burst of powerful–and illegal– gas rushed into the taxi's engine. Rocketing away from the frustrated troopers, who tried in vain to keep up, the cabbie cackled with glee. This was the most fun he'd had in a long time. The best thing was, he had his whole story ready. A story about some singing wild man with a blaster pointed to his head and a crazed look in his eye.
Kanan saw the whole commotion through gaps in the bushes he'd landed in. Flashes of plasma lit the streets blue. As he watched, the sounds grew fainter, the flashes of light less intense. His body might have been covered in leaves, while branches, prickles and small cuts covered his face, but he had to stop himself from whooping with laughter.
...that said, he was certain he'd be feeling these bruises for weeks. In fact, as the adrenaline wore off, he had to bite down a hiss of pain. Worth it, though. Completely worth it.
Eventually, the last roars of speeders fading into the distance, telling Kanan the coast was clear. Emerging from the bushes, he hobbled into the medcenter. The administrator clapped him on the back with sweaty hands – but he barely registered it. All he wanted to do was collapse in a heap in a comfortable chair and rest.
Nearly half an hour had passed, but Kanan's need to rest hadn't gone anywhere. In fact, between pulling brambles out of his hair and getting his cuts cleaned, the desire to collapse in his bunk had only grown. Any more craziness, he decided, and he'd have to sleep for several days straight.
"Kanan!"
The melodic voice drew him from his thoughts. He turned to see his partner's face before she embraced him in a tight hug.
"Ouch! Easy!" He massaged his ribs and she let go of him.
"Sorry. . .damn it Kanan! I knew you were going to do something crazy!" Hera snapped, giving him a light punch on his uninjured arm.
"Hey, sometimes crazy works." Kanan offered her a reassuring smile, something Hera didn't return.
"Sorry for worrying you like that."
"It...it's fine. I think I'm getting used to your eccentricities." Hera massaged her temples.
"Heh...it's why people love me…"
"Hm," she teased back, "if you say so…"
Hera took his hand in hers and gently rested her head on his shoulder. There the two stood, oblivious to the normal hustle and bustle that came from an overrun medcentre. Several surgeons of different species were rushing through the emergency doors as a middle-aged wookiee, donning the same surgical outfit as his companions, held his ID card over the magna lock roaring at the frantic surgeons to 'hurry up.' Neither of them heard anything.
"The nurses did a good job on you." Hera remarked, running her hand softly through his hair. The bruises, cuts and scratches on his face were disinfected and stitched professionally, she didn't think any of them would end up with scarring. She noticed Kanan flinching slightly when her hand lightly brushed a lump on his head.
"Yeah," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his head, "wish I had a bacta-bath though, but all the tanks are used up…" he groaned as he rubbed the lump on his head "Gonna be feeling that tumble for weeks."
Hera smiled. "Well, I'm sure the doctors will give you one, after you pay their nurses back. You know, for the credits you borrowed from them."
"Yeah...speaking of which, where are they going in such a hur––" Kanan's question was answered by the loudspeaker, before he even had time to finish.
"All available surgeons to Operating Theatre – Number 12"
Their levity evaporated, mood suddenly shifting to sombre once more. The weight of this long, long day came back to Hera and Kanan like a trip into a brick wall. Who'd have known that a simple salvage mission to gather outdated weapons would turn into a critical rescue mission - not to mention a speeder chase across an entire city?
Together they stood, just listening to the normal clamour of an overcrowded medcentre. Families visiting loved ones, doctors delegating duties to orderlies and trainees, receptionists speaking to the latest visitor and pointing them to a patient's room. A rodian child was throwing a temper tantrum in a waiting room, his little body prone and his fists pounding the floor. His mother yanked him up and hissed him quiet. It was almost surreal, how normal everything now seemed.
The last of the surgeons had long since vanished behind the door, with the wookiee bringing up the rear. Hera looked up. She didn't have to be one with the Force to know that Kanan needed a distraction from all the uncertainty over the lasat's condition.
"By the way," she said, breaking their shared silence, "while you were gone I received a call from Vizargo - about the blasters we 'forgot' to pick up. You up for it?"
"Anything to take my mind off what's happening here."
Hera smiled, taking his hand again. "Good."
Arms around each others waists for support, they walked out the door. For a single second Kanan stopped, took a last look back at the crowded medcentre.
'Hang in there big guy. You've come this far...don't give up now…'
End
The story will continue with the second part of Garazeb: Son of Lasan "Coping"I don't want to give an exact date but it may come out during the summer of 2019 (or winter for me haha).
AN: The First Checkpoint Imperial's names are (from appearance): Domcarl 'Carl' Thraott (first one the occupants of the van meet), Armron 'Ron' Hob (Checkpoint Supervisor), Barary 'Barry' Shusto (drunkard) and Trevro 'Trev' Whitolve (Scout-Trooper). All except Whitolve have Imperial rank equivalent to 'Commandant' with Hob being the highest rank (and oldest) and Whitolve being of the lowest/youngest).
The Pantoran Family who were harassed by Checkmaster Thomcol Brustel were Rosh Elneck (Father), Zena Elneck (Mother) and Aresu Elneck (Daughter)
The Nimbanel cab driver's name is Bec Nolev
Translations: 'chi'kan' – Ryl to describe someone who is corrupted or astray, particularly sexually; a pervert. Commonly used as an insult – Taken from the website 'Twi'lek Lore'