Kanan guided the Ghost out of port, refuelled and resupplied. He had cursed and stomped around like thunder, but knew Zeb had made sense. They were down to fumes in the fuel tanks and a couple of cans in the kitchen. They hit hyperspace a half hour later, Chopper giving half hearted whirrs and beeps, letting him know the calculations were ready.

"Thanks." His voice was bleak as the stars blurred. He leaned back in the pilot's seat, uncomfortable in Hera's domain without her presence.

"Kanan." Zeb said gruffly by way of greeting. "We gotta chat."

"I know." Kanan sighed, glancing up at the big lasat crowding into the cockpit. Zeb's big, bright eyes were sharp with concern. "Grab a seat."

Zeb levered his long legs beneath the console and leaned back into the chair that was usually Kanan's. He picked his teeth casually with a thumb claw.

"Ezra's looking in on Sabine. She's doin' better, up and around now. Think she would like to catch up with you soon."

Kanan nodded silently, unable or unwilling to meet Zeb's gaze.

"So," Zeb continued. "What're we gonna be walking into?"

"Mercs. Black Sword is a merc group that Hera and I tangled with back when I was new to the Ghost," Kanan rubbed his goatee with a contemplative finger.

"What's their deal? Why did they grab Hera?"

"We grabbed a very expensive something of theirs before they could sell it."

Zeb paused, waiting. He gestured. "Which was…"

"A Dathomirian." Kanan rubbed the back of his neck, trying to scrub away the prickling at the back of his neck over those memories. "Tricked out with more cybernetics than I had seen on anyone. Made her strong as a Wookie."

"I'm not following." Zeb folded his arms across his broad chest.

"They had been hired to deliver the Dathomirian to the Empire for a whole lot of credits. The scientist who installed the cybernetics had been killed, and the Empire wanted those cybernetics and planned to reverse engineer it for use in their own soldiers. She was being transferred in our sector and a contact of Hera's gave her the heads up."

"Where is this Dathomirian now?"

Kanan shrugged. "We passed her on to someone who wasn't going to carve her up for science. No clue now."

Zeb's face was contorting in a thoughtful rictus. "So these guys nabbed Hera?"

"Sabine seemed to think so. Can't imagine she would be wrong."

"How dangerous are they?"

Kanan lifted a shoulder. "More than the bucket heads on Lothal …. Less than the Inquisitor?"

"Damn it, Kanan." Zeb shook his head. "What are they going to do to her?"

Kanan lifted his hand to cover his eyes. He pressed thumb and forefinger against his eyelids until the sharpness in them eased. He had to swallow down the tightness in his throat.

"I don't know, Zeb." He dropped his hand to his lap and stared miserably out at the black. "But I can guess."

Zeb made a soft growling sound. "We are going to get her back."

Ezra sat in the mess, tucked into a bench seat, skimming his way through a book. Well, sort of. He kept glancing up at Sabine who was preparing a meal for them. She was humming softly, the bruising on her face still dark. Kanan's healing had taken care of her internal injuries but the outer were still very evident.

"I'm fine, Ezra." Sabine tapped the spoon on the side of the bowl and picked up the flour. She peered at the recipe.

"I wasn't … I mean …" Ezra ducked his head, a dark blush colouring his cheek.

"You were. And you are annoying me," she said airily.

"Sorry." He closed the book and shifted in his seat, hesitating before standing. He peeked up at Sabine. She was measuring something and frowning.

"What are you trying to do?" he asked.

"Cake."

"What?"

"I'm making one. A cake."

Ezra approached the galley. "Why?"

Sabine put down the cup and leaned both hands on the bench. The front of her shirt was dusted with flour. The corner of her lips tucked in as she stared down at her hands.

Ezra leaned forward on his elbows, avoiding the dusting of flour over the kitchen bench. "Sabine?"

"I couldn't stop them." A single tear splashed into the unfortunate looking cake mix. "They took her and I couldn't stop them."

Ezra reached over and covered her hand with his. Sabine turned her palm up and gripped his hand. "Wish I could make it better."

"Help me make this? I want it to be nice for when we get her back."

Ezra nodded and patted Sabine awkwardly on the shoulder. "Sure. Yeah." He peered into the bowl. Frowned. Dipped a finger into the mix and tasted. "That's salt."

"Damn it. I hate cooking." Sabine scowled and swiped her hand under her nose.