Fire Across the Galaxy
part 2
Author's note: Wow, this part took me almost three hours to write. I usually take 'bout a hour to write a part/chapter. Please enjoy and thank you for the reviews!
"Kanan is family," Those words echo across the silent common room. Emerald green eyes latch onto each rebel desperately trying to find any trace of emotion for their taken leader. Luminous green orbs gaze down at the floor, shielding their owner's emotions from the twil'lek's watchful eyes. The corners of Hera's mouth tugs down, hinting at her feelings inside. Desperation for help, pain for the loss of her fri-, no, Kanan was more then Hera's friend. Kanan Jarrus, specter 1, Jedi, rebel leader, these were all just titles for him. He was more then Kanan Jarrus, he was more then just another specter, he was more then a Jedi, he was more then a rebel leader. Hera and Kanan. Kanan and Hera. Their destinies had been entwined with each other since the first time Hera's emerald green eyes had met Kanan's fresh green orbs. Kanan was as important to her as her organs were. If Kanan, if the remote chance happened that Kanan took his last breath before his time truly came, Hera would suffer. And not just physically. Hera would always feel the phantom of his voice inside her head, always see his cocky smirks when she closed her eyelids. A part of her would die if Kanan ceased to exist. And now that could happen if Hera couldn't get the crew to come with her to rescue him, if they didn't get there in time, if they did get there in time and arrived in time to find him dead or dying. So many ifs..and so many situations in which Kanan could die.
Blaster to the head, poison numbing and stopping his organs, a lightsaber blade buried in his stomach, The Inquisitor smirking as he did so. The Inquisitor.. This was all his fault. All blame should be placed on his head. It was he who captured Kanan. It was he who was most likely torturing Kanan right now. Kanan..
C.C
A nightmare spun out of canine teeth, blood red markings, and acid yellow irises framed by red veins and black so dark it seemed like one could lose their way forever in it's hidden depths. That was how the Inquisitor ignited fear in his victims. Cold, calculating, elegant. The Inquisitor wasn't a out of control Sith. No, he was the Inquisitor and his task was simple, given to him by Darth Vader himself. Seek out any force-users and, if they would not serve the Emperor, execute them with any surviving Jedi. The time of the Republic was done, replaced by the mighty Empire. The way of the Jedi was gone, and the Sith now ruled in their rightful place.
How many ways had the Inquisitor killed Jedi and uncooperative force-users? How many times had the Inquisitor heard one's dying breath? How many days had the Inquisitor silently celebrated as yet another force-user was brought over to the welcoming and powerful dark side? Too many to count. The list was endless. And still they had survived. Jedi and padawan. Both undisciplined, both unfocused. Yet, both had survived the Inquisitor's brilliant plans. Alone, Jedi and padawan could be easily defeated. The Inquisitor himself had proved that. But together, Master and Apprentice were powerful indeed.
But the Inquisitor had won. The knowledge twists a smirk onto the Inquisitor's colorless lips. He had won, as he would have in time. No one could escape the Inquisitor's acid yellow irises, not even Jedi and padawan. Triumphant roars his blood as, at the push of a brilliant red button, sleek, black doors slide open to reveal the prisoner inside. Metal bindings encircle their prey, latching him against even more metal. The bindings bite into the Jedi's wrists, chest and ankles, entrapping him. There was no escape from this cell and the Jedi knew it. Blinding rays of light stream down from the ceiling, illuminating the defeated Jedi. Electric infused instruments hover only feet from him. No way out, the bindings tell him. No escape, the nauseous light tell him. No end to pain, the instruments tell him.
Eyelids snap open to reveal jade eyes. Hatred roars in those eyes, the eyes that have seen too much. Instead of recoiling in fear from the ferocity of the glare, a smirk plays upon the pau'an's face. "Not too happy to see me, Jedi?" Mockery sings from the Inquisitor's carefully selected words. Crisp black boots ring across the cell as the Jedi's nightmare crept closer and closer. Kanan shrunk back from the nightmare, only to wince in pain as a faint ring echoes across the cell. His bindings laugh at him even more joined by a chuckle from the Inquisitor. The chuckle reveals pointed, canine like teeth that grow out of the Inquisitor's mouth like fangs. "I would take that as a yes. And now, off to business," Metal whips out. Kanan;s jade eyes glances down in time to find bright blue light underneath his chin. Heat flares in his chin and neck from his own blade. His own lightsaber now being used against him. The saying "Live by the blade, die by the blade," seemed like truth in this moment.
"I will ask you again, tell me about a larger rebellion," The words were cool, collected. No hint of emotion of any kind resided within his words. A warning follows words, almost like a viper's hiss, "Or, you will die by your own lightsaber." The Inquisitor unactivated the captive lightsaber. Crisp black boots carry him back, giving their owner's victim room to take in one of their remaining breaths. Jade orbs narrow again and words carry themselves out of his mouth, spoken with solidness only knowledge could bring, "I know nothing of a larger rebellion and if I did, I would rather give my life then tell you."
C.C
"Kanan is family, and we all lost enough family to the Empire," Emotion as always pumps beneath Hera's words, alongside truth. Truth that Kanan was family. Truth that the Empire had taken enough form them for the rebels to just let them take away Kanan. This was the reason the Ghost crew had banded together, to stop the Empire from separating families, to stop the Empire from clouding their future. This the reason they were rebels, rebels fighting for a better future, rebels fighting for everyone's families. They couldn't loose anymore family to the Empire, they just couldn't suffer anymore losses. No one wanted to admit it, but Hera was right.
"Hera, how can we attack a Imperial Star Destroyer on our own?" Zeb's question asks the unspoken wanderings of Ezra and Sabine. How could they just fly in and expect to rescue Kanan and walk out unscratched. Just how?
Silence was his answer and then.. "Hera, I know you don't want to admit it, but Zeb is right." Ezra's head lifts slightly as he spoke, Zaffre blue eyes picking out from behind a curtain of dark hair, looking almost prussian blue in the light. "I can't see how we can rescue Kanan, Hera. We can't just stride into a Imperial Star Destroyer blind," Sabine adds to their trail of doubts, defeated amber orbs glazing upwards at Hera. A sigh escapes Sabine's lips and her head rests back upon her palms, elbows against metal, as her amber orbs gaze into the distance, her mind swamped in defeat and despair. Ezra follows Sabine's sad example and took to gazing at the space the transmitter had been. Now it seems too hard a deal. The rebels had gotten their message out but, at the worst of prices: Kanan captured. Lack of sleep had caused darkness underneath his eyes. This darkness only made his eyes pop out even more, Zaffre blue jumping out from dark shadows. Whenever Ezra would finally fall into the embrace of sleep, nestled upon his bunk, the shouts would find him. Shouts of pain, shouts of torture, shouts issued from his master.
Sometimes Ezra would get flashes of him, Kanan bond in metal to a table, eyes closed as he shouted in pain, electric blue shots of electrify rocking up and down his body. Sometimes Ezra would hear snatches of conversation peeping out from beneath the shouts of pain, "How long till he breaks?" or, "Increase the power." Once, Ezra heard a familiar cold, calculating tone, broadcasting clearly against the shouts, "He won't stay resistive for much longer." The sentence had left the padawan in a state of shock, horror, and anger, all of these conflicting emotions aimed at the Inquisitor. Ezra would recognize his voice till the day he died.
Painted eyebrows narrow, emerald green eyes staring in disbelief at the rebels. Only three days ago, her crew had been filled with hope for Kanan. They had even sneaked beneath Hera's watching eyes to find information to lead to his rescue. Now hope had left them all at the prospect of Kanan's death. Hera knew it was impossible to rescue Kanan, without a plan. With a plan, Hera had a slim chance at rescuing Kanan. A slim chance was still a chance never-least.
Her brain working over-time, a faint smile starting upon her lip, Hera turns to leave the the room, her lekku swinging in her wake. "Where are you going?" Zeb's question falls upon her ears as Hera strides through the doorway leading to the hallway and eventually the cockpit. A lekku spilling for a second against her shoulder, the answer to the question flows out with a hint of a smirk, "To rescue Kanan ."
C.C
"Quite admirable, Jedi," The cold response and bolts of bright blue electrify were given to Kanan after his resist. Kanan's shouts once again fill the cell as pain screams everywhere inside him. Head, chest, legs, arms, it all screams in pain. Darkness tries again and again to pull him into the embrace of unconsciousness, but the electrify forbid it. This was what life had been for Kanan over the course of the week he had inhabited this cold, metal cell. Snatches of sleep, questions, retorts, and pain, endless pain. Even when he fell asleep, Kanan could feel the phantoms of torture lingering upon his body. Kanan would have given up hope long ago if the thought of Hera, Ezra, Zeb, Sabine, and even grumpy Chopper didn't stop recurring inside his head. They all meant the galaxy to him. They all were family. Kanan couldn't give up. He promised himself the second night, the night the torture had began, that he would never give in to the Empire. And yet, Kanan didn't know anything about a larger rebellion anyway. It had always been Hera who knew that. Hera was the one who personally knew the mysterious Fulcrum. Kanan blindly trusted Hera, along with Zeb and Ezra. Only Sabine questioned Hera.
Kanan realizes with grim knowledge that Hera would be more useful to the Empire if she had been in his place. But, Hera was safe with the rest of the family. And all Kanan had to do now was escape on his own, or, wait for the welcoming release called death.