AN: Hi All. Sorry for the delay. I slowed down my writing progress and my poor beta's laptop has decided to fall apart- so please be patient. I have lots of this written still, but I don't trust it to be posted without her touch. So be chill, and you will be rewarded.
Thankyou to all my lovely reviewers! I value every word you type and I will do my best not to let you all down 3
Survival Trials
Chapter 6
The Ghost Crew arrived in the Ore system in only fifteen hours- Hera had made sure of it.
Ore had once been a mining planet, but it had long been drained of any value even before the Empire's reign, and much of the local populace had moved interstellar- so there was veritably no competing space traffic, and even less Imperial presence to worry about.
The fourth moon was a small planetoid, orbiting several notable miles further out than its brothers and currently sitting in the darkness of Ore's shadow for the next six weeks.
It made for the ideal temporary location for the Invisible Market.
The Ghost crew were prepared, calm, and focused. They hadn't wasted a moment since entering hyperspace.
Kanan and Hera had gone over every inch of the plan, Zeb and Chopper had stocked the weapons and prepared the turrets, and Sabine had busied herself fashioning a handful of miracles with a hint more explosive power then usual.
It was better than stressing over the vacant space of their youngest crew member. They were all feeling the unbalance on the ship.
They would get him back, and in one piece.
Hera docked the Ghost along the outer edge, eyeing the rusted pirate's ships set down on either side, and went to join the crew in the passenger area.
Chopper immediately took over control of the console. Hera had near hard-wired the plan into his circuits. He would be staying with the ship, monitoring the com channel. Ready to take off, or man the turrets at a moments notice.
Hera double checked her blasters, Zeb slung his Bo-Rifle over his shoulder and Sabine strapped a fourth round of power cells to her belt.
They did not want this to come to an all out blaster battle with an entire market's worth of some of the most ruthless scum of the galaxy, but damned if they weren't prepared to either.
Only Kanan was still. His lightsaber and single blaster on his side. He sat on the edge of the booth, leaning his forehead on folded hands and his elbows on his knees, eye closed.
He was looking for Ezra.
Searching in the blackness for a flicker of light.
He did not want to voice his concerns that he hadn't sensed the boy's movement yet. That would give no one hope. But he was certain, with every fibre of his being, he was certain that his Padawan was alive.
He knew it, like he knew the Force was with him. Like he knew the Force was with Ezra, since the moment that stubborn kid had power jumped the blaster crate onto the Ghost ramp.
Is this how Erza felt when I was taken by the Empire?, The Jedi wondered. No small wonder he pushed Hera to do something as foolish as infiltrating an Imperial Starship.
Kanan knew, without question, no starship would keep him from Ezra. No slavers or pierate would either. Nothing would stand between him and his Padawan.
"Kanan?"
He looked up. The crew were standing at attention, ready and waiting. Hera lay a hand on his shoulder, and he took it and held it as he came to his feet. They traded a firm gentle squeeze and nodded at one another.
She'd told him sometime ago, how Ezra had been the one to push them into the foolish, fanatical rescue plan. Like a Anooba with a bone; he wouldn't let it go, and he refused to let her drop it either. She'd been so proud, and so grateful. Nearly as much as Kanan.
Now, if anything, her eyes were two green lipid pools of decision. Ezra was her family.
"Okay," Kanan said, dropping her hand and looking over his crew. Leading the way towards the cargo hatch, "Let's go find what's ours."
When the hatch lowered onto the back of dock 34, the Ghost crew were immediately hit by the smell.
It was a fetid odor, made from cured meats, unfiltered sewer water and other butchered unmentionables left for the worms. It was sweat pouring off unwashed bodies in closed spaces. It was the scent of great depression and rot, and it was foul to say the least.
After the initial shock, the crew adjusted, and walked out onto the docking bridge, and the Ghost sealed shut behind them.
The market was spread out in the open pavilion of what appeared to be an abandoned decrepit hanger. Everywhere around them was a mixture of species and sound, and if weren't for the immediate sense of unease that was hanging almost visibly in the air, the crew might have believed it was any other market.
"Come on." Kanan said, watching the assorted riff-raff that were slowly appearing around the crew, eyeing off their weapons and belts. Kanan's hand ghosted over his lightsaber. "Let's find that droid."
They found it easily enough. It was the same blue and white model R2 droid they had once returned to Senator Organa. He was sitting beside one of the crumbling pavilion walls, looking like a shiny blue diamond sitting in the trash.
Zeb was about to ask why no had made off with the droid yet, when two large humanoids approached, guffawing with laughter and knocking each other in the arm . Kanan had just reached for his blaster when the droid, sounding almost bored, let out a dull whistle of warning.
I wouldn't try it, if I were you.
The men laughed and reached out to touch the droid- they were both immediately thrown to the ground by an electric charge.
The droid gave another whistle and chuffed, this time in amusement.
When the men had stopped spasming, they crawled to their unsteady feet and bolted for the nearest alleyway.
"Hello old friend." Sabine said, walking straight up and waving to the astromech with a friendly smile.
The droid let out a happy whistle and a series of chirps in greeting. Something clicked and the crew had the suspicion the droid had deactivated whatever electronic weapon he'd been given.
He rolled forward to Kanan's feet and buzzed as he ejected a thin credit transfer card. The Jedi took it and held it tightly in is palm.
"Thank you," he said and bowed his head. "Please pass on our gratitude to your Master."
The droid hummed and whistled in the affirmative, and after another series of daunting re-weaponising clicks, began to make his way straight through the packed pavilion, while the crowd seemed to be doing their best to leap out of the way.
Kanan pocketed the credit card and looked around the market. He spied a Gotal watching him nearby, who quickly looked away. Kanan marched straight up to man.
"Where is the Zygerrian slave market?" he demanded firmly.
The humanoid avoided his eyes, but pointed a crooked finger straight down the nearest stall line.
Kanan didn't bother to thank him, he wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. The crew got moving.
The market buzzed, a low humm of constant noise, some shouting, and some hissing in low furtive tones. There was a clear lacking of humans here, but every other species in the galaxy was present. A Besalisk stomped through their path, knocking shoulders with a Feeorin, who immediately started to brawl.
Kanan urged the crew along, pushing through the colourful crowd with a thunderous expression. The stall holders gave them a weary eye as they shot through, and Kanan noticed while they ghosted over Zeb, Sabine and himself, they settled uncomfortably long on Hera. He drew her close to his side and leaned to whisper in her ear.
"Give me your blaster."
She jerked away, and glared, "What? No!" She put a hand up to push him away, but he tightened his hold around her waist and held her firmly against him, mindful that they were being watched.
"You don't fit in here," he whispered curtly, keeping his face firm, "Not while you're armed."
"So you'd like me to protect myself by giving you my weapons?" she demanded, eyes flashing.
Kanan pulled her to a halt at a break in the crowd, and Sabine and Zeb stopped with them.
He put a hand on each of her shoulders and looked her firmly in the eye. "I know how this must make you feel, and you know I hate to ask it- but we need-" he stopped, his words to thick for his throat for a moment. Hera lifted her chin, her eyes flashing and daring him to continue.
Kanan took a shallow breath, "We need you to you act like a slave. Our slave. Or we might not even get close enough to even try getting Ezra back."
He knew the last line was a low blow. Asking her to put Ezra's needs above her own- it was her nature. She would have done it for any of them. And this was for Ezra. It wasn't even a choice.
He watched the anger slowly fade out of her eyes and be replaced with something dimmer, defeat. But the fire quickly flared again, and her lips pursed. She would compromise, for now.
Hera swiftly unstrapped her holster, still carrying her blasters and handed them both, not to Kanan, but Sabine.
Sabine took them without a word and strapped them to her own leg, along with her own. Standing up straight, she looked more like a weaponised soldier then a girl at this point.
"Okay then, Master." Hera hissed acidly, waving him forward with a curt bow of her head. "Lead the way."
Kanan sighed, wiping a hand over his face and trying to stave of the migraine. Not now, he thought. He could collapse when Ezra was safely back on the ship and they were a hyper jump away from this cesspit. For now, he needed to focus.
Kanan straightened his spine and began to lead them again, weaving through the filthy crowds without a glance backwards.
The first thing that changed was the noise level. It was quieter at this end of of the markets, vendors didn't shout their wares and each customer moved furtively between the stalls, heads turned down or eyes glancing about.
The stalls began to spread out a little, and alleyways of new vendors could be seen down the gaps. Kanan strode forward, breaking through the crowd with a firm and stony expression.
All at once, the stalls ended and there was no question if the crew had found the slavers.
People were lined up, mostly Twi'leks, Zeltrons, and humans all penned together near the entrance of a dark corridor. The doorway and the pens were all guarded by tall thick Zygerrians in leather armor. Their ears twitched and their faces were stony as they absently watched the passing crowd.
A grey skinned Roadian pushed past the crew, pulling two Twi'lek girls by a chain leashed to collars around their necks. He spied Hera standing closely behind Kanan with a mask of frigid discontent across her face. He nodded to Kanan in approval of shared taste, and Kanan did not return the gesture, only increasing his frown into a cold glare. The Roadian sensed unwelcome, and scampered away, trailing the Twi'lek girls behind him
Kanan turned back and watched the crowd meandering in and out the entrance, for a few moments, studying each guard's face carefully.
He spied one standing at the edge of the pens, who looked a little thicker around the middle then the others, and a little wider in the face. He was snorting quietly to himself in amusement, as he prodded a male Twi'lek slave in the back of the calf with a baton- forcing him to stand at the very length of his shackles.
Kanan drew in a short sharp breath and moved in.
He took a wide path around the entrance and through the crowd, approaching the heavy set Zygerrian with purpose and the crew fell into step at his back.
The guard turned and noticed them approaching and a flash of confusion crossed his face- followed by caution. Kanan was quick to casually pull his arm back, showing the heavy credit pouch on his belt, and the guard visibly relaxed.
Kanan stepped right up to the man and looked down his nose with no nonsense eyes.
"I'm looking for a human boy. A runaway." Kanan started, giving the guard no time to interrupt. "Blue eyes, dark hair, tan skin. Slim build, about fifteen. Do you have any information on his whereabouts?"
The slaver sneered and looked Kanan up and down, a little crinkled at the corner of his eyes in mirth.
"If your tastes are that exclusive, you need to order them from the pleasure house."
A crooked grin split his face, amused at his own joke and he wheezed out a laugh. Kanan bit down hard on his tongue, holding back the angry words building in his chest. The very idea thickened his blood.
There was a tense moment where no one answered the slaver. Sabine made fists at her sides, avoiding the handles of her blasters, and Kanan felt Hera tense at his back. Zeb snorted a long stream of hot air, followed by a soft grumble from deep in his chest.
The slaver's grin died on his face, sensing something was amiss.
"Adlark. Why are you slacking?"
A well dressed Zygerrian peeled away from the main entrance, his face set in a hard unforgiving scowl. The Ghost crew noted the coiled whip strapped to his belt, and Sabine tensed, recognising the captain of the ship.
"These- uh, these people, wanted to ask some questions." the guard replied hurriedly, standing to attention.
The well dressed slaver eyed the Ghost crew. "What sort of questions?" The captain demanded airily.
"Looking for some runaway kid. Blue eyes and dark skin. Fifteen or about-
The slaver captain turned to the crew and signalled for silence in the guard same movement.
"We do not deal in stolen merchandise. All our stock are sourced from reputable farms and sellers. I suggest you look elsewhere for your Runaway." he said shortly, his clipped tone suggested they should leave.
Kanan eyed the lead slaver's claws, resting close to the elctrowhip coiled on his belt, and he smiled very slightly, and took one step forwards.
"I apologise for any misconduct, on my behalf." he gestured behind him to Zeb who took the cue to roll his massive shoulders, twitching his snout into a scowl.
"We are bounty hunters on official business. I'm looking for a boy who has run away from an Imperial academy. It is suspected he stowed away on a Zygerrian cargo ship leaving Orusso not two days ago. So it might be possible he has been accidentally placed with your stock. His family have quite a lot of money and a, prominent, Imperial image . They would appreciate this case being handled with discretion."
The Zygerrian inclined his head, just so and took in Zeb and Sabine standing at Kanan's back, then his eye fell on Hera. She bowed her head and Kanan stepped into the Slavers eye-line.
"As you can clearly see, I support the slave system and I wish to cause no trouble for you, or your business. I only want the boy and I am willing to pay your price, so if you have any information-"
"We do not deal with bounty hunters." The man said sharply, distaste thick in his voice. His dark eyes narrowed, "however, I can appreciate your position. If I recall correctly, there was a human boy matching that description in the stock line only a few hours ago. If I am correct, he was purchased along with several other bodies by a plantation owner from the Cere region. Perhaps if you are willing to pay him for his trouble, he will turn the boy over to you. I'm afraid it is unlikely his ship will still be in dock, so it is likely you will not meet up with him here."
Kanan swallowed his panic, and nodded once and then clasping his hands together in front of him, bowing his head very slightly. "Thank you. I appreciate your candour."
"Your thanks is accepted. Now please move along. My clientele do not appreciate badgering, and my workers are busy."
The Zygerrian captain continued to stand there with a hard frown, eyeing them and making it clear their business was done. Kanan turned without another word and the crew fell in step behind him.
The crew moved straight back into the bustling market, disappearing from the Zygerrians' sights and striding straight through the crowd with a purpose. Cut throats and vendors all moved aside to let them pass.
They were three or four blocks deep before Kanan made a sudden turn down an empty alleyway and spun to face the crew.
"Whoever bought Ezra, it was certainly not a plantationer from Cere." he spat and Hera lay a hand on his arm.
"You're sure he wasn't there any more?" she asked in a soft tone. Kanan pursed his lips, and shook his head, internally cursing himself. He should have known the absence of Ezra;s Force Signature meant trouble. Now they had wasted their time and he could be lightyears away.
Zeb let out a deep rumble in his throat. "So Cere is out. Great. Now what about the rest of the galaxy?"
Sabine took a deep breath to steady her rapid heartbeat. "We should follow Vizago's advice, and look for Ezra's things."
Kanan frowned but nodded dutifully. "I'm loathe to separate in this cesspit, but we could certainly cover more ground. And we don't have a lot of time."
Hera put a hand out and latched onto Zeb's arm. "We'll go scout the north side, you and Sabine search south. Keep your coms active."
They nodded as one and the group of four separated into pairs without hesitation.
Hera and Zeb moved through the stalls, waving off the more insistent vendors and doing their best to keep their firm composure.
At one point, a Ugnite vendor shoved a tray, laden with a mixture of cybernetic and organic eyes under Zeb's nose.
"I have many pieces." he said in accented broken basic. He held up a bright blue eye, preserved in glass, "Very fresh!"
It was only Hera's calm, tight, hold on his arm that stayed the Lasat's fury. The vendor was still roughly pushed aside with a threatening growl, but he was left without any broken bones.
Neither Hera or Zeb would discuss the possibility that their youngest Spectre had been sent to the Gutters, the black market body augmentation dealers that usually sourced their fresher wears from the unlucky and unsuspecting.
Wasn't the right kind of blue anyway, Zeb told himself firmly. At least, he hoped so.
They moved on, eyeing each stall for a hint of something that had belonged to Ezra, but having no luck. There were simply too many bodies here, too many dark spaces and stalls that appeared one minute and were gone the next.
Zeb and Hera reconnected with Kanan and Sabine on their second lap, who'd had no more success than they had, even with the aid of the Force.
They agreed to circulate once more, as a group this time, hoping to catch a whif of Ezra's trail.
Vendors were beginning to pack away their stalls and a rush of urgency hit the crew full in the chest. The market was due to move on soon. What if the stalls were emptied before they found something? What if they found nothing? They began to walk double-time, completing a third loop of the market.
They passed a narrow back alley boarded with crumbling rubble and dotted with small rickety stalls. Kanan suddenly stopped mid-step and turned to the right- Sabine saw it a second after him and they both turned down the market alley without so much as a word. Zeb and Hera followed behind.
An old orange flight suit, that had seen better days, was folded up on a stall table. The table itself looked like a fallen wall panel laid over two empty fuel cannisters. It was laden with all assortments of random pieces and gadgets and trash. Some familiar, some not. Sabine spied a set of lock-picks that she knew, and the brown vest with a recognisable white print pattern, a little towards the back.
The stall holder was a Ranat, and when he spied Kanan he waved a hand towards a pair of very old model blasters in considerable condition. "It doesn't cost to look." said the stall holder.
Kanan didn't waste a moment. "Does it cost to talk?" he asked calmly, holding up the leather credits pouch.
The Ranat's face turned from conciliatory, to angry. "I am no rat!" he spat loudly, and probably for the benefit of anyone listening.
There was a gap in the conversation and Ezra's absence was immediately felt by everyone expecting to hear a sidelong remark 'uh- actually you are.'
"I don't need names." Kanan demanded, pushing forwards. He picked up the beaten flight suit and help it out, "I just wanna know where you got this. Nothing else."
The Ranat looked suspicious but drew back a little as he looked Kanan over, and flicking an eye over the crew. Then he leant a little closer
"How badly you wanna know?"
"As badly as it'll cost me." Kanan answered, leaning in and dumping the whole pouch on the stall. It sat down with a satisfying, heavy clink.
The Ranat looked pleased and straightened his sleeves- and the pouch was gone.
"I picked them up on the rich side." he answered casually, letting his eyes wander and shrugged. "Dumped out by the 22nd docking bay. "
Kanan nodded once at the Ranat, and then he handed the folded dirty suit to Sabine. The mando girl immediately began collecting items off the table surface, the lock-picks, then a ruined pack of sabacc cards, the old worn soldier's boots, the mutitool, the pindrive, the shin guard, the vest-
Zeb pulled a sack out and began to shove everything she handed to him inside.
The Ranat gaped, gesturing widely. "You- You are robbing me!"
"No." Kanan answered firmly and turned to the side, showing off his blaster to the smaller creature. "We're just taking what already belongs to us. Besides, I just paid you."
The Ranat relaxed in defeat with a groan and withdrew back from the makeshift table, scowling over his folded arms.
Once Sabine was certain she'd picked out everything that Ezra had ever touched, she bobbed her helmet to Kanan and Zeb swung the sack over his shoulders.
"Alright. Lets get moving." Kanan commanded. They turned and headed straight toward the docks, a fire in their step.
Hold on Ezra. Sabine thought. Just wait a little longer.
R&R For more chapters and more space drama.