AN: Hi all. I'm sorry for the wait, but I've recently found a second beta who has truly schooled my writing and helped me identify what is valuable to the story and what's just extra weight.
This story is going to go through some serious changes with the writing style so it will probably slow me down, but I hope it makes for a cleaner, easier read for you all. Please let me know what you think, and I promise I will work hard to give you all the story you want to read.
Please enjoy all the feelings you're about to have, with the longest chapter yet.

All the thanks to Unfathomablefandoms and Meepicheep.

The Survival Trials
Chapter 9

Finding the docking Bay that the Ranat had spoken of wasn't a challenge. The crowd was cleaner and less cut throat towards the higher end of the market, but not by much. The pavilion floor was sunken, lined with busy walkways, and vendors had filled the rectangular space with stalls and carts. Some were beginning to pack away their wares and makeshift shanties, but there was still plenty of bodies to make clear line of sight impossible.

Kanan eyed the line up of star ships along the docking bay. They were all expensive cruisers, small luxury liners, and a few shining gunships. It looked like Ezra had been bought by someone with a lot of credit to burn. But who? And why would a rich bag want the boy? Kanan felt his frown deepen, and judging by the way he could feel the crew shifting uncomfortably behind him, they were wondering this too.

"Split up." Kanan commanded without a glance back. Sabine and Zeb peeled away without saying a word, seamlessly melting into the crowd.

Kanan, keeping pace, pulled in a breathe of the dirty air and let it out with a irritable snort. Hera lay her hand on his arm, and one look into her eyes was enough to steel him.
They said nothing, turning to the opposite side. The two teams cut a path around the edge of the sunken markets, then worked through them, keeping their ears prickd and eyes peeled for anything that grabbed their attention.

Kanan and Hera had reached the wide mid lane that led to the docking bay, when Sabine's voice broke through on their communicators. "Uh, Specter Five to Specter One. There's someone here we know. Check your four o'clock."

Hera shot a hot stream of air through her nose as she recognized a red bulbous Jablogian seated in a hover-chair, moving down the ramp of a rusted gozanti class cruiser. Two guardbots flanked his side and he looked pleased as punch as he entered the only standing building in the area, a makeshift cantina.

"Azmorigan!" Hera hissed, no longer calm. Her solemn face masked a storm. They watched bulbous man disappear into the crowd along the docks, the back of his chair visible just above the crowds heads.

Hera rounded on Kanan, her brows pinched together, "Could it be a coincidence?"

He shrugged, slowly shaking his head. "Someone bought Ezra, and we know Azmorigan's not above holding a grudge. But it seems foolish to hang around if he actually has Ezra. He knows we let him walk last time. Why's he so confident?"

Sabine and Zeb appeared behind him as he spoke, and the Lasat snorted heavily through his snout.
"Azmorigan is the worst kind of fool, the kind who doesn't realize he is one."

Hera put out a hand and Sabine wordlessly handed over the Twi'lek's blaster.

"We need to be sure about this." Kanan continued. "I'm not wasting time dealing with Azmorigan if we can avoid it."

"I just saw a security holocam at the slaver pens." Sabine offered, "Maybe I can lift some footage. The guard shift should have changed over by now, They won't recognize us."

Kanan turned to Hera, his mouth twisted.
"I'm not comfortable sending you in there without backup."

Zeb swung his rifle up, pumped the action and grinned raucously. "She's got back up."
Sabine turned her helmet towards him and smiled unseen.

Hera met Kanan's eye. Her expression was tight, but her lips quirked at the corners.
"They'll be fine. Let's discuss Azmorigan."

Kanan pressed a palm into his forehead and sighed. "Ok. Go. But, I want you back ASAP. Do not draw attention to yourselves!"

The two were already stepping away. Sabine took the time to salute, before breaking into a jog. Zeb crouched down low and soon all they could see in the crowd were flashes of pink and two purple-grey ears.

Hera pulled Kanan's elbow towards the rusted cruiser.

They two walked the full length of the ship taking in every angle and hatchway, all without once looking directly at it and keeping another eye out for the return of the crime lord.
Kanan settled against a wall across the lane, facing the ship with his arms folded tight. He let his breathing slow, and extended his senses. Through the Force, he could see in sharp clarity that there were six guards, two footmen, and two more life signatures on board.

There was no Padawan, yet Kanan searched again. He reached for blue, because Ezra's presence had always felt a bit like how Kanan imagined the colour might: bright, electric, and likable.

The thought made his chest ache, when he felt the very wide and tender lack of blue around him, a void that had nothing to do with the colour.

No Ezra had never been on that ship. Was it a coincidence?
Kanan opened his eyes, near defeated. They were surely out of time.

Hera lay a hand on his arm, her eyes soft. "He's not on board."

"No." Kanan admitted, "He never was."

Getting into the Auction House had been easier than expected. The pens out the front were now emptier, the guards had changed, so no one recognized the two.
Sabine and Zeb walked right through the front door, flashing a bag of credits and demanding to see the best stock left.

The clerk that met them was more than willing to help at the sight of the coin purse
"The auctions are right this way. Would you like a private viewing booth?"

The clerk was trying hard to impress them, laying the charm down thick.

'Packing our ears shut with sugar' Sabine thought, recalling how Ezra felt about such shamelessly obvious sales pitches.

"How do you handle payment?" She asked, loudly enough to cover the sound of Zeb's low growl.

"We take credit on hand for small sums," the clerk assured her, "But for larger payments we prefer blind transfer. We have quite a complex security system, I assure you all your transactions will remain anonymous to any third parties."

"Do you complete all banking on the ground?" Sabine pressed, glancing away as they passes a hallway of closed door.

The clerk shot her a sidelong look, and Sabine jumped on the words before he could ask. "My clients insist upon anonymity."

He nodded and lead them along a third hallway. "I can certainly respect that…" He broke himself off, glowering at his beeping datapad and hitting it on the side. The screen display fritzed and then resettled. He sighed.
"I apologize. We had some ...trouble earlier and I dropped my equipment in the fray. It hasn't worked the same since." Trouble? Sabine smiled behind her faceplate. Trouble was Ezra's middle name.

"May I see it for a moment?" Sabine offered pleasantly, putting out a hand. "I'm quite good with data circuts."

Zeb sensed where this was going and stepped to the side. Casually stretching, he reached up and covered the holocam set into the corridor wall with his enormous hand.

The clerk didn't notice. With an airy sniff he lay the datapad in her hand. "Please, be careful. My entire stocklist system is …"

He was cut off by Sabine's hard jab to the throat. He stumbled backwards into the empty hallway Sabine finished him with a crack to the jaw. He landed unconscious with his arms splayed out.

Zeb hauled him upright and Sabine checked him over for keycards.

She found a set of ID tags and straightened up, keying away at the datapad until she found what she was looking for: the location of the banking room. "Let's go."

Zeb followed her brisk, but casual pace. Sabine led them through the hallways, occasionally passing a Zygerrian guard who gave them an odd look but never stopped to question them.

"That was quite a punch." Zeb said, after passing their third guard, giving the girl a gentle punch on the arm.

The remark was meant to pull a smile out of the girl, but instead her shoulders drooped.

"Ezra and I've been practicing our sparring. He kept saying how he wanted to surprise you with a tackle." She replied in a flat voice.

Zeb let his arm drop and frowned, but the image of the skinny boy launching himself with hopes of taking the Lasat down, gave him a smallest of smiles.

"Well, when we've sorted him out, I'll give him one freebie. If he can take my feet out, I won't just be impressed, I'll shave my beard off like he's always threatening."

This seemed to work enough that Sabine flashed him a half smile from under her helmet. Zeb knew how to read her body language to know she'd perked up.

"This way," Sabine said, pulling him down a sixth corner.

The banking room was unguarded, which suited them fine. Sabine used the keycard in the door, and they were in.

Two clerks were seated at a control deck, neither glanced from their workscreens as the door opened. Zeb walked behind them and knocked their heads together with none of his usual frivolity. Sabine slipped one out of his chair and got to work.

She keyed away madly. Zeb glanced anxiously between the door and the data flashing across the screen.

"I wish I had Chopper! There's…. There's so much here! They made millions today alone!" Sabine hissed in both disgust and awe. She punched the console.
"I'm not interested in the yearly report! Just find me the fat bastard's name or look for the kid."

Sabine glared at the screen, and then she stopped. "I got it!" Her fingers ran along the screen reading the aurebesh, "Azmorigan, blind auction house, credit transaction of…. " Her words stopped.

Zeb turned to see.

"What? What is that?" He glanced at the numbers across the screen. Zeb didn't know much about the finances of the slave trade, but he knew that number next to Ezra's picture was a kriff load of money. In the slave trade, a lot of money never meant anything good.

Sabine was already reaching for her communicator.

"Spectre one, I've got credit transfers here with Azmorigan's name all over them. It doesn't say for... what."

Hearing Sabine's message, Kanan frowned.

Hera spun on her heel in the busy street and planted an arm on the wall next to Kanan, her brows pinching together and flicking her lekku irritably.
"If he's not keeping him on board, where is he keeping him?"

Kanan shook his head, but the lethargy that had frozen him, retreated. He drew his blaster and nodded at the ship. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

Hera's eyes calculated the ship and the emptying docking bay and the buildings in the square. Her lips pulled tight in a flat line and she faced him with a hard look in her eyes. "Have Zeb and Sabine keep watch from the rooftop when they get back."

Kanan nodded once, his expression clouded.

They contacted Sabine and informed the two Spectres of the "plan" he and Hera had agreed on, trying not to mention any details.

"That doesn't sound like much of a plan." Zeb growled.

"Just get back to the docking bay as soon as you can."

Taking over the ship was easier then Kanan had expected. Hera hadn't exaggerated how easily overcome the men Azmorigan's hired hands were. Caught off guard playing sabaac, neither Kanan or Hera had to fire a shot. Hera made quick work of tying them up in one of the escape pods.

The slaves were a different story. Kanan found them in one of the cabins, just sitting, quiet and peaceful, with their legs crossed and their hands in their laps. A chain ran from the collars on their necks to a ring in the wall. They were not wearing pilot suits, or much else at all really.

Kanan meant to simply pull the door shut and lock it, but at the sound of his boots, they both flinched and stared at him with wide fearful eyes.

Kanan was struck by how much they looked like Hera. Then he blinked and saw they were both the wrong shade of green and one had hazel eyes while the other's nose was too long.

"Sorry ladies." he said, "We'll let you out when we've dealt with the boss." He pulled the hatch shut and put his Saber through the controls before either could react. He was glad Hera was still busy tying the footmen up.

So Azmorigan had really fixated on Hera and her ridiculous escape, had he?

Kanan's thoughts bounced from Azmorigan, to the two green Twi'lek slaves to his missing Padawan, and the angry fire flared again. What if Azmorigan had transferred his fixation of Hera to part of her crew, to spite her? Would he have hurt Ezra?

Kanan swallowed the anger down and took several deep breaths, centering himself. Hera met him back in the galley, and gave him a tight smile.

Something twinged at the edge of his mind and Kanan nodded toward the dark corners of the room; Azmorigan had returned.

Hera nodded and stepped behind the large throne at the end, blaster drawn.

Kanan pressed himself to the wall behind the door, tucked into the darkness.

Azmorigan entered without his hover chair followed dutifully by his the large bronze guard droids. His gait was wobbly and uneven, but he was smiling and noshing furiously on a piece of fruit. The juice was dripping off his chin, and he wiped his sleeve across his jaw. He didn't sense anything amiss on board his ship.

The droids had barely cleared the doorway when Kanan moved. He put two blaster shots through one's circuitry. The second lifted its automatic blaster, activating its front shields. But Kanan had already rolled under its long legs and shot it through the back of its head. Kanan lost no love for droids, well, at least not the ones without personality. Both bots let out a fadding hum and hung their heads, sparking sparks from the blaster holes.

Azmorigan jumped backwards as the hatch slammed shut behind him, his eyes widening as he stared first at his fallen droids and then at Kanan's drawn blaster.

The crime lord looked truly stupefied for a moment, then his bug eyes narrowed and he sputtered in anger.

"How did you find me? H-H-How are you here s-so quickly?"

Hera slipped out of the shadows, grabbed the Jablogian by the shoulder, and jammed her blaster sharply into the back of his fat neck. Azmorigan straightened at once, his thin arms coming up in a weak gesture of surrender. He clearly didn't know Hera as well as Kanan did. She wouldn't shoot him, at least not yet.
Lucky for Azmorigan, the Ghost crew had a code of ethics. But nothing challenged Hera's cool collected calm more than dealing with slavers.

"Tell us where he is." Hera demanded coldly, her long lithe form easily controlling the fat puddle of gangster.

Azmorigan's eyes flittered left and right, and his mouth twitched as he stuttered. "I don't know who you're talking about."

Hera fired the blaster, straight down, right between the man's heels.

"I don…don…"

The next shot was fired so close, the heat melted the tip of Azmorigans shoes. She pushed the hot barrel back into his chubby neck folds.

"Don't lie." Hera demanded, "I left you in one piece last time, but I won't make the same mistake again, if you don't tell me the truth."

Kanan cleared his throat, putting the attention back on himself, and eyeing Azmorigan with disgust. "We have an agent on the docks that has stashed an explosive charge in every corner of the ship we could find." Kanan took a step closer, his blaster at eye level. "No matter how many scans your perform on this ship, I can assure you, you will never find them all. If we don't leave without all our questions answered, we will blow this burner up. Whether that's now- or in a few hours, whether you're on board or not. So it's in your best interest to make sure we leave in a good mood."

Azmorigan smacked his mouth in distaste, shot his eyes around the room and then shuddered in defeat.

"I...I bought the brat."

"We know." Kanan lied, feeling his heart rate speed up, "Now tell me where he is."

Azmorigan squirmed, trying to twist away from the hot barrel of Hera's blaster. Hera, in return, jabbed it hard into a fatty space between two ribs.

"I…I sold him on already." Azmorigan shouted fearfully. "I- I don't know where he is now!"

"Who did you sell him too?"

"I… I don't know any names! The market, they do that all for you! I just put up the funds."

Kanan's eyes narrowed, "Where did you buy him?"

"The body market." Azmorigan answered swiftly. "On the warehouse row. Fourteen hundred credits."

Hera sent Kanan a startled glance over the Jablorigan's head. It was a huge a sum. While Ezra's life was ultimately priceless to them, a humanoid boy on the body market usually only ran a few hundred. Had they discovered Ezra was Force sensitive? A fresh wave of icy fear coated Kanan's stomach.

"Why so much?" He managed to spit out.

Azmorigan twisted his wide mouth and then clamped it shut, averting his gaze.

Kanan clenching his jaw, and locked his arms at his sides. Hera had more restraint when it came to this sort of thing. Kanan was sure he could be trusted not to get carried away. Not when this was about his Padawan in danger. But this time Hera surprised Kanan by grabbing Azmorigan's arm backwards, wrenching it higher, grinding the blaster muzzle deeper into his pudgy neck.

Azmorigan twisted his wide mouth and then clamped it shut, averting his gaze.

Azmorigan groaned and flailed a little, but still kept his mouth shut.

Hera tightened her hold in the smallest increments, digging her fingers into the soft nerves under the bone. "Azmorigan..." she growled, baring her teeth.

Azmorigan shuddered, and Kanan thought he might even be sobbing.

"It..." Azmorigan sputtered mournfully, his words coming out choked. "It was...a... special auction."

The intonation sent a flash of cold fear through his veins, and Kanan bit down on his tongue and made sure to keep his hand fisted around his blaster away from the trigger. This was it, surely they knew Ezra was Force sensitive.

Hera's blaster dug deep and Azmorigan was pushed to his knees, whimpering. "Special' how?" she demanded, her voice a low growl.

"It was...The Survivalist hunt!"

Azmorigan had shouted the words like they meant something, but it only confused the two further. Hera threw Kanan a worried look, fearful of what this might mean. Kanan only swallowed, trying to ignore the sudden pit opening in his chest.

Azmorigan glanced up, and saw they weren't reacting. Kanan brought his blaster to the gangster's nose.
"Keep talking."

Azmorigan swallowed dryly, stringing his words together carefully. "The hunt. You…you buy candidates…and they fight. They film it…for the underground holo-channels. You... put bets on the candidates and... It...it's a competition!"

"To win what exactly?" Kanan growled. The pounding in his head had increased.

Azmorigan trembled, smacking his lips and turned back to face the dirty floor. Even stooped over, a glint of manic pride glimmered in his beady eyes.
"They…they have to fight, each other. The last one... alive...wins their freedom."

The console lights in the bank room flickered across Sabine's face as Kanan signed off. She switched the link off on her wristcom and turned back to the blinked data lines.

"Alright come on, back to the docking bay, that's an order." Zeb demanded, heading for the door.

"No, not yet." Sabine madly tapped away at the controls again. The screen flashed with images, and thin lines of data.

"No! We're not playing this again." Zeb growled, about to lift her out of the chair. "Kanan says we're out That means we get out. Now."
"Not yet!" Sabine snapped, furiously typing and then suddenly came to a stop.

"Sabine…" Zeb stopped himself from saying anything more, because on the screen now was an image from one of the security cams in a wide barer hallway. Along one side of the walls was a line of slaves, cuffed to a chain gang. They were mostly humanoid, but all looked worse for wear and hung their heads, except for one.

Ezra looked skinnier and smaller than ever, between two large men, but his chin was lifted as he looked straight down the line up with a narrow, unimpressed sort of look on his face. He was sporting a wicked bruise on his forehead, and he looked tired, but he was alive.

Zeb swallowed and lay a hand on Sabine shoulder. "Come on," he ordered softly.

Sabine moved, but not before plugging in a data card into the control deck and downloading the image, the transaction records and anything else that would fit on the drive.

They made their escape, walking purposefully, Sabine leading them away from any hallways that traveled too close to any auction houses. As they neared the entrance, Zeb could feel a slight breeze from the outside. He'd never been happier to smell the foul market air.

They were almost through the door, but had to slow to walk behind a wide set Ithorian man, walking with a thin dark woman and a girl at his side.

"You'll like my farm." The Ithorian insisted kindly. His tone sounded a little apologetic, and he glanced at the mother and the child with tilt to his large head. "I promise I'll treat you both well. I have children too."

The mother nodded, her braids swinging, but didn't not reply. She glanced down at her daughter who was looking over her shoulder at Sabine with wide green eyes.

Sabine felt a little of the weight come off her chest, watching the Ithorian lead the two slaves away. Perhaps not all slaves ended up in the worst places, but it was certainly not the case for all and probably not the case for Ezra.

She grit her teeth, and as soon as the doorway was clear, she and Zeb broke into a jog.

They found a hidden spot on a rooftop by the docking bay next to Azmorigan's ship. Kanan had been very clear how they were not to come aboard, but instead to wait for them.

"How do you think it's going?" She asked Zeb, trying to imagine what might be happening on board.

Zeb frowned and shrugged. "You know how Kanan is, but if I've got an idea, it's Hera who's running that show."

Sabine shuddered, and eyed the crowd below them. There were less sentients walking the streets, most vendors had packed and left, and the streets were clear. Only a few vendors were still selling, the air already smelt cleaner.
It was odd, seeing how the bustling market had become a near ghost town in a matter of hours. It was no wonder this place was called the invisible market.

Zeb must have been thinking the same thing, climbing to his feet and prowling along the rooftop edge, growling. "They better hurry up- or someones going to ask why we're still hanging around."

"There!" cried a voice.

A blaster bolt shot between them. Sabine smoothly spun on her heel and lifted both of her own blasters, firing off a spray in the direction the first shot had come from. A thick and angry Zygerrian man with a nasty short range pistol stood in the middle of the laneway, with a dozen guards behind him, all raising their blasters.
"Get them!" He shouted, pointing up at the rooftop. "They may have the Holocron!"

Her heart clenched in her chest and she exchanged half a glance with Zeb. It was the Zygerrians from the cargo hauler Ezra had boarded in Sobrik. If they knew the holocron was missing now, what did that mean for Ezra?

Zeb unsheathed his Bo-rifle and returned fire as another shot struck the wall beside his head.
Sabine re-holstered one of her blasters and reached for her com, ducking behind the crumbling remains of a wall.

"Spectre 1, we've outstayed our welcome."

"So we've heard." Kanan replied, his voice bitter. "Spectre 3, get the Ghost airborne and head for the dock bay 22. We have everything we're likely to find here."

"Buabwaa," Chopper replied.

"Just do it Chop!" Hera cut in, "And warm up those turrents!"

Sabine drew her blaster again and shot at the thick slaver's feet. "Zeb, I've got them. You watch shipside for Kanan and Hera" Zeb backed away from the firefight, still unloading his rifle. He swung to watch the walkway in front of Azmorigan's freighter. Kanan and Hera jogged down the hatchway, Zeb could see how tense both were. Behind them, the two Twi'lek slaves followed, huddled at Hera's back.

Kanan and Hera's time with Azmorigan had been... informative.

Once the can had been opened, Azmorigan sensed that the more information he gave them, the more likely they would leave him unharmed.

Azmorigan was quite insistent on their speed, having only missed the boy by mere hours.

Kanan was livid.
The rage he felt, the loathing he had for Azmorigan, was shadowed only by the knowledge that every second he wasted on the bastard, was another second Ezra was in danger.

Azmorigan had given them the names of several locations likely to show the event, and directions on how to gain entry. From there, they might be able to find out the where the Trials were being held, or at least who was involved.

He told them they would need to hurry. For split second his face split with a grin as if he thought they wouldn't make it.

Hera had twisted his face around, forcing him to look her dead in the eye for the first time, and the smile vanished. "You come after my crew again, and I will be back for you."

The words were soft compared to what Kanan was holding behind his grit teeth, but Azmorigan flinched. Hera dropped him and he struggled to stand on his trembling legs.
Then, she pulled back and punched him so hard he flew a few feet back and lay still.
Kanan unlocked his fists for the first time, as Hera shook her hand, and gave him a heavy stare.

They left him bound and gagged to his precious chair and moved off through the ship, snagging a several credit transfer cards, and some additional blaster cartridges along the way.

Kanan put a hand out stopping Hera and pulling her down the corridor that lead to the cabins.

"Kanan, we don't have time to stop…." Hera cut her protests short as Kanan pulled out his lightsaber and gave her a dry look.

"You remember that when you see what's in here." he sliced through the bolts in the wall. Kanan snpped his saber off as the hatch swung inward. Hera peered into the dim lit room.

The Twi'lek women had stayed seated, but turned to look at who had wretched open their door. Their eyes widened at the sight of Hera, and then narrowed as Kanan stepped into sight.

Hera stared, taking in the women, obviously slaves. One looked younger with eastern features, the taller woman was older. Then Hera blinked. If she were an off-worlder, unfamiliar with Twi'lek culture and race, they might both bare a very slight resemblance to her, one that extended beyond the colour of their skin. Her lekku tensed, lifting in anger, and both the Twi'lek women responded, their expressions frightened and unsure.

Kanan lay a gentle hand on Hera shoulder, and gave her a soft squeeze, and watched her lekku resettle. "We have to go." He told her, and she nodded, not tearing her eyes off the girls.

Hera did her best to soften her face, and then swept her lekku forward over her shoulders, and opened her arms out in a gesture of peace and welcome.
The change in the women was instant, and they both came to their feet and moved forward, their faces a mixture of surprise and relief to be spoken to with their own tongue. They ran the length of their chains. They began gesturing and speaking in rushed hushed tones all at once. Hera caught that the younger one did not understand basic, but the taller one did. She had been a servant to Azmorigan for eight weeks now. They wanted to know where he was, where the guards were, and was this human male their new master?

Hera put up both hands, and swept back her headtails with a flick, and the women silenced themselves at once. Hera reached and lay one hand on Kanan chest, and the other flat on her heart, "Kanan," she said, and at the same time, lifted her lekku and drew a circle over her heart with a finger.

Both the women took a step back now turning their eyes on Kanan, who frowned at the sudden attention.

"Ay'kou?" Asked the tall one hesitantly, and Hera smiled and nodded firmly.

The younger woman took a tentative step forward, and looked the Kanan up and down. Turning back to Hera, she smiled, flicking one lekku over her shoulder and stroking it gently, "Eswo Ka'Nan?"

The taller Twi'lek laughed very softly, and Hera's eyes went wide and her cheeks blushed faintly.

Kanan didn't understand the exchange, but from judging from Hera's reaction, the girl had suggested something not so innocent. In any other circumstances, he might have enjoyed the attention, but it was time to get moving.

His attention was snatched by the unmistakable sound of blaster fire outside the ship. The slave women immediately huddled together, fear back in their eyes. Kanan pulled his blaster and whipped around. Their communicators buzzed and Kanan snatched his com off his belt, while Hera spoke to the Twi'leks in hushed firm tones.

Kanan glanced to Hera, who gave him a firm nod as she took up her blaster and shot the chains free. The women gathered at her back, clearly scared but moving. "Spectre 3," Kanan commed Chopper as they moved through the cargo hauler.

They made for the gangplank, and Kanan was forced to jerk backwards to avoid a stray laser shot that whipped past his nose. He recognized the Zygerrians from Sobrik, at least thirty of them, or there had been before Zeb and Sabine had started shooting from the rooftop. The dusty streets were deserted now, whether because the market were truly over or the blaster fight had scared everyone off.

Kanan saw the shadow of a ship burst through the low hanging cloud of pollution in the air, and knew it was Chopper. The ship began to descend sharply, raising a windstorm of debris and trash.

He turned to Hera and pointed up at the nearest building with a flat top and a crumbling staircase where the Ghost would be able to reach them without landing in the street. "Get them upstairs. I'll collect 4 and 5!" He had to shout over the roar of the Ghost's engines and the firefight, but he knew Hera understood. She gave him a single solid nod before urging the women across the empty alley, picking off gunmen as she ran.

Kanan bounded away, using what was left of an abandoned fuel canister, propelled himself onto the rooftop in two leaps, propelled by the force.

"What took you so long?" Zeb demanded, his body jerking from the recoil of his rifle. A laser shot grazed his face and he roared in fury as his beard singed

Kanan didn't waste time explaining, he pulled Sabine back from the edge and took her position. "Go! Chop's on his way!" he commanded. Kanan shot the blaster out of the lead Zygerrian's hand The gun went flying and he clutched his hand to his chest and roared.

Sabine sensed the end of the battle, but her heart was still thundering in her ears. They needed more time. She reached behind her, and pulled out three round detonation caps, and flung them over Kanan's shoulder into the street at the slavers boots.

"Go!" She shouted, and the men did not need to be told twice. The alley exploded in a cloud of purple and red. The blaster-fire ceased as most of the Zygerrians were knocked off their feet.

Sabine leapt onto the next rooftop and rolled neatly back onto her feet. Zeb and Kanan followed together, turning to stop and slow down the slavers who had survived the explosion with coverfire between the buildings.

The ghost was hovering over the flat top of a crumbling two story block, and Hera was descending the ramp firing her blaster into the fray.

Sabine reached the ship first, flying straight up the ladders to the Phantom's nose turrents. Hera went straight for the cockpit, and slid into her seat like a queen.
"Good job, Chop." she called back, and the astromech trilled in response.

Kanan and Zeb landed on the ramp just as the ship began to lift away from the rooftop. The Ghost's engines roared, sending vibrations through their feet. A laser shot through the open hatchway and burned a mark into the wall. Kanan whipped around to see the barrel chested Zygerrian coming to his feet onto of the rooftop, his eyes ablaze.
Zeb and Kanan returned fire from either side of the cargo door as the hatchway pulled shut. The Ghost made a sharp turn upwards and they were both thrown against the walls.

They were breaking atmosphere in seconds. The ship leveled out as Hera plugged in hyperspace coordinates, and then they were launched into the void.

"Their aim is better than a Troopers'." Zeb muttered irritably, tugging on the charred edge of his beard.

"You always say you like a challenge." Kanan smirked. Zeb left off fussing with his beard and turned to the Kanan with a hard frown.

"So... the lard-case didn't have the kid then?"

The chill returned to Kanan's bones, and after a moment silent, Kanan shook his head. "No. He sold him on."

Zeb's yellow eyes bugged and he lurched forwards as if a torrent of words had leapt up his throat but he clamped his mouth shut and grit his large paws into fists.

Kanan said nothing, he didn't have the energy to expand on what they'd discovered just yet. He began heaving himself up the ladder into the cockpit, and after a moment, Zeb followed.

Hera turned in her seat as they came through the porthole, followed by Sabine.

The girl looked briefly into their faces, before sinking quietly into her seat. "What did you find out?" she asked, her tone even.

"Azmorigan has sold him on to a games arena." Kanan answered, his level voice dipping acidly at the mention of an arena. Both Sabine and Zeb's faces blanched and then filled with cold fury. Kanan continued on, his voice steady. "They have a two hours on us, but we probably have a few weeks before the match starts."

"I've already sent word to Fulcrum." Hera put in, her eyes flashing. "The base will start weeding out locations, try to narrow down the options."

"Wait, Azmorigan didn't tell you a location?" Sabine demanded. Zeb lay both hands flat on his knees and squeezed, his arms shaking from the effort.

"No." Kanan answered quietly turning to look out the viewport where the tunnel of blue was swept past. He consciously had to push down on his urge to reach out, because he knew Ezra would not be standing beside him or only down the hall like always. He was far away. Far out of his reach.
"But we have an in."

"The man in blue."

Sabine spun around, surprised to see others were on board. A tall green Twi'lek woman dressed in gauzy silks and a blanket from Hera's bunk wrapped over her shoulders was standing in the hatchway. She peered at them all with narrow eyes, and then fixed on Kanan.

"Uh- Hera?" Sabine began quietly, but stopped when Zeb shook his head.

"Man in blue came to collect the boy that Master Azmorigan purshased."

A second small green woman appeared behind her, nodding furiously, but kept her mouth firmly shut.

"You saw Ezra?" Kanan asked, his heart lifting. Finally some tangible proof of his Padawan.

"What else?" Hera asked, coming to her feet.

The Twi'lek woman lifted a finger and pointed at the bare skin of her upper arm. "He wore knives, in a circle."

"A logo?" Sabine guessed, turning back to Hera. "Maybe an insignia?"

Hera pursed her lips, withholding a grimace. It was such a vague lead. "That could help if we could get a better idea of what it looked like."

"I might be able to help with that," Sabine exclaimed, lurching to her feet and heading for her cabin. She was back within moments, one of her many sketchbooks in hand. She drew a rough design and then flashed it to the taller Twi'lek woman, who shook her head, and pointed at something on the paper. This went back and forth several time before the Twi'lek crossed her two index fingers and then pointed to the paper.

When Twi'lek woman nodded in agreement, Sabine passed the sketchbook to Hera who frowned. It was a simple design, with the shape of two short daggers crossed pointing up and surrounded by a circle of oval leaves.

"This should help at least." she sighed, passing it on to Kanan who glared at the page. Hera turned to the women and tilted her lekku aside. "I'm very sorry, but when we make contact with our friends, we will have to leave you there. We won't be far away. They will take very good care of you, perhaps return you to your clans. You do not belong to Azmorigan or anyone anymore."

The taller smiled warmly and nodded to Hera and then to Kanan. With a smooth sweep of her arm, she brought her lekku forward and pressed her hands flat on her chest. The shorter Twi'lek followed suit. "Arni'soyacho," they whispered in unison, their eyes starting to glisten.
Hera smiled, a little sadly and put her hands out, accepting theirs and squeezing.

"They said: thank you." Sabine said quietly, seeing Kanan didn't understand the exchange.

The weight on his chest lifted by an inch and he sucked in a heavy sigh, and smiled.

The women moved to leave, and Kanan found himself moving forward.

"Wait, Is there anything else you can tell us? We must find the boy."

The older Twi'lek swept her lekku back over her shoulders. "I don't know the men who came, they have not done business with Master Azmorigan before, as I know. But the boy spoke of you. He said you would all be coming to collect him." her expression darkened for a moment. " He is very brave."

"Olgkru." nodded the second.

Hera smiled thinly. "Strong willed? That sounds like Ezra."

Kanan felt conflicted. They had been so close to catching up, and now Ezra was headed for some gladiators pit, forced to fight for his very survival. He felt the migraine coming, like a slowly building pressure.
He needed to lie down or meditate. He was exhausted. His muscles ached from being rigid for almost two days straight.

"I'll be in my cabin if you need me," he said shortly.

Sabine and Zeb said nothing as he left, but Hera reached out and touched his hands as he passed. He withdrew it, wanting only to be alone. The Twi'lek women averted her eyes in apology as he slipped past.

The shorter of the two newcomers suddenly came forward and wrapped a hand around Kanan's, and in a soft voice asked, "Akei?"

At a loss, Kanan looked to Hera and Sabine.
Sabine looked away, her expression unreadable. Hera looked surprised, but not embarrassed like before, and then she smiled very softly, dipped her lekku, and nodded in assertion. "Akei."

The Twi'lek woman closed her eyes as if she were in pain, clutching Kanan's hand to her chest and then released him with a sad smile.

The two women peeled away without another word, heading back towards the passenger area.

Kanan wanted to ask, but his head gave an almighty throb and he decided he didn't care to know. He walked on without another words, rounding the corner and reaching for the ladder.

"What was that about?" Zeb grumbled, his voice low.

Sabine and Hera hesitated, and the long silence gave Kanan pause long enough that heard Sabine answer softly.

"She... asked if Ezra was Kanan's son."

No one spoke again, or at least Kanan didn't hear if they did, as he pushed himself up the ladder and headed for his cabin.

The hatch pulled closed with a hiss, shutting him in the dark. Kanan stood where he was, barely in the doorway for some time, just staring into the shadows.

Ezra wasn't Kanan's son. He was his Padawan, the differences were milestones apart. Whole galaxies. The two were as far apart form one another, as he and Ezra were right now.

But then why did his heart ache like this, a deep and frightened flutter in his chest that carried a flood of awful memories with it?

His skull was pulsating, a thick heavy pressure pushing down on his chest. Kanan tried to suck in an even breath, intending to release it after a meditative pause. Instead, he choked on it, and the breath broke free as a strangled sob.

No. he couldn't break down, not here, not now.

Ezra was counting on them, on Kanan. He was trusting that his Master would come for him, and Kanan would.

Kanan moved to the center of the room, and folded his knees underneath him. He had come here intending to escape, and possibly to sleep. But now he felt very much awake, and while his pain was still present, he pushed it aside and focused his energy on the ebb and flow of his center.

His Padawan was alive, and waiting for them somewhere out in the Galaxy.

And Kanan was going to find him.

My grasp on Twi'lek translation is loose at best- but the dialog conversion from Ryl to Basic is below:

Ay'kou- A word is used to indicate members of a Twi'lek's family that are Koccielle Twi'lek (An honorary member of the clan/family).

Eswo Ka'Nan- Beloved, or exceptionally favored. The name of the individual attached accentuates the meaning.

Arni'soyacho- An expression of extreme gratitude; thank you very much

Olgkru- Strong-willed

Akei- A word was used to indicate an individual who is a son, or male clan/family member.

R&R for good Karma and to buy me lessons in Ryl