AN: Hullo All! I am still not deceased, just very busy. But don't worry, I have no plans to abandon this. Here is an extra long chapter just to say thank you to everyone who reviews! I read every one and they always make me smile or spur me on. All I want is to write something you guys enjoy reading, so Thank you for telling me when I do.
The chapter also features a sizable portion that was donated by my wonderful beta, Meepicheep herself. Without her I wouldn't be learning half as much as I have while writing this. She is a dialog queen.
I hope you all enjoy!
The Survival Trials
Chapter 15
"Another mining outpost." Hera frowned at the latest star-map, projected from the Ghosts console.
"Yes," Ashoka's hologram flickered, "The betting cantinas all seem to be on mining or engineering facilities. Set up a day before the tournament, gone the day it ends. Lots of payoffs, all the local officials know nothing about it."
"Any mining or engineering underworld crime rings big enough to pull something like this off?" She leaned back in the pilot's chair, resting her hands against her aching temples. "Have you heard anything from your insiders?"
Ahsoka's expression turned sour. "I feel it would be... short sited to operate on the assumption the Empire is somehow responsible, Hera."
Hera grimaced, and bit back her argument. Kanan had said as much too. It was to easy to blame the Empire for all the faults in the Galaxy.
"I understand. But I just have this feeling that someone higher up in the Empire is pulling strings, or at the very least, allowing the operation to exist."
Ahsoka nodded. "I've got most of my best agents on this, but the secrecy around this tournament's huge. You figure an operation like this has got to protect its interests against other crime organizations at the very least. I can only imagine what kind of money the big families and syndicates are loosing to this operation and how much they'd like to put an end to it, imperial involvement or not. That, and my agents are normally chasing intel on the Empire's expansion and war efforts. They're not set up for something as vague as this. Hera, I'm sorry, the leads aren't getting any better."
Hera sighed, "I know. Sabine can't find anything more with the signals when they get behind the bar. Nothing as elaborate as that first one. Its too bad we blew it up. All the credit transactions are being handled by third, fourth, and sometimes fifth parties. They bury their trails, even on the basics. Sabine couldn't even trace delivery or service records." Hera folded her arms tightly across her chest in frustration. "Its all been blacklisted."
The control panel put out a faint orange glow, stuck on the lowest power settings. She'd switched to auxiliary power to take Ahsoka's transmission, to assure herself their conversation would not be overheard. The Ghost was parked dead on a smaller asteroid, avoiding detection from the nearby settlement on Sakhra-6, the largest asteroid in the system, where Kanan, Zeb, and Sabine had landed with the Phantom nearly an hour ago to visit another betting cantina. She'd have to power down in a minute to avoid anyone picking up on the coded transmission. Though, Sakhra-6, like the other two cantina outposts they had already visited, had low levels of imperial control. Hera had a hunch they'd see no fighters flying patrol.
"Hera," Ahsoka leaned in, her tone growing tense. "My contacts have discovered that there's a large shipment of medical supplies being transported from Nyrue."
"We're not stopping our search for Ezra." Hera said reflexively, sitting up. She'd gone down this route once before.
"I'm not asking you to stop your search."
"Ezra's important to the rebellion. He's important to our family."
"Yes, he is." Ahsoka assured her firmly, "and not just because of the intel he has about our organisation. If the Empire ever recognises him from the feed and tries to retrieve him themselves, we will have an entirely different problem. But if your crew keeps blowing up cantina's, someone going to notice. Nyrue is in the next system over. The rebellion still needs the Ghost and its crew too. Maybe while you focus on this, a better lead will surface."
Hera winced at the mention of blowing up bars. The first one, a fire fight was the necessary distraction to cover their exit and any evidence they might have left behind. The second, though, sounded like Zeb had dropped the detonator out of pure frustration. And Hera wasn't sure from the debriefing if it was Sabine or Kanan who had lit the bomb at the third location.
The crew was totally wound.
Hera was pragmatic first and foremost. She was tactical, and resolved. She knew when it was time to fight and when you needed to lay low, though right now her heart was tearing in two. "Alright. We'll do it."
Chopper, running on auxiliary charge in the back, powered up and wheeled over to the hologram.
"Whap, whap, wrrrow, whap." He burbled, surprising them both with the reminder that he still had the holocron from their wreck of a mission days prior.
Ahsoka's face tensed. "I... let it slip my mind in all the excitement." She put a hand under her chin and frowned. "I will send an escort to pick it up as soon a possible. If you can reach these co-ordinates…"
"Bwaap, beep, bwap."
Hera swivelled in her seat slowly to face the droid.
"What do you mean you 'can't hand it over'?" she grit out.
"Bweep, bop, bweep!"
"New security measures? Since when do you have security measures?"
Chopper trilled and waved his extendo arms in a shrugging gesture.
Hera stared, "Are you telling me, that, although you do have the Holocron secured in your chassis, you cannot retrieve it? Not even with an override?"
"Bwaapp beewp."
"You need a password?"
"Bweep bwap."
"Well who has it?"
"Bwap-wa!"
"Ezra." Hera breathed, and sank back against her seat trying to ignore the pressure building in her head. This was all such a mess...
The cockpit was silent.
Finally Ahsoka spoke.
"If I understand, what your droid is saying, is that retrieving the holocron, a high priority mission, is now dependant on the rescue of Ezra Bridger." She didn't sound put out by this new information, surprisingly, she sounded intrigued. "I will put this forward to my generals. It seems I now have the necessary intel to further motivate our rescue resources. Perhaps they can call in a few more favours than I can."
"Bwaap!" Chopper answered happily, spinning his treads.
Hera frowned, glancing between Ahsoka and Chopper. Chopper was clearly trying to manipulate the rebellion generals, in his own way, and Ahsoka seemed happy to allow it. If he was so inclined to help, perhaps he could better serve at her side for now.
"Ahsoka, send that escort. Come and collect Chopper too, he can set up filtering data on the holo-feed on your end. He knows Ezra better then any of your generals or your data droids, he'll be more use to you while we complete the supply mission. And maybe," she eyed the astromech warily out the corner of her eyes. "You could have your best droid mechanics work on overriding those 'security measures.''
Ahsoka nodded, her expression turning to business. "I agree. I'll transmit the Nyrue specs. We will send a support ship and a guard soon. I will see you back at Safe Haven when you are ready. Over."
Hera had to move the Ghost to intercept the shuttle, which had come right on time, and Chopper was pleased to go.
"Behave." she told him firmly, before letting him set off in the care of the guard.
"Don't worry Captain Syndulla. We'll escort him." a guard told her firmly.
She smiled pointedly and saluted their departure, before muttering, "That's not what worries me."
When Ezra opened his eyes, the orange sunlight was streaming through the trees, refracting strangely though the blue visor. He jerked into waking with a gasp, and ripped the helmet off, sucking in the cool air. The spring was bubbling nearby, but he could hear nothing else. Everything was still and disturbingly peaceful.
He was alone, but he patted himself down quickly, not quite willing to believe he had survived the night so easily and carelessly.
"Way to drop your guard." he muttered weakly.
He crawled back to the water, his legs aching the whole way. He hung himself over a flat rock at the edge of the spring, lifting handfuls to drink and splash the sweat off his face.
He stumbled back to the tree and for the first time looked at the treasures he'd swiped from the pit.
The helmet close up was Wizard, and he was immediately taken by the design. The mechanics of the face plate were brilliant, allowing the entire mouth piece to separate and slid away into the mask under the ears. The round view-ports reflected his own face back up at him. The stark roundness of his head's reflection unsettled him. He felt suddenly self conscious, exposed. Ezra shook his head quickly and turned the helmet around.
The power cells at the back were still at nearly full charge, but he still adjusted their usage to the lowest setting.
He slid the helmet back on, feeling comfortable with the coverage over his ears and cheek bones but left the face-plate up.
Inside the backpack he found a set of three small steelum cups that nested one inside the other, a plastic tarp that was about as wide as he was tall, and a water-skin. He immediately filled the water-skin and sat back to sip as he explored further.
There was also a small roll of cord, a thinly padded sleeping bag, and to Ezra's amazement; two bacta patches.
They were small, barely fit for a good scrape, let alone a blaster wound. But he held them reverently, one in each hand, and was truly grateful for having had the clear head to grab the supplies.
He carefully repacked the bag, making sure to stash the patches safely at the bottom.
The Massassi's vibroblade had a wide handle, and his fingers were only just long enough to wrap around it. Ezra weighed it in one hand, and then the other, testing the balance. He gave an few experimental jabs, a clumsy swing and tucked the blade in close to him in defence, like Kanan had taught him. But it was nothing like his lightsaber. He felt unbalanced, and a little stupid waving the short blade around.
"Laser-brain." Ezra mumbled, hearing Sabine's voice smiling in his head. The reminder hurt, and it was enough to launch him into action.
He snorted irritably, and shoved the blade into his boot where he could easily reach it. He topped up the water skin and climbed to his feet, swinging the backpack over his shoulders. He looked up, squinting, and judged that it must be the middle of the day if the sun was that high.
"Time to get moving." he told no one. He frowned, realising he was already falling into his old street habit of talking to himself out loud.
"This isn't Lothal," he reminded himself silently, absently tugging the cold collar around his neck. I need to watch what I say out here. Anyone could be listening. The Crew will come and find me...
He wasn't in any hurry to distance himself from his only water source, better to follow it; but which way to start? Upstream or down? He swivelled around, realizing in his dehydrated state the night before, he hadn't kept track of which direction he'd come from. He was lost.
Ezra looked up, and then down the shallow waterways, and smiled crookedly. He lifted his hand and pointed from end to end.
"Lothwolf, lothcat, lothrat, run. Pick a path and let's be done."
He was left pointing down stream, and with a shrug, he got on his way.
He did his best to avoid leaving tracks, trying instead to keep to the smooth rocks that jutted from the mud and patches of leaf litter. But after an hour of following the stream, the rocks had grown smaller, then became pebbles, and finally a soft slop of brown sand. The sprigs of greenery that grew along the waterline began to thin, and the stream began to grow wider and deeper and the banks grew more defined. The water started to bubble as it moved faster into deeper pools.
He came across a patch of wiry bushes with thick orange thorns and bright yellow berries growing in clumps. The berries were rounded, smooth and soft to the touch. He could almost taste the juice, and his stomach let out a thunderous growl at the very sight. Ezra realised he'd be standing and staring open mouthed at the berries, so he decided to take a rest.
Ezra sat for a long time, dipping one of his cups into the creek to fill his belly, and internally debating weather or not he should try them. Logically, they were likely poisonous, but he couldn't help but think that wasn't the Game-makers plan. How entertaining could that be? Would it be better to starve to death or risk trying toxic berries?
On a whim, he reached out and plucked on from the branch. It came away easily, like it was perfectly ripe. He glared at the little fruit as he rolled it between two fingers, and finally popped it into his mouth.
He crunched down, and it exploded between his teeth. It was just as juicy as he'd hoped, but his mouth immediately flooded with the most awful sour tang he'd ever tasted.
Ezra spat it out, gagging, and dragged himself back to the creek to scrub his tongue, trying not to think how foolish he must have looked on the holocams.
He shook himself, and got to his feet to keep moving, but only a few minutes down stream, his lips began to tingle.
At first he thought it was dehydration or his empty stomach playing tricks on his mind. But then the tingle spread into his cheeks and tongue, and before long, his mouth was completely numb. He worried the berries would start affecting his nerves, but nothing more happened. He spent the next hour spitting, and trying not to accidentally bite his tongue or the inside of his cheeks. He sloshed his way along the waterway till the numbness had begun to subside.
His head was pounding now, and he wasn't sure if it was the heat, the dirty water, or the berries. But he trudged on until he reached a shady, muddy patch of riverbank. The brighter mood he'd felt on waking had started to turn as sour as the yellow berries, and a bitter scowl settled on his features. The mud was soft here, and cooled his skin inside the suit. He wondered if he had a fever.
I hope not, I have enough problems to worry about.
Ezra collapsed into the crook of a tree with a complicated root system and dark oval leaves.
Almost as soon as he'd sat down the mud moved at his feet. Ezra watched, half awake as a worm wriggled to the topsoil.
He stared at it, the first sign of life he'd seen since getting dropped in here.
It crawled a little way, and then began to writhe, digging back into the mud. Ezra reached out and carefully picked it up between two dirty fingers.
The worm squirmed, it's grey pearlescent flesh changed colour and tone as it struggled.
This is what I am to the makers, Ezra thought dully. I'm a worm. I can wriggle all I want, but that won't get me anywhere.
His stomach rolled and Ezra blinked.
He knew lots of cultures ate insects, but Ezra had never tried it. He'd never really had the need.
He grimaced, watching the worm writhing in his palm, helpless.
It had been more then almost two days since he'd last eaten now. His belly protested painfully at the reminder.
"A kids gotta eat." he muttered grimly, and tossed the worm into his mouth.
He swallowed quickly, unable to bring himself to chew, but the worm got stuck on the back of his tongue and Ezra gagged.
He hacked, and spat the worm back out, coughing fitfully and tasting dirt on his tongue. The worm landed on the mud, and quickly burrowed back underground.
"It's your lucky day." Ezra told it snappily, trying to save face. He climbing awkwardly to his feet, re-shouldered his pack and quickly turned away. He felt oddly guilty, which was ridiculous.
He walked on down the water way, exploring the banks as the flora changed. He saw trees that grew into thorny spires, tall reedy stalks, and low hanging bushes covered in little black flowers. Ezra studied them from afar. He considered coming in closer, but stopped when he saw the sand disturbed at the waters edge. It was a set of freshly made tracks leaving the river and disappearing into the under-growth.
Ezra didn't recognise the claw pattern, but whatever it was, it was large. Ezra changed course to the other side of the creek and moved at a brisk speed. The tracks were too large and animal-like to belong to any of the other candidates, even the Massassi or the Trandoshan weren't that size.
It was not a good sign, but Ezra filed away the knowledge, hopfully this would just put another opponent the Trandoshan might come up against if he were on his way to seek out the boy.
As it was, Ezra had formulated two single plans.
Hide.
And wait.
If he was clever, which he liked to think he was, he could hole up somewhere and leave the other opponents to knock each other off, until the Crew arrived of course.
He looked up and scanned the sky for the seventh time that day. There were sill no clouds, and no star ships come to the rescue, but the white-blue colour seemed off somehow, like the sky was oversaturated or hanging too low.
He shrugged and kept trudging along. Whatever dodge rock the game makers had dumped them on, Ezra wasn't too interested in learning anything more about it then he needed to. And to be frank, he could feel his brain starting to wander while he tried to keep it focused. He needed to eat.
The next few hours moved slowly, and though Ezra could not see the sun move across the sky, the daylight dimmed. He found harder to walk straight. His weary feet accidentally disturbed the pebbles along the river bank with a clatter.
The waterway got wider and deeper. The going was rockier and on the far side of the bank, growing from boulders into a sheer slate wall. He kept walking along the bank until his legs gave out and he dropped the back pack.
The sudden lack of weigh made him feel light-headed, and he almost lay down right where he was. Instead, he pulled out one of the steelum cups. He shot one careful glance all around, listening for alarm bells. But the trees were still and there was no sound.
He dipped the cup and slurped greedily, drinking more then his fill, hoping to keep his belly fully.
The water swirled, small whirlpools appeared and vanished with the flow of the stream. Ezra thought he saw a flash of shadows deep in the pale water weed that grew in spots on the sandy stream bed.
He blinked, trying to focus on the little flashes of movement.
The river weed curled and folded with the flow of the stream, pieces of leaf litter and seed pods could be seen swirling along with the currant, along with some small tiny...
"Fish!" Ezra heard his voice burst forth from his mouth and covered his mouth in surprise. The word echoed off the river rocks like blaster fire
He ducked and looked around quickly, preparing to be attacked. There was only silence. No answering war cry, and no Trandoshan bursting out of the trees.
He waited a full heart-stopping minute before turning his attention back to the little darting silver bullets just out of reach. He watched them, a bubble of excitement welling in his gut.
Ezra didn't know how to fish. He'd never actually seen it done and no one had ever taught him. But he still remembered the stories about the booming fisheries near the central city ports. Lothal's oceans had once been teeming with life, until the Empire had set up their smelting plants, their engineering stations, and the Sinnar System factories. The whole port industry had been closed down in a matter of a few short years, citing the water was now too polluted to risk eating whatever came from it. Nowadays the only fish available in the Lothal markets were the ones stocked by off world importers.
Ezra frowned, watching the little creatures swim. There couldn't be much meat on them. But surely they'd have more sustenance then the worm might had.
Ezra knew the principle of fishing. You needed a net or a line; neither of which Ezra had. The cord was too short to be much use. But he wasn't going to give up so easily. The river was narrow in spots, and rocks made little dead end pools.
Ezra set to work. He tied the tarp to the tree roots, draped over rocks so he could splash water, and hopefully fish into it. He scooped handfuls, tossing the fish in the direction of the make-do net.
It took several tries and a long wait until all the fish returned after all his splashing round, but Ezra was pretty impressed with his handiwork. Swimming manically around in the misshaped pool were four tiny fish.
Ezra used both hands to single one out, finally catching a hold. He lifted it out of the tarp-pool by the tail, his grin quickly turning into a grimace.
The little fish squirmed, flapping between his fingers and wriggling. It had big eyes that took up most of the space of its head and very little flesh. The scales looked duller outside the water and the small mouth gasped for air.
He didn't want to eat it. He wanted to let it go. It was small, and the big eyes made it harder to ignore the animal's panic. He tried not to think about his failure with the worm.
Ezra wanted to survive, more then anything. He wanted to survive to see the Ghost crew one last time. He wanted to see his family. He wanted to see Kanan. He wanted to keep his promises. And if wanted to survive; he needed to eat something other then those awful berries and dirty creek water.
His stomach growled again, and the fish began to slow down its flapping.
"Grubs up." he mumbled and threw his hand up and slipped the wriggling fish straight down his throat, bypassing his tongue completely. He winced and hacked as it made it's slippery way down his oesophagus. Pounding his fist on his chest, he made a face. "Ugh, way worse then worms."
He rubbed his tongue against his teeth, trying to dislodge the slimy feeling of algae, and set about trying to corner more fish in the tarp with his hands.
He ate all four of the poor beasts before his bowels cramped up and he had to retreat downstream to relived himself in the bushes. He tried not to think about the holo-cams. He missed his daily bucket, back in the box which felt like it was weeks ago rather then days. When he was done, he kicked dirt up to try and cover the scent best he could.
Force, being tracked by a Trandoshan was a pain. No dirt would cover his tracks if the Lizard was really on his tail, but Ezra still held out hope that Number Eight was still down for the count.
Ezra hauled himself out of the river on the other bank onto a narrow ledge of rock. The rest of the cliff towered above him. Walking carefully on the slippery rock, he found a crevice almost his size at the far end. Not quite a cave, but shelter. He strung the plastic tarp across the entrance, weighing down the top with loose stones, hoping the extra wall might hold onto some warmth.
He was surprised when a fat bright orange lump jumped out of the water and landed square on a rock across the stream. It looked a little like a Frogdog or a toad, though much smaller. Ezra eyed it curiously, until the creature turned a little and showed its back was a mess of lumps and something that oozed white pus. Ezra gagged, making a mental note to keep toad off his menu in future.
The toad seemed happy enough to sit in the open, which Ezra took as a good sign that meant the area was probably safe for now. There were no Lothrats or Lothcats to take cues from out here, but a likely poisonous toad would do for now.
He stretched out on the rock, and watched the day light slowly fade away over the tops of the cliff and the trees, hoping to dry out a little, ignoring the occasional shudder from his gut. This might be a spot to rest but danger still lurked out in the shadows.
The mood aboard the Phantom on its trip back from Sakhra-6 was downright mournful. Kanan piloted without a word, Sabine and Zeb kept their eyes on the floor.
"We should have gone back and asked that last barkeep for information."
Zeb spoke up.
Sabine gave him a flat look. They had discussed this route several times now.
"We should have asked forcefully." Zeb added, cracking his knuckles.
Sabine would have answered, but the Phantom shuddered as it docked with the Ghost. Kanan was on his feet and stormed from the small shuttle, his expression unreadable. The port hole was nearly slammed shut behind him.
"Way to go." Sabine hissed, shoving the Lasat in the arm. He drew back, his ears low.
"Sorry."
Sabine instantly felt shamed, it was easy to overlook Zeb's pain, he locked it away so well. Losing Ezra had probably reminded him of old wounds, and the bags under his eyes told her that he hadn't been sleeping well.
None of them had.
She lay a hand on his arm in apology. "We'll find another way." Sabine told him, though what other ways were left to them, she didn't know.
He nodded glumly, but his expression perked up. "Come on. Better go see if Hera needs backup."
Sabine winced internally.
Kanan's mood the last few days had been subdued, withdrawing further with each empty lead.
The cantina on Sakhra-6 had been emptier than the others, run by a large Besalisk. The clientele was mostly humanoid, and seemed more interested in drinking than placing bets. It was the most friendly place they'd visited all day, which was saying something.
They had, by some miracle, avoided being present for any real changes to happen on the holo-screens through the day's different bar visits. It seemed after the initial bloodshed, the candidates kept their distance from one another. Sabine had found herself watching the Dug when he appeared, grudgingly impressed by his ingenuity. While many of the candidates had found a place to hole up, the Dug was busy building traps that covered over three different territories. He'd rigged snares with some twine he'd snagged from the Pit and hidden spring traps in the underbrush. Recently he'd begun digging some narrow pit traps. The bottom of which, Sabine suspected, he planned to pepper with more of the sharp reed spears he'd made.
While the big betting on the power candidates kept the holo-channel focused on the Trandoshan and the Massassi, Sabine would have put her credits on the Dug. He was cunning. He might not have been the biggest, but he was clearly the most prepared to take on the task of hunting prey.
Of course, she wasn't planning on placing any bets, she didn't even pay screen time for Number Six. The less Ezra was on screen, the less likely he would attract attention. They had all agreed, though the temptation to pay for an update on Ezra's condition was hard to ignore.
On Sakhra, the only new tid-bit they'd picked up at all was just when they'd been about to leave, with a detonation device planted under the bar, courtesy of Sabine.
A small group of ugnaughts had suddenly gotten rowdy just as the crew was leaving. "If they don't bump the fodder soon, they'll be nested in like swampflies." One said.
"Don't worry," Another replied with a wicked grin, "You know the makers always throw in a few wild cards. Its been quiet, we'll be hearing a cannon sooner then you think."
Sabine wondered grimly what sort of surprises did the makers have in store for the fodder.
When she climbed down the ladder from the Phantom behind Zeb, Kanan was already in the rec room. Hera was seated at the dejarik table, frowning at Kanan. He leant against the far wall without meeting her eyes, arms folded tight, glaring at the floor, waiting to leave. Kanan had been quiet the whole job, focused, never once letting his gaze drift toward the feed the whole time they'd been in the bar. Sabine could sense the storm building under his skin. She was used to working with volatile chemicals, and right now Kanan reminded her of one of her bombs, waiting for the denotation.
The holo feed at the dejark table had been paused, which made Sabine's stomach flip uncomfortably. Chopper was no where to be seen.
She cleared her throat. "So what now?"
Hera turned her attention to her slowly, letting her eyes drag away from Kanan.
"Ahsoka, contacted me." she said firmly. "There's a shipment being transported from Nyrue. Medical supplies."
Sabine blinked, but Zeb asked the question.
"What's that got to do with finding Ezra?"
Hera's expression didn't even flicker. "Nothing. This isn't about Ezra."
The air seemed to disappear for a moment, both Sabine and Zeb stared, open mouthed. Before they could recover, Hera put up a hand.
"These supplies are needed by more then thirty different settlements through the Rebellion. They will save lives, and more still, they will build support for our cause. I know we are all," she swallowed, "pained by Ezra's absence..."
The crew collectively winced.
"But I will remind you that the loss of one solider does not stop the war. Ezra put himself in this situation for the sake of our mission. To forget that would be to insult his sacrifice."
"Sacrifice..." Zeb began, a growl low in his throat. But he was again cut off by Hera.
"Poor word choice, I'm sorry. Taking this mission does not mean we are going to stop looking for him. But you have to admit we have just spent the last forty-two hours scouring the galaxy, known and unmapped, and we have nothing to go on. We have no intel on where he might be, and if we continue to visit gambling cantina that always meet unfortunate ends," she glanced once in Kanan's direction, "we will just alert the Game makers what we're up too. And then, we might never find Ezra."
Hera let her words resonate.
Sabine watched Zeb's shoulder deflate and knew hers followed.
"Instead, we're going to take a different approach. While we focus our time on the shipment, Ahsoka and the rest of the fleet are continuing the search in our stead. They have more resources, and they now have Chopper's help..."
"You sent Chopper away?" Sabine asked, now bewildered. Now they were down two crew members?
Hera fixed her with a firm stare. "He volunteered to go. He is better equipped to filter the holo-feed for information the fleet can use. After we collect the supplies, we will rendezvous with the fleet and discuss what actions to follow from there. Understood?"
Sabine and Zeb were quiet, and without meaning too, they both glanced to Kanan.
He appeared like he hadn't even been listening, his stormy expression still pinned on the floor. But as the crew looked to him for his answer, he snapped upright and turned his back.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" he asked flatly. "You heard the Captain." Then he disappeared through the door.
Hera's frown deepened, her lekku rising a little at her back.
Sabine cleared her throat, hoping for an appeal. "Hera..."
Hera was on her feet, already moving towards the cockpit. "The decision has been made, Sabine. Please respect it."
The hatch hissed closed behind her.
They stood for a few moments, a little startled by the cold treatment.
Zeb recovered first, laying a large hand on her shoulder. "We'll find another way." he said gently, echoing her own words back at her. But Sabine was having none of it. Her chest was tight and her hands burned to be useful.
"I'll be in my room." she said, and stormed towards her cabin.
She had bombs to make.
Zeb watched Sabine leave with a falling expression. Lately the girl had been keeping to herself more, if that were possible. He slumped into a seat at the Dejarik table. The Ghost had been quiet the last few days, no surprises there. But it was more then just their youngest member's absence. True, Ezra managed to start most of the arguments without even trying, but now that he was absent, Zeb could feel how strained the crew was without a daily vent.
It was disconcerting. They needed to be more in tune then ever before, they needed to be working together, like they had when Kanan had been taken. Instead, they were off balance. Arguments went unsaid, tension was building under everyone's skin.
What was different this time?
Zeb didn't have think. It was Ezra.
He had filled the Ghost with his endless determination the whole time Kanan was imprisoned. But now it was him that was missing and the crew had to find him. And the crew was loosing faith.
But Ezra had faith in them, he was counting on it. Perhaps, this time, it was Zeb's turn to keep them moving towards their goal. He could take a leaf out of the kid's book. They just needed a break, they needed a lead.
Zeb flicked on the HoloChannel, instantly flooding the room with sound and noise. If he couldn't be of any help, he might as well keep an eye on the brutes stuck in the Arena with the Kid.
Ezra had just settled into his sleeping bag, hidden in his notch in the wall when the cannon sounded.
He sat bolt up and froze. Listening to the echo bounce off the stone walls.
Ezra felt uneasy. He couldn't sense another presence nearby, but something was ...off.
He climbed out of his bag, quickly rolled it into his pack. He couldn't sleep now, he might as well be moving. Up river, down river; it didn't matter. He just felt like he needed to be on his feet. The feeling was so overwhelming his fingers shook as he shoved the rest of his gear in the pack.
He was just pulling the backpack clasp shut when a metallic smell hit his nostrils. He blinked in confusion before bolting upright, shoving his helmet down over his ears.
Swinging the backpack over his shoulders, he bounded to the flat rocks on his left. He jumped two more rocks, his boots slipping a little on the algae. He found his feet before risking a glance over his shoulder.
A thick lilac mist streamed down the river and ghosted into trees on the bank. The edges of it bled into his tiny camp crevice in a rush, and spilled over the ledge and blanketed it from view.
He relaxed all at once, despite the prickling feeling at the back of his mind. Adrenaline, he thought.
He felt incredibly stupid to be so frightened by just a night fog. The underworld audience was surely laughing at him now. The skinny boy, Number Six, frightened by a cloud.
Ezra turned to face it, studying how the mist moved, billowing up and blooming new clouds at the base. He watched it slowly edge forward, the creeping gas streamers puffing out like purple fingers reaching for him. Its kinda pretty, he thought, cocking his head to one side. Sabine would appreciate a sight like... Ezra almost completed the thought, but shoved the notion away at once.
The idea of Sabine trapped in here with him was not one he would whisper, even in his mind. Not with his luck. The mist continued to creep forward, snaking around the trees along the bank, but never going high enough to reach the leaves.
It might be a blessing in disguise, he thought, watching everything it touched disappear from view. With the helmet's night vision, he could probably move inside it, the other Candidates would never see him coming in this...
But as he thought about his options, he caught sight of the toad-like creature hop from one rock to another. As it landed on the second rock, a tendril of mist reached out and ghosted along the toads warty back.
The toad immediately began to swell, its eyes bugging out from its body. Then, it exploded with a wet popping noise.
Ezra's eyes flew wide open and panic took him.
Ezra fled He had no idea what that mist was, only that if it caught him he'd be dead in seconds.
His legs ached as he threw himself with abandon from rock to rock, making it a short distance down the waterway. He risked a glance back and saw the mist looming ten feet behind him. The air around him suddenly grew humid, charged with electricity like the air before a storm. A thought struck him, how was the mist moving so fast when there was no breeze?
The stray thought distracted him and Ezra overshot his next leap and almost missed the rock. He clambered to stay on top and sucked in a shaking gasp.
I can't panic. I have to think clearly. I can't let some stupid mist be what kills me! I'm not some pathetic worm. I'm not a toad!
He judged his next jump better and managed to give himself a moment to turn and judge how fast the poisonous cloud was chasing him. He had about six feet of breathing room between his current rock and the mist, but it was moving slower now he had reached a part of the river where the banks began to widen.
But it also meant Ezra was beginning to run out of stepping stones.
He glanced at river. It was dark and much deeper here then back near his camp. Remembering those strange tracks in the sand, he was suddenly worried about what might be in the water.
He leapt two more rocks and rechecked the mist.
Five feet now.
He turned to look for his next step, and realised in his panic, that there weren't any more rocks to leap to.
…he had cornered himself.
"Karablast!" He cursed, and quickly sized up his options. The river spread out in front of him, widening between the cliff and forested bank, rippling away into the dark night. He could retrace his steps over the rocks and try to beat the fog to the path that lead a little closer to the bank, or he could jump into the water and take his chances there.
He might not be able to swim but the current might drag him further from the gas. But what other dangers would that bring?
He cursed in anger and almost danced on the spot in indecision. The cloud was only three feet away. He had maybe 20 seconds to choose.
Water and death, or mist and death?
A small part of him whispered that at least the mist was the easy way out. It would be over quickly if the toad was any example to go by.
When have I ever done things the easy way? Ezra thought.
He pushed his helmet down firmly, gripped his backpack straps, and jumped feet first.
It was freezing! The icy water closed over his head, turning him upside down and he almost panicked.
The shock of the sudden temperature change pushed the air from his lungs and he gasped through the helmet filter, expecting water to flood his mouth. He surprised when it filled with oxygen instead.
This helmet had a breathing tube in the mouth piece? If Ezra could have, he would have whooped in joy.
Instead he struggled, a gangly mess of limbs, as he tried to dive deeper, cursing his body that just wanted to float to the surface. The current pushed him, dragging him downstream.
If he could find a rock or a tree root to anchor himself to, maybe he could just hole up below, breathing through his mask till it passed? But how much oxygen did the mask have in supply?
He risked looking up over his shoulder but the water surface was choppy and the little light he could see was distorted.
Something brushed against his thigh. Ezra felt his heart leap into his throat. Just a rock, he told himself, though he could not touch the bottom.
Another bump, this time on his other side and clearly made by something other then a rock. Rocks didn't tend to dart away into the darkness. He tried to spin around, but all he could make out was a trail of bubbles. He could feel his pulse begin to spike.
There was something else in here with him.
Of course there is, he thought wearily.
His snark evaporated as something sharp bit into the flesh of his knee and he gasped out in pain, swiping his hand through the water and of course; finding nothing. His fumbled in the dark water and reached into his boot. He yanked out the vibro-knife, and pulled it in close to his body, preparing for another attack. He felt awkward and weightless, and completely exposed. His fingers were numb, but he gripped the blade tight. He hoped it worked under water.
The next strike came from behind, a sharp prick on his ribs. Ezra corkscrewed his legs around, stirring bubbles; only to be struck again on the side of his helmet. Something hard glanced off the metal with a metallic tick.
Ezra swiped blindly with the knife, slashing nothing but water. With a cold jolt, he felt gravity returning and realised he had let himself drift closer to the surface of the water. He pushed his arms through the water and shrugged deeper into the dark and kicked away from the light.
Invisible teeth bit into his calf, and sharp pain shot up his legs.
Enough of this! Ezra thought, and thrust a his free hand out and took a deep even breath through the filter.
He thought of nets. Of ripples on the lakes during the rainy season. He could feel the surface of the water tossing, and above it, the lilac mist stirred. It felt acidic and angry.
Ezra tried to imagine an anchor wrapping around his ankles, securing him to the floor of the river bed and dragging him further away from the poisonous cloud. The water became colder as he sank, his ear and fingers began to ache. The oxygen filtrating though his mask got thinner as the water seemed to be getting thicker.
Something shifted, and Ezra felt it coming this time. A sharpness, slicing through the water like a blaster shot with a mind of its own. He kicked and moved himself enough out of the way that the thing cut right past him. He felt the bubbles, the water displacement, and thought he saw a flash of yellow.
The dart kept going, and the arched around, aiming for another shot.
Ezra tightened his hold on the knife, and this time braced himself by treading water, bringing the blade in close to his chest.
He closed his eyes, since he was already blind, and reached for the Force.
The dart came at him from the left, and this time Ezra stilled, waiting for the attack. As the water split apart, he coiled his arm and struck with a jab. His knife met resistance. Before it could escape again, he latched onto what he though was the tail with his other hand. It was smooth and flat with sharp edges, like a wide knife. The creature writhed and jerked, and a sharp clang told him the teeth had struck the helmet again. Ezra tightened his grip, and in a series of jabs, he stabbed into where he thought the head of the beast was. The vibro-knife did not disappoint, and if by luck or skill, he felt the blade sink in deep and stick.
The creature struggled, but it quickly slowed, and then, stopped all together.
Keeping one hold of it and his knife, Ezra kicked trying to reorient himself. He felt light headed, and found it hard to tell which way was up.
He tried to still his mind, he sensed the mist, there, that was above, or behind him, pressing down on the water as if it knew Ezra was hiding in the water. The oxygen feed was getting thinner, and Ezra realised with a pang he might have emptied the canisters struggling with the creature. Panic began to fill his chest, pressure squeezed his body and he desperately wanted to be out of the water that instant.
Something tugged on his brain, and he followed it without a second thought.
He kicked blindly, heading deeper, until something solid brushed against his arms. He jerked back at first, then realized it was a tree root. He could feel rocks under his feet.
The pull grew stronger as his lungs began to burn, so he didn't question himself when he began to burrow through the slippery roots. He tightened his hold on both the knife blade and the creature's tail and pushed his shoulders against the wall of roots and water-plants.
The reeds scratched his hands and neck, but he felt like he was close to where he needed to be. He kicked off the rocks and forced himself between two thick roots, and suddenly broke through.
His ears popped and he sucked in a breath of unfiltered air with a raspy noise. He kicked off and tried to stand, feeling the sloping ground support him.
He dragged himself, and his waterlogged backpack out of the water. He collapsed onto the ground and breathed like he'd just made another Pit run.
When his head had stopped spinning and the water had vacated his ears, Ezra sat up and looked around.
It was dark, this tiny space he had clawed his way into, which he only knew because the night-vision in his helmet saturated everything in green.
It was some sort of underground cave. A little pocket in the earth roughly seven feet wide. The ceiling and walls were made entirely of tree roots, hanging down and grazing his shoulders. The air was warm and wet here, scented with soil and mildew; a welcome change to the chill outside. Ezra got the sense he was still several feet under ground.
He blinked in surprise and he looked down at his hands.
His knees were still dangling in the water, and partly because of the weight across his lap. It was a fish, and a big one at that. Long and narrow with a thick head and sharp yellow fins running down its sides and back. One hand was wrapped tight around the narrow tail, and the other was gripping the handle of his vibro-blade, stuck deep in the neck of the fish, right through the gills. Its large glassy eyes started blindly up and Ezra struggled to push it off his legs and roll it onto the sandbar. Once freed from the fish, he pushed the straps of his backpack off. It hit the ground with a squelchy sound and Ezra followed suit, collapsing on his back, his boots still floating at the edge of the water.
Ezra stared, unwilling to believe his luck. Something told him, that for the first time in many days; he was safe.
The mission at Nyrue was a simple dock and dash, it was a strategy the Crew of the Ghost hadn't been able to use since Lothal had been locked down. Their skills were more then enough to complete the job, but they couldn't shake the feeling that they were short handed. The medical transport was woefully unprotected. So much so, that Hera and Kanan were immediately on their guard. They made a distress call, claiming to be an imperial escort that deemed it necessary to confiscate the cargo vessel, pirates had damaged their ship.
The transport barley had four bucket heads between it, and only nine crew members. Zeb smashed the buckets together and Kanan and Sabine forced the crew into a vacant cargo hatch.
Sabine reprogrammed the holds magnets and the cargo was released into free space, where Hera collected it along the belly of the Ghost. Sabine then released a distress beacon from the transport, damaged the security feed, and the Crew sped away.
The mission took twenty minutes.
The hyper-jump to rendezvous with the fleet took longer. Kanan locked himself in his cabin, leaving Zeb to pace and Sabine to fly through all her data pads again, rewinding and replaying portions of the feed. As they were docking with the command ship, Ahsoka comm'd them to let them know Chopper had found more feed with Ezra on it, so Zeb and Sabine were the first out the airlock door.
"Kanan!" Hera grabbed Kanan's arm.
Kanan spun, barely containing his frustration, preparing for the argument he knew had been building for days.
Before he could reply, her hold on his bicep softened.
"You are not responsible for this."
The words were exactly what he'd needed. He could feel his muscles loosening like knots being pulled undone. But he couldn't let go of the feeling entirely.
"I know." he answered tersely, trying to pull away but she held him firmly in place. She looked straight into his eyes.
"Then stop thinking you're the only one who can fix it."
"But as his master, I'm responsible for him!" Kanan clipped each word tightly. He'd never felt so liable. He'd never felt so helpless. There were no leads. His Padawan had vanished, expect for the constant reminder on the holo-feed.
Hera squared her jaw. "We're ALL responsible for Ezra."
"But he's my Padawan." Kanan said, failing to explain his guilt. "I'm connected to him. He's connected to me. There should be something! I should know how to find him. "
Ashoka appeared from around the corner, clearly having overheard the outburst.
"When I was a Padawan, I got kidnapped by Tradoshan slavers and brought to three sectors away to Wasskah. My master couldn't locate me. And he had Master Obi Wan and Master Plo Koon helping him." She approached the two. "We can't always make the force work the way we want it to sometimes." Even though she chided him, she wore a thin smile of support.
"I just hoped… there would be something. Some sense of him." Kanan threw his hands up, and then tightened them into fists before anyone could see his hands tremble. "Not this... lacking!"
"And there may be yet." Ahsoka started walking down the hall. "Let's see what Chopper put together. I just got a new transmission in as well. My agent said it wasn't much, but maybe some of this will start to add up."
"Yes, lets look at this as a Team." Hera pulled Kanan's arm along.
With an effort, Kanan unclenched his jaw. "Alright."
When the crew finally gathered around the holo-deck, they could see Chopper had indeed been busy. The fleet's holo-deck had superior data portals, and for the last several hours, Chopper had been compiling all the broadcast footage of Candidate Six in a single data-file.
They finally got to see what happened on the edge of the cliff with Candidate Eight.
"That little lothrat!" Zeb growled, impressed, watching Ezra's surprise lunge that toppled the Trandoshan over the cliff.
Kanan watched the feed play at double time. Over a matter of minutes, the boy's movements devolved from a terror filled sprint through the trees to a weary walk, to an aimless stumble. His face was hidden from view by the helmet, but his movements grew sluggish and the path he was cutting through the woods became less clear. They watched the boy travel in a wide shaky loop and pass the same tree twice without showing any signs of recognition.
"Hmmmm." Hera leaned in looking at her exhausted and de-hydrated lost crew member. "By the date stamp here, its already been officially 34 republic hours since the start of the Trial. But this looks like its only been one day."
Sabine stepped up and looked at the data feed, dialling back to look at the light. They watched the feed fast forward and fast rewind over the scant three minutes of footage as he passed out almost face first into the dingy puddle he'd found. Ezra had been the only fodder candidate to find a water source so far. "The light is really odd if it's a planet or a satellite lit by a sun." Sabine played with it a little more. "Chop, could you do some calculations on that and see if its natural or artificial from what we can see on the feed?"
Chopper burbled from his position at the data port and presumably started to work on Sabine's request.
"And the plants and trees." Zeb crossed his arms. "I've been on a lot of planets, I've never seen anything like them."
"Well, those are rang-dor berries. I recognise those, they grow on Kashyyyk." Ashoka slowed the feed when Ezra appeared again, trying berries and then contemplating the worm. "But none of the trees look like they come from Kashyyyk. If anything, they remind me of the plant life on Felucia."
Kanan winced as he watches the image of Ezra spit out the worm and make a face. He almost wanted to smile as the kid ranted and trudged onwards. Another time skip, brought the scene back to Ezra, verbally congratulating himself on his quick thinking. The fishing trap was simple, but effective, and Kanan reminded himself not to dwell on the boys ingenuity.
"Stop." Ashoka put a hand out. Rewind that.
Kanan looked at her, puzzled, as the feed replayed Ezra muttering under his breath in varying tones of sarcasm him eating the four little fish again.
Ashoka scrolled the feed forward. One of the other fodder candidates came into view. It was the Ithorian, scrabbling at a Cliffside, stumbling about, dehydrated and delirious, clearly weeping. But there was no sound to the feed. "The makers are letting Ezra's microphones playback what he's saying."
Sabine scrolled forward through two more candidates in visible distress, likely due to dehydration. But again, no sound, just the monotonous tribal soundtrack that played in the background that made Kanan want to grind his teeth every time he heard it.
"That new transmission I got was from an agent on the techno-stop near Burnin Konn, he found a book keeper that had run numbers for one of our little betting cantinas. The book keeper said that there's been a lot of betting on Candidate Six. No one's backing him to live more than a few days, but he's getting a lot of screen requests."
"Why?" Sabine frowned worriedly. "He's just like any other fodder candidate?" She slowed the feed when it came back to Ezra, walking. And again, over the feed soundtrack, came Ezra's snarky comments.
"Leatherhead. Sawtooth. Angry salamander! Ha!…"
"Because he's entertaining." Ashoka frowned and the air in the cabin grew agitated.
The feed switched over to the Nikto tracking footprints in the mud. Sabine sped it up through a pan over the Massassi in the grasslands and the dug creating more brutal traps. The Gotal was also trying to track other competitors. The Trandoshan had finally settled in the most swamp-like territory the crew had seen yet. The backpack he'd killed the Bothan woman for had supplied him with dehydrated protein packs and a bacta-patch for his shoulder. He hadn't had much in the way of screen time since his failed attack on Ezra and the murder of the Bothan girl, but he was still too injured to prove much of a threat over distance for now. There was a short flash on screen of the Xexto boy, seen appearing from some hidden place and raiding the Arcona woman's supply pack, left neglected on a stone while she slept. The boy rummaged for mere few seconds before dashing away, leaving the sleeping candidate unharmed, and hadn't been seen on screen since.
There hadn't been any more footage of Ezra when the sky had turned completely dark. The time stamp read 30 hours, when it suddenly flicked over to a bot announcer hovering in front of a screen with the crossed blades of the survivalist game logo behind it.
"Stop!" the crew called, and Sabine hit a button.
"...been some time since the last canon," the robotic voice hummed, "A very generous backer has decided to up the ante and narrow the playing field, as this is the survival of the fittest. A random selection of the candidates will be exposed to a new environmental threat."
Hera and Ahsoka exchanged dark looks, as the holo feed separated into several camera views, highlighting each in turn, until one lit up brightly and the feed narrowed in. It was the Gotal, clambering over some boulders, struggling to stay on his feet.
"Candidate 16." The bot confirmed excitedly. "We will now begin introducing a newly engineered weapon crafted solely for use in the arena."
As he spoke, a thin trail of smoke could be seen rising into the air from a crack in between two boulders, only a few feet behind the Gotal. The candidate didn't notice, trudging onward as the vapour line began to thicken in a matter of seconds, billowing over the rocks in a thick fog.
"This new weapon is constructed of airborne nano-particial technology. It corrodes bio-matter, often resulting in an exothermic reaction, not unlike the biochemistry of the T7-Ion disruptor..."
Sabine seemed to understand the chemistry first, growing first red faced with fury and then ghost white as she connected the dots. "Those Demagolka!" She spun around, eyes wide. "The ...the candidates don't stand a chance! There's no way to escape that!"
She pointed at the cloud forming on the screen, building upward instead of out and towering over the Gotals stumbling form like some awful shadow.
The feed switched back to the bot announcer, "Remember, you too can alter the outcome of this great and mighty match up. Become part of history. Boost your candidate's chances with a support drop or alter the odds with environmental incentives. See your betting agent for further opportunities. This concludes the announcement portion of our broadcast. All betting agencies will be closed for the next fifteen minutes. Good Hunting."
As soon as the announcer bot dispersed, the poison cloud exploded into movement.
The fog billowed over the Gotal, who had no idea, and no time to prepare for the attack. His body was half blanketed before the reactions started to take place. The holo-feed made sure to capture every last second of the Gotal's body convulsing and swelling before it finally burst and was covered by the cloud. The microphone had been on for every gory microsecond of the Gotal's wasting death and over it, the boom of a cannon sounded.
Sabine's cheeks went grey, and her eyes glassy. Zeb stepped back and sat down, eyes closed, his mind reeling with fresh and old horrors. Kanan's grip on the edge of the holo-projector might have caused damage, had the railing not been made out of steelum.
Hera covered her mouth with her hand and turned away, putting her back to the projection and breathing uneven.
"Okay. We've got to figure this out. Lots of cantinas are on mining worlds or engineering facilities. None of the major crime families support this. How can they be an unknown entity and do this over and over again?" She looked up at Ashoka, "If Azmorigan knew how to enter Ezra, wouldn't others know?" She spun to look at Sabine, "Any word from Ketsu?" Sabine blinked blankly in response. "Kanan, what about Vizago?"
Kanan wasn't looking at Hera, instead he was glued to the feed, where the camera had followed the spread of the purple mist through the woods, sloping down the rocky canyon walls. It travelled fast, at least half a mile before finally meeting with a stream. The mist moved even along the water surface, reaching a steep wall of rock. On a ledge, at the edge of the holo-frame, was the ever so small fodder Candidate Six.
"No." Kanan breathed.
Ezra had apparently sensed the danger, coming to the screen as he was frantically packing his camp. The mist arrived moving faster than before, just as the boy began to flee. He turned to face the threat, and suddenly the panic evaporated from the boys posture as he stared, now more curious then afraid. Of course, it just looked like a fog cloud to the kid.
"Move, Kid." Zeb growled low in his throat. His eyes wide with outrage.
Hera's breathing hitched.
Kanan felt the chill climbing up his spine, but before he could truly start to panic, something small jumped into the mist's path, and quickly exploded.
Ezra face blanched, and he turned and bolted.
He fled for several minutes, not managing to put any real distance between himself and the mist. The crew watched with their hearts in their throats as he slipped and skid over the rocks in a panic. Then he'd made a mistake. He'd gotten ahead of himself, and cornered himself at the edge of a large dark pool.
Kanan was sure the boy was going to make a break for the shore, but his jittery moments made it clear he was still unsure. He looked over his shoulder, as the fog closed in. The cam had followed Ezra as he fled, zooming in for a close up when Ezra realised he had cornered himself against the canyon wall the mist; waiting for the opportune moment.
And then, Ezra did something surprising. The crew stared as Ezra straightened up, and jumped into the water, boots first, backpack and all. He sank below the dark surface with a splash, and the mist swooped in blanketing the water surface from view.
The feed had been tense, hovering at the water's edge and waiting for the inevitable. The holo feed began to fill with mist, until nothing could be seen beyond the purple cloud.
Several minutes later, when no cannon came, it was clear Ezra had found a way to escape the threat under the surface.
Everyone in the room breathed a dizzying sigh of relief.
The holofeed was anything but calm however. There was something frantic about the multiple views the camera operator switched through, scanning the canyon wall to the far bank and the water's surface, that told the crew that game makers had not expected this to be possible. More minutes ticked by, and the holocam search widened downstream. They were looking for him!
"Kriffing Hell," Zeb muttered peering close, his face flushed. "He's found the only spot in the entire arena without a camera feed!"
Sabine stiffly reached for the controls, fast forwarding through the feed to see if the camera went back to Ezra. Instead they saw the mist hovering along the water line for several minutes, before finally dispersing into the air as if it had evaporated. It had killed only a single candidate, apparently wasting the small window of time it had in existence searching for Ezra.
"Skip the rest of the footage. Just show me when Ezra next appears."
"Bweep, bwop." Chopper warbled, moving for the first time since the playback had begun.
"That's it?" Sabine was frustrated. "There's no more feed of Ezra? But there's at least nine more hours of play here."
"Bwop, bwop, bweep."
"Come on!" Sabine tossed her hands up.
Hera stepped back and sighed. "Well, at least there wasn't a canon."
"No, but not much else either." Ashoka sat down herself and pinched her chin, her expression troubled.
"He's safe." Kanan said suddenly, opening his eyes and relaxing his hands around the railing. He stepped back from the holodeck. His posture loosening, and his shoulder drooped.
Everyone looked up at him, and he grimaced. "It feels... damp. But he's safe." Kanan tossed his hands up, and shook his head. "But this isn't getting us anywhere." He started to rub his eyes. "No, I haven't heard from Vizago." He swung around to face Hera. "He doesn't deal with slaves. I don't expect to hear anything from him, to be honest. He's got no love for us or Ezra after the whole Broken Horn hijack affair. I think he's been as helpful as he could be already."
"And I don't even know if my transmission even got through to Ketsu." Sabine said, thumping her fist down on the arm rest of her chair.
"Do you think the Kid found a way out?" Zeb asked softly, hoping.
Sabine straightened, eyes flashing. "If anyone could find a way out of there, its Ezra."
Ahsoka and Hera traded guarded looks, and Kanan's frown deepened.
"I don't think so." Ahsoka began gently. "The collar would have alerted the game-makers. Its probably got a tracking device and an electric shock function as well."
Sabine narrowed her eyes darkly at the frozen holo-feed, eyeing the strip of darker pixels under the boys face. "That's not a shock collar." She spoke out loud.
"No?" Ahsoka asked.
Sabine pulled up a sharper image. She accessed the holonet data channel and pulled up several more images with the flick of few keys. "See this?" she pointed between the images. "The power pack on the main candidates collars is much thicker. This one isn't rigged for electricity..." her words died in her mouth as she spoke, suddenly seeing the circuits and wires the smooth collar had prevented her from seeing clearly.
"It's a bomb. Its an explosive charge." Sabine said, and the room went quiet.
"Are you sure?" Ahsoka asked, but she did not sound surprised.
Sabine nodded, and closed her mouth. "Yes. I can't believe I didn't see it before."
"An insurance policy." Hera sighed
Zeb rumbled deep in his chest and Chopper remained silent.
Kanan just turned on his heels and marched out of the room, heading for his quarters. He needed to meditate.
That night, Ezra ate the fish raw. He hacked it into untidy chunks with the vibro-blade, picking the thin clear bones out with his teeth, spitting them into the water and scraping the meat from the scales. He had plonked the head of the fish down on a rock. In the dark, its huge front facing eyes and the little sharp beak looked malicious through the night vision of his helmet.
"It's only fair." he told the glassy eyes."You took a bite outta me first." he pointed to his calf, which now had a small chunk missing out of the back of his leg. He had debated on using one of the bacta patches on the wound. It was small, but bled easily and would be hard to keep from infection if he couldn't get it to close. But after much thought on the matter, he'd decided to put it off, and instead sheared a line of plastic off the tarp and tied it tightly around the gouge.
The dead sturgeon didn't reply to the jab and while Ezra hadn't expected it to, a small piece of him was suddenly disappointed that all he had for company was a dead fish.
He dumped the fish bones and the head into the water and resolved not to talk to his food any more.
He'd laid out the remains of the plastic tarp, and shook the wetness out of the sleeping bag.
His belly was full to bursting and his chest was warm with pride. He remembered this, a feeling of accomplishment that was due to no one but himself. Usually, the reminder might have made him a little sad, but for now, he clung to it. He felt confident, and stronger then he had in days. He had surely surpassed anyone's expectations of him by now. Maybe he actually stood a chance at this ridiculous mess of a Trial. Maybe now he could work on some sort of escape plan.
He knew his positive attitude wouldn't last long, so he was going to enjoy it while he could. His body temperature was already heating up the small space and his eyes had begun to droop.
Ezra settled down in his damp sleeping bag, nestling into the warm dank roots and closed his eyes.
R&R for Good Karma and a rich pay off for the Trial Officials.