Welcome back my friends to the next chapter of Uncle Hondo's real life account of the Jedi Ezra Bridger and his adventures with the crew of the Ghost.
Our story continues again with our Jedi Wiseass, Paintbomb, and the Purple Furball! Meanwhile our dear Ezra is now known as "kid," Uncle Hondo is not impressed. Some people should not be in charge of nicknames! Though perhaps Mando Girl will have an idea - Oh not this chapter? Next chapter. Very well, next chapter Mando Girl will have some thoughts. But that is then, here is now!
And speaking of the now! So far we've seen Ezra display a few of the Jedi abilities including some masterful Force jumps, being able to hear the Force as well as to sense when someone is searching him through the Force. And as Uncle Hondo now knows to be called pre-cognition, which means his young Ezra can sense when and where a blaster might be fired his way.
Such a useful talent! And at such a young age!
But for now our Ezra is in a bit of a bind. For Jedi Wiseass and the Purple Furball have my young Ezra's crate! Ezra will soon learn an important lesson when it comes to treasure I think!
Spark of Rebellion Part 1.2
"Sabine. My name's Sabine…"
That's my crate! Ezra thought and was about to remind them of his claim when the Furball popped off its lid and revealed that inside the crate was at least a dozen E-11 blaster rifles. Forgetting present company Ezra stumbled forward and looked down at the crate's merchandise as he mathematically began to add up how much it was all worth.
"Whoa! Do you have any idea what these are worth on the black market?" Ezra practically drooled as his eyes focused entirely on the weapons. The others didn't move, just continued to look at him unimpressed.
"I do actually," their leader, Mister Wiseass, said as Ezra picked up one of the weapons and inspected it.
"Don't get any ideas," the big purple furball warned dangerously with an almost animalistic growl underling his words.
He recalled the girl's, Paintbomb's, warning about him. On the other hand he had just stared down a TIE fighter a few minutes ago. It's hard to top that. He glanced from the rifle to the snarling purple face with those creepy yellow eyes. And, ugh, the smell! The sooner he gets off this ship the better.
But first thing's first.
"They're mine," Ezra retorts and holds up the weapon for emphasis only for Furball to snatch it out of his hands.
"If you hadn't gotten in our way…" Furball began.
"Too bad." Ezra cuts him off. "I got to them first."
Movement behind him. A quick glance over the showed that sure enough there was Wiseass with his ponytail and green eyes and is that a goatee? Who has those anymore? Whatever because Wiseass apparently had something else to say and he gently, but firmly, pushed Ezra away from the crate. Ezra frowned but then turned his attention back to Furball and decided he'd meet his glare with one of his own.
"It's not who's first." Wiseass said. "It's who's last."
Ezra just kept his focus on the giant waste of space that was Furball.
"Keep an eye on our friend here," Wiseass said and patted Furball on the shoulder.
Does he just go around patting everyone on the shoulder? Ezra wondered and watched as Wiseass climbed up a ladder, probably going to the cockpit or bridge or whatever. Ezra rolled his eyes and felt his stomach voice in protest.
Ah kriff! He never did get a chance to eat breakfast, hey wait! Before Ezra could do anything Furball had replaced the lid of the crate of blasters and locked it. Not about to be outdone Ezra hopped on top of the crate. He briefly looked over at Paintbomb - the only one who hadn't said anything - and noticed the head of a wolf on the left shoulder pauldron of her armor. It looked familiar.
He heard more growling, and this time it wasn't from his stomach. With a roll of his eyes he focused back on the Furball. This glaring thing is getting old - and so is this ship. And-
"Whoah!" Ezra cried as a sudden jerk nearly cost him his balance, but thankfully the nearby ladder gave him something to hold onto. Some of the crates began shifting too but Furball managed to keep them all sorted upright. Like him, Paintbomb stumbled backward into a bulkhead but managed to keep upright.
"Haar'chak!" she said after nearly hitting the deck.
Hey she said that earlier when they were almost creamed by the stormtroopers. Wonder what it means.
"You're telling me," Furball said as he held onto the crates. "Some artificial gravity might be nice!" he shouted but got no response.
"All that matters is who gets their last," Ezra mocked in a not too shabby Wiseass impression. "You know I had this all figured out. No explosions. No blasters. And definitely no TIE fighters. Then you guys just had to come along."
"Oh?" Furball said, deciding to indulge in the kid's delusions of grandeur for a moment. "Well then please, enlighten us."
"Pfft," Ezra scoffed. "My plan is way over your head. And it would've worked if you hadn't decided to turn the City into a warzone."
"So you mean to say you'd stolen all six crates on your own?" Furball baited, although his question did draw a sound of exasperation from Paintbomb.
"His plan was to wait until the buckets were on their way to the Imperial Portal, hop on the last bike, stun the driver, complete the hijack and then peel off before they noticed."
"That's not-" Ezra began but saw she had her hands on her waist, how she jutted her hip, and even with that mysterious helmet she worse Ezra just knew was looking at him and daring him to contradict her.
"My plan didn't involve getting shot out of the sky," Ezra said at last.
"Yeah well we're not out of the fight yet. And last I checked six crates are greater than two," Furball said succinctly as if that alone decided the argument.
Ezra sighed and decided to try a different approach. Giving Paintbomb a nod of consideration. So she'd seen through his bravado and had figured out his plan, but she never said it was a bad plan. Ezra looked at Furball.
"Look," Ezra gestured. "I was just doing the same thing you were. Stealing to survive."
If he was hoping for an understanding ear he wasn't getting it as the giant oaf stormed forward and shoved Ezra with that big arm of his.
"You have no idea what we were doing. You don't know us," Furball proclaimed.
"And I don't want to," Ezra snapped back and then pushed off the crate - getting in Furball's face. "I just want off this burner."
"Please," the furry alien replied with a sudden eagerness in his eyes. "Nothing would thrill me more than tossing you out! While in flight."
"Ugh," Paintbomb said as she continued to watch the two, but not about to get herself any further involved in the squabbling.
The ship was rocked hard as cannon fire from those TIE fighters smashed into the shields, scoring direct hits. It was jarring enough that Furball lost his balance and fell forward and knocked Ezra to the ground, pinning him with his weight.
"Get off." Ezra said as he strained to get out from under him. "I can't breathe."
"I'm not that heavy in this gravity," the big guy retorted but pushed himself off all the same.
Ezra rolled his eyes but didn't bother getting up off the deck.
"Not your weight, ugh, the smell."
That did it, Ezra noted as Furball sniffed and snarled viciously.
"You don't like the air quality in here, eh?" he stated and then grabbed hold of Ezra's leg and began to pull. "Fine. I'll give you your own room!"
"Hey, stop!" Ezra yelled but it was no use. Furball had a titan grip and easily dragged the kid to a door Ezra had missed before, hit a button, and it opened to reveal a small hold. Realizing what he intended Ezra tried to break free but he just shifted his grip and lifted Ezra off the deck.
"Let go!" Ezra grunted before being thrown into the hold. Landing on his side there wasn't anything Ezra could do to stop him, the door behind him being closed and locked. "Seriously!" Ezra said and pounded at the door but knew it was no use.
Okay fine, Ezra thought and looked around. Not about to be outdone, his eyes fell on the grating of a small air shaft.
"Rule one," Ezra said solemnly as he eyed the vent covering. "Don't lock up a street rat next to an air vent."
Working fast Ezra searched his pack for a simple screwdriver and then went to work, unscrewing the vent until it was loose enough for him to pry off.
"I'll come back for my crate later," he resolved and took off his pack. Placing it in the vent first Ezra began to shimmy his way in. The boy smiled as he began to make good progress.
Shimmy a few feet and then push his pack forward. Rinse and repeat. It was a bit cramped in the vent but really anything to get away from that purple menace and his diabolical stench. Probably why Paintbomb wore that helmet around the time, to block out the smell.
As Ezra continued to progress through the ship's ventilation shaft he felt the ship rock again from more hits from the TIE fighters.
"Don't they have any guns on this thing?" Ezra grumbled. "If I knew we were going to be blown up by TIEs I would've just stayed on Lothal."
Ezra frowned as he thought more on that. The TIE fighters really want this ship. If he hadn't climbed aboard, would they have even bothered with him?
"Note to self," Ezra grumbled and moved further through the vents. "If a stranger invites you onto his ship. Just say no." Suddenly he heard the voice of their wiseass leader coming from somewhere below.
"Zeb? Where is he?" Wiseass demanded.
Zeb? So Zeb is that purple freak's name. Zeb-Zeb-Zeb. Sort of it fit, he guessed.
"Well, he is still in the ship," Zeb replied and Ezra could hear the sheepishness in his voice.
"All brawn, no brains," Ezra determined, and smiled but then felt banged his head against the air vent as the ship continued to take more fire from the fighters.
"Oh, he's in the ship all right," he heard Paintbomb say.
Yup, in the ship and I think I'll take my chances away from Zeb or whatever his name is.
"Very creative," a new voice said, only this voice sounded a lot less hostile. "Sounds like someone I used to know."
Guns! Anything! Ezra thought as the ship jumbled yet again and the vent underneath him gave way as he and his pack fell from the ceiling down to the next deck. He hit the deck first and then his own pack clocked him on the back of his head. Groaning in pain he eyed the pack and the fruit within.
There's no way his jogan fruits survived all this.
Feeling around he felt a chair and some kind of console. Sighing in thanks Ezra climbed into the chair and leaned, his head resting against the seat's headrest. This was much better. After a moment Ezra opened his eyes and what he saw made his stomach drop in horror.
"I'm…" he began and looked out the gunner's viewport to see nothing but stars and a pair of TIE fighters zooming around the ship. "I'm in space!" Ezra said, shocked at what just happened. Matters only got worse when the two TIEs turned in and faced the ship head on, blasting away against its shields - their cannon fire hitting directly where Ezra was seated. "And I'm about to die!"
He heard the pilot saying something about buying time for a jump but all Ezra could see was his impending fiery death.
The boy winced and waited for the inevitable, but the green cannon fire from the TIEs smacked into some invisible wall surrounding the ship. Ezra let out a breath as he remembered that some ships had shields, this one included thankfully.
He then heard a different noise coming from within the ship - it sounded like some sort of heavy blaster fire or turbolasers or something. He watched as red cannon fire lit up the sky and destroyed a TIE fighter.
"It's about time," Ezra said and let out a sigh of relief. He then looked down at the control console in front of him and found that he was in some sort of gun turret himself. Useful if he had any idea - whoa! Ezra felt a small but frighteningly strong hand grip his shoulder and drag him out of the chair. He stayed on his feet, which was a nice change of pace and looked up to see the girl again looking down at him as he stood next to the chair.
Ezra's face had fixed her with a sharp glare, ready to tell her off when in one swift motion she removed her helmet but never took her eyes off him for a moment.
And just like that Ezra was forever lost.
Beautiful. Like, like Life Day beautiful.
Just her eyes alone. Brown? No, not brown. Something else. Something he didn't know the words for! And her hair? Orange and blue!
Such pretty colors.
"Paintbomb…" Ezra said so, so softly as his own blue eyes widened in sheer wonder of this girl.
"Whoa," Ezra said as he stared at her and appeared the very definition of awestrucked at her beauty. And was that just a hint of a smile - or am I imagining things? Oh whoa! Ezra closed his eyes and did his best to steady himself as more fire hammered at the shields of the vessel.
He opened his eyes, worry sketched over his face, that seemed to be reflected in the girl's eyes as she hurriedly placed her helmet on the chair's headrest and then sat down. With unwavering confidence she took the gunner's controls in hand.
As she aimed and fired the heavy gun the TIEs seemed to stop their shooting which meant the ship stopped rocking and allowed Ezra a chance to collect himself. Maybe getting on this ship wasn't such a bad decision after all, he thought with a grin and ever so casually came to stand just behind her chair and looked over her shoulder.
Time to put on the old charm.
"My name's Ezra," he said with what was undoubtedly the smoothest voice this girl had ever heard, and completely missing the girl's eyeroll of sheer annoyance at Ezra's pathetic attempt at flirting. "What's your name?" Ezra pressed.
He didn't hear the heavy stomping of feet behind him until it was too late, and Zeb had a hairy hand curled around his orange shirt's collar and with one tug had Ezra off his feet and staring directly into that purple freak's hard greenish-yellow eyes.
"My name's Zeb, you Loth-rat."
Watch it! Ezra wanted to tell him. He only had so many shirts!
But he decided that maybe Paintbomb had a point about the "Big Guy" ending him - Ezra smiled and tried for sheepishness, but Zeb wasn't having it. Before Ezra could come up with a way to placate the walking furball the a voice came over the ship's intercom system:
"Calculations complete, but we need an opening."
"FOUND ONE!" Paintbomb shouted and Ezra heard the hydraulic winding up of the turret and a moment later the girl was blasting at a TIE fighter that was heading straight at them.
Ezra winced for impact but the girl's shooting was true and the fighter exploded into tiny little bits as the ship flew its remains with only empty space remaining in front of them.
"Entering hyperspace!" the pilot yelled.
"Hyperspace?" Ezra gulped and looked to the gunner's turret and its large transparisteel canopy.
And then to Ezra's disbelief the stars began to stretch and stretch. Until the dark empty vastness of space was replaced with bright shining lines and a swirling infinite vortex of blue and white.
The hyperdrive roared and Ezra watched in astonishment as they jumped into hyperspace, and left his home behind.
Night had fallen on Lothal and the Star Destroyer Lawbringer still remained above Capital City. It's massive repulsorlifts powered by its fusion reactor, keeping it steadily hovering and looming over the citizens of Lothal, projecting the might of the Empire and bestowing fear in the populace below.
And neither the Imperials aboard the massive warship or the stormtroopers and AT-ST walkers on the ground showed any interest in leaving. It was the opposite. More shuttles departed the Lawbringer and brought more men and equipment.
And above it all on the same rooftop Ezra had watched from earlier, stood one individual in particular. Dressed in the olive drab officer uniform of the Empire as well as reinforced durasteel helmet and chestpiece, the individual had an unusual insignia on his armor. Also out of place was some type of exotic looking weapon slung over his shoulder and resting on his back.
Unlike the others around him, despite being in the field Imperial's dress was immaculate. Nothing in his appearance was out of place. With a stormtrooper on either side of him, his cool calculating demeanor demanded nothing but the highest of professionalism and competence.
Something that Commander Aresko (who had still yet to find his comlink that Ezra had swiped off him earlier and used to sow chaos) was very much lacking. And his superior and the accompanying stormtroopers could all pick up on Aresko's incompetence in his pleading voice.
"They knew our protocol," Aresko tried to explain.
As a AT-ST walker passed by, its spotlight continuing its search for any of the spotted criminals the commander watched on knowing that the search was ultimately fruitless. The pilots of the two surviving TIE fighters had reported long ago of the criminal's ship jumping into hyperspace.
But Agent Kallus of the Imperial Security Bureau had learned long ago that even in defeat, if one studied how they lost - or in this case the tactics and strategies these criminals employed against the incompetent Imperials under Aresko's command. Kallus was confident he could still salvage something from this failure.
"And were waiting in position!" Aresko added. Agent Kallus sighed and while he didn't think much of Aresko, there was no sense in berating his fellow Imperial.
"I've no doubt," Kallus said at last in a thick High Imperial accent. "You're not the first on Lothal hit by this crew."
Aresko sighed happily and his posture relaxed in those words of comfort. "That's a relief." Then just as quickly he straightened his hat and stood at attention once more - much to the amusement of the two stormtroopers looking on at this idiot of an officer. Aresko began his prattle once more. "I mean, I assume that's why you're here, Agent Kallus."
Agent Kallus removed his helmet, tucked it under his arm, and revealed his face. With hawkish eyebrows as well as a stylish golden blonde mutton chops that were just within regs of Imperial shaving requirements, this was a man who generated confidence. And while Kallus was disappointed, neither his voice nor hazel colored eyes held any contempt for Aresko's multiple failures. Instead he turned to look at Aresko and did his best to educate.
"The Imperial Security Bureau pays attention to patterns," Kallus said with emphasis. "When the Empire's operations are targeted on an ongoing basis, it could signify something more than the theft of a few crates." Kallus turned to again look out over the square and the charred remains of the speeder bike - courtesy of Sabine. Kallus sharpened his gaze and gave voice to his true concern.
"It could signify the spark of rebellion."
Kallus looked back at Aresko, and his voice spoke with an unwavering and inspiring confidence. "Next time they make a move, we'll be waiting for them. To snuff out that spark before it catches fire."
Ezra fought to get free of Zeb and his ape-ish arms as the big guy dragged Ezra through the ship, bringing Ezra to who knew where. Maybe an airlock if given Zeb's earlier threat. The two continued their glaring contest as the door of the ship's cockpit opened and Ezra gave yet another futile attempt to break free, while remaining completely unaware of the green Twi'lek woman sitting in the pilot's chair.
"Let go!" Ezra demanded of Zeb and finally managed to yank his arm free of his grip. "You can't keep me here! Take me back to Lothal!"
"Calm down. That's exactly what we're doing," the Twi'lek said with an amused look on her face at the childish antics and then returned her focus to flipping some switches at the pilot's console.
Zeb folded his arms, unimpressed. But Ezra was confused. "Wait, right now?" Ezra exclaimed and waved his arms around helplessly. "With Imperials chasing us?"
While he couldn't see the Twi'lek's face her voice carried with it confidence as well as compassion, unlike any of the rest of the crew he had met so far. "We lost the TIEs when we jumped," the pilot continued, doing her best to calm Ezra's justifiable nervousness. "And the Ghost can scramble its signature so they won't recognize us when we return."
And with that smooth simple explanation Ezra found himself put at ease and gasping in relief. Finally some good news, and pretty cool that a ship can do that.
"Oh, that's pretty cool!" Ezra said, putting his thoughts into words. Already he could tell that this person was more understanding than the others. Ezra shook his head as a thought occurred to him. "So just drop me and my blasters outside Capital City and…"
The same door Zeb dragged Ezra through hissed open behind him. "They're not your blasters," Paintbomb said in a very weary tone as Ezra turned his head to see the girl and Mister Wiseass arrive to start giving him their own two credit lectures.
"And we're not going back to Capital City. The job's not done." Wiseass added.
"Great," Ezra griped and looked around the cockpit for an answer to his problem when his eyes stopped on the view coming from the Ghost's transparisteel cockpit canopy. Transfixed on the sight before him, Ezra stepped forward and leaned forward over the co-pilot's chair. "Whoa…"
The compassionate pilot turned her head and Ezra caught her smile as the ship neared Lothal again, the beautiful planet filling Ezra's eyes.
"First time seeing your home like this?"
Ezra just nodded dumbly, all thoughts of his crate forgotten as he stood transfixed beside the Twi'lek pilot doing his best to soak in this experience.
For her part the green Twi'lek woman just looked on, smiling at Ezra's reaction and despite the trouble the crew had run into that day the sight of the young teen's face at seeing his world like this for the first time stirred something inside her.
"You're from Capital City, right? Well you can't see it from here," she said. "But Capital City is just over the planet's curvature on the left," she indicated as the ship began to approach the atmosphere.
"Curvature?" Ezra said.
"It's what we call a planet's horizon from space," she explained.
Ezra nodded and then frowned as the ship gently swayed to the right, as Mister Wiseass had said they weren't headed back to Capital City. Ezra left out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. It was then that Ezra finally wavered. There'd be other crates, he decided.
Plus seeing the planet's vast continents and beautiful oceans? It reminded him of his feelings from his tower that morning. The pride he had felt from where he came from despite living in squalor.
"Credit for your thoughts?" she asked as Ezra's joy began to affect herself.
"I wouldn't know where to begin," Ezra answered truthfully. "Amazing? Beautiful?"
She smiled.
"I'm Hera."
"Ezra," he replied, feeling good to finally have a name for the friendly Twi'lek. A real lady, he decided.
As the Ghost reentered Lothatl's atmosphere and made its way to the ground below, Ezra was surprised to see it was nightfall. Sure it had been a hectic day but he hadn't realized just how much time had flown by.
As Hera piloted the ship Ezra noticed that the ship was spending a lot of time flying amongst vast plains and gently rolling hills. He had a sneaking suspicion that Hera decided to take a bit of a scenic route to their destination, instead of what ships normally do when they enter a planet's atmosphere - head straight to where they plan on landing.
Still Ezra was appreciative of Hera's consideration. Ezra doubted he would ever get the chance to see his home like this again. A peaceful quiet settled the cockpit, with Zeb and Paintbomb taking the two chairs behind the pilot and co-pilot seat. Meanwhile the team's fearless leader, Captain Wiseass, hung out by the doorway with his arms folded.
"So this signature thing," Ezra said. "We were scanned when we came back."
"Yup," Hera nodded. "Only way to keep track of the ships coming and going out of systems. Why?"
"Heh," Ezra smiled. "Just imagining some Imperial looking at their screen and mistaking a ship this size for a Star Destroyer."
Hera chuckled. "Maybe not a Star Destroyer. But the scrambler could probably pass us off as a large freighter and the Imps would be none the wiser."
"Fitting for a ship named the Ghost."
Ezra laughed at the idea of an Imperial scanner technician mistaking a ship so small for something ten times its size, and never batting an eyelash. The Ghost's crew eased back into another quiet and Ezra continued to watch as the hills and high peaks of Lothal's conical mountains sped by faster than he had ever seen before.
Finally the Hera adjusted the throttle and the ship slowed as it approached a small rise, and as she did the others got to their feet and followed Wiseass to the rear of the ship. From the cockpit Ezra could make out a small village but nothing he had ever seen before. When he saw Hera stand up too, Ezra followed her knowing that he wasn't about to be trusted to stay on the ship alone.
And like Wiseass had said, the job's not done. But maybe he could convince Hera to spare him a few credits from the sale? Not a lot, just enough for a few good meals this week. That was a nice thought.
Climbing down a ladder into the hold, he saw that Zeb and the other two had already grabbed crates - with Wiseass taking personal custodianship of the crate of blasters. He saw Hera come to stand next to him and waited as the ramp lowered and revealed the sea of knee-high grass surrounding the ship.
Good to be home again.
Following them Ezra found himself stopping to look down at the small village at the bottom of the gentle sloping hill the Ghost had landed. The sun had long set but there was still more than enough light for Ezra to make out the structures in the village, only to realize that there really weren't any
What the hell?
He turned to voice his question to Hera only to see her and Wiseass headed off in another direction.
"Hey, where are they going?" Ezra asked Zeb as he and Paintbomb guided the other crates with their repulsorlifts toward the village. Zeb glowered at him before and he got this evil glint in his eye.
"If I told you, I'd have to kill you. Oh, and I might just kill you anyway."
"Grab a crate, pull your weight," Paintbomb chastised before Ezra could form a comeback.
She then paused and looked over her shoulder at Ezra until he turned around and headed back into the ship. Zeb stopped too, not about to let the kid out of their sight and figured the kid had gone back inside the ship to sulk. But was surprised to see Ezra reappear at the top of the ramp with one of the same colored crates he and Sabine were delivering.
Wordlessly Ezra passed them by as he directed the crate and its repulsors to the village. He had no idea what was inside of them but his curiosity was put on hold as he along with the other two neared the village.
The closer they got the less Ezra liked what he saw.
His cheery mood dissipated and an uncomfortable feeling began to build up inside of him.
No houses. No businesses. No buildings. Just shed after shed and other ramshackle structures put together with whatever salvaged materials the people out here could find. Out in the middle of nowhere. So small, anyone of these… dwellings could easily fit in his tower. And already Ezra could see that most were filled with entire families and many badly in need of repair.
And the people here, there were just so many. Too many for a village this size. Most just sitting around wearing threadbare clothes that were in far rougher shape than his. And when he passed by a Rodian with no shirt on at all, Ezra could count the ribs. There was no hiding just how little food these people had to eat.
They were all so thin. So lost. Ezra fought back the need to clench his jaw at the sight. So forgotten.
"Lived on Lothal my whole life. Never been here," Ezra said carefully and then patiently waited to see their reaction.
Paintbomb shook her head and then heard the aggravation in her voice. "The Imperials don't advertise it."
"Locals call it Tarkintown," Zeb added and Ezra was surprised to hear he sounded just as aggravated.
"Named for Grand Moff Tarkin, Governor of the Outer Rim." Paintbomb said and Ezra saw her become further agitated as they passed more and more villagers. "He kicked these folks off their farms when the Empire wanted their land."
"Anybody who tried to fight back got arrested… for treason." Zeb added.
Unbiddenly Ezra's mind immediately went to the jogan fruit seller that was nearly arrested by Aresko for speaking up when they harassed him and his cronies harassed him over something as small as trade registration. Aresko had charged him with treason.
If I hadn't stepped in, would that man have been sent here? Would his business and fruit farm be taken away?
Ezra's pack wasn't heavy, aside from what he normally carried there were just the five pieces of fruit he had swiped from that farmer. But as he looked around now and realized what was happening here, here on his planet. His home. And he had no idea about it?
That feeling inside built ever higher and his pack had never felt heavier.
None of this was right, and Ezra felt that uncomfortable feeling become a bad churning in his gut that he couldn't put a name to. Or nothing he wanted to think about at least.
The three of them entered a wide expanse, which Ezra supposed must've passed for a village square in this "Tarkintown." Odd that it was getting lighter - because they were on a different part of the planet. That wasn't a sunset, it was a sunrise, Ezra realized.
Just how far out of the way did the Empire hide these people? Again the face of the fruit seller flashed into Ezra's mind. He shook his head and did his best to try and not think about it.
He was a street rat, he had to eat damnit.
Lost in these thoughts Ezra halted only when he saw Zeb and Paintbomb had lined up next to each other and began to unlock the crates. With Zeb in the middle he looked on as Zeb opened the crate to reveal a very familiar fruit.
Jogan.
"WHO WANTS FREE GRUB!" Zeb hollered, and for the first time Ezra heard the brute actually sound happy and cheerful.
Ezra shook his head and unlocked his own crate, taking off the lid and peering in it to see even more jogan for the villagers to eat.
"Yes," a villager said as they hopped meagerly to Zeb's crate and took a single fruit. "Thank you."
"Thank you! Thank you!" more villagers said as they lined up to take their share from each of the bathed in the golden dawn light Zeb and Paintbomb were smiling. And before Ezra could get clear of the growing crowd, a Rodian and an Ithorian came to his crate to take their share. Just one jogan each so that way everyone in the village would be able to eat.
"Thank you." the Rodian said and placed his hand on Ezra's shoulder. Ezra looked away, trying to pretend that those weren't tears he was seeing in the Rodian's eyes. "Thank you so much."
As the Rodian limped away with his piece of fruit Ezra felt his pack become heavier still, and that bad feeling in his gut grew stronger.
"I…" Ezra's eyes dropped to the ground. "I didn't do anything."
As he looked up and saw the smiling faces of Zeb and Paintbomb, and the thankful looks the villagers were giving them, it all suddenly became too much for the boy. Without thought of what the others might think Ezra quickly made his way past the growing crowd and headed back to the hill with the Ghost, continuing to keep his eyes focused on the ground he did not look back.
By himself now, Ezra was about to head into the ship when the memory hit him.
"Wait. Wait!" the jogan vendor said, the beard on the whole of his face as full as ever. "What are you doing!"
"Hey," Ezra said pointedly without an ounce of shame. "A kid's gotta eat."
Kid's gotta eat, Ezra thought. Noticing the empty repulsorlift Ezra decided to take a seat. From here he could see the entire village and the surrounding hills and mountains.
As good a place as any.
Checking to see his jogan fruits hadn't been completely squashed from all the flailing and crashing around in the ship earlier, Ezra took a piece of the fruit from the pack and finally had breakfast. He didn't feel particularly hungry anymore but he did feel his energy beginning to wane. It was probably evening by now at his tower.
He finished one fruit and reached for a second from his pack but paused, and looked down at… Tarkintown. So many people. All of them lost. And for what?
Ezra sneered as memories of his own childhood unbiddenly filled his head. And in that anger he pulled out a second piece of fruit and bit down.
The Empire runs things. It doesn't just throw people in places like these randomly. And it's been around now Ezra's entire life. If these people didn't understand then that's on them.
The Empire takes, that's all it does. If you mouth off or are too slow then you'll get taken too. All anybody can do is to just shutup, accept reality, and try to survive. And hey? If they're smart and quick enough to stick it to the Imps. Then good for them.
Except for some of these people, all they did was get upset when the Empire took their farms. What would be Mister Sumar's reaction if they took his farm? What would be my reaction if they wanted my tower?
Shame. That's what I'm feeling, Ezra admitted to himself. It was hard to admit but as once he had and was honest with himself that feeling of guilt down in him began to unwind and he was able to focus again.
Everyone had to eat. And he was a street rat. Can't change the past. Feeling his strength return from the fruit, Ezra closed up his pack and shrugged its straps back onto its shoulders. It didn't feel heavy anymore.
And that's when it hit him, again, the Call. Ezra got to his feet and searched with his eyes, wondering if Wiseass had returned. But there was nothing around but the village below. But the Call was so much stronger this time, but where was it kriffin' coming from? At last Ezra eyed the ship and all came together.
Did my good deed. Time for some answers, Ezra decided. Uncaring of what anybody else thought he entered the ship alone and as he neared the ramp the Call began to hum. Hum continuously.
And as Ezra climbed the ladder from the cargo hold to the cockpit it became more than just a hum. He wasn't just hearing it, he could feel it. Feel it pulling him, pulling him like he was attached to a string. The cockpit doors slid open, revealing the hallway Zeb had dragged him through. Only now did Ezra realize that this must be some sort of storage compartments or where the crew slept.
And the pull was coming from the room to his immediate right.
"Interesting," he said quietly and approached the door and placed his hand on it. There, it was definitely there. He glanced down and saw it was locked. Carefully Ezra slipped off his pack, and then he knelt down in front of the door and retrieved his old R-series scomp link lockpick.
He looked at the door and eyed the lock before nodding confidently. Having no idea when the others would return Ezra quickly went to work. Brushing his finger over the top button he then inserted the link and began to pick the lock. It didn't take long, but just as Ezra was finishing up he heard something - or thought he did - as he looked down the hall.
Nothing. He was alone.
With the door unlocked Ezra quickly pulled his pack together and shouldered it on his back. Then he entered and found a very unassuming cabin. Two bunks, one on top of the other but with no pillows or blankets in sight. No anything in sight really.
Was this place even lived in or was it for passengers or something? Ezra stepped forward and sat down on the bottom bunk. This was where he had been pulled and here the humming was louder than ever and coming from right next to his knee.
"Okay," Ezra said and reached down, feeling around. But feeling for what? Sliding off the bunk Ezra kneeled down in front of it but still found nothing. "Weird," he muttered and began brushing his hands across the side of the bunk. He was about halfway between the bed and the deck when he accidentally touched a hidden compartment, and on contact the small compartment immediately slid open.
Reaching inside he found something interesting, some sort of decorative cube. Ezra smiled and examined it - whatever it was. "Might be worth something," he decided and tucked it away before continuing his search. The pull hadn't lessened any, there was still something there.
He pulled on the compartment and its drawer slided out further revealing a long cylinder. Like some sort of handle. Like a torch maybe. Or, no this is more like a hilt?
He found a button and after ensuring he held it upright Ezra pressed it in and with a snap hiss a long shaft of blue light instantly emitted from the cylinder.
"Whoa," Ezra gasped and got to his feet, holding it in both hands as he admired it and its steady humming noise. Was this what had been calling to him this whole time? Ezra grinned as he waved it from right to left, and then gave a little test swing with the - lightsaber? That's what this was! It's what the jedi used!
In his left hand he held it up closer for him to inspect, its powerful blade emitting a soft blue light across the cabin as well as Ezra's face and hair. With a quick step to the right Ezra brought it up before him and held it in both hands while smiling triumphantly.
And then the cabin door opened.
"Careful… You'll cut your arm off."
Great, Wiseass was back. Ezra held the blade away from him as he turned and saw not only Wiseass but Hera and a small orange and white astromech droid looking at him from the hallway.
"Whompa, whompa, whompa!"
Probably tattling on me. I knew I heard something earlier. Ezra looked at them and decided honesty would be best, especially with Hera here.
"Look I know you're not gonna believe me, but it's like this thing wanted me to take it," Ezra said and returned his eyes to the lightsaber.
"You're right, I don't believe you," Wiseass said as he stepped into the room while Hera leaned against the door with an amused look on her face. "Now hand me the lightsaber."
"Lightsaber?" Ezra repeated and took a fighting stance, and held the lightsaber like he'd seen people hold swords. "Isn't that the weapon of the Jedi?"
The man's expression turned more serious.
"Give it to me, and get out."
With a look of defeat Ezra hit the button and extinguished the blade. Walking forward with his head down he handed Wiseass back his lightsaber and then smoothly walked through the opening between him and Hera left the room behind.
With Hera's back turned, Ezra confidently tossed the cube thing in their air and tucked it back out of sight.
Smooth.
Putting some distance between himself and the others, Ezra wandered down the hall and came to what looked like a lounge of some kind. Big and circular with a good amount of open space in the center. But there in the corner was a wide circular bench covered in some kind of leather or something.
A dejarik table was put there as well as a few stools with the same kind of leather. Guess they must play a lot of dejarik. Continuing to make his way to the behind or rear or whatever the direction was called aboard a ship, Ezra thought he heard something from the door in the back and as he approached it switched open to reveal a type of kitchen. Probably called a mess or something.
"Not too good at following directions, are you?"
Paintbomb, Ezra realized and quickly rubbed the back of his neck at having been caught. Still she wasn't putting off any cold vibes or seeming anything other than friendly. Ezra puffed up his chest, giving her his best devil-may-care attitude.
"Not so much. You?"
He took a moment to pause and take a mental picture of her with her back leaning against the counter and her helmet set beside and a cup of something in her hand.
"Heh," Paintbomb chuckled lightly and shrugged at Ezra's knowing look. "Never been my specialty."
She couldn't be that much older than him, although it was hard to tell with girls. Ezra brushed his hair and sighed as Paintbomb took a sip. Between the explosives, her colorful armor, the spaceship, and how the rest of them got on with each other. And on top of that them giving the food to those villagers?
"Who are you people?" Ezra asked, genuinely curious now. "I mean, you're not thieves exactly."
Paintbomb tilted her head as she looked back at him.
"Hmph, well I suppose you had a point about thieves with honor," Paintbomb said and now it was her turn to become curious. "But you already knew that when we met."
Ezra considered his options and since it already worked earlier, kind of, let's continue this honest streak. "Not the only thing I know."
Paintbomb tilted her chin and gave him a skeptical look. "This should be good."
"You're beautiful," he declared boldly.
"Wow!" Paintbomb said and gave small a huff of irritation. "And here I was worried you would be too forward."
Ezra grinned at her, a hint of mischief in his electric blue eyes before gesturing to her armor - primarily the part that's over her heart. "Your artwork, the firebird specifically. You're known as the Artist around Lothal - well Capital City at least."
"Oh," Paintbomb said and couldn't help the blush that colored her cheeks.
"Mmhmm," Ezra nodded with that cheeky grin on his face. "I also dig your Loth-cats."
"And here I was just trying to piss off the Empire," Paintbomb muttered and Ezra could see she was trying to regain control.
"Oh you're well on your way, Paintbomb," Ezra said and Paintbomb could tell that even though the kid clearly thought it wasn't just her artwork he found beautiful she had to give him some credit. That was actually pretty smooth.
Still…
"Sooo, if i'm the Artist - why Paintbomb?"
This time it was Ezra's turn to duck his head and fight off a blush, much to Paintbomb's satisfaction. Hah! What was it Zeb said? Loth-rat!
"Well while you guys did pull a fast one on the Imps. You, Furball, and Wiseass didn't exactly escape my own little recon. From a distance I couldn't make out your specific designs like your firebird but you were definitely colorful."
Sabine snorted and held her hand up to try and hold back her laughter at Ezra's names for Kanan and Zeb, he wasn't too far off either. Still… "Colorful?" she repeated. "Bit on the nose."
"No, Paintjob is on the nose," Ezra said and tried to go for a nonchalant shrug. Sabine saw right through it but found herself enjoying the conversation so she let the kid keep that one. "But when you walked by closer and I got my first real good look at you, Paintjob wasn't good enough."
"And Paintbomb is?"
"Umm," Ezra hesitated and rubbed the back of his neck. Maybe he should've gone with Paintbomb? But it's too late now. "Yeah. Between what you're wearing and the way you blew up that speeder, well, Paintbomb fits."
"Heh," Paintbomb said and shook her head at him, it was only then Ezra realized she had been messing with him just now. But before he could continue Paintbomb had a few other questions. "So I walked past you?"
"Rooftop," Ezra said and he saw Paintbomb narrow her eyes in confusion. "Hey don't look at me like that. Wiseass was the one in charge and he stuck out like a sore thumb. So did Furball, he needs to find less obvious places to lurk."
"Yeah well it was their job to make sure it was all clear to begin the op," Paintbomb said, her tone still a bit terse.
"And Wiseass did a good job, the square was clear of any innocent bystanders. And your distraction worked perfectly. Show the bucketheads one thing and then give them another - helped me with my plan too."
Paintbomb shook her head. "Can't believe we didn't spot you. I get Furball, but Wiseass?"
"Mmhmm," Ezra said. "Your fearless leader always has something to say, and he has a lot of one-liners. Some bordering on funny," Ezra grinned. "Still you guys were the competition. Although I appreciated the heads up about the Big Guy."
"Not that you took my advice," Paintbomb admonished, though he could see that she was thoroughly enjoying their little back and forth. "No nicknames for Hera?"
Ezra fought back a scowl. While they were sort of getting along for the moment, he hadn't forgotten his initial treatment by the three of them when he first came aboard. "I like Hera. She introduced herself and has been nothing but nice to me."
Paintbomb must have some kind of telepathy because she cleared her throat and glanced at her boots, feeling maybe a tiny bit guilty. Very tiny. "You were right about us. The honor among thieves thing. I mean! Not that we were about to let you get away with that crate. And besides, what were you even going to do with it? There a buyer operating out of Capital City we don't know about?"
Ezra shrugged. "I know what they go for, I'd have found someone eventually. Besides I'm always up for sticking it to the Empire. But 'nuff about me, Paintbomb. You're not exactly thieves…"
She considered Ezra and his original question, trying to put thought into words to describe them. The boy had been honest so far and she had to admit he was pretty impressive, though how Kanan didn't realize they were being watched Sabine hadn't the foggiest. Probably something to bring up during the debrief once the job is finished.
"Honor among thieves," Sabine said as she thought back to her first personal encounter with this gutsy kid. "Well, we're not thieves. Not really. We're not exactly anything. We're a crew. A team. In some ways a family."
Ezra dropped his eyes, a sad look dousing his eagerness for the conversation and when he glanced up he saw that Paintbomb had noticed and was looking at him imploringly.
"What… happened to your real family?" Ezra asked, his voice hesitant.
"The Empire." She answered. "What happened to yours?"
"She had to ask," Ezra muttered so quietly that she just barely heard him. But she did.
"Hey," Paintbomb said and began to throw the kid - Ezra, his name is Ezra - a lifeline but was interrupted when the galley's door swished open, causing both teens to swivel their heads. Zeb and the orange astromech stood in the doorway looking the pair over. Sabine took another sip from her drink.
"Kanan wants us in the common room," Zeb said and then knocked the astromech on its orange domed head. "If he tries anything, sound the alarm… or shoot him."
Ezra looked over at Paintbomb for a hand but she was already busying herself by cleaning her cup before putting it away. That was something else Ezra had noted, just how tidy this ship was. Not that he had much experience on starships.
"Whomp, whomp, whump!" the astromech replied.
"Shush. Just watch him," Zeb said and gave Ezra what he supposed could be considered a threatening look.
"You keep glaring and eventually your face will be stuck like that," Ezra told him, getting his digs in while he still could.
There was a barely audible snort from Paintbomb's direction at Ezra's comment.
"Bah," Zeb grumbled and left the galley with Paintbomb following afterward with her helmet tucked in her arm but just as she neared the door she stopped.
"Sabine. My name's Sabine," she said with her back to Ezra, but he could hear the gentleness in her voice. And then she - Sabine - looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. "Although Paintbomb…? Well, it does have flair."
Sabine turned back to the door but not before seeing the look she had left on Ezra's face, which had her smiling just a little herself. Not that she let him see it. And it was really hard to fight back a giggle when she heard the astromech garble out a warning and prevented Ezra from following.
He was cute, Sabine admitted to herself. And she knew he could turn quite a few girls' heads who were closer to his own age. Leaving the boy and the galley behind she joined the others in the common room but then ran into a teensy problem when she saw Kanan looking all serious.
That look and Ezra's impromptu nickname for him.
"Sabine?" Kanan questioned, his tone impatient at the teen and the strange look on her face.
But Sabine waved her hand and shook her head. "Nothing, just a thing that Ezra told me." Kanan and Hera shared a look for a moment before he shook his head and looked at the three others and nodded his head when he saw they were ready and focused.
Then he began.
If they had politely asked Ezra to butt out maybe he would've stayed in the kitchen while Wiseass - Kanan - held his meeting. Though if Paintbomb's - Sabine's - reaction was anything to go by he had hit the nail on the head with his nickname for the Ghost crew's Fearless Leader.
But they hadn't asked politely. Plus Furball had managed to somehow use his three fingers and made some blaster gesture with them at Ezra.
So just like Sabine - gosh she's pretty - told him, following directions wasn't his or her strong suits. And just like before one of the first things Ezra did when entering any of these rooms was search for exits. And there was an air vent access panel with his name on it.
Only problem was this astromech droid.
"Whump, wamp, woomp!"
"Yeahhh" Ezra said and pulled the collapsible shock stick off his belt. "I'm going to owe Hera an apology. Sorry, trash compactor. Nothing personal."
The stick sparked with electricity and the astromech put two and two together.
"WAAAH!"
In the blink of an eye Ezra snapped the baton forward and gave the troublesome astromech a good shock. Not enough to fry his circuits, but enough to cause the little guy to have to reboot. Which was all the time Ezra needed.
Using the same method as before, once Ezra was in the vent. Scoot his pack forward then move up behind it. Albeit this time he had to be much more stealthy as he traversed from the kitchen to the lounge or common room that Dumb and Ugly had called it.
Wiseass - or Kanan he guessed - had just begun the meeting and Ezra found the shaft leading to a similar storage compartment that Zeb had locked him in earlier. It would do.
"...Vizago acquired the flight plan for an Imperial transport ship full of Wookie prisoners."
Ezra's eyes opened wide. Ripping off Imperial slouchers on Lothal was one thing. But an Imperial ship? Ezra wasn't so sure, but then the more he thought it over he decided that it could be worse. Wasn't like they were going after a Star Destroyer. And Vizago. That name rings a bell…
"Most of these Wookies were soldiers for the Old Republic," Hera said and Ezra could hear the compassion in her voice.
"I owe those hairy beasts." Zeb said. "They saved some of my people."
Huh. Furball had a heart? Who knew?
"Mine too," Hera said.
"If we're going to save them, we've got a tight window," Kanan said as he returned the focus to the Op. "They've been taken to an unknown slave labor camp. If we don't intercept this ship, we'll never find them. Now, I have a plan, but-"
KRIFF!
Ezra winced as he heard the loud thud that was him hitting his head on the ceiling of the storage compartment. Durasteel hurts.
He heard the click of a button and the next thing he knew the compartment's door slid open and he was surrounded by surprised faces. Well mostly surprised. Sabine looked more amused than anything else.
They had had an entire conversation about each being direction-handling challenged. As for the Ghost crew's looks of shock. Well what did they expect? Sticking him in the kitchen while they had this big important meeting? They might as well have written him a formal invitation!
Still Ezra gave the four of them a friendly wave and did his best to look not guilty, but he had a feeling they wouldn't buy it. So Ezra darted back in the compartment and reached for the vent - only to feel the familiar hands of the Great Furball wrap around his legs and yank him back out, spilling him onto the floor front and center of everyone.
Ooowwww… Durasteel decks? Also painful!
"I ordered Chopper to keep watch!" Zeb said. As if that meant anything. Judging by Kanan's eyebrow arch, he thought as much of that as Sabine and Hera.
Guess Chopper is the name of that old astromech. And speaking of, here comes the little pest warbling and beeping away throwing his manipulators up in the air in outrage. Then came the snorting and growling from Zeb as he leaned over and began clenching his fists, just ready to drop the hammer on Ezra.
Wisely Ezra began scrambling backward, trying to get as far away from the enraged alien as possible and then watched as both Sabine and Kanan held him back.
"Can we please get rid of him!?" Zeb demanded.
"No. We can't," Sabine said quickly.
Ezra looked up at her and smiled.
"The kid knows too much." Sabine clarified.
And just like that, it's back to "kid" again. And right then Ezra felt like giving himself the old facepalm. Ezra fought back a groan. Kid.
But whatever, right? Never going to see them again after this.
Thankfully Hera took this moment to interject herself and reached down, holding her hand out to Ezra. "We don't have time to take him home anyway." Ezra gave the Twi'lek woman a small smile and took the offered hand, allowing Hera to help him up. "We need to move now," Hera emphasized and wrapped her arm around his shoulder to lead him toward the cockpit and away from Zeb and the others.
She looked back over her shoulders at the rest of the team. "I'll keep an eye on him."
"About time somebody got it," Ezra mentioned to Hera as they entered the cockpit.
"That a street rat is a street rat?" Hera chimed as she hopped into her pilot's chair and began flipping switches and punching in numbers to some sort of computer looking thing. She paused though thinking back on her wording. "Hey? I didn't mean it like that, Ezra."
And he believed her, which was why when he sat down in the co-pilot's seat he felt the need to caution her about Kanan's "plan." But first Ezra took a moment to enjoy the feeling of the ship lifting off again and the quiet but steady humming of the engines and as the Ghost reached outer space. He also watched with anticipation as the many stars once again became lines when Hera pushed forward a lever in the middle of the cockpit.
Ezra wondered if that's what star pilot's meant when they talked about "punching it" when getting drunk in cantinas.
"It's okay, Hera. And I'm over the street rat thing. It's just?"
"Just?"
"You know, this whole "mission" thing is nuts," Ezra said at last. He noticed her hurt look, which was the last thing Ezra wanted to make her feel. Searching for the words he idly twirled his chair around. "I'm not against sticking it to the Empire, but there's no way I'd stick my neck out this far. Who does that?"
Hera glanced at him and in her eyes he could see her pick up what he was saying. Or rather he was trying not to say.
He's come this far with us.
"We do," Hera said softly with a glance and then returned her attention to the controls.
Two words from her was all it took to dumbfound Ezra. Of all the crew Ezra had spent the least amount of time with Hera, but in that short time she had earned his respect more so than anyone else aboard.
And because of that respect for her Ezra didn't say another word but it wasn't like he could hide his facial expression, not about this. And Ezra's scowl told Hera everything she needed to know.
He thought this was a bad idea. He… worried, at least about some of them. But he was still going to go along for the ride. It was more than Hera could've hoped for.
For his part Ezra thought over other ways he could try and convince Hera out of this. But nothing he came up with would work. Not for good people like this that truly wanted to help others in need.
A few moments later the Ghost exited hyperspace at the coordinates this Vizago guy had provided them, and in front of them was the Imperial transport - along with four TIE fighters underneath it connected by airlocks. Ezra closed his eyes and waited for what he thought was the inevitable.
"Imperial Transport 651," Hera began as Ezra shook his head. "This is Starbird, coming inbound."
Starbird? Hmph, Starbird. Not a bad name for a ship.
"State your business," came the response over the ship's comm transmission, the High Imperial accent unmistakeable. The transport's Captain, Ezra figured.
"Bounty. We captured an additional Wookie prisoner and have transfer orders to place him with you."
Suddenly Ezra felt it. Felt one of those bad feelings he had learned to trust over the years. Something was very wrong.
"We have no such orders." Came a prompt reply and immediately the transport launched the first pair of its complement of TIE fighters. If Hera was nervous, she didn't show it. In fact she doubled down.
"That's fine. We already got paid by Governor Tarkin. If you don't want the oversized monong, I'll jettison here. Let you explain to your superiors why the Empire has one less slave."
Despite his reservations about the plan and unsettled feelings Ezra had to give her credit. With her complete nonchalance Hera could pull a solid con. Not that that didn't make the two TIE fighters any less threatening. All it took was one pilot with an itchy trigger finger, a fact that was more troublesome when both TIEs moved into attack position behind the Ghost.
But Hera kept her cool. The lady had nerves stronger than durasteel.
"Permission to dock. Bay 1."
With her arms folded over her chest, Hera turned to Ezra and smiled then looked back at the transport. But that bad feeling Ezra had felt still persisted, but he kept quiet as the Ghost came about to the transport's port bow and extended its airlock to dock with the larger vessel.
Step one complete, Ezra thought. But that only meant it was out of the frying pan and into the fire. Stormtroopers could be real idiots but would they really fall for this? Despite the hair and his smell Zeb still wasn't exactly a Wookie.
"No troopers. Security's soft." Kanan's voice came in over the comlink only to then suddenly cut to static. Hera jumped on it and began adjusting dials.
"Spectre-1, come in. Spectre-4?" Hera said as her earlier nerves began to give way to a real worry, a worry that was reflected onto Ezra. "Spectre-5?" Hera groaned.
Ezra eyed the cockpit's communication panel but kept quiet. He didn't know jack about spaceships. But he knew to trust his instincts and feelings. Something bad was about to happen.
"Comm's down." Hera said and then her green eyes narrowed in suspicion. "No, not down. Jammed."
Hera and Ezra traded looks, and then Ezra felt it.
"Something's coming," he said, his voice calm and certain.
Ezra's head whipped around as he focused on one piece of empty space, but before Hera could ask a moment later Ezra's suspicions and her worst fear were realized. The large looming superstructure of an Imperial Star Destroyer dropped out of Hyperspace, exactly where Ezra had expected.
"That's an Imperial Star Destroyer!" Hera announced as she grabbed the controls to the Ghost and rapidly began pressing button after button as quickly as she possibly could.
"This whole thing was a setup!" Ezra exclaimed as he turned from the giant warship to look at Hera for a moment and then looked back at the massive ship.
"It's beginning to look that way," Hera admitted grudgingly. Armed to the teeth and filled with an army of stormtroopers the capital ship engaged its sublight engines and began to make way, heading directly for them.
Hera took a deep breath. With the comms jammed there was only one thing they could do, that Ezra could do. And the danger Ezra was about to be placed in. Stars. What will his parents think?
"You need to board the transport and warn them."
"What?" Ezra said and looked at her like she had just grown a second head. "Why don't you do it?"
Hera closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, hating herself right now. "I need to be ready to take off, or none of us stands a chance."
Ezra's arms exploded outward in denial.
"No, no way! Why would I risk my life for a bunch of strangers?" Ezra demanded, but was surprised to find himself considering the notion. This was crazy. He was crazy.
"Because Kanan risked his for you." Hera shot back and then got right in Ezra's face. "If all you do is fight for your own life, then your life is worth nothing."
Ezra's eyes lowered in defeat, and Hera knew what his answer would be. "They need you, Ezra. They need you right now."
Ezra looked up, glancing at Hera briefly before turning his eyes upward as the shadow of the Star Destroyer spread over them from above.
As the transport and the Ghost were pulled into the Star Destroyer's hold, Ezra's face changed from a jumble of nervousness to one of stricken realization.
He was in over his head but something stirred within Ezra that refused to be ignored no longer.
A spark.
If all you do is fight for your own life, then your life is worth nothing… This is something Uncle Hondo understands now and will gladly do anything for Ezra and his family! But me, the old me, such wisdom would've gone right over my head!
And Vizago? Only half payment and faulty information? That swine!
Uncle Hondo is not without a heart, but he is not without a brain either! And when his gut tells him something is too good to be true? It usually is, as it was so for Ezra! As Ezra explains what has just happened with foreknowledge of the Star Detroyer's arrival is another form of the jedi "pre-cognition." A very useful ability and one that should be listened to!
What a moral dilemma for Ezra, and while I know what the Uncle Hondo of old would have chosen - no profit? No dilemma! Ezra is a better man than I, and Tarkintown was what you would say a wakeup call for him. That these strangers were the types to help the helpless of Lothal? Even at such a young age Ezra has a good heart and it shows here. The spark!
Speaking of - Mando Girl! Sabine! Ezra's charm may need some work, but there's only a two year age difference! Uncle Hondo thinks the young lady doth protest too much! He may be a Loth-rat but he is a profitable Loth-rat! Your family will love him!