Chapter Text
Yavin IV - Massassi Temple - Office of Mon Mothma - Mission Debriefing
8.7 hours after "The Incident"
The mist over the jungle was starting to turn white-gray, tinged with orange and rose as the sun peeked over the horizon at last, signaling the end to a very long night for Mon Mothma.
Fortunately her interviews were drawing to a close; she'd dismissed Hera, Cere, and Leia and was just awaiting a final word or two with some of her officers. She'd already offered a promotion to the poor comms tech that had valiantly tried to warn the Falcon and the Ghost of their conflicting missions.
Now she stood next to her desk, prim and serious as the door opened to admit General Davits Draven and Major Bren Derlin.
Draven didn't even have the decency to look particularly bothered, sauntering in dour-faced and with his jacket opened casually—not even buttoned, she noted with displeasure—as if he hadn't been the entire cause of the event.
Derlin, on the other hand, was wound tight, face pinched with agitation, clutching a datapad tight against his chest.
He and Draven were in a heated argument even before they came in.
"I have told you, time and time again, you have to coordinate with other people!" Derlin was complaining. "You can't just casually mention a mission you sent a team on in the middle of the ready room and make the techs panic when they realize the discrepancy! One of these days you're going to get someone killed!"
Draven rolled his eyes. "No one got killed, they even made it back with extras," he grunted. "Look, I don't see what the big fuss is about."
"The fuss?!" Derlin cried, rounding on the intelligence officer. "I've got Commander Skywalker laid up with a concussion, Captain Solo is trying to take medical leave for a stress breakdown, and that damn golden protocol droid won't shut up for a minute about how horrible an ordeal everything was!" He pointed with sharp gestures. "Not to mention the Wookie and Lasat are missing!"
"They're not missing," Mon Mothma reported tiredly. "Syndulla confirmed they went to the North Perimeter to have a few celebratory drinks."
Draven chuckled. "Good for them."
Mon Mothma gave him an unamused glare. Addressing both of them she said, "I'm not going to mince words, gentlemen, I'm flabbergasted." Her palms opened helplessly. "How did this happen?" she asked, strained.
Draven shrugged. "I had an operative call in about the list, said his name was on it and he feared for his life, needed to be pulled out immediately. I told him I'd take care of it."
The senator groaned.
"We have methods for extracting agents, Draven. You know this! If you'd let Rebel Command know, we could have easily arranged something!"
"Didn't want him extracted, he's more valuable there," Draven dismissed. "Figured if I made the list disappear he could find a way to throw off the Imps' scent for a little while longer. So I looked at the ships we had that were free and in the area and sent a coded message to the one that was closest, which happened to be the Falcon."
"So you gambled the life of an operative on Captain Solo's team making a clean in and out, which they were never going to do because we had a whole other team striking the same location and weren't able to get them informed and coordinated because you let people know about it at the literal last minute!" Bren Derlin ranted, thoroughly agitated now.
He turned and began whapping Draven's arm and shoulder with his datapad.
"This is why! We have! Procedures!" he said.
"Ow! Ow!" Draven protested, flinching back from the hits. He turned to Mon Mothma. "Senator!" he cried, indignant.
"No, I'm with him," Mon Mothma said, loudly offended. "You flagrantly failed to follow the chain of command and put everyone involved in the operation in considerable danger!"
"I'd say they caused a lot more danger to the Imps, personally," Draven muttered.
"Don't get smart!" Mon Mothma chided. Taking a deep breath she attempted to calm herself. "All we're saying is, it would have been so much more preferable if we were able to plan this out, rather than throwing three separate Rebel crews together—"
"The Mantis was not my fault!" Draven objected.
"Regardless—and hoping for the best," she finished.
Stone-faced, Draven stirred.
"With all due respect, Senator," he said, "if you read through the Imperial chatter logs coming from that sector you would see that the Imps are reporting significant casualties." He tried to reach for Derlin's datapad but the other man clutched it tighter protectively, and Draven just waved that off and stepped forward. "Catastrophic damage to the facility, disrupted experiments, destroyed equipment, sabotaged security systems. The outpost is now down a walker, a whole TIE squad, a bomber, a good chunk of personnel, and all of its outer perimeter turrets. About 90% of the garrison and outpost's staff have turned in resignations or quit, including most of the chain of command. The Rebel teams completed both their objectives and even liberated a priceless historic Jedi artifact," he listed, gesturing softly. "By all metrics other than the paperwork involved would this not, respectfully, be considered an overwhelming success?" he argued.
Mon Mothma stared at him.
He stared back.
...
...
"...Get out of my office," Mon Mothma eventually strained, pointing towards the door with stiff arm.
Draven nodded once, in stubborn but grim respect, and turned for the door.
-SW-
She shut off the recording device after concluding taking Derlin's statement and gave another long weary sigh as the man saw himself out.
As he was passing out through the door, her aide passed in, bringing her a stack of datapads and flimsi.
"Here you are, Senator," Erskin piped, entirely too cheerfully for the headache still pounding in her head. "I've compiled all the reports and chat logs you requested. They've been arranged in rough timeline order."
He set them down on the edge of her desk.
Mon Mothma looked at them for a moment and then stirred.
"Thank you Erskin, leave them right there for me, I am going to bed," she instructed.
Erskin blinked and then glanced out the window in confusion.
"But... it's six in the morning..." he pointed out.
"I said, I am going to bed," Mon Mothma emphasized tersely.
Erskin nodded quickly. "Yes, ma'am, of course."
He stood the side respectfully as she swept out of the room, determined to bury her stress under a few hours of blissful unconsciousness atop her imported mattress set.
-SW-
Klipspree Airspace - Imperial Cruiser The Revenant - Auxillary Hallway 7
8.7 hours after "The Incident"
"And I'll be back on rotation in another few cycles, once they repair the base of the tower," Celeste relayed to the friend she was in holoconference with, the simmering bust flickering above the datapad's emitter as she walked.
Her friend blew out a low whistle. "I still can't believe you survived a meeting with Vader!"
Celeste waved that off. "Oh he's not so bad, actually," she dismissed. "I mean, yeah. Terrifying. Thought I was a goner for sure." She regripped the datapad with both hands. "But it turns out he's actually also a fan of—"
She smacked into someone's chest dead on because she wasn't paying attention.
"MEEP!" she squeaked, flailing back horrified as she realized she'd ran right into the topic of conversation himself.
There wasn't even a pause in the very familiar breathing. Vader quickly snatched the datapad from her hands and pressed the button to cut off the communication.
"You will speak of that to no one," he growled.
Fists up by her mouth, pressing into her lips, Celeste shrilled a terrified, "Yes sir!"
Vader paused unexpectedly a moment, looking down at her datapad.
With a few clicks and presses to the screen he did something with it and handed it back to her.
"Take care not to be caught reading on the job again, Miss Pells," his rumbling baritone warned her, as he began to stalk past, cape swishing around his heels dramatically. "Your good taste will not save you next time."
Confused (and still a little terrified), Celeste watched mutely as the Dark Lord of the Sith swept out of her sight.
She took a peek down at her datapad screen.
Floored, her knees gave out and she tilted backwards and hit the floor herself, sitting down heavily, legs limp, eyes gaping.
She had, in her hands, a compressed file containing Arleen Tarokin's entire body of work.
She let the pad clatter from her hands.
"No one is gonna believe me..." she moaned.
-SW-
Yavin IV - Massassi Temple - Mess Hall
8.7 hours after "The Incident"
Sabine peered over Ezra's shoulder as he scratched out a couple designs onto a blank page of her sketchbook. Ezra hastily filled in some lines with a few furious strokes and then set the charcoal down and held up the book for her appraisal.
"Something like this, I'm thinking," he told her.
She looked over his etchings, rough concept studies for a new lightsaber hilt, and gave a nod of approval. "Not bad," she told him. "Could use a little more color," she joked.
"Isn't that what I have you for?" he teased with a grin.
He set down the pad and fiddled with the miscellaneous knobs and emitters he'd spread out on the table.
"So I'm definitely thinking the Blastersaber 2.0, and if I can figure out how this circuit switcher works, I think I want to try giving it a split saber mode."
Sabine made a face. "We are not calling it the Blastersaber 2.0," she shot down.
"Excuse me, 'we'? Since when do you get a say in what we're calling my lightsaber?" Ezra objected.
Sabine held up her paint sprayer, depressing the trigger with a puff of orange aerosol paint for emphasis. "Do you want me to paint that stylized Loth-wolf design on the hilt or not?" she asked.
"Ezra!"
Hera's call came from behind them and both young Rebels flinched.
"Oh kriff," Ezra said, quickly trying to clean things up.
The Twi'lek stalked up to them with purpose, expression tired. "I told you I want those lightsaber parts returned to the Mantis," she said.
Ezra swept the parts off the table and into his lap with a noisy clatter, making them disappear from sight right before she reached them.
"What lightsaber parts?" he blurted.
Hera put her hands on her hips with flat brows and eyes. "Uh-huh," she intoned skeptically. She turned to Sabine. "And Sabine—" she began.
"Oooh, sorry Hera, gotta go!" Sabine said hastily, immediately hopping up onto the table and vaulting over to the other side in retreat. "Lots to paint, you know how it is, see you later!"
She took off.
"Oh no you—SABINE!" Hera yelled, drawing multiple other people's attention as she laid into hot pursuit after the Mandalorian. "You've done enough painting for today and you need to undo some of it!"
"You can't shackle my artistic expression!" Sabine cried.
Ezra started to get up, gathering his nicked parts in one arm, but then heard another commotion from the other end of the mess hall.
Several more curious heads turned and then a few Rebels yelped and pulled themselves out of the way as Artoo careened into the room, zooming on fast wheels across the floor and screeching binary profanities at Chopper, who wasn't far behind, chasing him.
"WUUUB WUB WUB WUB WUB WUBBA WUBWABBA!" ("Give that to me you little shit-nugget!") Ezra translated the C1's angry blorting.
"BWEEE BEEP BIP BIIIIIIPBOOP!" ("Make me you pissant!") Artoo shot back.
A very harried Leia emerged from the same entrance as the droids.
"Artoo! Get back here!" she scolded. The apologetic grimace she flashed at Ezra told him everything he needed to know about what was going on.
"Aw man," he groaned, quickly standing up.
He rushed into the fray, nearly smacking straight into Kallus, who looked blearily up from his cup of caf with just enough presence of mind to recognize the Jedi.
"Bridger, you're back," he greeted. "Have you seen Zeb any—"
"Hi Kallus! Hold these!" Ezra interrupted, dumping his armful of lightsaber parts into Kallus's free hand.
He was gone a moment later, pelting after Artoo, leaving Kallus blinking in place.
The former ISB agent took in the sight before him.
Sabine was flying above the heads of the Rebels with her jetpack, not able to gain much height because Hera had a firm hold of her ankle and was dragging her with the help of a full chain of pilots.
"Get DOWN here, Young Miss!" Hera shouted.
"I refuse to share an airfield with that affront to human vision!" Sabine cried, kicking furiously, drawing her blasters for a last stand.
And on the other side of the mess hall Ezra had pinned Artoo with a flying tackle and was fending off Chopper as he wrestled the astromech.
"Leia, I got him! Hurry!"
Leia dove into the midst of them and they became a blur of droid and human limbs.
Kallus held the lightsaber parts awkwardly and peered down into his cup of caf.
...He was having a stress-induced hallucination and should probably report to Medical, he decided.
"I don't want to know," he said, turning around and walking back out of the mess hall.
-SW-
Yavin IV - Massassi Temple - Med Bay 4
8.7 hours after "The Incident"
Of course, Kallus would have continued to be confused if he entered Medical right at that moment, because an odd sort of conference was taking place in the hallway just outside one of the rooms. (Where everyone had been banished after causing too much disruption and "distraction", per the med-droid.)
"Should you even be up yet?" Cere said, fussing over Luke, brushing the hair away from the rather impressive welt on his head where he'd run into the wall.
He batted off her hands. "I'm fine, Cere, MEDI-V says I just need to report any vision or hearing changes and make sure to take an anti-inflammatory for the pain." He peered keenly at the hilt on her belt. "So does your saber do anything special or...?" he asked excitedly.
Cere glanced towards Kanan and he could hear her silent question, feel her continued concern through the Force.
The man shook his head. "MEDI-V would just kick us back out," he said. "Besides, he should have a say in this discussion."
"Honestly not sure what there is to discuss," quipped Cal. "Obviously he's gonna be my padawan."
"That hasn't been firmly decided," Cere countered, hissing slightly through her teeth.
Cal angled towards her, gesturing eagerly. "Cere, c'mon, Kanan already has a padawan, you're getting up in years and probably looking forward to a nice retirement—no offense—"
Cere's jaw twitched. "None taken," she nevertheless replied.
"And I called dibs!" Cal finished arguing.
Under his breath Kanan grumbled, "Still isn't how it works..."
Cere attempted a genial smile as she put a hand on Cal's shoulder. "Ah, but Jedi learning was always informally a communal affair no matter who your official master was," she said. "And I'm sure there are gaps in your education that Kanan and I can readily fill. Even Ezra might have something to teach him."
Cal pressed his lips together, considering her point. "Okay, but I still get to be his primary master, right?" he pressed.
"Sure," Kanan sighed. "The Ghost is crowded enough as it is, would be really hard to find room for him."
"I could bunk with Ezra?" Luke suggested.
Kanan shook his head. "No good. He rooms with the Lasat."
"Voluntarily?!" Luke gaped.
Kanan grinned. "I mean, not at first. Besides," he said, changing the focus, "don't you have your own crew?"
Luke looked down and scuffed the floor with a boot. "Well, yeah..." he admitted. "Mon Mothma probably wouldn't approve a permanent transfer anyway."
"We can work something out," Cal said, breathless and eyes gleaming. He glanced to Cere. "What do you think, two weeks on, six weeks off?" he asked.
She hummed thoughtfully. "Seems doable." Looking to Kanan she queried, "You wanna take one of those weeks, for supplemental training?"
"I'd have to run it by Hera but—"
He broke off, a murmur in the Force pulling his attention, and lifted his head past them.
They turned and looked that way in time to see Ezra carrying Leia on his back, piggyback style. One of her white boots was off and her ankle was canted in a twisted fashion, but otherwise she looked entirely comfortable and unbothered, arms hung around Ezra's neck very casually.
Ezra's eyes, on the other hand, were wandering by his shins, and he only glanced up once with a subtle warning glare to the multiple curious eyebrows that raised at them.
"Don't ask," he said.
They collectively dismissed their mental questions.
Luke stepped forward, worried. "Leia, are you okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she dismissed. "Artoo and Chopper got sent to droid time-out though." She looked around the odd circle. "What's going on here?"
"Kanan and Cal and Cere are gonna train me to be a Jedi!" Luke gushed excitedly.
Bemused, she tilted her chin. "Really?"
Kanan waved a hand to slow that train of thought down. "Well, we're still figuring out the exact details and we're still going to need permission from Rebel Command so—"
A green puff of sparks interrupted him as Merrin appeared, frowning and cross-armed, in the space between him and Cal.
"Khfffnnghh!" Kanan blurted, startling and flailing back, as usual.
"I am growing impatient, my love," Merrin told Cal sternly. Her eyes were narrowed, not quite glaring, but at the point where the rest of them felt nervous. "You know I do not like to be kept waiting," she warned.
He took her elbows softly, tenderly, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips. "I'll be back to the Mantis soon, Merrin, promise," he said. "We're almost done."
"Mmm," she mumbled, gray cheeks staining a bit pink now, and went in for one more kiss before she poofed away again.
Flickers and embers of green drifted slowly down to the floor.
The group watched them dissipate silently.
...
"Soooooo, not like I have any room to talk on the whole 'attracted to dangerous and scary powerful girls' thing but..." Ezra piped up. His face wrinkled and puckered at Cal. "Seriously? A Nightsister?"
Kanan's head whipped around. "You're dating a Nightsister?!" he said incredulously.
Suddenly a lot of things from the Incident made more sense.
"Uh, yeah?" Cal said, confused by Kanan's horror. "I mean you're dating a Twi'lek..."
"Hera is not going to randomly murder me in my sleep because I'm not paying her enough attention!" Kanan protested.
"She's only tried to kill me twice and that was only when we first met," Cal defended.
Cere pinched the bridge of her nose, wincing as if in pain. "You're not exactly helping your case, Cal..." she said.
"What's a Nightsister?" asked Luke.
"We'll explain later," said all the Jedi in unison.
"Merrin seems all right to me, Kanan, I don't know what you're so worried about," Leia put in, adjusting herself on Ezra's back.
"We don't have the best experience with Nightsisters," Ezra explained. "Long story, tell you in a bit."
"Right, so adding 'Inter-Force-Disclipine Relations' to the list of lessons for Luke," Kanan groaned, rubbing his temples. He angled towards Luke. "You psychometric at all?" he asked.
"I... don't know what that means," Luke admitted.
Kanan shuddered in relief. "Oh good. Cal is, you're gonna want to watch out for that," he warned. "He has a habit of touching things he's not supposed to and passing out. Slipped right into a pool in the Room Of A Thousand Fountains once, nearly drowned. Had to haul his ass out," he relayed, giving a dramatic head roll.
Cal was about to start in with a protest but stopped, squinting. "Wait, how do you know that story?" he asked.
...
Kanan grew remarkably nervous and quiet all of a sudden.
"Uh, well... that's... I mean..." he stammered.
"The only other two Initiates who knew about that were.." Now very interested, Cal pressed him further. "Who was your master?" he asked.
The man wouldn't face towards anyone. "That's really not all that important..." Kanan said evasively.
"Oh, that was Depa. He talks about her all the time," Ezra answered for him.
"Ezra!" Kanan hissed.
"What?" Ezra protested.
"Depa Billaba?" Cal lit up suddenly, sparking with excitement. "You're Caleb Dume!" he realized.
Kanan was now openly fidgeting in panic. "IIIIIIII have no idea what you're talking about," he denied. He could feel Cal getting up in his space, sense the others all watching with rising amusement.
"I remember you!" Cal exclaimed like an eager puppy. "We used to sneak down to the kitchens together and steal uj cakes! You were terrified of spring peepers!" he continued, heedless, flailing. "You called Depa 'mom' once!"
The skin below Kanan's eyemask flushed deep, his face turning a purple-red.
Ezra and Leia snickered under their breaths. Luke gave a little fascinated sound in his throat.
"This I need to hear," Cere said, grinning and enjoying things entirely too much.
Cal launched straight into the tale.
"Okay so it was right before they were set to deploy, I don't even remember why we in the same briefing but he said something cheeky and she mussed his hair all up and—"
"LET'S TALK ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE NOW!" Kanan interrupted with a mortified yell.
-SW-
Yavin IV - Massassi Temple - Rebel Airfield
8.7 hours after "The Incident"
Han scrubbed furiously at the hull, knees and elbows and shoulders aching. The cleaner he was using was just smearing the blue streak of paint into a messier splotch, and he was frustrated.
He paused a moment and leaned back on his knees. Heaving, he swiped a sleeve across his brow, already sweaty even though the morning chill wasn't even dissipated yet.
"Threepio, any luck getting ahold of Chewie yet?" he yelled down at the golden protocol droid.
"Not yet, Sir," Threepio reported.
"Well keep at it!" Han snapped.
The droid rushed off again and Han looked down at his task in despair and sighed.
"Stars know I can't keep this heap flying without him," he muttered, bending over again. The sponge squeaked loudly as he pressed it hard against the hull.
He worked tirelessly for several more minutes, on the verge of giving up.
And that was when he heard the sound of steps coming up the service ladder.
He glanced up and was both surprised and suspicious when he saw Sabine. She was scowling and hefting a large bucket of something that sloshed with every step as she made her way to him across the top of the Falcon.
From the whiff he caught of it as she came near, it was something much stronger than what he was using.
Sabine grouchily dropped the bucket on the roof.
"Takes all the fun out of everything..." she complained under her breath, sliding down to her knees next to him.
Han hid a grin as he made room for her.
"Start scrubbing, sister," he said, passing her the sponge as he stood up.
She grumbled as she began attacking her own artwork, the color running much easier now.
Han made his way to the ladder to go fetch another sponge from inside.
Maybe the day was looking up.
-SW-
Yavin IV - Massassi Temple - Hanger 3 - Stinger Mantis Main Living Area
8.7 hours after "The Incident"
Luke marveled at the interior living area of the Mantis, awed and whistling at the sleek edges and pristine counter tops .
"Never knew a ship could be this shiny inside as well," he quipped in admiration, as Cal disappeared briefly to get something from his workbench.
Greez puffed out his chest. The hairs next his neck fluffed out proudly.
"I keep her meticulously clean. Cal can attest," he said.
Cal returned from his brief excursion, a few parts in his hands and a confused expression on his face.
"Greez, where's my Mygeeto Campaign emitter and my Corundum hilt piece?" he asked.
Greez scratched one of his four hands behind his head uncomfortably. "Er... I gave 'em to the kid."
Cal's eyes flicked towards Luke.
"Not that one," Greez corrected. "The other one."
"Ezra?" Luke guessed, correctly.
Both left hands were now scratching behind him, and Greez was very sheepish-looking. "Yeah, I felt bad for him because of... a thing," he said, trailing off cryptically. "So I kind of looked the other way when I caught him taking stuff off your workbench. Sorry," he said.
Cal looked stung, face quivering like a sad puppy's. "Greez, you're giving away my lightsaber parts?" he whined.
"You never use them!" Greez defended. "You spend hours taking that saber apart and putting it back together in different configurations only to put the same three or four pieces back together and call it a day!" he pointed out.
It was Cal's turn to look sheepish. "That's fair," he admitted. Turning to his new padawan, he spread the parts out in his palms. "So like I was saying, the emitter's the part that the blade comes out of and—"
A pop of green sparks signaled the arrival of one very frustrated Merrin.
"I have been very patient, Cal Kestis," she told him, reaching up and grabbing a firm handful of his collar. "And I have waited long enough. We are doing this, now," she said firmly.
Cal's expression and brain blanked out for a good moment, before he flushed and stammered awkwardly, "O—Okay Merrin, but uh—" His eyes flicked frantically towards Luke. "Can—can we maybe do this somewhere not within earshot of my brand new padawa—"
She yanked on his collar, making him drop the lightsaber parts.
"—hhrk!" he finished with a choke.
He was dragged off unceremoniously towards the engine room, and barely managed to close the door before the yelping and moaning began.
Greez and Luke listened awkwardly to the loud metal thumps for a moment.
"SAY ARE YOU HUNGRY, I'M HUNGRY!" Greez said loudly, moving immediately to the kitchen to fire up the stoves once more.
"Think I'd be better off on the Falcon right now," Luke mumbled, ears staining red in embarrassment.
-SW-
Yavin IV - Massassi Temple - Rebel Airfield
8.8 hours after "The Incident"
Sabine's bucket was much lighter as Han escorted her back to the Ghost, in time to see Hera driving a complaining Chopper up the ramp.
"And don't let me catch you doing it again!" she scolded after him. She nodded once to acknowledge Sabine, who scowled and stomped up the ramp without fanfare.
Han joined her momentarily at the foot of the ramp.
"She give you any trouble?" Hera asked.
"Nah," Han dismissed. Now that his ship was back to normal he was in a much better mood. "She's a good kid she just..." He grimaced. "Needs to keep her paints off my ship."
"It won't happen again," Hera promised.
"Right." Distracted, Han asked, "Chewie or Zeb check in yet?"
"I called them a little while ago, Zeb said they were coming back," Hera told him.
As if on cue, there was a warbling, wailing... noise... that started drifting over the little hillock on the breeze, coming towards them.
"Think that's them now," Han grunted.
"Oh no..." Hera groaned.
As the noise got closer it resolved into... well it wasn't quite singing, as singing had some semblance of melody and tune and rhythm. Which neither Zeb nor Chewbacca had.
It was rather impressive actually, the off-key bellowing howls of the Wookie as he tried to harmonize with Zeb's staggered, slurring baritone.
The two of them came into view, holding each other up by arms around shoulders, stumbling and swaying this way and that as they drunkenly made their way up the airfield.
"And th' girls, they say—Hic!—they don't want noooonnne!" Zeb crooned.
"AWWwwaooooraaaa raaaagh!" came Chewbacca's inebriated addition.
"But watch as they follow you hooooooooooome!" the Lasat finished, Chewbacca's yowls warbling and trilling on the same pitch as him as the Wookie leaned in close.
They cleared Rebels from their path immediately as pilots and technicians fled the cacophony.
"My ears hate me for this," moaned someone in the crowd.
Zeb and Chewbacca broke off into raucous laughter, attached at the hip as they shuffled their way forward.
"Y'know what Chewie?" slurred Zeb. "You're all right."
"Aaagggg raaaar," agreed Chewbacca.
They made it up to Han and Hera, wobbling unsteadily.
Han crossed his arms sternly like a disappointed parent. "Well it's about damn time!" he said, annoyed.
Chewbacca whined, looking rather puppy-like and pathetic as he protested, separating from Zeb at last and making people very nervous as all seven and a half feet of him swayed in place.
"Hhrrrrraaa grraaah aaaaah," his watery howls rang out.
"Yeah yeah, I love you too buddy." Han gestured off towards their own ship. "C'mon pal, we still got a couple things to finish fixing up with the Falcon, you can tell me all about it in the maintenance pit."
Hera watched them begin to depart with mild concern and alarm.
"Should he be repairing things in his condition?" she asked anxiously.
Han maneuvered around behind the Wookie, hands on his back to support him as he carefully guided him forward. "He'll be fine. Not like he can make a mess bigger than what's already there," he dismissed. "That's it buddy, one foot at a time, you're doing great," he encouraged.
It was seven steps before Chewbacca tripped on something and sent it clattering loudly as it toppled over.
CRASH!
"Sorry!" Han yelled immediately across the field to all listening ears.
Hera shook her head, lekku swaying, and turned her attention to her own drunken crewmate. Zeb was watching a cloud in the sky go by, pointing to it and giggling.
"Should I even ask if there's any hooch left?" she said flatly, hands on her hips.
"All gone!" Zeb confirmed, grinning. "Don' worry we didn't leave the bottles out in the—Hic!—jungle. Recycled them!" he chirped. "Very respectibibble." He squinted and frowned. "Resfectable." He waved his large hands and wobbled in place. "Whatever, you know what I mean!"
Hera resisted the urge to sigh through her nose. She crossed her arms, fixing him with a severe look.
"Go straight to bed, sleep it off," she ordered. "Then when you're sober and cleaned up," she emphasized, "I'll need some help loading the cargo for our next mission."
Zeb saluted messily, grinning even dopier, eyes swimming.
"Yooooooouuuuu got it, Hera! Hic!" he hiccuped. "I'll get right on that in a—Hic!—second."
He leaned forward a little too far and toppled straight over, face first into the dirt.
THUMP!
...
...A loud snore rose up from his prone body a moment later.
"Ugh," Hera groaned, turning around and walking wearily up the ramp.
Yeah, she would let Kanan and Ezra be the ones to carry him inside. Later.
Zeb continued snoring on the ground behind her as she made her way into the ship.
-SW-
Klipspree Airspace - Imperial Cruiser The Revenant - Conference Room B
8.8 hours after "The Incident"
Gideon reached over the stenographer's sleeping form carefully. He detached the report from her typing pad and held it up to scan over it.
He heaved a great sigh as the transcription got progressively more incoherent towards the end, filled with 'hilarious' commentary from the stenographer and more and more typos.
He'd have to have her redo those portions later. There was no way he was sending it up the chain like this.
He grimaced and full-body shuddered at the thought of the Emperor reading the report.
He wondered how the man was taking things...
-SW-
Coruscant - Imperial Palace - Emperor's Inner Chambers
8.8 hours after "The Incident"
Emperor Palpatine lay facedown on his bed, ramrod stiff as a board on the covers and making muffled incoherent angry screams into his pillow.